^^^^> 
 
 University of CaKfomia • Berkeley 
 
 From the Collection of 
 
 Edward Hellman Heller 
 
 and 
 
 Elinor Raas Heller 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/beastssuperbeastOOsal<irich 
 
BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 WHEN WILLIAM CAME 
 
 THE UNBEARABLE BASSINGTON 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF CLOVIS 
 
BEASTS AND 
 SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 By H. H. MUNRO (" SAKI ") 
 
 LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 TORONTO : BELL & COCKBURN MCMXIV 
 
THE ANCHOR PRB88, LTD., TipiaKE, E8SBX, 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 »AOB 
 
 THE SHE-WOLF .. 
 
 1 
 
 LAURA . . 
 
 . 13 
 
 THE BOAR-PIG 
 
 22 
 
 THE BROGUE 
 
 . 31 
 
 THE HEN 
 
 . 40 
 
 THE OPEN WINDOW 
 
 . 50 
 
 THE TREASURE-SHIP 
 
 . 56 
 
 THE COBWEB 
 
 . 63 
 
 THE LULL 
 
 • 73 
 
 THE UNKINDEST BLOW 
 
 . 82 
 
 THE ROMANCERS 
 
 . 90 
 
 THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD 
 
 . 97 
 
 THE SEVENTH PULLET 
 
 . 106 
 
 THE BLIND SPOT 
 
 . 117 
 
 DUSK . . 
 
 . 125 
 
 A TOUCH OF REALISM 
 
 . 133 
 
 COUSIN TERESA , . 
 
 . 143 
 
 THE YARKAND MANNER . . 
 
 . 151 
 
 THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE 
 
 . 160 
 
 THE FEAST OF NEMESIS . . 
 
 . 168 
 
 THE DREAMER .. 
 
 . 175 
 
 THE QUINCE TREE 
 
 . 183 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 
 PAGB 
 
 THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 
 
 . 190 
 
 THE STAKE 
 
 . 198 
 
 CLOVIS ON PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 
 
 . 205 
 
 A HOLIDAY TASK 
 
 . 211 
 
 THE STALLED OX 
 
 . . 220 
 
 THE STORY-TELLER 
 
 . 229 
 
 A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND . . 
 
 . 239 
 
 THE ELK 
 
 . 247 
 
 " DOWN PENS " . . 
 
 . 256 
 
 THE NAME-DAY . . 
 
 . 264 
 
 THE LUMBER ROOM 
 
 . 274 
 
 FUR 
 
 . 285 
 
 THE PHILANTHROPIST AND THE HAPPY CAT 294 
 
 ON APPROVAL 
 
 . 303 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 T 
 
 " r I AHE Open Window," " The Schartz- 
 Metterklume Method," and " Clovis on 
 Parental Responsibilities," originally 
 appeared in the Westminster Gazette, " The Elk " in 
 the Bystander, and the remaining stories in the 
 Morning Post. To the Editors of these papers I am 
 indebted for their courtesy in allowing me to reprint 
 them. 
 
 H. H. M. 
 
BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
Beasts and Super-Beasts 
 
 THE SHE-WOLF 
 
 LEONARD BILSITER was one of those 
 people who have failed to find this world 
 attractive or interesting, and who have 
 sought compensation in an " unseen world " of 
 their own experience or imagination — or invention. 
 Children do that sort of thing successfully, but 
 children are content to convince themselves, and 
 do not vulgarise their beliefs by trying to convince 
 other people. Leonard Bilsiter's beUefs were for 
 " the few," that is to say, anyone who would Hsten 
 to him. 
 
 His dabblings in the unseen might not have 
 carried him beyond the customary platitudes of 
 the drawing-room visionary if accident had not 
 reinforced his stock-in-trade of mystical lore. In 
 company with a friend, who was interested in a 
 Ural mining concern, he had made a trip across 
 Eastern Europe at a moment when the great 
 Russian railway strike was developing from a 
 
 B 
 
2 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 threat to a reality ; its outbreak caught him on 
 the return journey, somewhere on the further 
 side of Perm, and it was while waiting for a couple 
 of days at a wayside station in a state of suspended 
 locomotion that he made the acquaintance of a 
 dealer in harness and metalware, who profitably 
 whiled away the tedium of the long halt by initiating 
 his EngHsh travelling companion in a fragmentary 
 system of folk-lore that he had picked up from 
 Trans-Baikal traders and natives. Leonard returned 
 to his home circle garrulous about his Russian 
 strike experiences, but oppressively reticent about 
 certain dark mysteries, which he alluded to under 
 the resounding title of Siberian Magic. The reticence 
 wore off in a week or two under the influence of an 
 entire lack of general curiosity, and Leonard began 
 to make more detailed allusions to the enormous 
 powers which this new esoteric force, to use his own 
 description of it, conferred on the initiated few who 
 knew how to wield it. His aunt, Cecilia Hoops, 
 who loved sensation perhaps rather better than she 
 loved the truth, gave him as clamorous an adver- 
 tisement as anyone could wish for by retailing an 
 account of how he had turned a vegetable marrow 
 into a wood pigeon before her very eyes. As a 
 manifestation of the possession of supernatural 
 powers, the story was discounted in some quarters 
 
THE SHE- WOLF 
 
 by the respect accorded to Mrs. Hoops' powers of 
 imagination. 
 
 However divided opinion might be on the ques- 
 tion of Leonard's status as a wonderworker or a 
 charlatan, he certainly arrived at Mary Hampton's 
 house-party with a reputation for pre-eminence in 
 one or other of those professions, and he was not 
 disposed to shun such pubUcity as might fall to his 
 share. Esoteric forces and unusual powers figured 
 largely in whatever conversation he or his aunt had 
 a share in, and his own performances, past and 
 potential, were the subject of mysterious hints and 
 dark avowals. 
 
 " I wish you would turn me into a wolf, Mr. 
 Bilsiter," said his hostess at luncheon the day after 
 his arrival. 
 
 " My dear Mary," said Colonel Hampton, 
 " I never knew you had a craving in that 
 direction." 
 
 " A she-wolf, of course," continued Mrs. Hampton ; 
 " it would be too confusing to change one's sex as 
 well as one's species at a moment's notice." 
 
 " I don't think one should jest on these subjects," 
 said Leonard. 
 
 " I'm not jesting, I'm quite serious, I assure you. 
 Only don't do it to-day ; we have only eight avail- 
 able bridge players, and it would break up one of 
 
4 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 our tables. To-morrow we shall be a larger party. 
 To-morrow night, after dinner " 
 
 " In otir present imperfect imderstanding of these 
 hidden forces I think one should approach them 
 with humbleness rather than mockery," observed 
 Leonard, with such severity that the subject was 
 forthwith dropped. 
 
 Clovis Sangrail had sat unusually silent during 
 the discussion on the possibiUties of Siberian Magic ; 
 after lunch he side-tracked Lord Pabham into the 
 comparative seclusion of the billiard-room and dehv- 
 ered himself of a searching question. 
 
 *' Have you such a thing as a she- wolf in your 
 collection of wild animals ? A she-wolf of moder- 
 ately good temper ? " 
 
 Lord Pabham considered. " There is Louisa," 
 he said, " a rather fine specimen of the timber-wolf. 
 I got her two years ago in exchange for some Arctic 
 foxes. Most of my animals get to be fairly tame 
 before they've been with me very long ; I think I 
 can say Louisa has an angehc temper, as she-wolves 
 go. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I was wondering whether you would lend her 
 to me for to-morrow night," said Clovis, with the 
 careless soHcitude of one who borrows a collar stud 
 or a tennis racquet. 
 
 " To-morrow night ? " 
 
THE SHE-WOLF 
 
 " Yes, wolves are nocturnal animals, so the late 
 hours won't hurt her," said Clovis, with the air of 
 one who has taken everything into consideration ; 
 " one of your men could bring her over from Pabham 
 Park after dusk, and with a little help he ought to 
 be able to smuggle her into the conservatory at the 
 same moment that Mary Hampton makes an unob- 
 trusive exit." 
 
 Lord Pabham stared at Clovis for a moment in 
 pardonable bewilderment ; then his face broke into 
 a wrinkled network of laughter. 
 
 " Oh, that's your game, is it ? You are going to 
 do a little Siberian Magic on your own account. 
 And is Mrs. Hampton willing to be a fellow-con- 
 spirator ? " 
 
 " Mary is pledged to see me through with it, if 
 you will guarantee Louisa's temper." 
 
 *' I'll answer for Louisa," said Lord Pabham. 
 
 By the following day the house-party had swollen 
 to larger proportions, and Bilsiter's instinct for self- 
 advertisement expanded duly under the stimulant 
 of an increased audience. At dinner that evening 
 he held forth at length on the subject of unseen 
 forces and untested powers, and his flow of 
 impressive eloquence continued unabated while 
 coffee was being served in the drawing-room pre- 
 paratory to a general migration to the card-room. 
 
6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 His aunt ensured a respectful hearing for his utter- 
 ances, but her sensation-loving soul hankered after 
 something more dramatic than mere vocal demon- 
 stration. 
 
 " Won't you do something to convince them of 
 your powers, Leonard ? " she pleaded ; " change 
 something into another shape. He can, you know, 
 if he only chooses to," she informed the company. 
 
 " Oh, do," said Mavis Pellington earnestly, and 
 her request was echoed by nearly everyone present. 
 Even those who were not open to conviction were 
 perfectly wiUing to be entertained by an exhibition 
 of amateur conjuring. 
 
 Leonard felt that something tangible was expected 
 of him. 
 
 " Has anyone present," he asked, "got a three- 
 penny bit or some small object of no particular 
 value ? " 
 
 " You're surely not going to make coins disappear, 
 or something primitive of that sort ? " said Clovis 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " I think it very unkind of you not to carry out 
 my suggestion of turning me into a wolf," said Mary 
 Hampton, as she crossed over to the conservatory 
 to give her macaws their usual tribute from the 
 dessert dishes. 
 
 " I have already warned you of the danger of 
 
THE SHE- WOLF 
 
 treating these powers in a mocking spirit," said 
 Leonard solemnly. 
 
 " I don't believe you can do it," laughed Mary 
 provocatively from the conservatory ; "I dare 
 you to do it if you can. I defy you to turn me into 
 a wolf." 
 
 As she said this she was lost to view behind a 
 clump of azaleas. 
 
 " Mrs. Hampton " began Leonard with in- 
 creased solemnity, but he got no further. A breath 
 of chill air seemed to rush across the room, and at 
 the same time the macaws broke forth into ear- 
 splitting screams. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter with those con- 
 founded birds, Mary ? " exclaimed Colonel Hampton ; 
 at the same moment an even more piercing scream 
 from Mavis Pellington stampeded the entire com- 
 pany from their seats. In various attitudes of 
 helpless horror or instinctive defence they confronted 
 the evil-looking grey beast that was peering at them 
 from amid a setting of fern and azalea. 
 
 Mrs. Hoops was the first to recover from the 
 general chaos of fright and bewilderment. 
 
 " Leonard ! " she screamed shrilly to her nephew, 
 " turn it back into Mrs. Hampton at once ! It may 
 fly at us at any moment. Turn it back ! " 
 
 " I — I don't know how to," faltered Leonard, 
 
8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 who looked more scared and horrified than 
 anyone. 
 
 " What ! " shouted Colonel Hampton, " you've 
 taken the abominable liberty of turning my wife 
 into a wolf, and now you stand there calmly and 
 say you can't turn her back again ! " 
 
 To do strict justice to Leonard, calmness was 
 not a distinguishing feature of his attitude at the 
 moment. 
 
 " I assure you I didn't turn Mrs. Hampton into 
 a wolf ; nothing was farther from my intentions," 
 he protested. 
 
 " Then where is she, and how came that animal 
 into the conservatory ? " demanded the Colonel. 
 
 " Of course we must accept your assurance that 
 you didn't turn Mrs. Hampton into a wolf," said 
 Clovis politely, " but you will agree that appear- 
 ances are against you." 
 
 " Are we to have all these recriminations with 
 that beast standing there ready to tear us to pieces ? " 
 wailed Mavis indignantly. 
 
 " Lord Pabham, you know a good deal about 
 wild beasts " suggested Colonel Hampton. 
 
 " The wild beasts that I have been accustomed 
 to," said Lord Pabham, " have come with proper 
 credentials from well-known dealers, or have been 
 bred in my own menagerie. I've never before been 
 
THE SHE-WOLF 
 
 confronted with an animal that walks unconcernedly 
 out of an azalea bush, leaving a charming and 
 popular hostess unaccoimted for. As far as one 
 can judge from outward characteristics," he con- 
 tinued, " it has the appearance of a well-grown 
 female of the North American timber-wolf, a 
 variety of the common species canis lupus." 
 
 *' Oh, never mind its Latin name," screamed 
 Mavis, as the beast came a step or two further into 
 the room ; " can't you entice it away with food, 
 and shut it up where it can't do any harm ? " 
 
 " If it is really Mrs. Hampton, who has just had 
 a very good dinner, I don't suppose food will appeal 
 to it very strongly," said Clovis. 
 
 " Leonard," beseeched Mrs. Hoops tearfully, 
 " even if this is none of your doing can't you use 
 your great powers to turn this dreadful beast into 
 something harmless before it bites us all — a rabbit 
 or something ? " 
 
 " I don't suppose Colonel Hampton would care 
 to have his wife turned into a succession of fancy 
 animals as though we were playing a round game 
 with her," interposed Clovis. 
 
 " I absolutely forbid it," thundered the Colonel. 
 
 " Most wolves that I've had anything to do with 
 have been inordinately fond of sugar," said Lord 
 Pabham ; " if you Hke I'll try the effect on this one." 
 
10 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 He took a piece of sugar from the saucer of his 
 coffee cup and flung it to the expectant Louisa, 
 who snapped it in mid-air. There was a sigh of 
 relief from the company ; a wolf that ate sugar 
 when it might at the least have been employed in 
 tearing macaws to pieces had already shed some of 
 its terrors. The sigh deepened to a gasp of thanks- 
 giving when Lord Pabham decoyed the animal out 
 of the room by a pretended largesse of further 
 sugar. There was an instant rush to the 
 vacated conservatory. There was no trace of Mrs. 
 Hampton except the plate containing the macaws' 
 supper. 
 
 " The door is locked on the inside ! " exclaimed 
 Clovis, who had deftly turned the key as he affected 
 to test it. 
 
 Everyone turned towards Bilsiter. 
 
 " If you haven't turned my wife into a wolf," 
 said Colonel Hampton, " will you kindly explain 
 where she has disappeared to, since she obviously 
 could not have gone through a locked door ? I 
 will not press you for an explanation of how a 
 North American timber-wolf suddenly appeared in 
 the conservatory, but I think I have some right to 
 inquire what has become of Mrs. Hampton." 
 
 Bilsiter's reiterated disclaimer was met with a 
 general murmur of impatient disbelief. 
 
THE SHE-WOLF ii 
 
 '' I refuse to stay another hour under this roof," 
 declared Mavis Pellington. 
 
 " If our hostess has really vanished out of human 
 form," said Mrs. Hoops, " none of the ladies of the 
 party can very well remain. I absolutely decline 
 to be chaperoned by a wolf ! " 
 
 " It's a she-wolf," said Clovis soothingly. 
 
 The correct etiquette to be observed under the 
 unusual circumstances received no further elucida- 
 tion. The sudden entry of Mary Hampton deprived 
 the discussion of its immediate interest. 
 
 " Some one has mesmerised me," she exclaimed 
 crossly ; "I found myself in the game larder, of 
 all places, being fed with sugar by Lord Pabham. 
 I hate being mesmerised, and the doctor has for- 
 bidden me to touch sugar." 
 
 The situation was explained to her, as far as 
 it permitted of anything that could be called 
 explanation. 
 
 " Then you really did turn me into a wolf, Mr. 
 Bilsiter ? " she exclaimed excitedly. 
 
 But Leonard had burned the boat in which he 
 might now have embarked on a sea of glory. He 
 could only shake his head feebly. 
 
 " It was I who took that liberty," said Clovis ; 
 *' you see, I happen to have lived for a couple of 
 years in North-Eastern Russia, and I have more 
 
12 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 than a tourist's acquaintance with the magic craft 
 of that region. One does not care to speak about 
 these strange powers, but once in a way, when one 
 hears a lot of nonsense being talked about them, 
 one is tempted to show what Siberian magic can 
 accomplish in the hands of someone who really 
 understands it. I yielded to that temptation. 
 May I have some brandy ? the effort has left me 
 rather faint." 
 
 If Leonard Bilsiter could at that moment have 
 transformed Clovis into a cockroach and then 
 have stepped on him he would gladly have per- 
 formed both operations. 
 
LAURA 13 
 
 Y 
 
 LAURA 
 
 ^^ ^ JTOX] are not really dying, are you ? " asked 
 Amanda. 
 
 " I have the doctor's permission to 
 live till Tuesday," said Laura. 
 
 *' But to-day is Saturday ; this is serious ! " 
 gasped Amanda. 
 
 " I don't know about it being serious ; it is 
 certainly Saturday," said Laura. 
 
 " Death is always serious," said Amanda. 
 
 " I never said I was going to die. I am presum- 
 ably going to leave off being Laura, but I shall go 
 on being something. An animal of some kind, I 
 suppose. You see, when one hasn't been very 
 good in the Hfe one has just lived, one reincarnates 
 in some lower organism. And I haven't been very 
 good, when one comes to think of it. I've been petty 
 and mean and vindictive and all that sort of thing 
 when circumstances have seemed to warrant it." 
 
 " Circumstances never warrant that sort of 
 thing," said Amanda hastily. 
 
14 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " If you don't mind my saying so," observed 
 Laura, " Egbert is a circumstance that would 
 warrant any amount of that sort of thing. You're 
 married to him — ^that's different ; you've sworn 
 to love, honour, and endure him : I haven't." 
 
 ** I don't see what's wrong with Egbert," pro- 
 tested Amanda. 
 
 " Oh, I daresay the wrongness has been on my 
 part," admitted Laura dispassionately ; "he has 
 merely been the extenuating circumstance. He 
 made a thin, peevish kind of fuss, for instance, when 
 I took the collie puppies from the farm out for a 
 run the other day." 
 
 " They chased his young broods of speckled Sussex 
 and drove two sitting hens off their nests, besides 
 rimning all over the flower beds. You know how 
 devoted he is to his poultry and garden." 
 
 " Anyhow, he needn't have gone on about it 
 for the entire evening and then have said, ' Let's 
 say no more about it ' just when I was beginning 
 to enjoy the discussion. That's where one of my 
 petty vindictive revenges came in," added Laura 
 with an unrepentant chuckle ; "I turned the entire 
 family of speckled Sussex into his seedling shed 
 the day after the puppy episode." 
 
 '* How could you ? " exclaimed Amanda. 
 
 *' It came quite easy," said Laura ; " two of the 
 
LAURA 15 
 
 hens pretended to be laying at the time, but I was 
 firm." 
 
 " And we thought it was an accident ! " 
 
 " You see," resumed Laura, " I really have some 
 grounds for supposing that my next incarnation will 
 be in a lower organism. I shall be an animal of 
 some kind. On the other hand, I haven't been a 
 bad sort in my way, so I think I may count on being 
 a nice animal, something elegant and lively, with 
 a love of fun. An otter, perhaps." 
 
 " I can't imagine you as an otter," said Amanda. 
 
 *' Well, I don't suppose you can imagine me as an 
 angel, if it comes to that," said Laura. 
 
 Amanda was silent. She couldn't. 
 
 " Personally I think an otter Ufe would be rather 
 enjoyable," continued Laura ; " salmon to eat all 
 the year round, and the satisfaction of being able 
 to fetch the trout in their own homes without having 
 to wait for hours till they condescend to rise to the 
 fly you've been danghng before them ; and an elegant 
 svelte figure " 
 
 " Think of the otter hounds," interposed Amanda ; 
 *' how dreadful to be hunted and harried and finally 
 worried to death ! " 
 
 " Rather fun with half the neighbourhood looking 
 on, and anyhow not worse than this Saturday-to- 
 Tuesday business of dying by inches ; and then I 
 
i6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 should go on into something else. If I had been 
 a moderately good otter I suppose I should get back 
 into hmnan shape of some sort ; probably something 
 rather primitive — a little brown, unclothed Nubian 
 boy, I should think." 
 
 " I wish you would be serious," sighed Amanda ; 
 " you really ought to be if you're only going to live 
 tiU Tuesday." 
 
 As a matter of fact Laura died on Monday. 
 
 " So dreadfully upsetting," Amanda complained 
 to her uncle-in-law. Sir Lulworth Quayne. " I've 
 asked quite a lot of people down for golf and fishing, 
 and the rhododendrons are just looking their best." 
 
 " Laura always was inconsiderate," said Sir 
 Lulworth ; " she was born diuring Goodwood week, 
 with an Ambassador staying in the house who hated 
 babies." 
 
 " She had the maddest kind of ideas," said 
 Amanda ; "do you know if there was any insanity 
 in her family ? " 
 
 " Insanity ? No, I never heard of any. Her 
 father lives in West Kensington, but I believe he's 
 sane on all other subjects." 
 
 " She had an idea that she was going to be rein- 
 carnated as an otter," said Amanda. 
 
 " One meets with those ideas of reincarnation so 
 frequently, even in the West," said Sir Lulworth, 
 
LAURA 17 
 
 *' that one can hardly set them down as being mad. 
 And Laura was such an unaccountable person in 
 this life that I should not like to lay down definite 
 rules as to what she might be doing in an after state." 
 
 " You think she really might have passed into 
 some animal form ? " asked Amanda. She was 
 one of those who shape their opinions rather readily 
 from the standpoint of those around them. 
 
 Just then Egbert entered the breakfast-room, 
 wearing an air of bereavement that Laura's demise 
 would have been insufficient, in itself, to account for. 
 
 " Four of my speckled Sussex have been killed," 
 he exclaimed ; " the very four that were to go to 
 the show on Friday. One of them was dragged 
 away and eaten right in the middle of that new 
 carnation bed that I've been to such trouble and 
 expense over. My best flower bed and my best 
 fowls singled out for destruction ; it almost seems 
 as if the brute that did the deed had special know- 
 ledge how to be as devastating as possible in a short 
 space of time." 
 
 " Was it a fox, do you think ? " asked Amanda. 
 
 " Sounds more Hke a polecat," said Sir Lul worth. 
 
 " No," said Egbert, " there were marks of webbed 
 feet all over the place, and we followed the tracks 
 down to the stream at the bottom of the garden ; 
 evidently an otter." 
 
i8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Amanda looked quickly and furtively across at 
 Sir Lulworth. 
 
 Egbert was too agitated to eat any breakfast, and 
 went out to superintend the strengthening of the 
 poultry yard defences. 
 
 " I think she might at least have waited till the 
 funeral was over," said Amanda in a scandaUsed 
 voice. 
 
 " It's her own funeral, you know," said Sir Lul- 
 worth ; '* it's a nice point in etiquette how far one 
 ought to show respect to one's own mortal 
 remains." 
 
 Disregard for mortuary convention was carried 
 to further lengths next day ; during the absence 
 of the family at the funeral ceremony the remaining 
 survivors of the speckled Sussex were massacred. 
 The marauder's line of retreat seemed to have 
 embraced most of the flower beds on the lawn, but 
 the strawberry beds in the lower garden had also 
 suffered. 
 
 " I shall get the otter hounds to come here at the 
 earliest possible moment," said Egbert savagely. 
 
 "On no account ! You can't dream of such a 
 thing ! " exclaimed Amanda. " I mean, it wouldn't 
 do, so soon after a funeral in the house." 
 
 " It's a case of necessity," said Egbert ; " once 
 an otter takes to that sort of thing it won't stop." 
 
LAURA 19 
 
 " Perhaps it will go elsewhere now there are no 
 more fowls left," suggested Amanda. 
 
 " One would think you wanted to shield the beast," 
 said Egbert. 
 
 " There's been so little water in the stream lately/* 
 objected Amanda ; "it seems hardly sporting to 
 hunt an animal when it has so httle chance of taking 
 refuge anywhere." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " fumed Egbert, " I'm not 
 thinking about sport. I want to have the animal 
 killed as soon as possible." 
 
 Even Amanda's opposition weakened when, during 
 church time on the following Sunday, the otter 
 made its way into the house, raided half a salmon 
 from the larder and worried it into scaly fragments 
 on the Persian rug in Egbert's studio. 
 
 " We shall have it hiding under our beds and biting 
 pieces out of our feet before long," said Egbert, and 
 from what Amanda knew of this particular otter 
 she felt that the possibility was not a remote one. 
 
 On the evening preceding the day fixed for the 
 hunt Amanda spent a solitary hour walking by the 
 banks of the stream, making what she imagined 
 to be hound noises. It was charitably supposed 
 by those who overheard her performance, that she 
 was practising for farmyard imitations at the forth- 
 coming village entertainment. 
 
20 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 It was her friend and neighbour, Aurora Burret, 
 who brought her news of the day's sport. 
 
 " Pity you weren't out ; we had quite a good day. 
 We found at once, in the pool just below your 
 garden." 
 
 " Did you — kill ? " asked Amanda. 
 
 " Rather. A fine she-otter. Your husband got 
 rather badly bitten in trying to ' tail it.' Poor beast, 
 I felt quite sorry for it, it had such a human look 
 in its eyes when it was killed. You'll call me silly, 
 but do you know who the look reminded me of ? My 
 dear woman, what is the matter ? " 
 
 When Amanda had recovered to a certain extent 
 from her attack of nervous prostration Egbert took 
 her to the Nile Valley to recuperate. Change of 
 scene speedily brought about the desired recovery of 
 health and mental balance. The escapades of an 
 adventurous otter in search of a variation of diet 
 were viewed in their proper light. Amanda's 
 normally placid temperament reasserted itself. 
 Even a hurricane of shouted curses, coming from her 
 husband's dressing-room, in her husband's voice, 
 but hardly in his usual vocabulary, failed to disturb 
 her serenity as she made a leisurely toilet one evening 
 in a Cairo hotel. 
 
 " What is the matter ? What has happened ? '* 
 she asked in amused curiosity. 
 
LAURA 21 
 
 " The little beast has thrown all my clean shirts 
 into the bath ! Wait till I catch you, you little '* 
 
 " What Httle beast ? " asked Amanda, suppressing 
 a desire to laugh ; Egbert's language was so hope- 
 lessly inadequate to express his outraged feelings. 
 
 '' A Httle beast of a naked brown Nubian boy/' 
 spluttered Egbert. 
 
 And now Amanda is seriously ill. 
 
22 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 T 
 
 THE BOAR.PIG 
 
 ^' A I A HERE is a back way on to the lawn," 
 said Mrs. Philidore Stossen to her 
 daughter, " through a small grass pad- 
 dock and then through a walled fruit garden full 
 of gooseberry bushes. I went all over the place 
 last year when the family were away. There is a 
 door that opens from the fruit garden into a shrub- 
 bery, and once we emerge from there we can mingle 
 with the guests as if we had come in by the ordinary 
 way. It's much safer than going in by the front 
 entrance and running the risk of coming bang 
 up against the hostess ; that would be so awkward 
 when she doesn't happen to have invited us." 
 
 " Isn't it a lot of trouble to take for getting 
 admittance to a garden party ? " 
 
 " To a garden party, yes ; to the garden party 
 of the season, certainly not. Every one of any con- 
 sequence in the county, with the exception of our- 
 selves, has been asked to meet the Princess, and it 
 would be far more troublesome to invent explana- 
 
THE BOAR-PIG 23 
 
 tions as to why we weren't there than to get in by 
 a roundabout way. I stopped Mrs. Cuvering in 
 the road yesterday and talked very pointedly about 
 the Princess. If she didn't choose to take the hint 
 and send me an invitation it's not my fault, is it ? 
 Here we are : we just cut across the grass and 
 through that Httle gate into the garden." 
 
 Mrs. Stossen and her daughter, suitably arrayed 
 for a county garden party function with an infusion 
 of Almanack de Gotha, sailed through the narrow 
 grass paddock and the ensuing gooseberry garden 
 with the air of state barges making an unofficial 
 progress along a rural trout stream. There was a 
 certain amount of furtive haste mingled with the 
 statehness of their advance, as though hostile search- 
 lights might be turned on them at any moment ; 
 and, as a matter of fact, they were not unobserved. 
 Matilda Cuvering, with the alert eyes of thirteen 
 years old and the added advantage of an exalted 
 position in the branches of a medlar tree, had enjoyed 
 a good view of the Stossen flanking movement and 
 had foreseen exactly where it would break down in 
 execution. 
 
 " They'll find the door locked, and they'll jolly 
 well have to go back the way they came," she 
 remarked to herself. " Serves them right for not 
 coming in by the proper entrance. What a pity 
 
24 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Tarquin Superbus isn't loose in the paddock. 
 After all, as every one else is enjoying themselves, 
 I don't see why Tarquin shouldn't have an after- 
 noon out." 
 
 Matilda was of an age when thought is action ; 
 she slid down from the branches of the medlar 
 tree, and when she clambered back again Tarquin, 
 the huge white Yorkshire boar-pig, had exchanged 
 the narrow limits of his stye for the wider range of 
 the grass paddock. The discomfited Stossen expedi- 
 tion, returning in recriminatory but otherwise orderly 
 retreat from the unyielding obstacle of the locked 
 door, came to a sudden halt at the gate dividing 
 the paddock from the gooseberry garden. 
 
 ** What a villainous-looking animal," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Stossen ; "it wasn't there when we came in." 
 
 " It's there now, anyhow," said her daughter. 
 " What on earth are we to do ? I wish we had 
 never come." 
 
 The boar-pig had drawn nearer to the gate for 
 a closer inspection of the human intruders, and 
 stood champing his jaws and blinking his small 
 red eyes in a manner that was doubtless intended 
 to be disconcerting, and, as far as the Stossens were 
 concerned, thoroughly achieved that result. 
 
 " Shoo ! Hish ! Hish ! Shoo ! " cried the ladies 
 in chorus. 
 
THE BOAR-PIG 25 
 
 " If they think they're going to drive him away 
 by reciting Hsts of the kings of Israel and Judah 
 they're laying themselves out for disappointment," 
 observed Matilda from her seat in the medlar tree. 
 As she made the observation aloud Mrs. Stossen 
 became for the first time aware of her presence. 
 A moment or two earlier she would have been any- 
 thing but pleased at the discovery that the garden 
 was not as deserted as it looked, but now she hailed 
 the fact of the child's presence on the scene with 
 absolute relief. 
 
 " Little girl, can you find some one to drive away 
 " she began hopefully. 
 
 " Comment ? Comprends pas/' was the response. 
 
 " Oh, are you French ? Etes vous frangaise ? " 
 
 " Pas de tous. 'Suis anglaise." 
 
 " Then why not talk English ? I want to know 
 if " 
 
 " Permettez-moi expliquer. You see, I'm rather 
 under a cloud," said Matilda. " I'm staying with 
 my aunt, and I was told I must behave particularly 
 well to-day, as lots of people were coming for a 
 garden party, and I was told to imitate Claude, 
 that's my young cousin, who never does anything 
 wrong except by accident, and then is always 
 apologetic about it. It seems they thought I ate 
 too much raspberry trifle at lunch, and they said 
 
26 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Claude never eats too much raspberry trifle. Well, 
 Claude always goes to sleep for half an hour after 
 lunch, because he's told to, and I waited till he was 
 asleep, and tied his hands and started forcible 
 feeding with a whole bucketful of raspberry trifle 
 that they were keeping for the garden-party. Lots 
 of it went on to his sailor-suit and some of it on to 
 the bed, but a good deal went down Claude's throat, 
 and they can't say again that he has never been 
 known to eat too much raspberry trifle. That is 
 why I am not allowed to go to the party, and as an 
 additional punishment I must speak French all the 
 afternoon. I've had to tell you all this in English, 
 as there were words Hke ' forcible feeding ' that I 
 didn't know the French for ; of course I could have 
 invented them, but if I had said nourriture obliga- 
 toire you wouldn't have had the least idea what I 
 was talking about. Mais maintenant, nous parlons 
 frangaisJ* 
 
 " Oh, very well, Ms hien," said Mrs. Stossen 
 reluctantly ; in moments of flurry such French as 
 she knew was not under very good control. " La, 
 d V autre c6t6 de la porte, est un cochon " 
 
 ** Un cochon ? Ah, le petit charmant ! " exclaimed 
 Matilda with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Mais non, pas du tout petit, et pas du tout char- 
 mant ; un bete feroce " 
 
THE BOAR-PIG 27 
 
 '' Une bSte," corrected Matilda ; '* a pig is mascu- 
 line as long as you call it a pig, but if you lose your 
 temper with it and call it a ferocious beast it becomes 
 one of us at once. French is a dreadfully unsexing 
 language." 
 
 " For goodness' sake let us talk EngUsh then," 
 said Mrs. Stossen. " Is there any way out of this 
 garden except through the paddock where the pig 
 is ? " 
 
 " I always go over the wall, by way of the plum 
 tree," said Matilda. 
 
 '* Dressed as we are we could hardly do that," 
 said Mrs. Stossen ; it was difficult to imagine her 
 doing it in any costume. 
 
 " Do you think you could go and get some one 
 who would drive the pig away ? " asked Miss 
 Stossen. 
 
 " I promised my aunt I would stay here till five 
 o'clock ; it's not four yet." 
 
 " I am sure, under the circumstances, your aunt 
 would permit " 
 
 " My conscience would not permit," said Matilda 
 with cold dignity. 
 
 " We can't stay here till five o'clock," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Stossen with growing exasperation. 
 
 " Shall I recite to you to make the time pass 
 quicker ? " asked Matilda obligingly. " ' Belinda, 
 
28 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 the little Breadwinner/ is considered my best piece, 
 or, perhaps, it ought to be something in French. 
 Henri Quatre's address to his soldiers is the only 
 thing I really know in that language." 
 
 " If you will go and fetch some one to drive that 
 animal away I will give you something to buy your- 
 self a nice present," said Mrs. Stossen. 
 
 Matilda came several inches lower down the 
 medlar tree. 
 
 " That is the most practical suggestion you have 
 made yet for getting out of the garden," she remarked 
 cheerfully ; *' Claude and I are collecting money for 
 the Children's Fresh Air Fund, and we are seeing 
 which of us can collect the biggest sum." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to contribute half a crown, 
 very glad indeed," said Mrs. Stossen, digging that 
 coin out of the depths of a receptacle which formed 
 a detached outwork of her toilet. 
 
 " Claude is a long way ahead of me at present," 
 continued Matilda, taking no notice of the suggested 
 offering ; " you see, he's only eleven, and has golden 
 hair, and those are enormous advantages when you're 
 on the collecting job. Only the other day a Russian 
 lady gave him ten shillings. Russians understand 
 the art of giving far better than we do. I expect 
 Claude will net quite twenty-five shillings this 
 afternoon ; he'll have the field to himself, and he'll 
 
THE BOAR-PIG 29 
 
 be able to do the pale, fragile, not-long-for-this- 
 world business to perfection after his raspberry 
 trifle experience. Yes, he'll be quite two pounds 
 ahead of me by now." 
 
 With much probing and plucking and many 
 regretful murmurs the beleaguered ladies managed 
 to produce seven-and-sixpence between them. 
 
 " I am afraid this is all we've got," said Mrs. 
 Stossen. 
 
 Matilda showed no sign of coming down either 
 to the earth or to their figure. 
 
 " I could not do violence to my conscience for 
 anything less than ten shiUings," she announced 
 stiffly. 
 
 Mother and daughter muttered certain remarks 
 under their breath, in which the word " beast " 
 was prominent, and probably had no reference to 
 Tarquin. 
 
 " I find I have got another half-crown," said 
 Mrs. Stossen in a shaking voice ; " here you are. 
 Now please fetch some one quickly." 
 
 Matilda slipped down from the tree, took posses- 
 sion of the donation, and proceeded to pick up a 
 handful of over-ripe medlars from the grass at her 
 feet. Then she climbed over the gate and addressed 
 herself affectionately to the boar-pig. 
 
 " Come, Tarquin, dear old boy ; you know you 
 
30 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 can't resist medlars when they're rotten and 
 squashy." 
 
 Tarquin couldn't. By dint of throwing the 
 fruit in front of him at judicious intervals Matilda 
 decoyed him back to his stye, while the deUvered 
 captives hurried across the paddock. 
 
 " Well, I never ! The little minx ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Stossen when she was safely on the high road. 
 " The animal wasn't savage at all, and as for the 
 ten shillings, I don't beheve the Fresh Air Fund 
 will see a penny of it ! " 
 
 There she was unwarrantably harsh in her judg- 
 ment. If you examine the books of the fund you 
 will find the acknowledgment : " Collected by Miss 
 Matilda Cuvering, 2s. 6d." 
 
THE BROGUE 31 
 
 THE BROGUE 
 
 THE hunting season had come to an end, 
 and the Mullets had not succeeded in 
 selling the Brogue. There had been a 
 kind of tradition in the family for the past three or 
 four years, a sort of fatalistic hope, that the Brogue 
 would find a purchaser before the hunting was over ; 
 but seasons came and went without anything 
 happening to justify such ill-founded optimism. 
 The animal had been named Berserker in the earlier 
 stages of its career ; it had been rechristened the 
 Brogue later on, in recognition of the fact that, once 
 acquired, it was extremely difficult to get rid of. 
 The unkinder wits of the neighbourhood had been 
 known to suggest that the first letter of its name was 
 superfluous. The Brogue had been variously des- 
 cribed in sale catalogues as a light-weight hunter, 
 a lady's hack, and, more simply, but still with a 
 touch of imagination, as a useful brown gelding, 
 standing 15.1. Toby Mullet had ridden him for 
 four seasons with the West Wessex ; you can ride 
 
32 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 almost any sort of horse with the West Wessex as 
 long as it is an animal that knows the country. 
 The Brogue knew the country intimately, having 
 personally created most of the gaps that were to 
 be met with in banks and hedges for many miles 
 round. His manners and characteristics were not 
 ideal in the hunting field, but he was probably 
 rather safer to ride to hounds than he was as a hack 
 on country roads. According to the Mullet family, 
 he was not really road-shy, but there were one or 
 two objects of disHke that brought on sudden attacks 
 of what Toby called the swerving sickness. Motors 
 and cycles he treated with tolerant disregard, but 
 pigs, wheelbarrows, piles of stones by the roadside, 
 perambulators in a village street, gates painted too 
 aggressively white, and sometimes, but not always, 
 the newer kind of beehives, turned him aside from 
 his tracks in vivid imitation of the zigzag course of 
 forked Ughtning. If a pheasant rose noisily from 
 the other side of a hedgerow the Brogue would spring 
 into the air at the same moment, but this may have 
 been due to a desire to be companionable. The 
 Mullet family contradicted the widely prevalent 
 report that the horse was a confirmed crib-biter. 
 
 It was about the third week in May that Mrs. 
 Mullet, rehct of the late Sylvester Mullet, and 
 mother of Toby and a bunch of daughters, assailed 
 
THE BROGUE 33 
 
 Clovis Sangrail on the outskirts of the village with 
 a breathless catalogue of local happenings. 
 
 " You know our new neighbour, Mr. Penricarde ? " 
 she vociferated ; " awfully rich, owns tin mines in 
 Cornwall, middle-aged and rather quiet. He's 
 taken the Red House on a long lease and spent a 
 lot of money on alterations and improvements. 
 Well, Toby's sold him the Brogue ! " 
 
 Clovis spent a moment or two in assimilating the 
 astonishing news ; then he broke out into unstinted 
 congratulation. If he had belonged to a more 
 emotional race he would probably have kissed Mrs. 
 Mullet. 
 
 " How wonderfully lucky to have pulled it off at 
 last ! Now you can buy a decent animal. I've 
 always said that Toby was clever. Ever so many 
 congratulations. ' ' 
 
 " Don't congratulate me. It's the most unfor- 
 tunate thing that could have happened ! " said Mrs. 
 Mullet dramatically. 
 
 Clovis stared at her in amazement. 
 
 " Mr. Penricarde," said Mrs. Mullet, sinking her 
 voice to what she imagined to be an impressive 
 whisper, though it rather resembled a hoarse, 
 excited squeak, "Mr. Penricarde has just begun 
 to pay attentions to Jessie. Slight at first, but now 
 unmistakable. I was a fool not to have seen it 
 
 D 
 
34 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 sooner. Yesterday, at the Rectory garden party, 
 he asked her what her favourite flowers were, and 
 she told him carnations, and to-day a whole stack 
 of carnations has arrived, clove and malmaison and 
 lovely dark red ones, regular exhibition blooms, and 
 a box of chocolates that he must have got on purpose 
 from London. And he's asked her to go round the 
 links with him to-morrow. And now, just at this 
 critical moment, Toby has sold him that animal- 
 It's a calamity ! " 
 
 " But you've been trying to get the horse off 
 your hands for years," said Clovis. 
 
 "I've got a houseful of daughters," said Mrs. 
 Mullet, " and I've been trying — well, not to get 
 them off my hands, of course, but a husband or 
 two wouldn't be amiss among the lot of them ; there 
 are six of them, you know." 
 
 " I don't know," said Clovis, ** I've never counted, 
 but I expect you're right as to the number ; mothers 
 generally know these things." 
 
 " And now," continued Mrs. Mullet, in her tragic 
 whisper, " when there's a rich husband-in-prospect 
 imminent on the horizon Toby goes and sells him 
 that miserable animal. It will probably kill him 
 if he tries to ride it ; anyway it will kill any affection 
 he might have felt towards any member of our 
 family. What is to be done ? We can't very well 
 
THE BROGUE 35 
 
 ask to have the horse back ; you see, we praised it 
 up Uke anything when we thought there was a chance 
 of his buying it, and said it was just the animal to 
 suit him." 
 
 " Couldn't you steal it out of his stable and send 
 it to grass at some farm miles away ? " suggested 
 Clovis ; " write * Votes for Women ' on the stable 
 door, and the thing would pass for a Suffragette 
 outrage. No one who knew the horse could possibly 
 suspect you of wanting to get it back again." 
 
 " Every newspaper in the country would ring with 
 the affair," said Mrs. Mullet ; '* can't you imagine the 
 headline, ' Valuable Hunter Stolen by Suffragettes ' ? 
 The police would scour the countryside till they 
 found the animal." 
 
 " Well, Jessie must try and get it back from 
 Penricarde on the plea that it's an old favourite. 
 She can say it was only sold because the stable 
 had to be pulled down under the terms of an old 
 repairing lease, and that now it has been arranged 
 that the stable is to stand for a couple of years 
 longer." 
 
 " It sounds a queer proceeding to ask for a horse 
 back when you've just sold him," said Mrs. Mullet, 
 " but something must be done, and done at once. 
 The man is not used to horses, and I believe I told 
 him it was as quiet as a lamb. After all, lambs go 
 
36 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 kicking and twisting about as if they were demented, 
 don't they ? " 
 
 " The lamb has an entirely unmerited character 
 for sedateness," agreed Clovis. 
 
 Jessie came back from the golf links next day in 
 a state of mingled elation and concern. 
 
 " It's all right about the proposal," she announced ; 
 " he came out with it at the sixth hole. I said I 
 must have time to think it over. I accepted him 
 at the seventh." 
 
 " My dear," said her mother, " I think a little 
 more maidenly reserve and hesitation would have 
 been advisable, as you've known him so short 
 a time. You might have waited till the ninth 
 hole." 
 
 *' The seventh is a very long hole," said Jessie ; 
 " besides, the tension was putting us both off our 
 game. By the time we'd got to the ninth hole 
 we'd settled lots of things. The honeymoon is to 
 be spent in Corsica, with perhaps a flying visit to 
 Naples if we feel like it, and a week in London to 
 wind up with. Two of his nieces are to be asked to 
 be bridesmaids, so with our lot there will be seven, 
 which is rather a lucky number. You are to wear 
 your pearl grey, with any amount of Honiton lace 
 jabbed into it. By the way, he's coming over this 
 evening to ask your consent to the whole affair. So 
 
THE BROGUE 37 
 
 far all's well, but about the Brogue it's a different 
 matter. I told him the legend about the stable, 
 and how keen we were about buying the horse back, 
 but he seems equally keen on keeping it. He said 
 he must have horse exercise now that he's living 
 in the country, and he's going to start riding to- 
 morrow. He's ridden a few times in the Row, 
 on an animal that was accustomed to carry octo- 
 genarians and people undergoing rest cures, and 
 that's about all his experience in the saddle — oh, 
 and he rode a pony once in Norfolk, when he was 
 fifteen and the pony twenty-four; and to-morrow 
 he's going to ride the Brogue ! I shall be a widow 
 before I'm married, and I do so want to see what 
 Corsica's like ; it looks so silly on the map." 
 
 Clovis was sent for in haste, and the developments 
 of the situation put before him. 
 
 " Nobody can ride that animal with any safety," 
 said Mrs. Mullet, " except Toby, and he knows by 
 long experience what it is going to shy at, and 
 manages to swerve at the same time." 
 
 " I did hint to Mr. Penricarde — to Vincent, I 
 should say — that the Brogue didn't Hke white gates," 
 said Jessie. 
 
 " White gates ! " exclaimed Mrs. Mullet ; " did 
 you mention what effect a pig has on him ? He'll 
 have to go past Lockyer's farm to get to the high 
 
38 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 road, and there's sure to be a pig or two grunting 
 about in the lane." 
 
 " He's taken rather a disHke to turkeys lately," 
 said Toby. 
 
 " It's obvious that Penricarde mustn't be allowed 
 to go out on that animal," said Clovis, " at least 
 not till Jessie has married him, and tired of him. 
 I tell you what : ask him to a picnic to-morrow, 
 starting at an early hour ; he's not the sort to go 
 out for a ride before breakfast. The day after I'll 
 get the rector to drive him over to Crowleigh before 
 lunch, to see the new cottage hospital they're build- 
 ing there. The Brogue will be standing idle in the 
 stable and Toby can offer to exercise it ; then it can 
 pick up a stone or something of the sort and go 
 conveniently lame. If you hurry on the wedding 
 a bit the lameness fiction can be kept up till the 
 ceremony is safely over." 
 
 Mrs. Mullet belonged to an emotional race, and 
 she kissed Clovis. 
 
 It was nobody's fault that the rain came down in 
 torrents the next morning, making a picnic a fan- 
 tastic impossibility. It was also nobody's fault, 
 but sheer ill-luck, that the weather cleared up suffi- 
 ciently in the afternoon to tempt Mr. Penricarde 
 to make his first essay with the Brogue. They did 
 not get as far as the pigs at Lockyer's farm ; the 
 
THE BROGUE 39 
 
 rectory gate was painted a dull unobtrusive green, 
 but it had been white a year or two ago, and the 
 Brogue never forgot that he had been in the habit 
 of making a violent curtsey, a back-pedal and a 
 swerve at this particular point of the road. Subse- 
 quently, there being apparently no further call on 
 his services, he broke his way into the rectory 
 orchard, where he found a hen turkey in a coop ; 
 later visitors to the orchard found the coop almost 
 intact, but very little left of the turkey. 
 
 Mr. Penricarde, a little stunned and shaken, 
 and suffering from a bruised knee and some minor 
 damages, good-naturedly ascribed the accident to 
 his own inexperience with horses and coimtry roads, 
 and allowed Jessie to nurse him back into complete 
 recovery and golf-fitness within something less than 
 a week. 
 
 In the list of wedding presents which the local 
 newspaper pubUshed a fortnight or so later appeared 
 the following item : 
 
 " Brown saddle-horse, ' The Brogue,' bridegroom's 
 gift to bride." 
 
 ''Which shows," said Toby Mullet, "that he 
 knew nothing." 
 
 " Or else," said Clovis, " that he has a very 
 pleasing wit." 
 
40 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 D 
 
 THE HEN 
 
 " T"^ ORA BITTHOLZ is coming on Thurs 
 day/' said Mrs. Sangrail. 
 
 " This next Thursday ? " asked Clovis 
 
 His mother nodded. 
 
 *' You've rather done it, haven't you ? " he 
 chuckled ; " Jane Martlet has only been here five 
 days, and she never stays less than a fortnight, 
 even when she's asked definitely for a week. You'll 
 never get her out of the house by Thursday." 
 
 " Why should I ? " asked Mrs. Sangrail ; " she 
 and Dora are good friends, aren't they? They 
 used to be, as far as I remember." 
 
 " They used to be ; that's what makes them all 
 the more bitter now. Each feels that she has 
 nursed a viper in her bosom. Nothing fans the 
 flame of human resentment so much as the discovery 
 that one's bosom has been utiUsed as a snake 
 sanatorium." 
 
 " But what has happened ? Has some one been 
 making mischief ? " 
 
THE HEN 41 
 
 " Not exactly," said Clovis ; "a hen came 
 between them." 
 
 " A hen ? What hen ? " 
 
 " It was a bronze Leghorn or some such exotic 
 breed, and Dora sold it to Jane at a rather exotic 
 price. They both go in for prize poultry, you know, 
 and Jane thought she was going to get her money 
 back in a large family of pedigree chickens. The 
 bird turned out to be an abstainer from the egg 
 habit, and I'm told that the letters which passed 
 between the two women were a revelation as to how 
 much invective could be got on to a sheet of note- 
 paper." 
 
 *' How ridiculous ! " said Mrs. Sangrail. " Couldn't 
 some of their friends compose the quarrel ? " 
 
 " People tried," said Clovis, " but it must have 
 been rather like composing the storm music of the 
 ' Fhegende Hollander.' Jane was wilHng to take 
 back some of her most libellous remarks if Dora 
 would take back the hen, but Dora said that would 
 be owning herself in the wrong, and you know she'd 
 as soon think of owning slum property in White- 
 chapel as do that." 
 
 " It's a most awkward situation," said Mrs. 
 Sangrail. " Do you suppose they won't speak to 
 one another ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, the difficulty will be to get 
 
42 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 them to leave off. Their remarks on each other's 
 conduct and character have hitherto been governed 
 by the fact that only four ounces of plain speaking 
 can be sent through the post for a penny." 
 
 " I can't put Dora off," said Mrs. Sangrail. 
 " I've already postponed her visit once, and nothing 
 short of a miracle would make Jane leave before her 
 self-allotted fortnight is over." 
 
 " Miracles are rather in my line," said Clovis. 
 " I don't pretend to be very hopeful in this case 
 but I'll do my best." 
 
 " As long as you don't drag me into it " 
 
 stipulated his mother. 
 
 " Servants are a bit of a nuisance," muttered 
 Clovis, as he sat in the smoking-room after lunch, 
 talking fitfully to Jane Martlet in the intervals of 
 putting together the materials of a cocktail, which 
 he had irreverently patented under the name of 
 an Ella Wheeler Wilcox. It was partly compounded 
 of old brandy and partly of cura9oa ; there were 
 other ingredients, but they were never indiscrimi- 
 nately revealed. 
 
 " Servants a nuisance ! " exclaimed Jane, bound- 
 ing into the topic with the exuberant plunge of a 
 hunter when it leaves the high road and feels turf 
 under its hoofs ; " I should think they were ! The 
 
THE HEN 43 
 
 trouble I've had in getting suited this year you would 
 hardly believe. But I don't see what you have to 
 complain of — your mother is so wonderfully lucky 
 in her servants. Sturridge, for instance — he's been 
 with you for years, and I'm sure he's a paragon as 
 butlers go." 
 
 " That's just the trouble," said Clovis. " It's 
 when servants have been with you for years that 
 they become a really serious nuisance. The * here 
 to-day and gone to-morrow ' sort don't matter — 
 you've simply got to replace them ; it's the stayers 
 and the paragons that are the real worry." 
 
 " But if they give satisfaction " 
 
 " That doesn't prevent them from giving trouble. 
 Now, you've mentioned Sturridge — it was Sturridge 
 I was particularly thinking of when I made the 
 observation about servants being a nuisance." 
 
 " The excellent Sturridge a nuisance ! I can't 
 believe it." 
 
 " I know he's excellent, and we just couldn't 
 get along without him ; he's the one reliable ele- 
 ment in this rather haphazard household. But 
 his very orderliness has had an effect on him. 
 Have you ever considered what it must be like to 
 go on unceasingly doing the correct thing in the 
 correct manner in the same surroundings for the 
 greater part of a lifetime ? To know and ordain 
 
44 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 and superintend exactly what silver and glass and 
 table linen shall be used and set out on what occa- 
 sions, to have cellar and pantry and plate-cupboard 
 under a minutely devised and undeviating adminis- 
 tration, to be noiseless, impalpable, omnipresent, 
 and, as far as your own department is concerned, 
 omniscient ? " 
 
 " I should go mad," said Jane with conviction. 
 
 " Exactly," said Clovis thoughtfully, swallowing 
 his completed Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 
 
 " But Sturridge hasn't gone mad," said Jane 
 with a flutter of inquiry in her voice. 
 
 " On most points he's thoroughly sane and 
 rehable," said Clovis, " but at times he is subject 
 to the most obstinate delusions, and on those occa- 
 sions he becomes not merely a nuisance but a decided 
 embarrassment." 
 
 " What sort of delusions ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately they usually centre round one 
 of the guests of the house party, and that is where 
 the awkwardness comes in. For instance, he took 
 it into his head that Matilda Sheringham was the 
 Prophet Elijah, and as all that he remembered 
 about Elijah's history was the episode of the ravens 
 in the wilderness he absolutely decHned to interfere 
 with what he imagined to be Matilda's private 
 catering arrangements, wouldn't allow any tea 
 
THE HEN 45 
 
 to be sent up to her in the morning, and if he was 
 waiting at table he passed her over altogether in 
 handing round the dishes." 
 
 " How very unpleasant. Whatever did you do 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Oh, Matilda got fed, after a fashion, but it was 
 judged to be best for her to cut her visit short. It 
 was really the only thing to be done," said Clovis 
 with some emphasis. 
 
 *' I shouldn't have done that," said Jane, " I 
 should have humoured him in some way. I cer- 
 tainly shouldn't have gone away." 
 
 Clovis frowned. 
 
 "It is not always wise to humour people when 
 they get these ideas into their heads. There's no 
 knowing to what lengths they may go if you en- 
 courage them." 
 
 " You don't mean to say he might be dangerous, 
 do you ? " asked Jane with some anxiety. 
 
 " One can never be certain," said Clovis ; " now 
 and then he gets some idea about a guest which 
 might take an unfortunate turn. That is precisely 
 what is worrying me at the present moment." 
 
 " What, has he taken a fancy about some one here 
 now ? " asked Jane excitedly ; " how thrilhng ! 
 Do tell me who it is." 
 
 " You," said Clovis briefly. 
 
46 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 Clovis nodded. 
 
 " Who on earth does he think I am ? " 
 
 " Queen Anne," was the unexpected answer. 
 
 " Queen Anne ! What an idea. But, anyhow, 
 there's nothing dangerous about her ; she's such 
 a colourless personahty." 
 
 " What does posterity chiefly say about Queen 
 Anne ? " asked Clovis rather sternly. 
 
 " The only thing that I can remember about her," 
 said Jane, " is the saying ' Queen Anne's dead.' " 
 
 " Exactly," said Clovis, staring at the glass that 
 had held the Ella Wheeler Wilcox, " dead." 
 
 " Do you mean he takes me for the ghost of Queen 
 Anne ? " asked Jane. 
 
 " Ghost ? Dear no. No one ever heard of a 
 ghost that came down to breakfast and ate kidneys 
 and toast and honey with a healthy appetite. No, 
 it's the fact of you being so very much alive and 
 flourishing that perplexes and annoys him. All his 
 life he has been accustomed to look on Queen Anne 
 as the personification of everything that is dead and 
 done with, ' as dead as Queen Anne,' you know ; 
 and now he has to fill your glass at lunch and dinner 
 and listen to your accounts of the gay time you had 
 at the Dubhn Horse Show, and naturally he feels 
 that something's very wrong with you." 
 
THE HEN 47 
 
 '* But he wouldn't be downright hostile to me on 
 that account, would he ? " Jane asked anxiously. 
 
 " I didn't get really alarmed about it till lunch 
 to-day," said Clovis ; "I caught him glowering 
 at you with a very sinister look and muttering: 
 ' Ought to be dead long ago, she ought, and some one 
 should see to it.' That's why I mentioned the 
 matter to you." 
 
 " This is awful," said Jane ; " your mother must 
 be told about it at once." 
 
 " My mother mustn't hear a word about it," said 
 Clovis earnestly ; "it would upset her dreadfully. 
 She relies on Sturridge for everything." 
 
 " But he might kill me at any moment," protested 
 Jane. 
 
 " Not at any moment ; he's busy with the silver 
 all the afternoon." 
 
 " You'll have to keep a sharp look-out all the 
 time and be on your guard to frustrate any murder- 
 ous attack," said Jane, adding in a tone of weak 
 obstinacy : " It's a dreadful situation to be in, 
 with a mad butler danghng over you hke the sword 
 of What's-his-name, but I'm certainly not going to 
 cut my visit short." 
 
 Clovis swore horribly under his breath ; the 
 miracle was an obvious misfire. 
 
 It was in the hall the next morning after a late 
 
48 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 breakfast that Clovis had his final inspiration as he 
 stood engaged in coaxing rust spots from an old 
 putter. 
 
 '' Where is Miss Martlet ? " he asked the butler, 
 who was at that moment crossing the hall. 
 
 " Writing letters in the morning-room, sir," said 
 Sturridge, announcing a fact of which his questioner 
 was already aware. 
 
 " She wants to copy the inscription on that old 
 basket-hilted sabre," said Clovis, pointing to a 
 venerable weapon hanging on the wall. " I wish 
 you'd take it to her ; my hands are all over oil. 
 Take it without the sheath, it will be less trouble." 
 
 The butler drew the blade, still keen and bright 
 in its well-cared for old age, and carried it into the 
 morning-room. There was a door near the writing- 
 table leading to a back stairway ; Jane vanished 
 through it with such hghtning rapidity that the 
 butler doubted whether she had seen him come in. 
 Half an hour later Clovis was driving her and her 
 hastily-packed luggage to the station. 
 
 ** Mother will be awfully vexed when she comes 
 back from her ride and finds you have gone," he 
 observed to the departing guest, '' but I'll make up 
 some story about an urgent wire having called you 
 away. It wouldn't do to alarm her unnecessarily 
 about Sturridge." 
 
THE HEN 49 
 
 Jane sniffed slightly at Clovis' ideas of unneces- 
 sary alarm, and was almost rude to the young man 
 who came round with thoughtful inquiries as to 
 luncheon-baskets. 
 
 The miracle lost some of its usefulness from the 
 fact that Dora wrote the same day postponing the 
 date of her visit, but, at any rate, Clovis holds the 
 record as the only human being who ever hustled 
 Jane Martlet out of the time-table of her migrations. 
 
50 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE OPEN WINDOW 
 
 M 
 
 '^ '^ ^"Y aunt will be down presently, Mr. 
 Nuttel," said a very self-possessed 
 young lady of fifteen ; " in the mean- 
 time you must try and put up with me." 
 
 Framton Nuttel endeavoured to say the correct 
 something which should duly flatter the niece of the 
 moment without unduly discounting the aunt that 
 was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever 
 whether these formal visits on a succession of total 
 strangers would do much towards helping the nerve 
 cure which he was supposed to be undergoing. 
 
 " I know how it will be/' his sister had said when 
 he was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat ; 
 " you will bury yourself down there and not speak 
 to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than 
 ever from moping. I shall just give you letters 
 of introduction to all the people I know there. Some 
 of them, as far as I can remember, were quite 
 nice." 
 
 Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 51 
 
 lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters 
 of introduction, came into the nice division. 
 
 " Do you know many of the people round here ? " 
 asked the niece, when she judged that they had had 
 sufficient silent communion. 
 
 " Hardly a soul," said Framton. " My sister 
 was staying here, at the rectory, you know, some 
 four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduc- 
 tion to some of the people here." 
 
 He made the last statement in a tone of distinct 
 regret. 
 
 " Then you know practically nothing about my 
 aunt ? " pursued the self-possessed young lady. 
 
 " Only her name and address," admitted the caller. 
 He was wondering whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the 
 married or widowed state. An undefinable some- 
 thing about the room seemed to suggest masculine 
 habitation. 
 
 " Her great tragedy happened just three years 
 ago," said the child ; " that would be since your 
 sister's time." 
 
 " Her tragedy ? " asked Framton ; somehow in 
 this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place. 
 
 " You may wonder why we keep that window 
 wide open on an October afternoon," said the niece, 
 indicating a large French window that opened on to 
 a lawn. 
 
52 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 *' It is quite warm for the time of the year/' said 
 Framton ; " but has that window got anything to 
 do with the tragedy ? " 
 
 " Out through that window, three years ago to 
 a day, her husband and her two young brothers 
 went off for their day's shooting. They never 
 came back. In crossing the moor to their favourite 
 snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed 
 in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that 
 dreadful wet summer, you know, and places that 
 were safe in other years gave way suddenly without 
 warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That 
 was the dreadful part of it." Here the child's 
 voice lost its self-possessed note and became falter- 
 ingly human. " Poor aimt always thinks that they 
 will come back some day, they and the little brown 
 spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that 
 window just as they used to do. That is why the 
 window is kept open every evening till it is quite 
 dusk. Poor dear aimt, she has often told me how 
 they went out, her husband with his white waterproof 
 coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, 
 singing * Bertie, why do you bound ? ' as he always 
 did to tease her, because she said it got on her 
 nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet even- 
 ings Hke this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they 
 will all walk in through that window " 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 53 
 
 She broke off with a little shudder. It was a 
 relief to Framton when the aunt bustled into the 
 room with a whirl of apologies for being late in 
 making her appearance. 
 
 " I hope Vera has been amusing you ? '* she said. 
 
 " She has been very interesting," said Framton. 
 
 " I hope you don't mind the open window," said 
 Mrs. Sappleton briskly ; " my husband and brothers 
 will be home directly from shooting, and they always 
 come in this way. They've been out for snipe in 
 the marshes to-day, so they'll make a fine mess over 
 my poor carpets. So like you men-folk, isn't it ? " 
 
 She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and 
 the scarcity of birds, and the prospects for duck in 
 the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. 
 He made a desperate but only partially successful 
 effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic ; 
 he was conscious that his hostess was giving him 
 only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were 
 constantly straying past him to the open window 
 and the lawn beyond. It was certainly an unfor- 
 tunate coincidence that he should have paid his 
 visit on this tragic anniversary. 
 
 " The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, 
 an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of 
 anything in the nature of violent physical exercise," 
 annoimced Framton, who laboured under the 
 
54 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 tolerably wide-spread delusion that total strangers 
 and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least 
 detail of one's ailments and infirmities, their cause 
 and cure. " On the matter of diet they are not so 
 much in agreement," he continued. 
 
 " No ? " said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which 
 only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then 
 she suddenly brightened into alert attention — but 
 not to what Framton was sa5Hing. 
 
 *' Here they are at last ! " she cried. " Just in 
 time for tea, and don't they look as if they were 
 muddy up to the eyes ! " 
 
 Framton shivered slightly and turned towards 
 the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic 
 comprehension. The child was staring out through 
 the open window with dazed horror in her eyes. 
 In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung 
 round in his seat and looked in the same direction. 
 
 In the deepening twiUght three figures were walk- 
 ing across the lawn towards the window ; they all 
 carried guns under their arms, and one of them was 
 additionally burdened with a white coat hung over 
 his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close 
 at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, 
 and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the 
 dusk : "I said, Bertie, why do you bound ? " 
 
 Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat ; 
 
THE OPEN WINDOW 55 
 
 the hall-door, the gravel-drive, and the front gate 
 were dimly-noted stages in his headlong retreat. 
 A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the 
 hedge to avoid an imminent collision. 
 
 *' Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the 
 white mackintosh, coming in through the window ; 
 " fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that 
 who bolted out as we came up ? " 
 
 " A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said 
 Mrs. Sappleton ; " could only talk about his illnesses, 
 and dashed off without a word of good-bye or apology 
 when you arrived. One would think he had seen 
 a ghost." 
 
 " I expect it was the spaniel," said the niece 
 calmly ; "he told me he had a horror of dogs. 
 He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on 
 the banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, 
 and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave 
 with the creatures snarHng and grinning and foam- 
 ing just above him. Enough to make anyone lose 
 their nerve." 
 
 Romance at short notice was her speciality. 
 
56 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE TREASURE-SHIP 
 
 THE great galleon lay in semi-retirement 
 under the sand and weed and water of 
 the northern bay where the fortune of 
 war and weather had long ago ensconced it. Three 
 and a quarter centuries had passed since the day 
 when it had taken the high seas as an important 
 unit of a fighting squadron — precisely which squad- 
 ron the learned were not agreed. The galleon had 
 brought nothing into the world, but it had, accord- 
 ing to tradition and report, taken much out of it. 
 But how much ? There again the learned were in 
 disagreement. Some were as generous in their 
 estimate as an income-tax assessor, others applied 
 a species of higher criticism to the submerged 
 treasure chests, and debased their contents to the 
 currency of gobUn gold. Of the former school was 
 Lulu, Duchess of Dulverton. 
 
 The Duchess was not only a believer in the exist- 
 ence of a sunken treasure of alluring proportions ; 
 5he alsp believed that she knew of a method by 
 
THE TREASURE-SHIP 57 
 
 which the said treasure might be precisely located 
 and cheaply disembedded. An aunt on her mother's 
 side of the family had been Maid of Honour at the 
 Court of Monaco, and had taken a respectful interest 
 in the deep-sea researches in which the Throne 
 of that country, impatient perhaps of its terrestrial 
 restrictions, was wont to immerse itself. It was 
 through the instrumentality of this relative that the 
 Duchess learned of an invention, perfected and 
 very nearly patented by a Monegaskan savant, by 
 means of which the home-life of the Mediterranean 
 sardine might be studied at a depth of many fathoms 
 in a cold white light of more than ball-room briUiancy. 
 Implicated in this invention (and, in the Duchess's 
 eyes, the most attractive part of it) was an electric 
 suction dredge, specially designed for dragging 
 to the surface such objects of interest and value 
 as might be found in the more accessible levels of 
 the ocean-bed. The rights of the invention were to 
 be acquired for a matter of eighteen hundred francs, 
 and the apparatus for a few thousand more. The 
 Duchess of Dulverton was rich, as the world counted 
 wealth ; she nursed the hope of being one day rich 
 at her own computation. Companies had been 
 formed and efforts had been made again and again 
 during the course of three centuries to probe for the 
 alleged treasures of the interesting galleon ; with the 
 
58 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 aid of this invention she considered that she might 
 go to work on the wreck privately and independently. 
 After all, one of her ancestors on her mother's 
 side was descended from Medina Sidonia, so she was 
 of opinion that she had as much right to the treasure 
 as anyone. She acquired the invention and bought 
 the apparatus. 
 
 Among other family ties and encumbrances, 
 Lulu possessed a nephew, Vasco Honiton, a young 
 gentleman who was blessed with a small income and 
 a large circle of relatives, and lived impartially 
 and precariously on both. The name Vasco had 
 been given him possibly in the hope that he might 
 live up to its adventurous tradition, but he limited 
 himself strictly to the home industry of adventurer, 
 preferring to exploit the assured rather than to 
 explore the unknown. Lulu's intercourse with him 
 had been restricted of recent years to the negative 
 processes of being out of town when he called on her, 
 and short of money when he wrote to her. Now, 
 however, she bethought herself of his eminent suit- 
 ability for the direction of a treasure-seeking experi- 
 ment ; if anyone could extract gold from an unpro- 
 mising situation it would certainly be Vasco — of 
 course, under the necessary safeguards in the way 
 of supervision. Where money was in question Vasco's 
 conscience was liable to fits of obstinate silence, 
 
THE TREASURE-SHIP 59 
 
 Somewhere on the west coast of Ireland the Dul- 
 verton property included a few acres of shingle, 
 rock, and heather, too barren to support even an 
 agrarian outrage, but embracing a small and fairly 
 deep bay where the lobster yield was good in most 
 seasons. There was a bleak little house on the 
 property, and for those who liked lobsters and 
 solitude, and were able to accept an Irish cook's 
 ideas as to what might be perpetrated in the name 
 of mayonnaise, Innisgluther was a tolerable exile 
 during the summer months. Lulu seldom went 
 there herself, but she lent the house lavishly to 
 friends and relations. She put it now at Vasco's 
 disposal. 
 
 " It will be the very place to practise and experi- 
 ment with the salvage apparatus," she said ; " the 
 bay is quite deep in places, and you will be able 
 to test everything thoroughly before starting on the 
 treasure hunt." 
 
 In less than three weeks Vasco turned up in town 
 to report progress. 
 
 " The apparatus works beautifully," he informed 
 his aunt ; " the deeper one got the clearer every- 
 thing grew. We found something in the way of 
 a simken wreck to operate on, too ! " 
 
 " A wreck in Innisgluther Bay ! " exclaimed 
 Lulu. 
 
6o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 *' A submerged motor-boat, the Sub-Rosa,'* said 
 Vasco. 
 
 " No ! really ? " said Lulu ; " poor Billy Yuttley's 
 boat. I remember it went down somewhere off 
 that coast some three years ago. His body was 
 washed ashore at the Point. People said at the 
 time that the boat was capsized intentionally — a 
 case of suicide, you know. People always say that 
 sort of thing when anything tragic happens." 
 
 " In this case they were right," said Vasco. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked the Duchess 
 hurriedly. " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 " I know," said Vasco simply. 
 
 " Know ? How can you know ? How can any- 
 one know ? The thing happened three years ago." 
 
 " In a locker of the Sub-Rosa I found a water- 
 tight strong-box. It contained papers." Vasco 
 paused with dramatic effect and searched for a 
 moment in the inner breast-pocket of his coat. 
 He drew out a folded slip of paper. The Duchess 
 snatched at it in almost indecent haste and moved 
 appreciably nearer the fireplace. 
 
 " Was this in the Sub-Rosa's strong-box ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh no," said Vasco carelessly, " that is a list 
 of the well-known people who would be involved 
 in a very disagreeable scandal if the Sub-Rosa's 
 
THE TREASURE-SHIP 6i 
 
 papers were made public. I've put you at the head 
 of it, otherwise it follows alphabetical order." 
 
 The Duchess gazed helplessly at the string of 
 names, which seemed for the moment to include 
 nearly every one she knew. As a matter of fact, 
 her own name at the head of the list exercised 
 an almost paralysing effect on her thinking 
 faculties. 
 
 " Of course you have destroyed the papers ? " 
 she asked, when she had somewhat recovered herself. 
 She was conscious that she made the remark with 
 an entire lack of conviction. 
 
 Vasco shook his head. 
 
 " But you should have," said Lulu angrily ; "if, 
 as you say, they are highly compromising " 
 
 " Oh, they are, I assure you of that," interposed 
 the young man. 
 
 " Then you should put them out of harm's way 
 at once. Supposing anything should leak out, 
 think of all these poor, unfortunate people who 
 would be involved in the disclosures," and Lulu 
 tapped the list with an agitated gesture. 
 
 " Unfortunate, perhaps, but not poor," corrected 
 Vasco ; "if you read the list carefully you'll notice 
 that I haven't troubled to include anyone whose 
 financial standing isn't above question." 
 
 Lulu glared at her nephew for some moments in 
 
62 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 silence. Then she asked hoarsely : " What are you 
 going to do ? " 
 
 '* Nothing — for the remainder of my life," he 
 answered meaningly. " A little hunting, perhaps," 
 he continued, " and I shall have a villa at Florence. 
 The Villa Sub-Rosa would sound rather quaint and 
 picturesque, don't you think, and quite a lot of 
 people would be able to attach a meaning to the 
 name. And I suppose I must have a hobby ; I 
 shall probably collect Raeburns." 
 
 Lulu's relative, who lived at the Court of Monaco, 
 got quite a snappish answer when she wrote recom- 
 mending some further invention in the realm of 
 marine research. 
 
THE COBWEB 63 
 
 THE COBWEB 
 
 THE farmhouse kitchen probably stood 
 where it did as a matter of accident or 
 haphazard choice ; yet its situation might 
 have been planned by a master-strategist in farm- 
 house architecture. Dairy and poultry-yard, and 
 herb garden, and all the busy places of the farm 
 seemed to lead by easy access into its wide flagged 
 haven, where there was room for everything and 
 where muddy boots left traces that were easily 
 swept away. And yet, for all that it stood so well in 
 the centre of human bustle, its long, latticed window, 
 with the wide window-seat, built into an embrasure 
 beyond the huge fireplace, looked out on a wild 
 spreading view of hill and heather and wooded 
 combe. The window nook made almost a Httle 
 room in itself, quite the pleasantest room in the 
 farm as far as situation and capabilities went. 
 Young Mrs. Ladbruk, whose husband had just 
 come into the farm by way of inheritance, cast 
 covetous eyes on this snug corner, and her fingers 
 
64 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 itched to make it bright and cosy with chintz curtains 
 and bowls of flowers, and a shelf or two of old china. 
 The musty farm parlour, looking out on to a prim, 
 cheerless garden imprisoned within high, blank 
 walls, was not a room that lent itself readily either 
 to comfort or decoration. 
 
 " When we are more settled I shall work wonders 
 in the way of making the kitchen habitable," said 
 the young woman to her occasional visitors. There 
 was an unspoken wish in those words, a wish which 
 was unconfessed as well as unspoken. Emma 
 Ladbruk was the mistress of the farm ; jointly with 
 her husband she might have her say, and to a certain 
 extent her way, in ordering its affairs. But she was 
 not mistress of the kitchen. 
 
 On one of the shelves of an old dresser, in company 
 with chipped sauce-boats, pewter jugs, cheese- 
 graters, and paid bills, rested a worn and ragged 
 Bible, on whose front page was the record, in faded 
 ink, of a baptism dated ninety-four years ago. 
 " Martha Crale " was the name written on that 
 yellow page. The yellow, wrinkled old dame 
 who hobbled and muttered about the kitchen, 
 looking Hke a dead autumn leaf which the winter 
 winds still pushed hither and thither, had once been 
 Martha Crale ; for seventy odd years she had been 
 Martha Mountjoy. For longer than anyone could 
 
THE COBWEB 65 
 
 remember she had pattered to and fro between 
 oven and wash-house and dairy, and out to 
 chicken-rim and garden, grumbUng and muttering 
 and scolding, but working imceasingly. Emma 
 Ladbruk, of whose coming she took as little notice 
 as she would of a bee wandering in at a window on a 
 summer's day, used at first to watch her with a kind 
 of frightened curiosity. She was so old and so 
 much a part of the place, it was difficult to think 
 of her exactly as a living thing. Old Shep, the 
 white-nozzled, stiff-limbed collie, waiting for his 
 time to die, seemed almost more human than the 
 withered, dried-up old woman. He had been a 
 riotous, roystering puppy, mad with the joy of 
 life, when she was already a tottering, hobbling 
 dame ; now he was just a blind, breathing carcase, 
 nothing more, and she still worked with frail energy, 
 still swept and baked and washed, fetched and 
 carried. If there were something in these wise old 
 dogs that did not perish utterly with death, Emma 
 used to think to herself, what generations of ghost- 
 dogs there must be out on those hills, that Martha had 
 reared and fed and tended and spoken a last good- 
 bye word to in that old kitchen. And what memories 
 she must have of human generations that had 
 passed away in her time. It was difficult for any- 
 one, let alone a stranger like Emma, to get her to 
 
66 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 talk of the days that had been ; her shrill, quavering 
 speech was of doors that had been left unfastened, 
 pails that had got mislaid, calves whose feeding- 
 time was overdue, and the various little faults and 
 lapses that chequer a farmhouse routine. Now 
 and again, when election time came round, she 
 would unstore her recollections of the old names 
 round which the fight had waged in the days gone 
 by. There had been a Palme rst on, that had been 
 a name down Tiverton way ; Tiverton was not a 
 far journey as the crow flies, but to Martha it was 
 almost a foreign country. Later there had been 
 Northcotes and Aclands, and many other newer 
 names that she had forgotten ; the names changed, 
 but it was always Libruls and Toories, Yellows and 
 Blues. And they always quarrelled and shouted 
 as to who was right and who was wrong. The one 
 they quarrelled about most was a fine old gentleman 
 with an angry face — she had seen his picture on 
 the walls. She had seen it on the floor too, with a 
 rotten apple squashed over it, for the farm had 
 changed its poHtics from time to time. Martha 
 had never been on one side or the other ; none of 
 " they " had ever done the farm a stroke of good. 
 Such was her sweeping verdict, given with all a 
 peasant's distrust of the outside world. 
 
 When the half-frightened curiosity had somewhat 
 
THE COBWEB 67 
 
 faded away, Emma Ladbruk was uncomfortably 
 conscious of another feeling towards the old woman. 
 She was a quaint old tradition, Ungering about the 
 place, she was part and parcel of the farm itself, 
 she was something at once pathetic and picturesque 
 — but she was dreadfully in the way. Emma had 
 come to the farm full of plans for little reforms and 
 improvements, in part the result of training in the 
 newest ways and methods, in part the outcome of her 
 own ideas and fancies. Reforms in the kitchen 
 region, if those deaf old ears could have been induced 
 to give them even a hearing, would have met with 
 short shrift and scornful rejection, and the kitchen 
 region spread over the zone of dairy and market 
 business and half the work of the household. Emma, 
 with the latest science of dead-poultry dressing at 
 her finger-tips, sat by, an unheeded watcher, while 
 old Martha trussed the chickens for the market-stall 
 as she had trussed them for nearly four-score years 
 — all leg and no breast. And the hundred hints 
 anent effective cleaning and labour-lightening and 
 the things that make for wholesomeness which the 
 young woman was ready to impart or to put into 
 action dropped away into nothingness before that 
 wan, muttering, unheeding presence. Above all, 
 the coveted window corner, that was to be a dainty, 
 cheerful oasis in the gaunt old kitchen, stood now 
 
68 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 choked and lumbered with a litter of odds and ends 
 that Emma, for all her nominal authority, would not 
 have dared or cared to displace ; over them seemed 
 to be spun the protection of something that was like 
 a human cobweb. Decidedly Martha was in the 
 way. It would have been an unworthy meanness 
 to have wished to see the span of that brave old life 
 shortened by a few paltry months, but as the days 
 sped by Emma was conscious that the wish was 
 there, disowned though it might be, lurking at the 
 back of her mind. 
 
 She felt the meanness of the wish come over her 
 with a qualm of self-reproach one day when she 
 came into the kitchen and found an imaccustomed 
 state of things in that usually busy quarter. Old 
 Martha was not working. A basket of corn was on 
 the floor by her side, and out in the yard the poultry 
 were beginning to clamour a protest of overdue 
 feeding-time. But Martha sat huddled in a shrunken 
 bunch on the window seat, looking out with her dim 
 old eyes as though she saw something stranger than 
 the autumn landscape. 
 
 " Is anything the matter, Martha ? " asked the 
 young woman. 
 
 " Tis death, 'tis death a-coming," answered 
 the quavering voice ; "I knew 'twere coming. I 
 knew it. 'Tweren't for nothing that old Shep's 
 
THE COBWEB 69 
 
 been howling all morning. An' last night I heard 
 the screech-owl give the death-cry, and there were 
 something white as run across the yard yesterday ; 
 'tweren't a cat nor a stoat, 'twere something. The 
 fowls knew 'twere something ; they all drew off 
 to one side. Ay, there's been warnings. I knew 
 it were a-coming." 
 
 The young woman's eyes clouded with pity. 
 The old thing sitting there so white and shrunken 
 had once been a merry, noisy child, playing about 
 in lanes and hay-lofts and farmhouse garrets ; that 
 had been eighty odd years ago, and now she was 
 just a frail old body cowering under the approaching 
 chill of the death that was coming at last to take her. 
 It was not probable that much could be done for 
 her, but Emma hastened away to get assistance and 
 counsel. Her husband, she knew, was down at a 
 tree-felling some little distance off, but she might 
 find some other intelligent soul who knew the old 
 woman better than she did. The farm, she soon 
 found out, had that faculty common to farmyards of 
 swallowing up and losing its human population. 
 The poultry followed her in interested fashion, and 
 swine grunted interrogations at her from behind the 
 bars of their styes, but barnyard and rickyard, 
 orchard and stables and dairy, gave no reward to 
 her search. Then, as she retraced her steps towards 
 
70 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 the kitchen, she came suddenly on her cousin, young 
 Mr. Jim, as every one called him, who divided his 
 time between amateur horse-dealing, rabbit-shooting, 
 and flirting with the farm maids. 
 
 " I*m afraid old Martha is dying," said Emma. 
 Jim was not the sort of person to whom one had to 
 break news gently. 
 
 " Nonsense/' he said ; " Martha means to live to a 
 hundred. She told me so, and she'll do it." 
 
 " She may be actually dying at this moment, 
 or it may just be the beginning of the break-up," 
 persisted Emma, with a feehng of contempt for the 
 slowness and dulness of the young man. 
 
 A grin spread over his good-natured features. 
 
 " It don't look Hke it," he said, nodding towards 
 the yard. Emma turned to catch the meaning of 
 his remark. Old Martha stood in the middle of a 
 mob of poultry scattering handfuls of grain around 
 her. The turkey-cock, with the bronzed sheen of 
 his feathers and the purple-red of his wattles, the 
 gamecock, with the glowing metaUic lustre of his 
 Eastern plumage, the hens, with their ochres and 
 buffs and umbers and their scarlet combs, and the 
 drakes, with their bottle-green heads, made a 
 medley of rich colour, in the centre of which the old 
 woman looked like a withered stalk standing amid 
 a riotous growth of gaily-hued flowers. But she 
 
THE COBWEB 71 
 
 threw the grain deftly amid the wilderness of beaks, 
 and her quavering voice carried as far as the two 
 people who were watching her. She was still harp- 
 ing on the theme of death coming to the farm. 
 
 " I knew 'twere a-coming. There's been signs 
 an' warnings." 
 
 " Who's dead, then, old Mother ? " called out 
 the yoimg man. 
 
 " 'Tis young Mister Ladbruk," she shrilled back » 
 " they've just a-carried his body in. Run out of 
 the way of a tree that was coming down an' ran 
 hisself on to an iron post. Dead when they picked 
 un up. Aye, I knew 'twere coming." 
 
 And she turned to fling a handful of barley at a 
 belated group of guinea-fowl that came racing 
 toward her. 
 
 The farm was a family property, and passed to 
 the rabbit-shooting cousin as the next-of-kin. Emma 
 Ladbruk drifted out of its history as a bee that had 
 wandered in at an open window might flit its way 
 out again. On a cold grey morning she stood 
 waiting, with her boxes already stowed in the farm 
 cart, till the last of the market produce should be 
 ready, for the train she was to catch was of less 
 importance than the chickens and butter and eggs 
 that were to be offered for sale. From where she 
 
72 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 stood she cotQd see an angle of the long latticed 
 window that was to have been cosy with curtains 
 and gay with bowls of flowers. Into her mind came 
 the thought that for months, perhaps for years, long 
 after she had been utterly forgotten, a white, unheed- 
 ing face would be seen peering out through those 
 latticed panes, and a weak muttering voice would 
 be heard quavering up and down those flagged 
 passages. She made her way to a narrow barred 
 casement that opened into the farm larder. Old 
 Martha was standing at a table trussing a pair of 
 chickens for the market stall as she had trussed them 
 for nearly fourscore years. 
 
THE LULL 73 
 
 I 
 
 THE LULL 
 
 ^^ Y'VE asked Latimer Springfield to spend Sun- 
 day with us and stop the night," announced 
 Mrs. Durmot at the breakfast-table. 
 
 " I thought he was in the throes of an election," 
 remarked her husband. 
 
 " Exactly ; the poll is on Wednesday, and the 
 poor man will have worked himself to a shadow 
 by that time. Imagine what electioneering must 
 be hke in this awful soaking rain, going along slushy 
 country roads and speaking to damp audiences in 
 draughty schoolrooms, day after day for a fortnight. 
 He'll have to put in an appearance at some place of 
 worship on Sunday morning, and he can come to us 
 immediately afterwards and have a thorough 
 respite from everything connected with politics. 
 I won't let him even think of them. I've had the 
 picture of Cromwell dissolving the Long Parlia- 
 ment taken down from the staircase, and even the 
 portrait of Lord Rosebery's * Ladas ' removed from 
 the smoking-room. And Vera," added Mrs. Durmot, 
 
74 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 turning to her sixteen-year-old niece, " be careful 
 what colour ribbon you wear in your hair ; not 
 blue or yellow on any account ; those are the rival 
 party colours, and emerald green or orange would 
 be almost as bad, with this Home Rule business to 
 the fore." 
 
 " On state occasions I always wear a black ribbon 
 in my hair," said Vera with crushing dignity. 
 
 Latimer Springfield was a rather cheerless, oldish 
 young man, who went into politics somewhat in 
 the spirit in which other people might go into half- 
 mourning. Without being an enthusiast, however, 
 he was a fairly strenuous plodder, and Mrs. Durmot 
 had been reasonably near the mark in asserting 
 that he was working at high pressure over this 
 election. The restful lull which his hostess enforced 
 on him was decidedly welcome, and yet the nervous 
 excitement of the contest had too great a hold on 
 him to be totally banished. 
 
 " I know he's going to sit up half the night working 
 up points for his final speeches," said Mrs. Durmot 
 regretfully ; '' however, we've kept politics at 
 arm's length all the afternoon and evening. More 
 than that we cannot do." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," said Vera, but she 
 said it to herself. 
 
 Latimer had scarcely shut his bedroom door before 
 
THE LULL 75 
 
 he was immersed in a sheaf of notes and pamphlets, 
 while a fountain-pen and pocket-book were brought 
 into play for the due marshalling of useful facts 
 and discreet fictions. He had been at work for 
 perhaps thirty-five minutes, and the house was 
 seemingly consecrated to the healthy slumber 
 of country Ufe, when a stifled squeaUng and 
 scuffling in the passage was followed by a loud tap 
 at his door. Before he had time to answer, 
 a much-encumbered Vera burst into the room 
 with the question : "I say, can I leave these 
 here ? " 
 
 " These " were a small black pig and a lusty 
 specimen of black-red gamecock. 
 
 Latimer was moderately fond of animals, and 
 particularly interested in small livestock rearing 
 from the economic point of view ; in fact, one of 
 the pamphlets on which he was at that moment 
 engaged warmly advocated the further development 
 of the pig and poultry industry in our rural districts ; 
 but he was pardonably unwilling to share even a 
 commodious bedroom with samples of henroost 
 and stye products. 
 
 " Wouldn't they be happier somewhere outside ? " 
 he asked, tactfully expressing his own preference 
 in the matter in an apparent solicitude for theirs. 
 
 '' There is no outside," said Vera impressively. 
 
76 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " nothing but a waste of dark, swirling waters. 
 The reservoir at Brinkley has burst." 
 
 " I didn't know there was a reservoir at Brinkley," 
 said Latimer. 
 
 " Well, there isn't now, it's jolly well all over the 
 place, and as we stand particularly low we're the 
 centre of an inland sea just at present. You see 
 the river has overflowed its banks as well." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Have any lives been lost ? " 
 
 " Heaps, I should say. The second housemaid 
 has already identified three bodies that have floated 
 past the biUiard-room window as being the young 
 man she's engaged to. Either she's engaged to a 
 large assortment of the population round here or 
 else she's very careless at identification. Of course 
 it may be the same body coming round again and 
 again in a swirl ; I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 " But we ought to go out and do rescue work, 
 oughtn't we ? " said Latimer, with the instinct 
 of a Parliamentary candidate for getting into the 
 local Hmelight. 
 
 '* We can't," said Vera decidedly, " we haven't 
 any boats and we're cut off by a raging torrent 
 from any human habitation. My aunt particularly 
 hoped you would keep to your room and not add 
 to the confusion, but she thought it would be so 
 kind of you if you would take in Hartlepool's Wonder, 
 
THE LULL yy 
 
 the gamecock, you know, for the night. You see, 
 there are eight other gamecocks, and they fight 
 Uke furies if they get together, so we're putting one 
 in each bedroom. The fowl-houses are all flooded 
 out, you know. And then I thought perhaps you 
 wouldn't mind taking in this wee piggie ; he's 
 rather a little love, but he has a vile temper. He 
 gets that from his mother — not that I Uke to say 
 things against her when she's lying dead and drowned 
 in her stye, poor thing. What he really wants is 
 a man's firm hand to keep him in order. I'd try 
 and grapple with him myself, only I've got my chow 
 in my room, you know, and he goes for pigs where- 
 ever he finds them." 
 
 " Couldn't the pig go in the bathroom ? " asked 
 Latimer faintly, wishing that he had taken up as 
 determined a stand on the subject of bedroom 
 swine as the chow had. 
 
 " The bathroom ? " Vera laughed shrilly. " It'll 
 be full of Boy Scouts till morning if the hot water 
 holds out." 
 
 " Boy Scouts ? " 
 
 " Yes, thirty of them came to rescue us while 
 the water was only waist-high ; then it rose another 
 three feet or so and we had to rescue them. We're 
 giving them hot baths in batches and drying their 
 clothes in the hot-air cupboard, but, of course. 
 
y% BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 drenched clothes don't dry in a minute, and the 
 corridor and staircase are beginning to look like a 
 bit of coast scenery by Tuke. Two of the boys are 
 wearing your Melton overcoat ; I hope you don't 
 mind." 
 
 " It's a new overcoat," said Latimer, with every 
 indication of minding dreadfully. 
 
 " You'll take every care of Hartlepool's Wonder, 
 won't you ? " said Vera. " His mother took three 
 firsts at Birmingham, and he was second in the 
 cockerel class last year at Gloucester. He'll prob- 
 ably roost on the rail at the bottom of your bed. I 
 wonder if he'd feel more at home if some of his wives 
 were up here with him ? The hens are all in the 
 pantry, and I think I could pick out Hartlepool 
 Helen ; she's his favourite." 
 
 Latimer showed a belated firmness on the subject 
 of Hartlepool Helen, and Vera withdrew without 
 pressing the point, having first settled the gamecock 
 on his extemporised perch and taken an affectionate 
 farewell of the pighng. Latimer undressed and got 
 into bed with all due speed, judging that the pig 
 would abate its inquisitorial restlessness once the 
 light was turned out. As a substitute for a cosy, 
 straw-bedded sty the room offered, at first inspection, 
 few attractions, but the disconsolate animal sud- 
 denly discovered an appliance in which the most 
 
THE LULL 79 
 
 liixuriously contrived piggeries were notably deficient. 
 The sharp edge of the underneath part of the bed 
 was pitched at exactly the right elevation to permit 
 the pigHng to scrape himself ecstatically backwards 
 and forwards, with an artistic humping of the 
 back at the crucial moment and an accompanying 
 gurgle of long-drawn delight. The gamecock, who 
 may have fancied that he was being rocked in the 
 branches of a pine-tree, bore the motion with greater 
 fortitude than Latimer was able to command. A 
 series of slaps directed at the pig's body were 
 accepted more as an additional and pleasing irri- 
 tant than as a criticism of conduct or a hint to 
 desist ; evidently something more than a man's 
 firm hand was needed to deal with the case. Latimer 
 slipped out of bed in search of a weapon of dissuasion. 
 There was sufficient fight in the room to enable the 
 pig to detect this manoeuvre, and the vile temper, 
 inherited from the drowned mother, found full play. 
 Latimer bounded back into bed, and his conqueror, 
 after a few threatening snorts and champings of 
 its jaws, resumed its massage operations with 
 renewed zeal. During the long wakeful hours 
 which ensued Latimer tried to distract his mind 
 from his own immediate troubles by dweUing with 
 decent sympathy on the second housemaid's bereave- 
 ment, but he found himself more often wondering 
 
8o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 how many Boy Scouts were sharing his Melton 
 overcoat. The role of Saint Martin malgre lui was 
 not one which appealed to him. 
 
 Towards dawn the pigling fell into a happy 
 slumber, and Latimer might have followed its 
 example, but at about the same time Stupor Hartle- 
 pooli gave a rousing crow, clattered down to the 
 floor and forthwith commenced a spirited combat 
 with his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Remem- 
 bering that the bird was more or less imder his 
 care Latimer performed Hague Tribunal offices by 
 draping a bath-towel over the provocative mirror, 
 but the ensuing peace was local and short-lived. 
 The deflected energies of the gamecock found new 
 outlet in a sudden and sustained attack on the sleep- 
 ing and temporarily inoffensive pigling, and the 
 duel which followed was desperate and embittered 
 beyond any possibility of effective intervention. 
 The feathered combatant had the advantage of 
 being able, when hard pressed, to take refuge on the 
 bed, and freely availed himself of this circumstance ; 
 the pigling never quite succeeded in hurling himself 
 on to the same eminence, but it was not from want 
 of trying. 
 
 Neither side could claim any decisive success, 
 and the struggle had been practically fought to a 
 standstill by the time that the maid appeared with 
 the early morning tea. 
 
THE LULL 8i 
 
 " Lor, sir," she exclaimed in undisguised astonish- 
 ment, " do you want those animals in your room ? " 
 
 Want ! 
 
 The pigling, as though aware that it might have 
 outstayed its welcome, dashed out at the door, and 
 the gamecock followed it at a more dignified pace. 
 
 " If Miss Vera's dog sees that pig ! " exclaimed 
 
 the maid, and hurried off to avert such a catastrophe. 
 
 A cold suspicion was stealing over Latimer's mind ; 
 he went to the window and drew up the bhnd. A 
 light, drizzling rain was falling, but there was not 
 the faintest trace of any inundation. 
 
 Some half-hour later he met Vera on the way to 
 the breakfast-room. 
 
 " I should not like to think of you as a dehberate 
 liar," he observed coldly, " but one occasionally 
 has to do things one does not Hke." 
 
 " At any rate I kept your mind from dwelling 
 on politics all the night," said Vera. 
 
 Which was, of course, perfectly true. 
 
82 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE UNKINDEST BLOW 
 
 THE season of strikes seemed to have run 
 itself to a standstill. Almost every 
 trade and industry and calling in which a 
 dislocation could possibly be engineered had indulged 
 in that luxury. The last and least successful con- 
 vulsion had been the strike of the World's Union 
 of Zoological Garden attendants, who, pending the 
 settlement of certain demands, refused to minister 
 further to the wants of the animals committed to 
 their charge or to allow any other keepers to take 
 their place. In this case the threat of the Zoological 
 Gardens authorities that if the men " came out " 
 the animals should come out also had intensified 
 and precipitated the crisis. The imminent prospect 
 of the larger carnivores, to say nothing of rhinoceroses 
 and bull bison, roaming at large and unfed in the 
 heart of London, was not one which permitted of 
 prolonged conferences. The Government of the 
 day, which from its tendency to be a few hours 
 behind the course of events had been nicknamed 
 
THE UNKINDEST BLOW 83 
 
 the Government of the afternoon, was obUged to 
 intervene with promptitude and decision. A strong 
 force of Bluejackets was despatched to Regent's 
 Park to take over the temporarily abandoned 
 duties of the strikers. Bluejackets were chosen in 
 preference to land forces, partly on account of the 
 traditional readiness of the British Navy to go any- 
 where and do anything, partly by reason of the 
 familiarity of the average sailor with monkeys, 
 parrots, and other tropical fauna, but chiefly at the 
 urgent request of the First Lord of the Admiralty, 
 who was keenly desirous of an opportunity for per- 
 forming some personal act of unobtrusive public 
 service within the province of his department. 
 
 "If he insists on feeding the infant jaguar him- 
 self, in defiance of its mother's wishes, there may be 
 another by-election in the north," said one of his 
 colleagues, with a hopeful inflection in his voice. 
 " By-elections are not very desirable at present, 
 but we must not be selfish." 
 
 As a matter of fact the strike collapsed peacefully 
 without any outside intervention. The majority 
 of the keepers had become so attached to their 
 charges that they returned to work of their own 
 accord. 
 
 And then the nation and the newspapers turned 
 with a sense of relief to happier things. It seemed 
 
84 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 as if a new era of contentment was about to dawn. 
 Everybody had struck who could possibly want to 
 strike or who could possibly be cajoled or bullied 
 into striking, whether they wanted to or not. The 
 lighter and brighter side of life might now claim some 
 attention. And conspicuous among the other topics 
 that sprang into sudden prominence was the pend- 
 ing Falvertoon divorce suit. 
 
 The Duke of Falvertoon was one of those human 
 hors d'ceuvres that stimulate the public appetite 
 for sensation without giving it much to feed on. 
 As a mere child he had been precociously briUiant ; 
 he had declined the editorship of the Anglian Review 
 at an age when most boys are content to have 
 declined mensa, a table, and though he could not 
 claim to have originated the Futurist movement 
 in literature, his " Letters to a possible Grandson," 
 written at the age of fourteen, had attracted con- 
 siderable notice. In later days his brilliancy had 
 been less conspicuously displayed. During a debate 
 in the House of Lords on affairs in Morocco, at a 
 moment when that country, for the fifth time in 
 seven years, had brought half Europe to the verge 
 of war, he had interpolated the remark " a little 
 Moor and how much it is," but in spite of the en- 
 couraging reception accorded to this one political 
 utterance he was never tempted to a further display 
 
THE UNKINDEST BLOW 85 
 
 in that direction. It began to be generally under- 
 stood that he did not intend to supplement his 
 numerous town and coimtry residences by living 
 overmuch in the public eye. 
 
 And then had come the imlooked-for tidings of 
 the imminent proceedings for divorce. And such 
 a divorce ! There were cross-suits and allegations 
 and coimter-allegations, charges of cruelty and 
 desertion, everything in fact that was necessary 
 to make the case one of the most complicated and 
 sensational of its kind. And the number of dis- 
 tinguished people involved or cited as witnesses 
 not only embraced both political parties in the realm 
 and several Colonial governors, but included an 
 exotic contingent from France, Hungary, the 
 United States of North America, and the Grand 
 Duchy of Baden. Hotel accommodation of the 
 more expensive sort began to experience a strain 
 on its resources. " It will be quite like the Durbar 
 without the elephants," exclaimed an enthusiastic 
 lady who, to do her justice, had never seen a Durbar. 
 The general feeling was one of thankfulness that the 
 last of the strikes had been got over before the date 
 fixed for the hearing of the great suit. 
 
 As a reaction from the season of gloom and 
 industrial strife that had just passed away the 
 agencies that purvey and stage-manage sensations 
 
86 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 laid themselves out to do their level best on this 
 momentous occasion. Men who had made their 
 reputations as special descriptive writers were 
 mobilised from distant corners of Europe and the 
 further side of the Atlantic in order to enrich with 
 their pens the daily printed records of the case ; 
 one word-painter, who speciaHsed in descriptions 
 of how witnesses turn pale under cross-examina- 
 tion, was summoned hurriedly back from a famous 
 and prolonged murder trial in Sicily, where indeed 
 his talents were being decidedly wasted. Thumb- 
 nail artists and expert kodak manipulators were 
 retained at extravagant salaries, and special dress 
 reporters were in high demand. An enterprising 
 Paris firm of costume builders presented the defen- 
 dant Duchess with three special creations, to be 
 worn, marked, learned, and extensively reported 
 at various critical stages of the trial ; and as for the 
 cinematograph agents, their industry and persist- 
 ence was untiring. Films representing the Duke 
 saying good-bye to his favourite canary on the eve 
 of the trial were in readiness weeks before the event 
 was due to take place ; other films depicted the 
 Duchess holding imaginary consultations with ficti- 
 tious lawyers or making a light repast off specially 
 advertised vegetarian sandwiches during a supposed 
 luncheon interval. As far as human foresight and 
 
THE UNKINDEST BLOW 87 
 
 human enterprise could go nothing was lacking to 
 make the trial a success. 
 
 Two days before the case was down for hearing 
 the advance reporter of an important syndicate 
 obtained an interview with the Duke for the purpose 
 of gleaning some final grains of information con- 
 cerning his Grace's personal airrangements during 
 the trial. 
 
 " I suppose I may say this will be one of the 
 biggest affairs of its kind during the Hfetime of a 
 generation," began the reporter as an excuse for 
 the imsparing minuteness of detail that he was 
 about to make quest for. 
 
 " I suppose so — if it comes off," said the Duke 
 lazily. 
 
 " If ? " queried the reporter, in a voice that was 
 something between a gasp and a scream. 
 
 " The Duchess and I are both thinking of going 
 on strike," said the Duke. 
 
 " Strike ! " 
 
 The baleful word flashed out in all its old hideous 
 familiarity. Was there to be no end to its recur- 
 rence ? 
 
 " Do you mean," faltered the reporter, " that you 
 are contemplating a mutual withdrawal of the 
 charges ? " 
 
 " Precisely," said the Duke. 
 
S8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " But think of the arrangements that have been 
 made, the special reporting, the cinematographs, 
 the catering for the distinguished foreign witnesses, 
 the prepared music-hall allusions ; think of all the 
 money that has been sunk " 
 
 " Exactly," said the Duke coldly, " the Duchess 
 and I have realised that it is we who provide the 
 material out of which this great far-reaching industry 
 has been built up. Widespread employment will 
 be given and enormous profits made during the 
 duration of the case, and we, on whom all the stress 
 and racket falls, will get — ^what ? An unenviable 
 notoriety and the privilege of paying heavy legal 
 expenses whichever way the verdict goes. Hence 
 our decision to strike. We don't wish to be recon- 
 ciled ; we fully reaUse that it is a grave step to take, 
 but unless we get some reasonable consideration out 
 of this vast stream of wealth and industry that we 
 have called into being we intend coming out of court 
 and staying out. Good afternoon." 
 
 The news of this latest strike spread universal 
 dismay. Its inaccessibiUty to the ordinary methods 
 of persuasion made it pecuUarly formidable. If the 
 Duke and Duchess persisted in being reconciled the 
 Government could hardly be called on to interfere. 
 PubUc opinion in the shape of social ostracism might 
 be brought to bear on them, but that was as far as 
 
THE UNKINDEST BLOW 89 
 
 coercive measures could go. There was nothing for it 
 but a conference, with powers to propose liberal 
 terms. As it was, several of the foreign witnesses 
 had already departed and others had telegraphed 
 canceUing their hotel arrangements. 
 
 The conference, protracted, imcomfortable, and 
 occasionally acrimonious, succeeded at last in 
 arranging for a resumption of litigation, but it was 
 a fruitless victory. The Duke, with a touch of his 
 earlier precocity, died of premature decay a fort- 
 night before the date fixed for the new trial. 
 
go BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE ROMANCERS 
 
 IT was autumn in London, that blessed season 
 between the harshness of winter and the 
 insincerities of summer ; a trustful season 
 when one buys bulbs and sees to the registration 
 of one's vote, beUeving perpetually in spring and a 
 change of Government. 
 
 Morton Crosby sat on a bench in a secluded corner 
 of Hyde Park, lazily enjoying a cigarette and watch- 
 ing the slow grazing promenade of a pair of snow- 
 geese, the male looking rather like an albino edition 
 of the russet-hued female. Out of the corner of his 
 eye Crosby also noted with some interest the hesita- 
 ting hoverings of a human figure, which had passed 
 and repassed his seat two or three times at shorten- 
 ing intervals, like a wary crow about to aUght near 
 some possibly edible morsel. Inevitably the figure 
 came to an anchorage on the bench, within easy 
 talking distance of its original occupant. The 
 uncared-for clothes, the aggressive, grizzled beard, 
 and the furtive, evasive eye of the new-comer bespoke 
 
THE ROMANCERS 91 
 
 the professional cadger, the man who would undergo 
 hours of humihating tale-spinning and rebuff rather 
 than adventure on half a day's decent work. 
 
 For a while the new-comer fixed his eyes straight 
 in front of him in a strenuous, unseeing gaze ; then 
 his voice broke out with the insinuating inflection 
 of one who has a story to retail well worth any 
 loiterer's while to Hsten to. 
 
 " It's a strange world," he said. 
 
 As the statement met with no response he altered 
 it to the form of a question. 
 
 " I daresay you've found it to be a strange world, 
 mister ? " 
 
 " As far as I am concerned," said Crosby, " the 
 strangeness has worn off in the course of thirty-six 
 years." 
 
 " Ah," said the greybeard, '' I could tell you 
 things that you'd hardly beUeve. Marvellous things 
 that have really happened to me." 
 
 " Nowadays there is no demand for marvellous 
 things that have really happened," said Crosby 
 discouragingly ; " the professional writers of fiction 
 turn these things out so much better. For instance, 
 my neighbours tell me wonderful, incredible things 
 that their Aberdeens and chows and borzois have 
 done; I never listen to them. On the other hand, I have 
 read * The Hound of the Baskervilles ' three times." 
 
92 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 The greybeard moved uneasily in his seat ; then 
 he opened up new country. 
 
 " I take it that you are a professing Christian," he 
 observed. 
 
 " I am a prominent and I think I may say an 
 influential member of the Mussulman community 
 of Eastern Persia/' said Crosby, making an excursion 
 himself into the realms of fiction. 
 
 The greybeard was obviously disconcerted at this 
 new check to introductory conversation, but the 
 defeat was only momentary. 
 
 " Persia. I should never have taken you for a Per- 
 sian," he remarked, with a somewhat aggrieved air. 
 
 " I am not," said Crosby ; "my father was an 
 Afghan." 
 
 " An Afghan ! " said the other, smitten into 
 bewildered silence for a moment . Then he recovered 
 himself and renewed his attack. 
 
 " Afghanistan. Ah ! We've had some wars with 
 that country ; now, I daresay, instead of fighting 
 it we might have learned something from it. A very 
 wealthy country, I beheve. No real poverty there." 
 
 He raised his voice on the word " poverty " with 
 a suggestion of intense feeling. Crosby saw the 
 opening and avoided it. 
 
 " It possesses, nevertheless, a number of highly 
 talented and ingenious beggars," he said ; " if I 
 
THE ROMANCERS 93 
 
 had not spoken so disparagingly of marvellous 
 things that have really happened I would tell you 
 the story of Ibrahim and the eleven camel-loads of 
 blotting-paper. Also I have forgotten exactly how 
 it ended." 
 
 "My own Hfe-story is a curious one/' said the stran- 
 ger, apparently stifling all desire to hear the history of 
 Ibrahim ; "I was not always as you see me now." 
 
 " We are supposed to imdergo complete change in 
 the course of every seven years," said Crosby, as 
 an explanation of the foregoing announcement. 
 
 " I mean I was not always in such distressing 
 circumstances as I am at present," pursued the 
 stranger doggedly. 
 
 " That sounds rather rude," said Crosby stiffly, 
 " considering that you are at present talking to a 
 man reputed to be one of the most gifted conversa- 
 tionaUsts of the Afghan border." 
 
 " I don't mean in that way," said the greybeard 
 hastily ; " I've been very much interested in your 
 conversation. I was alluding to my imfortunate 
 financial situation. You mayn't hardly believe it, 
 but at the present moment I am absolutely without 
 a farthing. Don't see any prospect of getting any 
 money, either, for the next few days. I don't 
 suppose you've ever found yourself in such a posi- 
 tion," he added. 
 
94 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " In the town of Yom," said Crosby, " which is 
 in Southern Afghanistan, and which also happens 
 to be my birthplace, there was a Chinese philosopher 
 who used to say that one of the three chiefest human 
 blessings was to be absolutely without money. I 
 forget what the other two were.'* 
 
 " Ah, I daresay," said the stranger, in a tone that 
 betrayed no enthusiasm for the philosopher's 
 memory ; " and did he practise what he preached ? 
 That's the test." 
 
 " He lived happily with very little money or 
 resources," said Crosby. 
 
 " Then I expect he had friends who would help 
 him liberally whenever he was in difficulties, such 
 as I am in at present." 
 
 " In Yom," said Crosby, ** it is not necessary 
 to have friends in order to obtain help. Any citizen 
 of Yom would help a stranger as a matter of course." 
 
 The greybeard was now genuinely interested. 
 The conversation had at last taken a favourable 
 turn. 
 
 " If someone, like me, for instance, who was in 
 imdeserved difficulties, asked a citizen of that town 
 you speak of for a small loan to tide over a few days' 
 impecuniosity — five shillings, or perhaps a rather 
 larger sum — ^would it be given to him as a matter of 
 course)? '* 
 
THE ROMANCERS 95 
 
 " There would be a certain preliminary," said 
 Crosby ; " one would take him to a wine-shop and 
 treat him to a measure of wine, and then, after a 
 little high-flown conversation, one would put the 
 desired sum in his hand and wish him good-day. 
 It is a roundabout way of performing a simple 
 transaction, but in the East all ways are roimdabout." 
 
 The listener's eyes were gUttering. 
 
 " Ah," he exclaimed, with a thin sneer ringing 
 meaningly through his words, " I suppose you've 
 given up all those generous customs since you left 
 your town. Don't practise them now, I expect." 
 
 " No one who has lived in Yom," said Crosby 
 fervently, " and remembers its green hills covered 
 with apricot and almond trees, and the cold water 
 that rushes down like a caress from the upland 
 snows and dashes under the Uttle wooden bridges, 
 no one who remembers these things and treasures 
 the memory of them would ever give up a single 
 one of its im written laws and customs. To me they 
 are as binding as though I still lived in that hallowed 
 home of my youth." 
 
 " Then if I was to ask you for a small loan " 
 
 began the greybeard fawningly, edging nearer on the 
 seat and hurriedly wondering how large he might 
 safely make his request, " if I was to ask you for, 
 say " 
 
96 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " At any other time, certainly," said Crosby ; 
 " in the months of November and December, how- 
 ever, it is absolutely forbidden for anyone of our 
 race to give or receive loans or gifts ; in fact, one 
 does not willingly speak of them. It is considered 
 unlucky. We will therefore close this discussion." 
 
 " But it is still October ! " exclaimed the adven- 
 turer with an eager, angry whine, as Crosby rose 
 from his seat ; " wants eight days to the end of the 
 month ! " 
 
 " The Afghan November began yesterday," said 
 Crosby severely, and in another moment he was 
 striding across the Park, leaving his recent companion 
 scowling and muttering furiously on the seat. 
 
 *' I don't beheve a word of his story," he chattered 
 to himself ; " pack of nasty lies from beginning to 
 end. Wish I'd told him so to his face. CalHng 
 himself an Afghan ! " 
 
 The snorts and snarls that escaped from him for 
 the next quarter of an hour went far to support the 
 truth of the old saying that two of a trade never 
 agree. 
 
THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD 97 
 
 THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME 
 METHOD 
 
 LADY CARLOTTA stepped out on to the 
 platform of the small wayside station and 
 took a turn or two up and down its unin- 
 teresting length, to kill time till the train should be 
 pleased to proceed on its way. Then, in the road- 
 way beyond, she saw a horse struggling with a more 
 than ample load, and a carter of the sort that seems 
 to bear a sullen hatred against the animal that helps 
 him to earn a living. Lady Carlotta promptly 
 betook her to the roadway, and put rather a different 
 complexion on the struggle . Certain of her acquaint- 
 ances were wont to give her plentiful admonition 
 as to the undesirability of interfering on behalf of 
 a distressed animal, such interference being " none 
 of her business. ' ' Only once had she put the doctrine 
 of non-interference into practice, when one of its 
 most eloquent exponents had been besieged for 
 nearly three hours in a small and extremely uncom- 
 fortable may-tree by an angry boar-pig, while 
 
 H 
 
98 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Lady Carlotta, on the other side of the fence, had 
 proceeded with the water-colour sketch she was 
 engaged on, and refused to interfere between the 
 boar and his prisoner. It is to be feared that she 
 lost the friendship of the ultimately rescued lady. 
 On this occasion she merely lost the train, which 
 gave way to the first sign of impatience it had 
 shown throughout the journey, and steamed off 
 without her. She bore the desertion with philo- 
 sophical indifference ; her friends and relations were 
 thoroughly well used to the fact of her luggage 
 arriving without her. She wired a vague non- 
 committal message to her destination to say that 
 she was coming on "by another train." Before 
 she had time to think what her next move might 
 be she was confronted by an imposingly attired 
 lady, who seemed to be taking a prolonged mental 
 inventory of her clothes and looks. 
 
 " You must be Miss Hope, the governess IVe 
 come to meet," said the apparition, in a tone that 
 admitted of very little argument. 
 
 " Very well, if I must I must," said Lady Carlotta 
 to herself with dangerous meekness. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Quabarl," continued the lady ; " and 
 where, pray, is your luggage ? " 
 
 "It's gone astray," said the alleged governess, 
 falling in with the excellent rule of life that the 
 
THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD 99 
 
 absent are always to blame ; the luggage had, in 
 point of fact, behaved with perfect correctitude. 
 *' I've just telegraphed about it," she added, with 
 a nearer approach to truth. 
 
 " How provoking," said Mrs. Quabarl ; " these 
 railway companies are so careless. However, my 
 maid can lend you things for the night," and she led 
 the way to her car. 
 
 During the drive to the Quabarl mansion Lady 
 Carlotta was impressively introduced to the nature 
 of the charge that had been thrust upon her ; she 
 learned that Claude and Wilfrid were deUcate, 
 sensitive young people, that Irene had the artistic 
 temperament highly developed, and that Viola was 
 something or other else of a mould equally common- 
 place among children of that class and type in the 
 twentieth century. 
 
 *' I wish them not only to be taught," said Mrs. 
 Quabarl, *' but interested in what they learn. In 
 their history lessons, for instance, you must try 
 to make them feel that they are being introduced 
 to the life-stories of men and women who really Uved, 
 not merely committing a mass of names and dates 
 to memory. French, of course, I shall expect you 
 to talk at meal-times several days in the week." 
 
 " I shall talk French four days of the week and 
 Russian in the remaining three." 
 
100 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Russian ? My dear Miss Hope, no one in the 
 house speaks or understands Russian." 
 
 " That will not embarrass me in the least," said 
 Lady Carlotta coldly. 
 
 Mrs. Quabarl, to use a colloquial expression, was 
 knocked off her perch. She was one of those 
 imperfectly self-assured individuals who are magnifi- 
 cent and autocratic as long as they are not seriously 
 opposed. The least show of unexpected resistance 
 goes a long way towards rendering them cowed and 
 apologetic. When the new governess failed to 
 express wondering admiration of the large newly- 
 purchased and expensive car, and lightly alluded to 
 the superior advantages of one or two makes which 
 had just been put on the market, the discomfiture 
 of her patroness became almost abject. Her feelings 
 were those which might have animated a general 
 of ancient warfaring days, on beholding his heaviest 
 battle-elephant ignominiously driven off the field 
 by slingers and javelin throwers. 
 
 At dinner that evening, although reinforced by 
 her husband, who usually duplicated her opinions 
 and lent her moral support generally, Mrs. Quabarl 
 regained none of her lost ground. The governess 
 not only helped herself well and truly to wine, but 
 held forth with considerable show of critical know- 
 ledge on various vintage matters, concerning which 
 
THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD loi 
 
 the Quabarls were in no wise able to pose as author- 
 ities. Previous governesses had limited their con- 
 versation on the wine topic to a respectful and doubt- 
 less sincere expression of a preference for water. 
 When this one went as far as to recommend a wine 
 finn in whose hands you could not go very far wrong 
 Mrs. Quabarl thought it time to turn the conversa- 
 tion into more usual channels. 
 
 " We got very satisfactory references about you 
 from Canon Teep," she observed ; " a very estimable 
 man, I should think." 
 
 " Drinks like a fish and beats his wife, otherwise 
 a very lovable character," said the governess 
 imperturbably. 
 
 " My dear Miss Hope ! I trust you are exaggera- 
 ting," exclaimed the Quabarls in unison. 
 
 '* One must in justice admit that there is some 
 provocation," continued the romancer. " Mrs. 
 Teep is quite the most irritating bridge-player that 
 I have ever sat down with ; her leads and declara- 
 tions would condone a certain amount of brutality 
 in her partner, but to souse her with the contents of 
 the only soda-water syphon in the house on a 
 Sunday afternoon, when one couldn't get another, 
 argues an indifference to the comfort of others 
 which I cannot altogether overlook. You may 
 think me hasty in my judgments, but it was 
 
102 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 practically on account of the syphon incident 
 that I left." 
 
 " We will talk of this some other time," said Mrs. 
 Quabarl hastily. 
 
 *' I shall never allude to it again," said the 
 governess with decision. 
 
 Mr. Quabarl made a welcome diversion by asking 
 what studies the new instructress proposed to 
 inaugurate on the morrow. 
 
 " History to begin with," she informed him. 
 
 " Ah, history," he observed sagely ; " now in 
 teaching them history you must take care to interest 
 them in what they learn. You must make them feel 
 that they are being introduced to the life-stories 
 of men and women who really lived " 
 
 "I've told her all that," interposed Mrs. Quabarl. 
 
 " I teach history on the Schartz-Metterklume 
 method," said the governess loftily. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said her listeners, thinking it expedient 
 to assume an acquaintance at least with the name. 
 
 " What are you children doing out here ? " 
 demanded Mrs. Quabarl the next morning, on finding 
 Irene sitting rather glumly at the head of the stairs, 
 while her sister was perched in an attitude of depressed 
 discomfort on the window-seat behind her, with a 
 wolf-skin rug almost covering her. 
 
 " We are having a history lesson," came the 
 
THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD 103 
 
 unexpected reply. *' I am supposed to be Rome, 
 and Viola up there is the she-wolf ; not a real wolf, 
 but the figure of one that the Romans used to set 
 store by — I forget why. Claude and Wilfrid have 
 gone to fetch the shabby women. '* 
 
 " The shabby women ? " 
 
 " Yes, they've got to carry them off. They didn't 
 want to, but Miss Hope got one of father's fives- 
 bats and said she'd give them a number nine spank- 
 ing if they didn't, so they've gone to do it." 
 
 A loud, angry screaming from the direction of the 
 lawn drew Mrs. Quabarl thither in hot haste, fearful 
 lest the threatened castigation might even now be 
 in process of infliction. The outcry, however, came 
 principally from the two small daughters of the 
 lodge-keeper, who were being hauled and pushed 
 towards the house by the panting and dishevelled 
 Claude and Wilfrid, whose task was rendered even 
 more arduous by the incessant, if not very effectual, 
 attacks of the captured maidens' small brother. 
 The governess, fives-bat in hand, sat neghgently 
 on the stone balustrade, presiding over the scene 
 with the cold impartiality of a Goddess of Battles. 
 A furious and repeated chorus of " I'll tell muvver " 
 rose from the lodge-children, but the lodge-mother, 
 who was hard of hearing, was for the moment 
 immersed in the preoccupation of her washtub. 
 
104 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 After an apprehensive glance in the direction of the 
 lodge (the good woman was gifted with the highly 
 mihtant temper which is sometimes the privilege 
 of deafness) Mrs. Quabarl flew indignantly to the 
 rescue of the struggling captives. 
 
 " Wilfrid ! Claude ! Let those children go at 
 once. Miss Hope, what on earth is the meaning of 
 this scene ? " 
 
 " Early Roman history ; the Sabine Women, don't 
 you know ? It's the Schartz-Metterklume method 
 to make children understand history by acting it 
 themselves ; fixes it in their memory, you know. 
 Of course, if, thanks to your interference, your 
 boys go through Ufe thinking that the Sabine women 
 ultimately escaped, I really cannot be held respon- 
 sible." 
 
 " You may be very clever and modern. Miss 
 Hope," said Mrs. Quabarl firmly, " but I should like 
 you to leave here by the next train. Your luggage 
 will be sent after you as soon as it arrives." 
 
 " I'm not certain exactly where I shall be for the 
 next few days," said the dismissed instructress of 
 youth ; " you might keep my luggage till I wire my 
 address. There are only a couple of trunks and 
 some golf-clubs and a leopard cub." 
 
 " A leopard cub ! " gasped Mrs. Quabarl. Even 
 in her departure this extraordinary person seemed 
 
THE SCHARTZ-METTERKLUME METHOD 105 
 
 destined to leave a trail of embarrassment behind 
 her. 
 
 " Well, it's rather left off being a cub ; it's more 
 than half-grown, you know. A fowl every day 
 and a rabbit on Sundays is what it usually gets. 
 Raw beef makes it too excitable. Don't trouble 
 about getting the car for me, I'm rather inclined for 
 a walk." 
 
 And Lady Carlotta strode out of the Quabarl 
 horizon. 
 
 The advent of the genuine Miss Hope, who had 
 made a mistake as to the day on which she was due 
 to arrive, caused a turmoil which that good lady 
 was quite unused to inspiring. Obviously the 
 Quabarl family had been woefully befooled, but a 
 certain amount of relief came with the knowledge. 
 
 " How tiresome for you, dear Carlotta," said her 
 hostess, when the overdue guest ultimately arrived ; 
 " how very tiresome losing your train and having 
 to stop overnight in a strange place." 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said Lady Carlotta ; " not at all 
 tiresome — for me." 
 
io6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE SEVENTH PULLET 
 
 it 
 
 I 
 
 T'S not the daily grind that I complain of," 
 said Blenkinthrope resentfully ; " it's the 
 dull grey sameness of my life outside of 
 office hours. Nothing of interest comes my way, 
 nothing remarkable or out of the common. Even 
 the little things that I do try to find some interest 
 in don't seem to interest other people. Things in 
 my garden, for instance." 
 
 *' The potato that weighed just over two pounds," 
 said his friend Gorworth. 
 
 " Did I tell you about that ? " said Blenkin- 
 thrope ; ** I was telUng the others in the train this 
 morning. I forgot if I'd told you." 
 
 "To be exact you told me that it weighed just 
 under two pounds, but I took into account the fact 
 that abnormal vegetables and freshwater fish have 
 an after-life, in which growth is not arrested." 
 
 *' You're just like the others," said Blenkin- 
 thrope sadly, " you only make fun of it." 
 
 ** The fault is with the potato, not with us," said 
 
THE SEVENTH PULLET 107 
 
 Gorworth ; "we are not in the least interested 
 in it because it is not in the least interesting. The 
 men you go up in the train with every day are just 
 in the same case as yourself ; their lives are common- 
 place and not very interesting to themselves, and 
 they certainly are not going to wax enthusiastic 
 over the commonplace events in other men's lives. 
 Tell them something starthng, dramatic, piquant 
 that has happened to yourself or to someone in 
 your family, and you will capture their interest 
 at once. They will talk about you with a certain 
 personal pride to all their acquaintances. ' Man I 
 know intimately, fellow called Blenkinthrope, lives 
 down my way, had two of his fingers clawed clean 
 off by a lobster he was carrying home to supper. 
 Doctor says entire hand may have to come off.' 
 Now that is conversation of a very high order. 
 But imagine walking into a tennis club with the 
 remark : ' I know a man who has grown a potato 
 weighing two and a quarter pounds.' " 
 
 " But hang it all, my dear fellow," said Blenkin- 
 thrope impatiently, " haven't I just told you that 
 nothing of a remarkable nature ever happens to 
 me?" 
 
 " Invent something," said Gorworth. Since win- 
 ning a prize for excellence in Scriptural knowledge at 
 a preparatory school he had felt Hcensed to be a Httle 
 
io8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 more unscrupulous than the circle he moved in. Much 
 might surely be excused to one who in early life 
 could give a list of seventeen trees mentioned in the 
 Old Testament. 
 
 *' What sort of thing ? " asked Blenkinthrope, 
 somewhat snappishly. 
 
 " A snake got into your hen-run yesterday morn- 
 ing and killed six out of seven pullets, first mesmeris- 
 ing them with its eyes and then biting them as they 
 stood helpless. The seventh pullet was one of that 
 French sort, with feathers all over its eyes, so it 
 escaped the mesmeric snare, and just flew at what 
 it could see of the snake and pecked it to pieces." 
 
 " Thank you/' said Blenkinthrope stiffly ; " it's 
 a very clever invention. If such a thing had really 
 happened in my poultry-run I admit I should have 
 been proud and interested to tell people about it. 
 But I'd rather stick to fact, even if it is plain fact." 
 All the same his mind dwelt wistfully on the story 
 of the Seventh Pullet. He could picture himself 
 telling it in the train amid the absorbed interest 
 of his fellow-passengers. Unconsciously all sorts 
 of little details and improvements began to suggest 
 themselves. 
 
 Wistfulness was still his dominant mood when he 
 took his seat in the railway carriage the next morn- 
 ing. Opposite him sat Stevenham, who had 
 
THE SEVENTH PULLET 109 
 
 attained to a recognised brevet of importance through 
 the fact of an uncle having dropped dead in the act 
 of voting at a ParUamentary election. That had 
 happened three years ago, but Stevenham was still 
 deferred to on all questions of home and foreign 
 pontics. 
 
 " Hullo, how's the giant mushroom, or whatever 
 it was ? " was all the notice Blenkinthrope got from 
 his fellow travellers. 
 
 Young Duckby, whom he mildly disUked, speedily 
 monopoHsed the general attention by an account of 
 a domestic bereavement. 
 
 '* Had four young pigeons carried off last night 
 by a whacking big rat. Oh, a monster he must 
 have been ; you could tell by the size of the hole 
 he made breaking into the loft." 
 
 No moderate-sized rat ever seemed to carry out 
 any predatory operations in these regions ; they 
 were all enormous in their enormity. 
 
 " Pretty hard lines that," continued Duckby, 
 seeing that he had secured the attention and respect 
 of the company ; " four squeakers carried off at 
 one swoop. You'd find it rather hard to match 
 that in the way of unlooked-for bad luck." 
 
 " I had six pullets out of a pen of seven killed by a 
 snake yesterday afternoon," said Blenkinthrope, 
 in a voice which he hardly recognised as his own. 
 
no BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 *' By a snake ? " came in excited chorus. 
 
 " It fascinated them with its deadly, glittering 
 eyes, one after the other, and struck them down 
 while they stood helpless. A bedridden neighbour, 
 who wasn't able to call for assistance, witnessed it 
 all from her bedroom window." 
 
 " Well, I never ! " broke in the chorus, with 
 variations. 
 
 " The interesting part of it is about the seventh 
 pullet, the one that didn't get killed," resumed 
 Blenkinthrope, slowly Hghting a cigarette. His 
 diffidence had left him, and he was beginning to 
 realise how safe and easy depravity can seem once 
 one has the courage to begin. " The six dead birds 
 were Minorcas ; the seventh was a Houdan with a 
 mop of feathers all over its eyes. It could hardly 
 see the snake at all, so of course it wasn't mesmerised 
 Hke the others. It just could see something wrig- 
 gling on the groimd, and went for it and pecked it 
 to death." 
 
 " Well, I'm blessed ! " exclaimed the chorus. 
 
 In the course of the next few days Blenkinthrope 
 discovered how little the loss of one's self-respect 
 affects one when one has gained the esteem of the 
 world. His story found its way into one of the 
 poultryjpapers, and was copied thence into a daily 
 news-sheet as a matter of general interest. A lady 
 
THE SEVENTH PULLET iii 
 
 wrote from the North of Scotland recounting a 
 similar episode which she had witnessed as occurring 
 between a stoat and a bUnd grouse. Somehow a 
 he seems so much less reprehensible when one can 
 call it a lee. 
 
 For awhile the adapter of the Seventh Pullet 
 story enjoyed to the full his altered standing as a 
 person of consequence, one who had had some 
 share in the strange events of his times. Then 
 he was thrust once again into the cold grey back- 
 ground by the sudden blossoming into importance 
 of Smith-Paddon, a daily fellow-traveller, whose 
 little girl had been knocked down and nearly hurt by 
 a car belonging to a musical-comedy actress. The 
 actress was not in the car at the time, but she was 
 in numerous photographs which appeared in the 
 illustrated papers of Zoto Dobreen inquiring after 
 the well-being of Maisie, daughter of Edmund 
 Smith-Paddon, Esq. With this new human interest 
 to absorb them the travelling companions were 
 almost rude when Blenkinthrope tried to explain 
 his contrivance for keeping vipers and peregrine 
 falcons out of his chicken-run. 
 
 Gorworth, to whom he unburdened himself in 
 private, gave him the same counsel as heretofore. 
 
 " Invent something." 
 
 " Yes, but what ? " 
 
112 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 The ready affirmative coupled with the question 
 betrayed a significant shifting of the ethical stand- 
 point. 
 
 It was a few days later that Blenkinthrope revealed 
 a chapter of family history to the customary gathering 
 in the railway carriage. 
 
 " Curious thing happened to my aunt, the one 
 who lives in Paris," he began. He had several 
 aunts, but they were all geographically distributed 
 over Greater London. 
 
 *'She was sitting on a seat in the Bois the other after- 
 noon, after lunching at the Roumanian Legation." 
 
 Whatever the story gained in picturesqueness 
 from the dragging-in of diplomatic " atmosphere," 
 it ceased from that moment to command any accept- 
 ance as a record of current events. Gorworth had 
 warned his neophyte that this would be the case, 
 but the traditional enthusiasm of the neophyte had 
 triumphed over discretion. 
 
 " She was feeling rather drowsy, the effect prob- 
 ably of the champagne, which she's not in the habit 
 of taking in the middle of the day." 
 
 A subdued murmur of admiration went round the 
 company. Blenkinthrope' s aunts were not used 
 to taking champagne in the middle of the year, 
 regarding it exclusively as a Christmas and New Year 
 accessory. 
 
THE SEVENTH PULLET 113 
 
 " Presently a rather portly gentleman passed by 
 her seat and paused an instant to light a cigar. At 
 that moment a youngish man came up behind him, 
 drew the blade from a swordstick, and stabbed him 
 half a dozen times through and through. * Scoun- 
 drel/ he cried to his victim, ' you do not know me. 
 My name is Henri Leturc' The elder man wiped 
 away some of the blood that was spattering his 
 clothes, turned to his assailant, and said : ' And since 
 when has an attempted assassination been con- 
 sidered an introduction ? ' Then he finished light- 
 ing his cigar and walked away. My aunt had 
 intended screaming for the poUce, but seeing the 
 indifference with which the principal in the affair 
 treated the matter she felt that it would be 
 an impertinence on her part to interfere. Of 
 course I need hardly say she put the whole thing 
 down to the effects of a warm, drowsy afternoon 
 and the Legation champagne. Now comes the 
 astonishing part of my story. A fortnight later 
 a bank manager was stabbed to death with a sword- 
 stick in that very part of the Bois. His assassin 
 was the son of a charwoman formerly working at 
 the bank, who had been dismissed from her job 
 by the manager on account of chronic intemperance. 
 His name was Henri Leturc." 
 
 From that moment Blenkinthrope was tacitly 
 
 I 
 
114 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 accepted as the Munchausen of the party. No 
 effort was spared to draw him out from day to day 
 in the exercise of testing their powers of credulity, 
 and Blenkinthrope, in the false security of an 
 assured and receptive audience, waxed industrious 
 and ingenious in supplying the demand for marvels. 
 Duckby's satirical story of a tame otter that had a 
 tank in the garden to swim in, and whined restlessly 
 whenever the water-rate was overdue, was scarcely 
 an unfair parody of some of Blenkinthrope's wilder 
 efforts. And then one day came Nemesis. 
 
 Returning to his villa one evening Blenkinthrope 
 found his wife sitting in front of a pack of cards, 
 which she was scrutinising with unusual concentra- 
 tion. 
 
 " The same old patience-game ? " he asked 
 carelessly. 
 
 " No, dear ; this is the Death's Head patience, 
 the most difficult of them all. I've never got it 
 to work out, and somehow I should be rather fright- 
 ened if I did. Mother only got it out once in her 
 life ; she was afraid of it, too. Her great-aimt had 
 done it once and fallen dead from excitement the 
 next moment, and mother always had a feeling that 
 she would die if she ever got it out. She died the same 
 night that she did it. She was in bad health at the 
 time, certainly, but it was a strange coincidence." 
 
THE SEVENTH PULLET 115 
 
 " Don't do it if it frightens you," was Blenkin- 
 thrope's practical comment as he left the room. 
 A few minutes later his wife called to him. 
 
 *' John, it gave me such a turn, I nearly got it out. 
 Only the five of diamonds held me up at the end. 
 I really thought I'd done it." 
 
 " Why, you can do it," said Blenkinthrope, who 
 had come back to the room ; " if you shift the eight 
 of clubs on to that open nine the five can be moved 
 on to the six." 
 
 His wife made the suggested move with hasty, 
 trembling fingers, and piled the outstanding cards 
 on to their respective packs. Then she followed the 
 example of her mother and great-grand-aunt. 
 
 Blenkinthrope had been genuinely fond of his 
 wife, but in the midst of his bereavement one 
 dominant thought obtruded itself. Something sen- 
 sational and real had at last come into his life ; no 
 longer was it a grey, colourless record. The head- 
 Hnes which might appropriately describe his domestic 
 tragedy kept shaping themselves in his brain. 
 ** Inherited presentiment comes true." " The 
 Death's Head patience : Card-game that justified 
 its sinister name in three generations." He wrote 
 out a full story of the fatal occurrence for the Essex 
 Vedette, the editor of which was a friend of his, and 
 to another friend he gave a condensed account, to 
 
ii6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 be taken up to the office of one of the halfpenny 
 daiUes. But m both cases his reputation as a 
 romancer stood fatally in the way of the fulfilment 
 of his ambitions. " Not the right thing to be 
 Munchausening in a time of sorrow " agreed his 
 friends among themselves, and a brief note of regret 
 at the "sudden death of the wife of our respected 
 neighbour, Mr. John Blenkinthrope, from heart 
 failure," appearing in the news column of the local 
 paper was the forlorn outcome of his visions of wide- 
 spread pubUcity. 
 
 Blenkinthrope shrank from the society of his 
 erstwhile travelhng companions and took to travel- 
 ling townwards by an ear Her train. He sometimes 
 tries to enlist the sympathy and attention of a 
 chance acquaintance in details of the whistling 
 prowess of his best canary or the dimensions of his 
 largest beetroot ; he scarcely recognises himself as 
 the man who was once spoken about and pointed 
 out as the owner of the Seventh Pullet. 
 
THE BLIND SPOT 117 
 
 Y 
 
 THE BLIND SPOT 
 
 *< ^ ^OU'VE just come back from Adelaide's 
 funeral, haven't you ? " said Sir Lul- 
 worth to his nephew ; " I suppose it 
 was very Hke most other funerals ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you all about it at lunch," said Egbert. 
 
 " You'll do nothing of the sort. It wouldn't be 
 respectful either to your great-aunt's memory or 
 to the lunch. We begin with Spanish olives, then 
 a borshch, then more olives and a bird of some kind, 
 and a rather enticing Rhenish wine, not at all expen- 
 sive as wines go in this country, but still quite laud- 
 able in its way. Now there's absolutely nothing in 
 that menu that harmonises in the least with the sub- 
 ject of your great-aunt Adelaide or her funeral. She 
 was a charming woman, and quite as intelligent as she 
 had any need to be,but somehow she always reminded 
 me of an English cook's idea of a Madras curry." 
 
 " She used to say you were frivolous," said 
 Egbert. Something in his tone suggested that he 
 rather endorsed the verdict. 
 
ii8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " I believe I once considerably scandalised her by 
 declaring that clear soup was a more important factor 
 in life than a clear conscience. She had very little 
 sense of proportion. By the way, she made you 
 her principal heir, didn't she ? " 
 
 *' Yes," said Egbert, " and executor as well. 
 It's in that connection that I particularly want to 
 speak to you." 
 
 " Business is not my strong point at any time," 
 said Sir Lulworth, " and certainly not when we're 
 on the immediate threshold of lunch." 
 
 " It isn't exactly business," explained Egbert, 
 as he followed his uncle into the dining-room. 
 " It's something rather serious. Very serious." 
 
 " Then we can't possibly speak about it now," 
 said Sir Lulworth ; "no one could talk seriously 
 during a borshch. A beautifully constructed borshch, 
 such as you are going to experience presently, 
 ought not only to banish conversation but almost 
 to annihilate thought. Later on, when we arrive 
 at the second stage of olives, I shall be quite ready 
 to discuss that new book on Borrow, or, if you prefer 
 it, the present situation in the Grand Duchy of 
 Luxemburg. But I absolutely decline to talk any- 
 thing approaching business till we have finished 
 with the bird." 
 
 For the greater part of the meal Egbert sat in an 
 
THE BLIND SPOT 119 
 
 abstracted silence, the silence of a man whose mind 
 is focussed on one topic. When the coffee stage had 
 been reached he launched himself suddenly athwart 
 his uncle's reminiscences of the Court of Luxemburg. 
 
 ** I think I told you that great-aunt Adelaide 
 had made me her executor. There wasn't very 
 much to be done in the way of legal matters, but 
 I had to go through her papers." 
 
 " That would be a fairly heavy task in itself. 
 I should imagine there were reams of family letters." 
 
 " Stacks of them, and most of them highly unin- 
 teresting. There was one packet, however, which 
 I thought might repay a careful perusal. It was a 
 bundle of correspondence from her brother Peter." 
 
 " The Canon of tragic memory," said Lulworth. 
 
 " Exactly, of tragic memory, as you say ; a 
 tragedy that has never been fathomed." 
 
 " Probably the simplest explanation was the 
 correct one," said Sir Lulworth ; "he sHpped on 
 the stone staircase and fractured his skull in falling." 
 
 Egbert shook his head. " The medical evidence 
 all went to prove that the blow on the head was 
 struck by some one coming up behind him. A wound 
 caused by violent contact with the steps could not 
 possibly have been inflicted at that angle of the 
 skull. They experimented with a dummy figure falling 
 in every conceivable position." 
 
120 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " But the motive ? " exclaimed Sir Lulworth ; 
 " no one had any interest in doing away with him, 
 and the number of people who destroy Canons of the 
 Estabhshed Church for the mere fun of killing must 
 be extremely Umited. Of course there are indivi- 
 duals of weak mental balance who do that sort of 
 thing, but they seldom conceal their handiwork ; 
 they are more generally incHned to parade it." 
 
 *' His cook was under suspicion," said Egbert 
 shortly. 
 
 " I know he was," said Sir Lulworth, " simply 
 because he was about the only person on the 
 premises at the time of the tragedy. But could 
 anything be sillier than trying to fasten a charge of 
 murder on to Sebastien ? He had nothing to gain, 
 in fact, a good deal to lose, from the death of his 
 employer. The Canon was paying him quite as 
 good wages as I was able to offer him when I took 
 him over into my service. I have since raised them 
 to something a little more in accordance with his 
 real worth, but at the time he was glad to find a new 
 place without troubling about an increase of wages. 
 People were fighting rather shy of him, and he had 
 no friends in this country. No ; if anyone in the 
 world was interested in the prolonged hfe and unim- 
 paired digestion of the Canon it would certainly be 
 Sebastien." 
 
THE BLIND SPOT 121 
 
 " People don't always weigh the consequences 
 of their rash acts," said Egbert, " otherwise there 
 would be very few murders committed. Sebastien 
 is a man of hot temper." 
 
 "He is a southerner," admitted Sir Lul worth ; 
 "to be geographically exact I beheve he hails from 
 the French slopes of the Pyrenees. I took that into 
 consideration when he nearly killed the gardener's 
 boy the other day for bringing him a spurious 
 substitute for sorrel. One must always make 
 allowances for origin and locality and early environ- 
 ment ; ' Tell me your longitude and I'll know what 
 latitude to allow you,' is my motto." 
 
 " There, you see," said Egbert, " he nearly killed 
 the gardener's boy." 
 
 " My dear Egbert, between nearly kiUing a 
 gardener's boy and altogether killing a Canon 
 there is a wide difference. No doubt you have 
 often felt a temporary desire to kill a gardener's 
 boy ; you have never given way to it, and I respect 
 you for your self-control. But I don't suppose you 
 have ever wanted to kill an octogenarian Canon. 
 Besides, as far as we know, there had never been any 
 quarrel or disagreement between the two men. 
 The evidence at the inquest brought that out very 
 clearly." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Egbert, with the air of a man coming 
 
122 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 at last into a deferred inheritance of conversa- 
 tional importance, " that is precisely what I want 
 to speak to you about/' 
 
 He pushed away his coffee cup and drew a pocket- 
 book from his inner breast-pocket. From the depths 
 of the pocket-book he produced an envelope, and 
 from the envelope he extracted a letter, closely 
 written in a small, neat handwriting. 
 
 " One of the Canon's numerous letters to Aunt 
 Adelaide," he explained, " written a few days before 
 his death. Her memory was already faihng when 
 she received it, and I daresay she forgot the contents 
 as soon as she had read it ; otherwise, in the Hght 
 of what subsequently happened, we should have 
 heard something of this letter before now. If it 
 had been produced at the inquest I fancy it would 
 have made some difference in the course of affairs. 
 The evidence, as you remarked just now, choked 
 off suspicion against Sebastien by disclosing an utter 
 absence of anything that could be considered a 
 motive or provocation for the crime, if crime there 
 was." 
 
 " Oh, read the letter," said Sir Lulworth im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " It's a long rambling affair, like most of his 
 letters in his later years," said Egbert. "I'll read 
 the part that bears immediately on the mystery. 
 
THE BLIND SPOT 123 
 
 " * I very much fear I shall have to get rid of 
 Sebastien. He cooks divinely, but he has the temper 
 of a fiend or an anthropoid ape, and I am really 
 in bodily fear of him. We had a dispute the other 
 day as to the correct sort of lunch to be served on 
 Ash Wednesday, and I got so irritated and annoyed 
 at his conceit and obstinacy that at last I threw a 
 cupful of coffee in his face and called him at the same 
 time an impudent jackanapes. Very little of the 
 coffee went actually in his face, but I have never seen 
 a human being show such deplorable lack of self- 
 control. I laughed at the threat of killing me that 
 he spluttered out in his rage, and thought the whole 
 thing would blow over, but I have several times 
 since caught him scowling and muttering in a highly 
 unpleasant fashion, and lately I have fancied that he 
 was dogging my footsteps about the grounds, par- 
 ticularly when I walk of an evening in the Itahan 
 Garden.' 
 
 " It was on the steps in the Italian Garden that 
 the body was found," commented Egbert, and 
 resumed reading. 
 
 " ' I daresay the danger is imaginary ; but I 
 shall feel more at ease when he has quitted my 
 service.' " 
 
 Egbert paused for a moment at the conclusion of 
 the extract ; then, as his uncle made no remark, 
 
124 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 he added : "If lack of motive was the only factor 
 that saved Sebastien from prosecution I fancy this 
 letter will put a different complexion on matters." 
 
 " Have you shown it to anyone else ? " asked Sir 
 Lulworth, reaching out his hand for the incriminat- 
 ing piece of paper. 
 
 " No," said Egbert, handing it across the table, 
 " I thought I would tell you about it first. Heavens, 
 what are you doing ? " 
 
 Egbert's voice rose almost to a scream. Sir 
 Lulworth had flung the paper well and truly into the 
 glowing centre of the grate. The small, neat hand- 
 writing shrivelled into black flaky nothingness. 
 
 " What on earth did you do that f or ? " gasped 
 Egbert. " That letter was our one piece of evidence 
 to connect Sebastien with the crime." 
 
 " That is why I destroyed it," said Sir Lulworth. 
 
 " But why should you want to shield him ? " 
 cried Egbert ; " the man is a common murderer." 
 
 " A common murderer, possibly, but a very 
 imcommon cook." 
 
DUSK 125 
 
 DUSK 
 
 NORMAN GORTSBY sat on a bench in the 
 Park, with his back to a strip of bush- 
 planted sward, fenced by the park raihngs, 
 and the Row fronting him across a wide stretch of 
 carriage drive. Hyde Park Comer, with its rattle 
 and hoot of traffic, lay immediately to his right. It 
 was some thirty minutes past six on an early March 
 evening, and dusk had fallen heavily over the scene, 
 dusk mitigated by some faint moonlight and many 
 street lamps. There was a wide emptiness over 
 road and sidewalk, and yet there were many uncon- 
 sidered figures moving silently through the half- 
 light, or dotted unobtrusively on bench and chair, 
 scarcely to be distinguished from the shadowed 
 gloom in which they sat. 
 
 The scene pleased Gortsby and harmonised with 
 his present mood. Dusk, to his mind, was the hour 
 of the defeated. Men and women, who had fought 
 and lost, who hid their fallen fortunes and dead 
 hopes as far as possible from the scrutiny of the 
 
126 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 curious, came forth in this hour of gloaming, when 
 their shabby clothes and bowed shoulders and 
 imhappy eyes might pass imnoticed, or, at any rate, 
 unrecognised. 
 
 A king that is conquered must see strange looks, 
 So bitter a thing is the heart of man. 
 
 The wanderers in the dusk did not choose to have 
 strange looks fasten on them, therefore they came 
 out in this bat-fashion, taking their pleasure sadly 
 in a pleasure-ground that had emptied of its rightful 
 occupants. Beyond the sheltering screen of bushes 
 and palings came a realm of brilliant lights and noisy, 
 rushing traffic. A blazing, many- tiered stretch of 
 windows shone through the dusk and almost dis- 
 persed it, marking the haunts of those other people, 
 who held their own in life's struggle, or at any rate 
 had not had to admit failure. So Gortsby's imagina- 
 tion pictured things as he sat on his bench in the 
 almost deserted walk. He was in the mood to 
 count himself among the defeated. Money troubles 
 did not press on him ; had he so wished he could have 
 strolled into the thoroughfares of light and noise, 
 and taken his place among the jostling ranks of 
 those who enjoyed prosperity or struggled for it. 
 He had failed in a more subtle ambition, and for the 
 moment he was heartsore and disillusionised, and 
 not disinclined to take a certain cynical pleasure 
 
DUSK 127 
 
 in observing and labelling his fellow wanderers as 
 they went their ways in the dark stretches between 
 the lamp-lights. 
 
 On the bench by his side sat an elderly gentleman 
 with a drooping air of defiance that was probably 
 the remaining vestige of self-respect in an individual 
 who had ceased to defy successfully anybody or 
 anything. His clothes could scarcely be called 
 shabby, at least they passed muster in the half- 
 light, but one's imagination could not have pictured 
 the wearer embarking on the purchase of a half- 
 crown box of chocolates or laying out ninepence on 
 a carnation buttonhole. He belonged unmistakably 
 to that forlorn orchestra to whose piping no one 
 dances ; he was one of the world's lamenters who 
 induce no responsive weeping. As he rose to go 
 Gortsby imagined him returning to a home circle 
 where he was snubbed and of no account, or to some 
 bleak lodging where his ability to pay a weekly 
 bill was the beginning and end of the interest he 
 inspired. His retreating figure vanished slowly 
 into the shadows, and his place on the bench was 
 taken almost immediately by a young man, fairly 
 well dressed but scarcely more cheerful of mien 
 than his predecessor. As if to emphasise the fact 
 that the world went badly with him the new- 
 comer unburdened himself of an angry and very 
 
128 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 audible expletive as he flung himself into the 
 seat, 
 
 " You don't seem in a very good temper," said 
 Gortsby, judging that he was expected to take due 
 notice of the demonstration. 
 
 The young man turned to him with a look of 
 disarming frankness which put him instantly on his 
 guard. 
 
 " You wouldn't be in a good temper if you were 
 in the fix I'm in," he said ; " I've done the siUiest 
 thing I've ever done in my Hfe." 
 
 " Yes ? " said Gortsby dispassionately. 
 
 " Came up this afternoon, meaning to stay at the 
 Patagonian Hotel in Berkshire Square," continued 
 the young man ; " when I got there I found it had 
 been pulled down some weeks ago and a cinema 
 theatre run up on the site. The taxi driver recom- 
 mended me to another hotel some way off and I 
 went there. I just sent a letter to my people, 
 giving them the address, and then I went out to 
 buy some soap — I'd forgotten to pack any and I 
 hate using hotel soap. Then I strolled about a bit, 
 had a drink at a bar and looked at the shops, and 
 when I came to turn my steps back to the hotel I 
 suddenly reaUsed that I didn't remember its name 
 or even what street it was in. There's a nice pre- 
 dicament for a fellow who hasn't any friends or 
 
DUSK 129 
 
 connections in London ! Of course I can wire to 
 my people for the address, but they won't have got 
 my letter till to-morrow ; meantime I'm without 
 any money, came out with about a shilling on me, 
 which went in buying the soap and getting the drink, 
 and here I am, wandering about with twopence in 
 my pocket and nowhere to go for the night." 
 
 There was an eloquent pause after the story had 
 been told. " I suppose you think I've spun you 
 rather an impossible yarn," said the young man 
 presently, with a suggestion of resentment in his voice. 
 
 " Not at all impossible," said Gortsby judicially ; 
 " I remember doing exactly the same thing once in 
 a foreign capital, and on that occasion there were 
 two of us, which made it more remarkable. Luckily 
 we remembered that the hotel was on a sort of canal, 
 and when we struck the canal we were able to find 
 our way back to the hotel." 
 
 The youth brightened at the reminiscence. " In 
 a foreign city I wouldn't mind so much," he said ; 
 " one could go to one's Consul and get the requisite 
 help from him. Here in one's own land one is far 
 more derehct if one gets into a fix. Unless I can 
 find some decent chap to swallow my story and lend 
 me some money I seem hkely to spend the night on 
 the Embankment. I'm glad, anyhow, that you 
 don't think the story outrageously improbable." 
 
130 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 He threw a good deal of warmth into the last 
 remark, as though perhaps to indicate his hope 
 that Gortsby did not fall far short of the requisite 
 decency. 
 
 *' Of course," said Gortsby slowly, " the weak point 
 of your story is that you can't produce the soap." 
 
 The young man sat forward hurriedly, felt rapidly 
 in the pockets of his overcoat, and then jumped to 
 his feet. 
 
 " I must have lost it," he muttered angrily. 
 
 " To lose an hotel and a cake of soap on one after- 
 noon suggests wilful carelessness," said Gortsby, 
 but the young man scarcely waited to hear the end 
 of the remark. He flitted away down the path, his 
 head held high, with an air of somewhat jaded 
 jauntiness. 
 
 " It was a pity," mused Gortsby ; *' the going 
 out to get one's own soap was the one convincing 
 touch in the whole story, and yet it was just that 
 Httle detail that brought him to grief. If he had had 
 the briUiant forethought to provide himself with a 
 cake of soap, wrapped and sealed with all the sohci- 
 tude of the chemist's counter, he would have been 
 a genius in his particular line. In his particular line 
 genius certainly consists of an infinite capacity for 
 taking precautions." 
 
 With that reflection Gortsby rose to go ; as he 
 
DUSK 131 
 
 did so an exclamation of concern escaped him. 
 Lying on the ground by the side of the bench was a 
 small oval packet, wrapped and sealed with the 
 solicitude of a chemist's counter. It could be 
 nothing else but a cake of soap, and it had evidently 
 fallen out of the youth's overcoat pocket when he 
 flung himself down on the seat. In another moment 
 Gortsby was scudding along the dusk-shrouded path 
 in anxious quest for a youthful figure in a light 
 overcoat. He had nearly given up the search 
 when he caught sight of the object of his pursuit 
 standing irresolutely on the border of the carriage 
 drive, evidently uncertain whether to strike across 
 the Park or make for the bustling pavements of 
 Knightsbridge. He turned round sharply with an 
 air of defensive hostihty when he foimd Gortsby 
 hailing him. 
 
 " The important witness to the genuineness of 
 your story has turned up," said Gortsby, holding 
 out the cake of soap ; " it must have slid out of your 
 overcoat pocket when you sat down on the seat. 
 I saw it on the ground after you left. You must 
 excuse my disbelief, but appearances were really 
 rather against you, and now, as I appealed to the 
 testimony of the soap I think I ought to abide by 
 its verdict. If the loan of a sovereign is any good 
 to you '* 
 
132 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 The young man hastily removed all doubt on the 
 subject by pocketing the coin. 
 
 " Here is my card with my address," continued 
 Gortsby ; " any day this week will do for returning 
 the money, and here is the soap — don't lose it again ; 
 it's been a good friend to you." 
 
 " Lucky thing your finding it," said the youth, 
 and then, with a catch in his voice, he blurted out 
 a word or two of thanks and fled headlong in the 
 direction of Knight sbridge. 
 
 " Poor boy, he as nearly as possible broke down," 
 said Gortsby to himself. " I don't wonder either ; 
 the relief from his quandary must have been acute. 
 It's a lesson to me not to be too clever in judging 
 by circumstances." 
 
 As Gortsby retraced his steps past the seat where 
 the Uttle drama had taken place he saw an elderly 
 gentleman poking and peering beneath it and on all 
 sides of it, and recognised his earUer fellow occupant. 
 
 " Have you lost anything, sir ? " he asked. 
 
 ** Yes, sir, a cake of soap." 
 
A TOUCH OF REALISM 133 
 
 1 
 
 A TOUCH OF REALISM 
 
 ^^ ']f HOPE you've come full of suggestions for 
 Christmas," said Lady Blonze to her latest 
 arrived guest ; " the old-fashioned Christ- 
 mas and the up-to-date Christmas are both so played 
 out. I want to have something really original this 
 year." 
 
 " I was staying with the Mathesons last month," 
 said Blanche Boveal eagerly, " and we had such a 
 good idea. Every one in the house-party had to be 
 a character and behave consistently all the time, 
 and at the end of the visit one had to guess what 
 every one's character was. The one who was voted 
 to have acted his or her character best got a prize." 
 
 " It sounds amusing," said Lady Blonze. 
 
 " I was St. Francis of Assisi," continued Blanche ; 
 " we hadn't got to keep to our right sexes. I kept 
 getting up in the middle of a meal and throwing 
 out food to the birds ; you see, the chief thing that 
 one remembers of St. Francis is that he was fond 
 of the birds. Every one was so stupid about it, 
 
134 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 and thought that I was the old man who feeds the 
 sparrows in the Tuileries Gardens. Then Colonel 
 Pentley was the Jolly Miller on the banks of Dee." 
 
 *' How on earth did he do that ? " asked Bertie 
 van Tahn. 
 
 " ' He laughed and sang from morn till night/ " 
 explained Blanche. 
 
 " How dreadful for the rest of you," said Bertie ; 
 *' and anyway he wasn't on the banks of Dee." 
 
 " One had to imagine that," said Blanche. 
 
 '* If you could imagine all that you might as well 
 imagine cattle on the further bank and keep on 
 calling them home, Mary-fashion, across the sands 
 of Dee. Or you might change the river to the Yarrow 
 and imagine it was on the top of you, and say you 
 were Willie, or whoever it was, drowned in Yarrow." 
 
 " Of course it's easy to make fun of it," said 
 Blanche sharply, " but it was extremely interesting 
 and amusing. The prize was rather a fiasco, though. 
 You see, MiUie Matheson said her character was Lady 
 Bountiful, and as she was our hostess of course we 
 all had to vote that she had carried out her character 
 better than anyone. Otherwise I ought to have got 
 the prize." 
 
 " It's quite an idea for a Christmas party," said 
 Lady Blonze ; "we must certainly do it here." 
 
 Sir Nicholas ^,was not so enthusiastic. " Are 
 
A TOUCH OF REALISM 135 
 
 you quite sure, my dear, that you're wise in doing 
 this thing ? " he said to his wife when they were 
 alone together. " It might do very well at the 
 Mathesons, where they had rather a staid, elderly 
 house-party, but here it will be a different matter. 
 There is the Durmot flapper, for instance, who 
 simply stops at nothing, and you know what Van 
 Tahn is like. Then there is Cyril Skatterly ; he 
 has madness on one side of his family and a Hungarian 
 grandmother on the other." 
 
 " I don't see what they could do that would 
 matter," said Lady Blonze. 
 
 " It's the unknown that is to be dreaded," said Sir 
 Nicholas. " If Skatterly took it into his head to re- 
 present a Bull of Bashan, well, I'd rather not be here." 
 
 " Of course we shan't allow any Bible characters. 
 Besides, I don't know what the Bulls of Bashan 
 really did that was so very dreadful ; they just 
 came round and gaped, as far as I remember." 
 
 " My dear, you don't know what Skatterly 's 
 Hungarian imagination mightn't read into the 
 part ; it would be small satisfaction to say to him 
 afterwards : * You've behaved as no Bull of Bashan 
 would have behaved.' " 
 
 " Oh, you're an alarmist," said Lady Blonze ; 
 " I particularly want to have this idea carried out. 
 It will be sure to be talked about a lot," 
 
136 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " That is quite possible," said Sir Nicholas. 
 
 Dinner that evening was not a particularly lively 
 affair ; the strain of trying to impersonate a self- 
 imposed character or to glean hints of identity from 
 other people's conduct acted as a check on the 
 natural festivity of such a gathering. There was a 
 general feeling of gratitude and acquiescence when 
 good-natured Rachel Klammerstein suggested that 
 there should be an hour or two's respite from " the 
 game " while they all listened to a little piano-playing 
 after dinner. Rachel's love of piano music was not in- 
 discriminate, and concentrated itself chiefly on selec- 
 tions rendered byher idolised offspring, Moritz and Aug- 
 usta, who, to do them justice, played remarkably well. 
 
 The Klammersteins were deservedly popular as 
 Christmas guests ; they gave expensive gifts lavishly 
 on Christmas Day and New Year, and Mrs. Klam- 
 merstein had already dropped hints of her intention 
 to present the prize for the best enacted character 
 in the game competition. Every one had brightened 
 at this prospect ; if it had fallen to Lady Blonze, 
 as hostess, to provide the prize, she would have 
 considered that a little souvenir of some twenty or 
 twenty-five shillings' value would meet the case, 
 whereas coming from a Klammerstein source it 
 would certainly run to several guineas, 
 
A TOUCH OF REALISM 137 
 
 The close time for impersonation efforts came to 
 an end with the final withdrawal of Moritz and 
 Augusta from the piano. Blanche Bo veal retired 
 early, leaving the room in a series of laboured leaps 
 that she hoped might be recognised as a tolerable 
 imitation of Pavlova. Vera Durmot, the sixteen- 
 year-old flapper, expressed her confident opinion 
 that the performance was intended to typify Mark 
 Twain's famous jumping frog, and her diagnosis 
 of the case found general acceptance. Another 
 guest to set an example of early bed-going was 
 Waldo Plubley, who conducted his life on a minutely 
 regulated system of time-tables and hygienic routine 
 Waldo was a plump, indolent young man of seven- 
 and-twenty, whose mother had early in his Hfe 
 decided for him that he was unusually delicate, and 
 by dint of much coddling and home-keeping had 
 succeeded in making him physically soft and men- 
 tally peevish. Nine hours' unbroken sleep, preceded 
 by elaborate breathing exercises and other hygienic 
 ritual, was among the indispensable regulations 
 which Waldo imposed on himself, and there were 
 innumerable small observances which he exacted 
 from those who were in any way obliged to minister 
 to his requirements ; a special teapot for the decoc- 
 tion of his early tea was always solemnly handed 
 over to the bedroom staff of any house in which he 
 
138 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 happened to be staying. No one had ever quite 
 mastered the mechanism of this precious vessel, 
 but Bertie van Tahn was responsible for the legend 
 that its spout had to be kept facing north during 
 the process of infusion. 
 
 On this particular night the irreducible nine hours 
 were severely mutilated by the sudden and by no 
 means noiseless incursion of a pyjama-clad figure 
 into Waldo's room at an hour midway between 
 midnight and dawn. 
 
 " What is the matter ? What are you looking 
 f or ? " asked the awakened and astonished Waldo, 
 slowly recognising Van Tahn, who appeared to be 
 searching hastily for something he had lost. 
 
 " Looking for sheep," was the reply. 
 
 " Sheep ? " exclaimed Waldo. 
 
 " Yes, sheep. You don't suppose I'm looking 
 for giraffes, do you ? " 
 
 " I don't see why you should expect to find either 
 in my room," retorted Waldo furiously. 
 
 " I can't argue the matter at this hour of the 
 night," said Bertie, and began hastily rummaging 
 in the chest of drawers. Shirts and underwear 
 went flying on to the floor. 
 
 " There are no sheep here, I tell you," screamed 
 Waldo. 
 
 " I've only got your word for it," said Bertie, 
 
A TOUCH OF REALISM 139 
 
 whisking most of the bedclothes on to the floor ; 
 " if you weren't conceaUng something you wouldn't 
 be so agitated." 
 
 Waldo was by this time convinced that Van 
 Tahn was raving mad, and made an anxious effort 
 to humour him. 
 
 " Go back to bed Uke a dear fellow," he pleaded, 
 " and your sheep will turn up all right in the 
 morning." 
 
 " I daresay," said Bertie gloomily, " without 
 their tails. Nice fool I shall look with a lot of 
 Manx sheep." 
 
 And by way of emphasising his annoyance at 
 the prospect he sent Waldo's pillows flying to the 
 top of the wardrobe. 
 
 " But why no tails ? " asked Waldo, whose teeth 
 were chattering with fear and rage and lowered 
 temperature. 
 
 " My dear boy, have you never heard the ballad 
 of Little Bo-Peep ? " said Bertie with a chuckle. 
 " It's my character in the Game, you know. If I 
 didn't go hunting about for my lost sheep no one 
 would be able to guess who I was ; and now go to 
 sleepy weeps like a good child or I shall be cross with 
 you." 
 
 " I leave you to imagine," wrote Waldo in the 
 course of a long letter to his mother, " how much 
 
140 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 sleep I was able to recover that night, and you know 
 how essential nine uninterrupted hours of slumber 
 are to my health." 
 
 On the other hand he was able to devote some 
 wakeful hours to exercises in breathing wrath and 
 fury against Bertie van Tahn. 
 
 Breakfast at Blonzecourt was a scattered meal, 
 on the '' come when you please " principle, but 
 the house-party was supposed to gather in full 
 strength at lunch. On the day after the " Game " 
 had been started there were, however, some notable 
 absentees. Waldo Plubley, for instance, was re- 
 ported to be nursing a headache. A large breakfast 
 and an " A.B.C." had been taken up to his room, 
 but he had made no appearance in the flesh. 
 
 " I expect he's playing up to some character," 
 said Vera Durmot ; " isn't there a thing of MoHere's, 
 * Le Malade Imaginaire ' ? I expect he's that." 
 
 Eight or nine Usts came out, and were duly pen- 
 cilled with the suggestion. 
 
 " And where are the Klammersteins ? " asked 
 Lady Blonze ; " they're usually so punctual." 
 
 " Another character pose, perhaps," said Bertie 
 van Tahn ; " ' the Lost Ten Tribes.' " 
 
 '' But there are only three of them. Besides, 
 they'll want their lunch. Hasn't anyone seen any- 
 thing of them ? " 
 
A TOUCH OF REALISM 141 
 
 " Didn't you take them out in your car ? " asked 
 Blanche Boveal, addressing herself to Cyril Skatterly. 
 
 " Yes, took them out to Slogberry Moor imme- 
 diately after breakfast. Miss Durmot came too." 
 
 " I saw you and Vera come back," said Lady 
 Blonze, " but I didn't see the Klammersteins. 
 Did you put them down in the village ? " 
 
 " No," said Skatterly shortly. 
 
 " But where are they ? Where did you leave 
 them ? " 
 
 " We left them on Slogberry Moor," said Vera 
 calmly. 
 
 " On Slogberry Moor ? Why, it's more than thirty 
 miles away ! How are they going to get back ? " 
 
 " We didn't stop to consider that," said Skat- 
 terly ; ** we asked them to get out for a moment, 
 on the pretence that the car had stuck, and then we 
 dashed off full speed and left them there." 
 
 " But how dare you do such a thing ? It's most 
 inhuman ! Why, it's been snowing for the last hour. ' ' 
 
 *' I expect there'll be a cottage or farmhouse 
 somewhere if they walk a mile or two." 
 
 *' But why on earth have you done it ? " 
 
 The question came in a chorus of indignant 
 bewilderment. 
 
 *' That would be telling what our characters are 
 meant to be," said Vera. 
 
142 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Didn't I warn you ? " said Sir Nicholas tragically 
 to his wife. 
 
 " It's something to do with Spanish history ; we 
 don't mind giving you that clue," said Skatterly, 
 helping himself cheerfully to salad, and then Bertie 
 van Tahn broke forth into peals of joyous laughter. 
 
 "I've got it ! Ferdinand and Isabella deporting 
 the Jews ! Oh, lovely ! Those two have certainly 
 won the prize ; we shan't get anything to beat that 
 for thoroughness." 
 
 Lady Blonze's Christmas party was talked about 
 and written about to an extent that she had not 
 anticipated in her most ambitious moments. The 
 letters from Waldo's mother would alone have made 
 it memorable. 
 
COUSIN TERESA 143 
 
 COUSIN TERESA 
 
 BASSET HARROWCLUFF returned to the 
 home of his fathers, after an absence of 
 four years, distinctly well pleased with 
 himself. He was only thirty-one, but he had put 
 in some useful service in an out-of-the-way, though 
 not unimportant, corner of the world. He had 
 quieted a province, kept open a trade route, enforced 
 the tradition of respect which is worth the ransom 
 of many kings in out-of-the-way regions, and done 
 the whole business on rather less expenditure than 
 would be requisite for organising a charity in the 
 home country. In Whitehall and places where they 
 think, they doubtless thought well of him. It was 
 not inconceivable, his father allowed himself to 
 imagine, that Basset's name might figure in the next 
 list of Honours. 
 
 Basset was inclined to be rather contemptuous 
 of his half-brother, Lucas, whom he found feverishly 
 engrossed in the same medley of elaborate futilities 
 that had claimed his whole time and energies, such 
 
144 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 as they were, four years ago, and almost as far back 
 before that as he could remember. It was the 
 contempt of the man of action for the man of 
 activities, and it was probably reciprocated. Lucas 
 was an over-well nourished individual, some nine 
 years Basset's senior, with a colouring that would 
 have been accepted as a sign of intensive culture 
 in an asparagus, but probably meant in this case 
 mere abstention from exercise. His hair and fore- 
 head furnished a recessional note in a personality 
 that was in all other respects obtrusive and asser- 
 tive. There was certainly no Semitic blood in 
 Lucas's parentage, but his appearance contrived to 
 convey at least a suggestion of Jewish extraction. 
 Clovis Sangrail, who knew most of his associates by 
 sight, said it was undoubtedly a case of protective 
 mimicry. 
 
 Two days after Basset's return, Lucas frisked in 
 to lunch in a state of twittering excitement that 
 could not be restrained even for the immediate 
 consideration of soup, but had to be verbally dis- 
 charged in spluttering competition with mouthfuls 
 of vermicelli. 
 
 " I've got hold of an idea for something immense," 
 he babbled, " something that is simply It." 
 
 Basset gave a short laugh that would have done 
 equally well as a snort, if one had wanted to make 
 
COUSIN TERESA 145 
 
 the exchange. His half-brother was in the habit 
 of discovering futilities that were " simply It " at 
 frequently recurring intervals. The discovery gener- 
 ally meant that he flew up to town, preceded by 
 glowingly-worded telegrams, to see some one con- 
 nected with the stage or the pubUshing world, got 
 together one or two momentous luncheon parties, 
 flitted in and out of " Gambrinus " for one or two 
 evenings, and returned home with an air of subdued 
 importance and the asparagus tint sHghtly intensified. 
 The great idea was generally forgotten a few weeks 
 later in the excitement of some new discovery. 
 
 " The inspiration came to me whilst I was dress- 
 ing," announced Lucas ; '* it will be the thing in the 
 next music-hall revue. All London will go mad over 
 it. It's just a couplet ; of course there will be 
 other words, but they won't matter. Listen : 
 
 Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar, 
 Fide, Jock, and the big borzoi. 
 
 A lilting, catchy sort of refrain, you see, and big- 
 drum business on the two syllables of bor-zoi. 
 It's immense. And I've thought out all the business 
 of it ; the singer will sing the first verse alone, then 
 during the second verse Cousin Teresa will walk 
 through, followed by four wooden dogs on wheels ; 
 Caesar will be an Irish terrier, Fido a black poodle, 
 Jock a fox-terrier, and the borzoi, of course, will be 
 
146 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 a borzoi. During the third verse Cousin Teresa will 
 come on alone, and the dogs will be drawn across 
 by themselves from the opposite wing ; then Cousin 
 Teresa will catch on to the singer and go off-stage 
 in one direction, while the dogs' procession goes 
 off in the other, crossing en route, which is always 
 very effective. There'll be a lot of applause there, 
 and for the fourth verse Cousin Teresa will come on 
 in sables and the dogs will all have coats on. Then 
 I've got a great idea for the fifth verse ; each of 
 the dogs will be led on by a Nut, and Cousin Teresa 
 will come on from the opposite side, crossing en 
 route, always effective, and then she turns round and 
 leads the whole lot of them off on a string, and all the 
 time every one singing like mad : 
 
 Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar, 
 Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi. 
 
 Tum-Tum I Drum business on the two last syllables. 
 I'm so excited, I shan't sleep a wink to-night. I'm 
 off to-morrow by the ten-fifteen. I've wired to 
 Hermanova to lunch with me." 
 
 If any of the rest of the family felt any excitement 
 over the creation of Cousin Teresa, they were signally 
 successful in concealing the fact. 
 
 " Poor Lucas does take his silly Httle ideas seri- 
 ously," said Colonel Harrowcluff afterwards in the 
 smoking-room. 
 
COUSIN TERESA 147 
 
 " Yes/' said his younger son, in a slightly less 
 tolerant tone, " in a day or two he'll come back and 
 tell us that his sensational masterpiece is above the 
 heads of the pubhc, and in about three weeks' 
 time he'll be wild with enthusiasm over a scheme 
 to dramatise the poems of Herrick or something 
 equally promising." 
 
 And then an extraordinary thing befell. In 
 defiance of all precedent Lucas's glowing anticipa- 
 tions were justified and endorsed by the course of 
 events. If Cousin Teresa was above the heads of 
 the public, the pubhc heroically adapted itself to 
 her altitude. Introduced as an experiment at a 
 dull moment in a new revue, the success of the item 
 was unmistakable ; the calls were so insistent and 
 uproarious that even Lucas' ample devisings of 
 additional " business " scarcely sufficed to keep 
 pace with the demand. Packed houses on successive 
 evenings confirmed the verdict of the first night 
 audience, stalls and boxes filled significantly just 
 before the turn came on, and emptied significantly 
 after the last encore had been given. The manager 
 tearfully acknowledged that Cousin Teresa was It. 
 Stage hands and supers and programme sellers 
 acknowledged it to one another without the least 
 reservation. The name of the revue dwindled to 
 secondary importance, and vast letters of electric 
 
148 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 blue blazoned the words " Cousin Teresa " from the 
 front of the great palace of pleasure. And, of course, 
 the magic of the famous refrain laid its spell all over 
 the Metropohs. Restaurant proprietors were obHged 
 to provide the members of their orchestras with 
 painted wooden dogs on wheels, in order that the 
 much-demanded and always conceded melody should 
 be rendered with the necessary spectacular effects, 
 and the crash of bottles and forks on the tables at 
 the mention of the big borzoi usually drowned the 
 sincerest efforts of drum or cymbals. Nowhere 
 and at no time could one get away from the double 
 thump that brought up the rear of the refrain ; 
 revellers reeling home at night banged it on doors 
 and hoardings, milkmen clashed their cans to its 
 cadence, messenger boys hit smaller messenger 
 boys resounding double smacks on the same principle. 
 And the more thoughtful circles of the great city 
 were not deaf to the claims and significance of the 
 popular melody. An enterprising and emancipated 
 preacher discoursed from his pulpit on the inner 
 meaning of " Cousin Teresa," and Lucas Harrow- 
 cluff was invited to lecture on the subject of his 
 great achievement to members of the Young Mens' 
 Endeavour League, the Nine Arts Club, and other 
 learned and wiUing-to-learn bodies. In Society it 
 seemed to be the one thing people really cared to 
 
COUSIN TERESA 149 
 
 talk about ; men and women of middle age and 
 average education might be seen together in corners 
 earnestly discussing, not the question whether 
 Servia should have an outlet on the Adriatic, or the 
 possibilities of a British success in international polo 
 contests, but the more absorbing topic of the 
 problematic Aztec or Nilotic origin of the Teresa 
 motiv. 
 
 " Pontics and patriotism are so boring and so out 
 of date," said a revered lady who had some preten- 
 sions to oracular utterance ; "we are too cosmopol- 
 itan nowadays to be really moved by them. That is 
 why one welcomes an intelligible production like 
 ' Cousin Teresa,' that has a genuine message for 
 one. One can't understand the message all at once, 
 of course, but one felt from the very first that it 
 was there. I've been to see it eighteen times and 
 I'm going again to-morrow and on Thursday. One 
 can't see it often enough." 
 
 " It would be rather a popular move if we gave 
 this Harrowcluff person a knighthood or something 
 of the sort," said the Minister reflectively. 
 
 " Which Harrowcluff ? " asked his secretary. 
 
 " Which ? There is only one, isn't there ? " 
 said the Minister ; " the ' Cousin Teresa ' man, of 
 course. I think every one would be pleased if we 
 
150 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 knighted him. Yes, you can put him down on the 
 Hst of certainties — under the letter L." 
 
 " The letter L," said the secretary, who was new 
 to his job ; " does that stand for Liberahsm or 
 hberality ? " 
 
 Most of the recipients of Ministerial favour were 
 expected to quaUfy in both of those subjects. 
 
 " Literature," explained the Minister. 
 
 And thus, after a fashion. Colonel Harrowcluff' s 
 expectation of seeing his son's name in the list of 
 Honours was gratified. 
 
THE YARKAND MANNER 151 
 
 THE YARKAND MANNER 
 
 SIR LULWORTH QUAYNE was making a 
 leisurely progress through the Zoological 
 Society's Gardens in company with his 
 nephew, recently returned from Mexico. The latter 
 was interested in comparing and contrasting allied 
 types of animals occurring in the North American 
 and Old World faima. 
 
 " One of the most remarkable things in the wan- 
 derings of species," he observed, " is the sudden 
 impulse to trek and migrate that breaks out now 
 and again, for no apparent reason, in communities 
 of hitherto stay-at-home animals." 
 
 " In human affairs the same phenomenon is 
 occasionally noticeable," said Sir Lul worth ; " per- 
 haps the most striking instance of it occurred in 
 this country while you were away in the wilds of 
 Mexico. I mean the wander fever which suddenly 
 displayed itself in the managing and editorial staffs 
 of certain London newspapers. It began with 
 the stampede of the entire staff of one of our most 
 
152 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 brilliant and enterprising weeklies to the banks of 
 the Seine and the heights of Montmartre. The 
 migration was a brief one, but it heralded an era of 
 restlessness in the Press world which lent quite a 
 new meaning to the phrase ' newspaper circulation.' 
 Other editorial staffs were not slow to imitate the 
 example that had been set them. Paris soon 
 dropped out of fashion as being too near home ; 
 Niirnberg, Seville, and Salonica became more 
 favoured as planting-out grounds for the personnel 
 of not only weekly but daily papers as well. The 
 localities were perhaps not always well chosen ; 
 the fact of a leading organ of Evangelical thought 
 being edited for two successive fortnights from 
 Trouville and Monte Carlo was generally admitted 
 to have been a mistake. And even when enterprising 
 and adventurous editors took themselves and their 
 staffs further afield there were some unavoidable 
 clashings. For instance, the Scrutator, Sporting 
 Bluffy and The Damsels' Own Paper all pitched on 
 Khartoum for the same week. It was, perhaps, a 
 desire to out-distance all possible competition that 
 influenced the management of the Daily Intelligencer, 
 one of the most solid and respected organs of Liberal 
 opinion, in its decision to transfer its offices for three 
 or four weeks from Fleet Street to Eastern Turkestan, 
 allowing, of course, a necessary margin of time for 
 
THE YARKAND MANNER 153 
 
 the journey there and back. This was, in many 
 respects, the most remarkable of all the Press 
 stampedes that were experienced at this time. 
 There was no make-believe about the undertaking ; 
 proprietor, manager, editor, sub-editors, leader- 
 writers, principal reporters, and so forth, all took 
 part in what was popularly alluded to as the Drang 
 nach Osten ; an intelligent and efficient ofhce-boy 
 was all that was left in the deserted hive of editorial 
 industry." 
 
 " That was doing things rather thoroughly, wasn't 
 it ? " said the nephew. 
 
 " Well, you see," said Sir Lulworth, " the migra- 
 tion idea was falling somewhat into disrepute from 
 the half-hearted manner in which it was occasionally 
 carried out . You were not impressed by the informa- 
 tion that such and such a paper was being edited 
 and brought out at Lisbon or Innsbruck if you 
 chanced to see the principal leader-writer or the art 
 editor lunching as usual at their accustomed res- 
 taurants. The Daily Intelligencer was determined 
 to give no loophole for cavil at the genuineness of 
 its pilgrimage, and it must be admitted that to a 
 certain extent the arrangements made for trans- 
 mitting copy and carrying on the usual features of 
 the paper during the long outward journey worked 
 smoothly and well. The series of articles which 
 
154 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 commenced at Baku on ' What Cobdenism might 
 do for the camel industry ' ranks among the best 
 of the recent contributions to Free Trade Hterature, 
 while the views on foreign poHcy enunciated ' from 
 a roof in Yarkand ' showed at least as much grasp 
 of the international situation as those that had 
 germinated within half a mile of Downing Street. 
 Quite in keeping, too, with the older and better tradi- 
 tions of British journalism was the manner of the 
 home-coming; no bombast, no personal advertise- 
 ment, no flamboyant interviews , Even a compUmen- 
 tary luncheon at the Voyagers' Club was courteously 
 declined. Indeed, it began to be felt that the self- 
 effacement of the returned pressmen was being 
 carried to a pedantic length. Foreman compositors, 
 advertisement clerks, and other members of the 
 non-editorial staff, who had, of course, taken no 
 part in the great trek, found it as impossible to get 
 into direct communication with the editor and his 
 satellites now that they had returned as when they 
 had been excusably inaccessible in Central Asia. 
 The sulky, overworked ofhce-boy, who was the one 
 connecting hnk between the editorial brain and the 
 business departments of the paper, sardonically 
 explained the new aloofness as the * Yarkand 
 manner.' Most of the reporters and sub-editors 
 seemed to have been dismissed in autocratic fashion 
 
THE YARKAND MANNER 155 
 
 since their return and new ones engaged by letter ; 
 to these the editor and his immediate associates 
 remained an unseen presence, issuing its instructions 
 solely through the medium of curt type-written 
 notes. Something mystic and Tibetan and for 
 bidden had replaced the human bustle and demo 
 cratic simpHcity of pre-migration days, and the 
 same experience was encountered by those who 
 made social overtures to the retvirned wanderers. 
 The most brilliant hostess of Twentieth Century 
 London flung the pearl of her hospitality into the 
 unresponsive trough of the editorial letter-box ; 
 it seemed as if nothing short of a Royal command 
 would drag the hermit-souled revenants from their 
 self-imposed seclusion . People began to talk unkindly 
 of the effect of high altitudes and Eastern atmosphere 
 on minds and temperaments unused to such luxuries. 
 The Yarkand manner was not popular." 
 
 " And the contents of the paper," said the nephew, 
 " did they show the influence of the new style ? " 
 ' Ah ! " said Sir Lulworth, " that was the exciting 
 hing. In home affairs, social questions, and the 
 ordinary events of the day not much change was 
 noticeable. A certain Oriental carelessness seemed 
 to have crept into the editorial department, and 
 perhaps a note of lassitude not unnatural in the work 
 of men who had returned from what had been a 
 
156 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 fairly arduous journey. The aforetime standard 
 of excellence was scarcely maintained, but at any 
 rate the general lines of policy and outlook were not 
 departed from. It was in the realm of foreign affairs 
 that a startling change took place. Blunt, forcible, 
 outspoken articles appeared, couched in language 
 which nearly turned the autumn manoeuvres of 
 six important Powers into mobiHsations. Whatever 
 else the Daily Intelligencer had learned in the East, 
 it had not acquired the art of diplomatic ambiguity. 
 The man in the street enjoyed the articles and bought 
 the paper as he had never bought it before ; the 
 men in Downing Street took a different view. The 
 Foreign Secretary, hitherto accounted a rather 
 reticent man, became positively garrulous in the 
 course of perpetually disavowing the sentiments 
 expressed in the Daily Intelligencer's leaders ; and 
 then one day the Government came to the con- 
 clusion that something definite and drastic must be 
 done. A deputation, consisting of the Prime 
 Minister, the Foreign Secretary, four leading finan- 
 ciers, and a well-known Nonconformist divine, made 
 its way to the offices of the paper. At the door 
 leading to the editorial department the way was 
 barred by a nervous but defiant office-boy. 
 
 " ' You can't see the editor nor any of the staff/ 
 he announced. 
 
THE YARKAND MANNER 157 
 
 " ' We insist on seeing the editor or some respon- 
 sible person,' said the Prime Minister, and the 
 deputation forced its way in. The boy had spoken 
 truly ; there was no one to be seen. In the whole 
 suite of rooms there was no sign of human Hfe. 
 
 " * Where is the editor ? ' 'Or the foreign 
 editor ? ' * Or the chief leader-writer ? ' 'Or 
 anybody ? ' 
 
 " In answer to the shower of questions the boy 
 unlocked a drawer and produced a strange-looking 
 envelope, which bore a Khokand postmark, and a 
 date of some seven or eight months back. It con- 
 tained a scrap of paper on which was written the 
 following message : 
 
 ** ' Entire party captured by brigand tribe on home- 
 ward journey. Quarter of miUion demanded as 
 ransom, but would probably take less. Inform 
 Government, relations, and friends.' 
 
 " There followed the signatures of the principal 
 members of the party and instructions as to how 
 and where the money was to be paid. 
 
 *' The letter had been directed to the office-boy- 
 in-charge, who had quietly suppressed it. No one 
 is a hero to one's own office-boy, and he evidently 
 considered that a quarter of a million was an 
 unwarrantable outlay for such a doubtfully 
 
158 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 advantageous object as the repatriation of an errant 
 newspaper staff. So he drew the editorial and other 
 salaries, forged what signatures were necessary, 
 engaged new reporters, did what sub-editing he 
 could, and made as much use as possible of the large 
 accumulation of special articles that was held in 
 reserve for emergencies. The articles on foreign 
 affairs were entirely his own composition. 
 
 " Of course the whole thing had to be kept as 
 quiet as possible ; an interim staff, pledged to secrecy, 
 was appointed to keep the paper going till the pining 
 captives could be sought out, ransomed, and brought 
 home, in twos and threes to escape notice, and gradu- 
 ally things were put back on their old footing. The 
 articles on foreign affairs reverted to the wonted 
 traditions of the paper." 
 
 " But," interposed the nephew, " how on earth 
 did the boy account to the relatives all those months 
 for the non-appearance " 
 
 " That," said Sir Lulworth, " was the most 
 brilliant stroke of all. To the wife or nearest 
 relative of each of the missing men he forwarded a 
 letter, copying the handwriting of the supposed 
 writer as well as he could, and making excuses about 
 vile pens and ink ; in each letter he told the same 
 story, var5dng only the locality, to the effect that 
 the writer, alone of the whole party, was unable to 
 
THE YARKAND MANNER 159 
 
 tear himself away from the wild liberty and allure- 
 ments of Eastern life, and was going to spend several 
 months roaming in some selected region. Many of 
 the wives started off immediately in pursuit of their 
 errant husbands, and it took the Government a 
 considerable time and much trouble to reclaim them 
 from their fruitless quests along the banks of the 
 Oxus, the Gobi Desert, the Orenburg steppe, and 
 other outlandish places. One of them, I believe, 
 is still lost somewhere in the Tigris Valley." 
 
 " And the boy ? " 
 
 " Is still in journalism." 
 
i6o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE 
 
 SOPHIE CHATTEL-MONKHEIM was a 
 Socialist by conviction and a Chattel-Monk- 
 heim by marriage. The particular member 
 of that wealthy family whom she had married was 
 rich, even as his relatives counted riches. Sophie 
 had very advanced and decided views as to the 
 distribution of money : it was a pleasing and for- 
 tunate circumstance that she also had the money. 
 When she inveighed eloquently against the evils 
 of capitalism at drawing-room meetings and Fabian 
 conferences she was conscious of a comfortable 
 feeling that the system, with all its inequalities 
 and iniquities, would probably last her time. It is 
 one of the consolations of middle-aged reformers 
 that the good they inculcate must live after them if 
 it is to live at all. 
 
 On a certain spring evening, somewhere towards 
 the dinner-hour, Sophie sat tranquilly between her 
 mirror and her maid, undergoing the process of 
 having her hair built into an elaborate reflection of 
 
THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE i6i 
 
 the prevailing fashion. She was hedged round with 
 a great peace, the peace of one who has attained a 
 desired end with much effort and perseverance, and 
 who has found it still eminently desirable in its 
 attainment. The Duke of Syria had consented to 
 come beneath her roof as a guest, was even now 
 installed beneath her roof, and would shortly be 
 sitting at her dining-table. As a good Socialist, 
 Sophie disapproved of social distinctions, and 
 derided the idea of a princely caste, but if there 
 were to be these artificial gradations of rank and 
 dignity she was pleased and anxious to have an 
 exalted specimen of an exalted order included in 
 her house-party. She was broad-minded enough to 
 love the sinner while hating the sin — not that she 
 entertained any warm feeling of personal affection 
 for the Duke of Syria, who was a comparative 
 stranger, but still, as Duke of Syria, he was very, 
 very welcome beneath her roof. She could not 
 have explained why, but no one was Hkely to ask 
 her for an explanation, and most hostesses envied 
 her. 
 
 " You must surpass yourself to-night, Richard- 
 son," she said complacently to her maid ; " I must 
 be looking my very best. We must all surpass our- 
 selves." 
 
 The maid said nothing, but from the concentrated 
 
 M 
 
i62 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 look in her eyes and the deft play of her fingers it 
 was evident that she was beset with the ambition 
 to surpass herself. 
 
 A knock came at the door, a quiet but peremptory 
 knock, as of some one who would not be denied. 
 
 " Go and see who it is," said Sophie ; *' it may be 
 something about the wine." 
 
 Richardson held a hurried conference with an 
 invisible messenger at the door ; when she returned 
 there was noticeable a curious hstlessness in place 
 of her hitherto alert manner. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Sophie. 
 
 " The househ Id servants have ' downed tools,' 
 madame," said Richardson. 
 
 " Downed tools ! " exclaimed Sophie ; ''do you 
 mean to say they've gone on strike ? " 
 
 " Yes, madame," said Richardson, adding the 
 information : " It's Gaspare that the trouble is 
 about." 
 
 " Gaspare ? " said Sophie wonderingly ; " the 
 emergency chef ! The omelette specialist ! " 
 
 " Yes, madame. Before he became an omelette 
 specialist he was a valet, and he was one of the strike- 
 breakers in the great strike at Lord Grimford's two 
 years ago. As soon as the household staff here 
 learned that you had engaged him they resolved to 
 ' down tools ' as a protest. They haven't got any 
 
THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE 163 
 
 grievance against you personally, but they demand 
 that Gaspare should be immediately dismissed." 
 
 " But," protested Sophie, " he is the only man in 
 England who understands how to make a Byzantine 
 omelette. I engaged him specially for the Duke of 
 Syria's visit, and it would be impossible to replace 
 him at short notice. I should have to send to Paris, 
 and the Duke loves Byzantine omelettes. It was 
 the one thing we talked about coming from the 
 station." 
 
 " He was one of the strike-breakers at Lord 
 Grimford's," reiterated Richardson. 
 
 " This is too awful," said Sophie ; "a strike of 
 servants at a moment like this, with the Duke of 
 Syria staying in the house. Something must be 
 done immediately. Quick, finish my hair and Fll 
 go and see what I can do to bring them round." 
 
 " I can't finish your hair, madame," said Richard- 
 son quietly, but with immense decision. " I belong 
 to the union and I can't do another half-minute's 
 work till the strike is settled. I'm sorry to be dis- 
 obUging." 
 
 " But this is inhuman ! " exclaimed Sophie 
 tragically ; " I've always been a model mistress 
 and I've refused to employ any but union servants, 
 and this is the result. I can't finish my hair myself ; I 
 don't know how to. What am I to do ? It's wicked !" 
 
i64 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Wicked is the word," said Richardson ; " I'm 
 a good Conservative and I've no patience with this 
 SociaHst foolery, asking your pardon. It's tyranny, 
 that's what it is,all along the line,but I've my living to 
 make, same as other people, and I've got to belong to 
 the union. I couldn't touch another hair-pin without 
 a strike permit, not if you was to double my wages." 
 
 The door burst open and Catherine Malsom raged 
 into the room. 
 
 " Here's a nice affair," she screamed, " a strike 
 of household servants without a moment's warning, 
 and I'm left like this ! I can't appear in public 
 in this condition." 
 
 After a very hasty scrutiny Sophie assured her 
 that she could not. 
 
 " Have they all struck ? " she asked her maid. 
 
 " Not the kitchen staff," said Richardson, " they 
 belong to a different union." 
 
 " Dinner at least will be assured," said Sophie, 
 *' that is something to be thankful for." 
 
 " Dinner ! " snorted Catherine, " what on earth 
 is the good of dinner when none of us will be able 
 to appear at it ? Look at your hair — and look at 
 me ! or rather, don't." 
 
 " I know it's difi&cult to manage without a maid ; 
 can't your husband be any help to you ? " asked 
 Sophie despairingly. 
 
THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE 165 
 
 " Henry ? He's in worse case than any of us. 
 His man is the only person who really understands 
 that ridiculous new-fangled Turkish bath that he 
 insists on taking with him everywhere.'* 
 
 " Surely he could do without a Turkish bath for 
 one evening," said Sophie ; " I can't appear without 
 hair, but a Turkish bath is a luxury." 
 
 " My good woman," said Catherine, speaking 
 with a fearful intensity, " Henry was in the bath 
 when the strike started. In it, do you understand ? 
 He's there now." 
 
 " Can't he get out ? " 
 
 " He doesn't know how to. Every time he pulls 
 the lever marked ' release ' he only releases hot 
 steam. There are two kinds of steam in the bath, 
 ' bearable ' and ' scarcely bearable ' ; he has released 
 them both. By this time I'm probably a widow." 
 
 *' I simply can't send away Gaspare," wailed 
 Sophie; " I should never be able to secure another 
 omelette specialist." 
 
 "Any difficulty that I may experience in securing 
 another husband is of course a trifle beneath any- 
 one's consideration," said Catherine bitterly. 
 
 Sophie capitulated. " Go," she said to Richard- 
 son, " and tell the Strike Committee, or whoever 
 are directing this affair, that Gaspare is herewith 
 dismissed. And ask Gaspare to see me presently 
 
i66 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 in the library, when I will pay him what is due to 
 him and make what excuses I can ; and then fly 
 back and finish my hair." 
 
 Some half an hour later Sophie marshalled her 
 guests in the Grand Salon preparatory to the formal 
 march to the dining-room. Except that Henry 
 Malsom was of the ripe raspberry tint that one 
 sometimes sees at private theatricals representing 
 the human complexion, there was little outward 
 sign among those assembled of the crisis that had 
 just been encountered and surmounted. But the 
 tension had been too stupefying while it lasted 
 not to leave some mental effects behind it. Sophie 
 talked at random to her illustrious guest, and found 
 her eyes straying with increasing frequency towards 
 the great doors through which would presently 
 come the blessed announcement that dinner was 
 served. Now and again she glanced mirror- ward 
 at the reflection of her wonderfully coiffed hair, as 
 an insurance underwriter might gaze thankfully 
 at an overdue vessel that had ridden safely into 
 harbour in the wake of a devastating hurricane. 
 Then the doors opened and the welcome figure of the 
 butler entered the room. But he made no general 
 announcement of a banquet in readiness, and the 
 doors closed behind him ; his message was for Sophie 
 alone. 
 
THE BYZANTINE OMETETTE 167 
 
 "There is no dinner, madame," he said gravely; 
 " the kitchen staff have ' downed tools/ Gaspare 
 belongs to the Union of Cooks and Kitchen Em- 
 ployees, and as soon as they heard of his summary 
 dismissal at a moment's notice they struck work. 
 They demand his instant reinstatement and an 
 apology to the union. I may add, madame, that 
 they are very firm ; I've been obliged even to hand 
 back the dinner rolls that were already on the 
 table." 
 
 After the lapse of eighteen months Sophie Chattel- 
 Monkheim is beginning to go about again among 
 her old haunts and associates, but she still has to 
 be very careful. The doctors will not let her attend 
 anything at all exciting, such as a drawing-room 
 meeting or a Fabian conference ; it is doubtful, 
 indeed, whether she wants to. 
 
i68 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE FEAST OF NEMESIS 
 
 I 
 
 ^^ "^T'S a good thing that Saint Valentine's Day 
 has dropped out of vogue/' said Mrs. 
 Thackenbury ; " what with Christmas and 
 New Year and Easter, not to speak of birthdays, 
 there are quite enough remembrance days as it is. 
 I tried to save myself trouble at Christmas by just 
 sending flowers to all my friends, but it wouldn't 
 work ; Gertrude has eleven hot-houses and about 
 thirty gardeners, so it would have been ridiculous 
 to send flowers to her, and Milly has just started a 
 florist's shop, so it was equally out of the question 
 there. The stress of having to decide in a hurry 
 what to give to Gertrude and Milly just when I 
 thought I'd got the whole question nicely off my 
 mind completely ruined my Christmas, and then the 
 awful monotony of the letters of thanks : ' Thank 
 you so much for your lovely flowers. It was so 
 good of you to think of me.' Of course in the 
 majority of cases I hadn't thought about the 
 recipients at all ; their names were down in my 
 
THE FEAST OF NEMESIS 169 
 
 list of ' people who must not be left out.' If I 
 trusted to remembering them there would be some 
 awful sins of omission." 
 
 " The trouble is/' said Clovis to his aunt, " all 
 these days of intrusive remembrance harp so per- 
 sistently on one aspect of human nature and entirely 
 ignore the other ; that is why they become so per- 
 fimctory and artificial. At Christmas and New Year 
 you are emboldened and encouraged by convention 
 to send gushing messages of optimistic goodwill and 
 servile affection to people whom you would scarcely 
 ask to lunch unless some one else had failed you at 
 the last moment ; if you are supping at a restaurant 
 on New Year's Eve you are permitted and expected 
 to join hands and sing ' For Auld Lang Syne ' with 
 strangers whom you have never seen before and 
 never want to see again. But no licence is allowed 
 in the opposite direction." 
 
 " Opposite direction ; what opposite direction ? " 
 queried Mrs. Thackenbury. 
 
 " There is no outlet for demonstrating your feelings 
 towards people whom you simply loathe. That 
 is really the crying need of our modern civilisation. 
 Just think how jolly it would be if a recognised day 
 were set apart for the paying off of old scores and 
 grudges, a day when one could lay oneself out to be 
 gracefully vindictive to a carefully treasured list 
 
170 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 of ' people who must not be let off.' I remember 
 when I was at a private school we had one day, the 
 last Monday of the term I think it was, consecrated 
 to the settlement of feuds and grudges ; of course 
 we did not appreciate it as much as it deserved, 
 because, after all, any day of the term could be 
 used for that purpose. Still, if one had chastised 
 a smaller boy for being cheeky weeks before, one 
 was always permitted on that day to recall the 
 episode to his memory by chastising him again. 
 That is what the French call reconstructing the 
 crime." 
 
 " I should call it reconstructing the punishment,'* 
 said Mrs. Thackenbury ; " and, anyhow, I don't 
 see how you could introduce a system of primitive 
 schoolboy vengeance into civihsed adult life. We 
 haven't outgrown our passions, but we are supposed 
 to have learned how to keep them within strictly 
 decorous limits." 
 
 " Of course the thing would have to be done 
 furtively and politely," said Clovis ; " the charm 
 of it would be that it would never be perfunctory 
 like the other thing. Now, for instance, you say 
 to yourself : ' I must show the Webleys some atten- 
 tion at Christmas, they were kind to dear Bertie 
 at Bournemouth,' and you send them a calendar, 
 and daily for six days after Christmas the male 
 
THE FEAST OF NEMESIS 171 
 
 Webley asks the female Webley if she has remembered 
 to thank you for the calendar you sent them. Well, 
 transplant that idea to the other and more human 
 side of your nature, and say to yourself : * Next 
 Thursday is Nemesis Day ; what on earth can I do 
 to those odious people next door who made such an 
 absurd fuss when Ping Yang bit their youngest 
 child ? ' Then you'd get up awfully early on the 
 allotted day and climb over into their garden and 
 dig for truffles on their tennis court with a good 
 gardening fork, choosing, of course, that part of 
 the court that was screened from observation by 
 the laurel bushes. You wouldn't find any truffles 
 but you would find a great peace, such as no amount 
 of present-giving could ever bestow." 
 
 ** I shouldn't," said Mrs. Thackenbury, though her 
 air of protest sounded a bit forced ; ''I should feel 
 rather a worm for doing such a thing." 
 
 " You exaggerate the power of upheaval which a 
 worm would be able to bring into play in the limited 
 time available," said Clovis; "if you put in a strenu- 
 ous ten minutes with a really useful fork, the result 
 ought to suggest the operations of an unusually 
 masterful mole or a badger in a hurry." 
 
 " They might guess I had done it," said Mrs. 
 Thackenbury. 
 
 " Of course they would," said Clovis ; " that 
 
172 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 would be half the satisfaction of the thing, just as 
 you like people at Christmas to know what presents 
 or cards you've sent them. The thing would be 
 much easier to manage, of course, when you were on 
 outwardly friendly terms with the object of your 
 dislike. That greedy little Agnes Blaik, for instance, 
 who thinks of nothing but her food, it would be 
 quite simple to ask her to a picnic in some wild 
 woodland spot and lose her just before lunch was 
 served ; when you found her again every morsel 
 of food could have been eaten up." 
 
 " It would require no ordinary human strategy 
 to lose Agnes Blaik when luncheon was imminent : 
 in fact, I don't believe it could be done." 
 
 " Then have all the other guests, people whom 
 you disHke, and lose the luncheon. It could have 
 been sent by accident in the wrong direction." 
 
 " It would be a ghastly picnic," said Mrs. Thacken- 
 bury. 
 
 " For them, but not for you," said Clovis ; " you 
 would have had an early and comforting lunch before 
 you started, and you could improve the occasion 
 by mentioning in detail the items of the missing 
 banquet — the lobster Newburg and the egg mayon- 
 naise, and the curry that was to have been heated 
 in a chafing-dish. Agnes Blaik would be delirious 
 long before you got to the list of wines, and in the 
 
THE FEAST OF NEMESIS 173 
 
 long interval of waiting, before they had quite 
 abandoned hope of the lunch turning up, you could 
 induce them to play silly games, such as that idiotic 
 one of ' the Lord Mayor's dinner-party/ in which 
 every one has to choose the name of a dish and do 
 something futile when it is called out. In this case 
 they would probably burst into tears when their 
 dish is mentioned. It would be a heavenly picnic." 
 
 Mrs. Thackenbury was silent for a moment ; she 
 was probably making a mental list of the people 
 she would Uke to invite to the Duke Humphrey 
 picnic. Presently she asked : " And that odious 
 young man, Waldo Plubley, who is always coddling 
 himself — have you thought of anything that one 
 could do to him ? " Evidently she was beginning 
 to see the possibilities of Nemesis Day. 
 
 " If there was anything Uke a general observance 
 of the festival," said Clovis, " Waldo would be in 
 such demand that you would have to bespeak him 
 weeks beforehand, and even then, if there were an 
 east wind blowing or a cloud or two in the sky he 
 might be too careful of his precious self to come out. 
 It would be rather jolly if you could lure him into 
 a hammock in the orchard, just near the spot where 
 there is a wasps' nest every summer. A comfort- 
 able hammock on a warm afternoon would appeal 
 to his indolent tastes, and then, when he was getting 
 
174 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 drowsy, a lighted fusee thrown into the nest would 
 bring the wasps out in an indignant mass, and they 
 would soon find a ' home away from home ' on 
 Waldo's fat body. It takes some doing to get out 
 of a hammock in a hurry.'* 
 
 " They might sting him to death," protested 
 Mrs. Thackenbury. 
 
 " Waldo is one of those people who would be 
 enormously improved by death," said Clovis ; " but 
 if you didn't want to go as far as that, you could 
 have some wet straw ready to hand, and set it 
 alight under the hammock at the same time that 
 the fusee was thrown into the nest ; the smoke 
 would keep all but the most militant of the w£Lsps 
 just outside the stinging line, and as long as Waldo 
 remained within its protection he would escape 
 serious damage, and could be eventually restored 
 to his mother, kippered all over and swollen in 
 places, but still perfectly recognisable." 
 
 " His mother would be my enemy for life," said 
 Mrs. Thackenbury. 
 
 " That would be one greeting less to exchange at 
 Christmas," said Clovis. 
 
THE DREAMER 175 
 
 THE DREAMER 
 
 IT was the season of sales. The august estab- 
 lishment of Walpurgis and Nettlepink had 
 lowered its prices for an entire week as a con- 
 cession to trade observances, much as an Arch- 
 duchess might protestingly contract an attack of 
 influenza for the unsatisfactory reason that influenza 
 was locally prevalent. Adela Chemping, who con- 
 sidered herself in some measure superior to the 
 allurements of an ordinary bargain sale, made a 
 point of attending the reduction week at Walpurgis 
 and Nettlepink's. 
 
 *' Fm not a bargain hunter," she said, " but I 
 like to go where bargains are." 
 
 Which showed that beneath her surface strength 
 of character there flowed a gracious undercurrent 
 of human weakness. 
 
 With a view to providing herself with a male 
 escort Mrs. Chemping had invited her youngest 
 nephew to accompany her on the first day of the 
 shopping expedition, throwing in the additional 
 
176 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 allurement of a cinematograph theatre and the 
 prospect of light refreshment. As Cyprian was not 
 yet eighteen she hoped he might not have reached 
 that stage in masculine development when parcel- 
 carrying is looked on as a thing abhorrent. 
 
 " Meet me just outside the floral department," 
 she wrote to him, " and don't be a moment later 
 than eleven." 
 
 Cyprian was a boy who carried with him through 
 early hfe the wondering look of a dreamer, the eyes 
 of one who sees things that are not visible to ordinary 
 mortals, and invests the commonplace things of 
 this world with quaUties unsuspected by plainer 
 folk — the eyes of a poet or a house agent. He was 
 quietly dressed — that sartorial quietude which fre- 
 quently accompanies early adolescence, and is 
 usually attributed by novel-writers to the influence 
 of a widowed mother. His hair was brushed back 
 in a smoothness as of ribbon seaweed and seamed 
 with a narrow furrow that scarcely aimed at being 
 a parting. His aunt particularly noted this item 
 of his toilet when they met at the appointed rendez- 
 vous, because he was standing waiting for her bare- 
 headed. 
 
 " Where is your hat ? " she asked. 
 
 " I didn't bring one with me," he replied. 
 
 Adela Chemping was slightly scandalised. 
 
THE DREAMER 177 
 
 " You are not going to be what they call a Nut, 
 are you ? " she inquired with some anxiety, partly 
 with the idea that a Nut would be an extravagance 
 which her sister's small household would scarcely 
 be justified in incurring, partly, perhaps, with the 
 instinctive apprehension that a Nut, even in its 
 embryo stage, would refuse to carry parcels. 
 
 Cyprian looked at her with his wondering, dreamy 
 eyes. 
 
 " I didn't bring a hat," he said, " because it 
 is such a nuisance when one is shopping ; I mean 
 it is so awkward if one meets anyone one knows and 
 has to take one's hat off when one's hands are full 
 of parcels. If one hasn't got a hat on one can't 
 take it off." 
 
 Mrs. Chemping sighed with great relief; her 
 worst fear had been laid at rest. 
 
 " It is more orthodox to wear a hat," she observed, 
 and then turned her attention briskly to the business 
 in hand. 
 
 " We will go first to the table-linen counter," she 
 said, leading the way in that direction ; "I should 
 like to look at some napkins." 
 
 The wondering look deepened in Cyprian's eyes 
 as he followed his aunt ; he belonged to a genera- 
 tion that is supposed to be over-fond of the role 
 of mere spectator, but looking at napkins that one 
 
178 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 did not mean to buy was a pleasure beyond his com- 
 prehension. Mrs. Chemping held one or two napkins 
 up to the light and stared fixedly at them, as though 
 she half expected to find some revolutionary cypher 
 written on them in scarcely visible ink ; then she 
 suddenly broke away in the direction of the glass- 
 ware department. 
 
 " Millicent asked me to get her a couple of decan- 
 ters if there were any going really cheap/' she 
 explained on the way, " and I really do want a salad 
 bowl, I can come back to the napkins later on." 
 
 She handled and scrutinised a large number of 
 decanters and a long series of salad bowls, and 
 finally bought seven chrysanthemum vases. 
 
 " No one uses that kind of vase nowadays," she 
 informed Cyprian, " but they will do for presents 
 next Christmas." 
 
 Two sunshades that were marked down to a price 
 that Mrs. Chemping considered absurdly cheap were 
 added to her purchases. 
 
 " One of them will do for Ruth Colson ; she is 
 going out to the Malay States, and a sunshade will 
 always be useful there. And I must get her some 
 thin writing paper. It takes up no room in one's 
 baggage." 
 
 Mrs. Chemping bought stacks of writing paper ; 
 it was so cheap, and it went so flat in a trunk or 
 
THE DREAMER 179 
 
 portmanteau. She also bought a few envelopes — 
 envelopes somehow seemed rather an extragavance 
 compared with notepaper. 
 
 " Do you think Ruth will like blue or grey paper ? " 
 she asked Cyprian. 
 
 " Grey," said Cyprian, who had never met the 
 lady in question. 
 
 " Have you any mauve notepaper of this quality?" 
 Adela asked the assistant. 
 
 " We haven't any mauve," said the assistant, 
 " but we've two shades of green and a darker shade 
 of grey." 
 
 Mrs. Chemping inspected the greens and the darker 
 grey, and chose the blue. 
 
 " Now we can have some lunch," she said. 
 
 Cyprian behaved in an exemplary fashion in the 
 refreshment department, and cheerfully accepted 
 a fish cake and a mince pie and a small cup of coffee 
 as adequate restoratives after two hours of concen- 
 trated shopping. He was adamant, however, in 
 resisting his aunt's suggestion that a hat should 
 be bought for him at the counter where men's head- 
 wear was being disposed of at temptingly reduced 
 prices. 
 
 " I've got as many hats as I want at home," he 
 said, '* and besides, it rumples one's hair so, trying 
 them on." 
 
i8o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Perhaps he was going to develop into a Nut after 
 all. It was a disquieting symptom that he left all 
 the parcels in charge of the cloak-room attendant. 
 
 " We shall be getting more parcels presently/* 
 he said, "so we need not collect these till we have 
 finished our shopping." 
 
 His aunt was doubtfully appeased ; some of 
 the pleasure and excitement of a shopping expedi- 
 tion seemed to evaporate when one was deprived 
 of immediate personal contact with one's purchases. 
 
 " I'm going to look at those napkins again," she 
 said, as they descended the stairs to the ground 
 floor. " You need not come," she added, as the 
 dreaming look in the boy's eyes changed for a 
 moment into one of mute protest, " you can meet 
 me afterwards in the cutlery department ; I've 
 just remembered that I haven't a corkscrew in the 
 house that can be depended on." 
 
 Cyprian was not to be found in the cutlery de- 
 partment when his aunt in due course arrived there, 
 but in the crush and bustle of anxious shoppers 
 and busy attendants it was an easy matter to miss 
 anyone. It was in the leather goods department 
 some quarter of an hour later that Adela Chemping 
 caught sight of her nephew, separated from her by 
 a rampart of suit-cases and portmanteaux and 
 hemmed in by the jostling crush of human beings 
 
THE DREAMER i8i 
 
 that now invaded every corner of the great shopping 
 emporium. She was just in time to witness a par- 
 donable but rather embarrassing mistake on the part 
 of a lady who had wriggled her way with unstayable 
 determination towards the bareheaded Cyprian, 
 and was now breathlessly demanding the sale price 
 of a handbag which had taken her fancy. 
 
 "There now, "exclaimed Adela to herself, "she takes 
 him for one of the shop assistants because he hasn't 
 got a hat on. I wonder it hasn't happened before." 
 
 Perhaps it had. Cyprian, at any rate, seemed 
 neither startled nor embarrassed by the error into 
 which the good lady had fallen. Examining the 
 ticket on the bag, he announced in a clear, dispas- 
 sionate voice : 
 
 " Black seal, thirty-four shilHngs, marked down 
 to twenty-eight. As a matter of fact, we are clearing 
 them out at a special reduction price of twenty- 
 six shillings. They are going off rather fast." 
 
 " I'll take it," said the lady, eagerly digging some 
 coins out of her purse. 
 
 " Will you take it as it is ? " asked Cyprian ; " it 
 will be a matter of a few minutes to get it wrapped 
 up, there is such a crush." 
 
 " Never mind, I'll take it as it is," said the pur- 
 chaser, clutching her treasure and counting the money 
 into Cyprian's palm. 
 
i82 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Several kind strangers helped Adela into the open 
 air. 
 
 " It's the crush and the heat," said one sym- 
 pathiser to another ; " it's enough to turn anyone 
 giddy." 
 
 When she next came across C5^rian he was stand- 
 ing in the crowd that pushed and jostled aroimd the 
 counters of the book department. The dream look 
 was deeper than ever in his eyes. He had just sold 
 two books of devotion to an elderly Canon. 
 
THE QUINCE TREE 183 
 
 THE QUINCE TREE 
 
 ^^V'VE just been to see old Betsy Mullen/* 
 I announced Vera to her aunt, Mrs. Bebberly 
 Cumble ; " she seems in rather a bad way 
 about her rent. She owes about fifteen weeks of 
 it, and says she doesn't know where any of it is to 
 come from." 
 
 " Betsy Mullen always is in difficulties with her 
 rent, and the more people help her with it the less 
 she troubles about it," said the aunt. " I certainly 
 am not going to assist her any more. The fact is, 
 she will have to go into a smaller and cheaper cottage ; 
 there are several to be had at the other end of the 
 village for half the rent that she is paying, or sup- 
 posed to be paying, now. I told her a year ago that 
 she ought to move." 
 
 " But she wouldn't get such a nice garden any- 
 where else," protested Vera, " and there's such a 
 jolly quince tree in the corner. I don't suppose 
 there's another quince tree in the whole parish. 
 And she never makes any quince jam ; I think 
 
i84 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 to have a quince tree and not to make quince jam 
 shows such strength of character. Oh, she can't 
 possibly move away from that garden." 
 
 " When one is sixteen," said Mrs. Bebberly 
 Cumble severely, " one talks of things being impos- 
 sible which are merely uncongenial. It is not only 
 possible but it is desirable that Betsy Mullen should 
 move into smaller quarters ; she has scarcely enough 
 furniture to fill that big cottage." 
 
 " As far as value goes," said Vera after a short 
 pause, " there is more in Betsy's cottage than in 
 any other house for miles round." 
 
 " Nonsense," said the aunt ; *' she parted with 
 whatever old china ware she had long ago." 
 
 " I'm not talking about anything that belongs 
 to Betsy herself," said Vera darkly ; *' but, of 
 course, you don't know what I know, and I don't 
 suppose I ought to tell you." 
 
 " You must tell me at once," exclaimed the aunt, 
 her senses leaping into alertness like those of a 
 terrier suddenly exchanging a bored drowsiness 
 for the lively anticipation of an immediate rat 
 hunt. 
 
 " I'm perfectly certain that I oughtn't to tell you 
 anything about it," said Vera, " but, then, I often 
 do things that I oughtn't to do." 
 
 " I should be the last person to suggest that you 
 
THE QUINCE TREE 185 
 
 should do anything that you ought not to do " 
 
 began Mrs. Bebberly Cumble impressively. 
 
 *' And I am always swayed by the last person who 
 speaks to me," admitted Vera, " so 111 do what I 
 ought not to do and tell you." 
 
 Mrs. Beberley Cumble thrust a very pardonable 
 sense of exasperation into the background of her 
 mind and demanded impatiently : 
 
 *' What is there in Betsy Mullen's cottage that 
 you are making such a fuss about ? " 
 
 '' It's hardly fair to say that / 've made a fuss about 
 it," said Vera ; " this is the first time I've mentioned 
 the matter, but there's been no end of trouble and 
 mystery and newspaper speculation about it. It's 
 rather amusing to think of the columns of conjecture 
 in the Press and the police and detectives hunting 
 about ever5rwhere at home and abroad, and all the 
 while that innocent-looking httle cottage has held 
 the secret." 
 
 " You don't mean to say it's the Louvre picture. 
 La Something or other, the woman with the smile, 
 that disappeared about two years ago ? " exclaimed 
 the aunt with rising excitement. 
 
 " Oh no, not that," said Vera, " but something 
 quite as important and just as mysterious — if 
 anything, rather more scandalous." 
 
 ''Not the Dublin ?" 
 
i86 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Vera nodded. 
 
 ' ' The whole j oily lot of them. ' * 
 " In Betsy's cottage ? Incredible ! " 
 " Of course Betsy hasn't an idea as to what they 
 are," said Vera ; '* she just knows that they are 
 something valuable and that she must keep quiet 
 about them. I found out quite by accident what 
 they were and how they came to be there. You 
 see, the people who had them were at their wits' 
 end to know where to stow them away for safe 
 keeping, and some one who was motoring through 
 the village was struck by the snug loneliness of the 
 cottage and thought it would be just the thing. 
 Mrs. Tamper arranged the matter with Betsy and 
 smuggled the things in." 
 " Mrs. Tamper ? " 
 
 "Yes ; she does a lot of district visiting, you know." 
 " I am quite aware that she takes soup and 
 flannel and improving literature to the poorer 
 cottagers," said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble, " but that 
 is hardly the same sort of thing as disposing of 
 stolen goods, and she must have known something 
 about their history ; anyone who reads the papers, 
 even casually, must have been aware of the theft, 
 and I should think the things were not hard to 
 recognise. Mrs. Tamper has always had the reputa- 
 tion of being a very conscientious woman." 
 
THE QUINCE TREE 187 
 
 " Of course she was screening some one else," said 
 Vera. " A remarkable feature of the affair is the 
 extraordinary number of quite respectable people 
 who have involved themselves in its meshes by 
 trying to shield others. You would be really 
 astonished if you knew some of the names of the 
 individuals mixed up in it, and I don't suppose a 
 tithe of them know who the original culprits were ; 
 and now I've got you entangled in the mess by letting 
 you into the secret of the cottage." 
 
 *' You most certainly have not entangled me," 
 said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble indignantly. " I have 
 no intention of shielding anybody. The police 
 must know about it at once ; a theft is a theft, 
 whoever is involved. If respectable people choose 
 to turn themselves into receivers and disposers of 
 stolen goods, well, they've ceased to be respectable, 
 that's all. I shall telephone immediately " 
 
 " Oh, aunt," said Vera reproachfully, " it would 
 break the poor Canon's heart if Cuthbert were to be 
 involved in a scandal of this sort. You know it 
 would." 
 
 " Cuthbert involved ! How can you say such 
 things when you know how much we all think of 
 him?" 
 
 " Of course I know you think a lot of him, and 
 that he's engaged to marry Beatrice, and that it 
 
i88 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 will be a frightfully good match, and that he's your 
 ideal of what a son-in-law ought to be. All the 
 same, it was Cuthbert's idea to stow the things away 
 in the cottage, and it was his motor that brought 
 them. He was only doing it to help his friend 
 Pegginson, you know — the Quaker man, who is 
 always agitating for a smaller Navy. I forget how 
 he got involved in it. I warned you that there were 
 lots of quite respectable people mixed up in it, didn't 
 I ? That's what I meant when I said it would be 
 impossible for old Betsy to leave the cottage ; the 
 things take up a good bit of room, and she couldn't 
 go carrying them about with her other goods and 
 chattels without attracting notice. Of course if 
 she were to fall ill and die it would be equally unfor- 
 tunate. Her mother Hved to be over ninety, she tells 
 me, so with due care and an absence of worry she 
 ought to last for another dozen years at least. By 
 that time perhaps some other arrangements will 
 have been made for disposing of the wretched 
 things." 
 
 *' I shall speak to Cuthbert about it — after the 
 wedding," said Mrs. Bebberly Cumble. 
 
 " The wedding isn't till next year," said Vera, 
 in recounting the story to her best girl friend, 
 " and meanwhile old Betsy is Uving rent free, with 
 
THE QUINCE TREE 189 
 
 soup twice a week and my aunt's doctor to see her 
 whenever she has a finger ache." 
 
 " But how on earth did you get to know about 
 it all ? " asked her friend, in admiring wonder. 
 
 " It was a mystery " said Vera. 
 
 " Of course it was a mystery, a mystery that 
 baffled everybody. What beats me is how you 
 found out " 
 
 " Oh, about the jewels ? I invented that part," 
 explained Vera ; "I mean the mystery was where 
 old Betsy's arrears of rent were to come from ; and 
 she would have hated leaving that jolly quince 
 tree." 
 
igo BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 
 
 I 
 
 *^ '*' S matchmaking at all in your line ? 
 
 Hugo Peterby asked the question with a 
 certain amount of personal interest. 
 " I don't speciahse in it," said Clovis ; " it's all 
 right while you're doing it, but the after-effects 
 are sometimes so disconcerting — the mute reproach- 
 ful looks of the people you've aided and abetted in 
 matrimonial experiments. It's as bad as selling 
 a man a horse with half a dozen latent vices and 
 watching him discover them piecemeal in the course 
 of the hunting season. I suppose you're thinking 
 of the Coulterneb girl. She's certainly jolly, and 
 quite all right as far as looks go, and I believe a 
 certain amount of money adheres to her. What I 
 don't see is how you will ever manage to propose to 
 her. In all the time I've known her I don't remember 
 her to have stopped talking for three consecutive 
 minutes. You'll have to race her six times round 
 the grass paddock for a bet, and then blurt your 
 proposal out before she's got her wind back. The 
 
THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 191 
 
 paddock is laid up for hay, but if you're really in 
 love with her you won't let a consideration of that 
 sort stop you, especially as it's not your hay." 
 
 " I think I could manage the proposing part right 
 enough," said Hugo, *' if I could count on being 
 left alone with her for four or five hours. The 
 trouble is that I'm not Hkely to get anything Hke 
 that amount of grace. That fellow Lanner is 
 showing signs of interesting himself in the same 
 quarter. He's quite heartbreakingly rich and is 
 rather a swell in his way ; in fact, our hostess is 
 obviously a bit flattered at having him here. If she 
 gets wind of the fact that he's inclined to be attracted 
 by Betty Coultemeb she'll think it a splendid match 
 and throw them into each other's arms all day long, 
 and then where will my opportunities come in ? My 
 one anxiety is to keep him out of the girl's way as 
 much as possible, and if you could help me " 
 
 " If you want me to trot Lanner roimd the 
 countryside, inspecting alleged Roman remains and 
 studying local methods of bee culture and crop 
 raising, I'm afraid I can't oblige you," said Clovis. 
 " You see, he's taken something hke an aversion 
 to me since the other night in the smoking-room." 
 
 " What happened in the smoking-room ? " 
 
 " He trotted out some well-worn chestnut as the 
 latest thing in good stories, and I remarked, quite 
 
192 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 innocently, that I never could remember whether 
 it was George II. or James II. who was so fond of 
 that particular story, and now he regards me with 
 politely-draped disHke. I'll do my best for you, 
 if the opportunity arises, but it will have to be in a 
 roundabout, impersonal manner." 
 
 " It's so nice having Mr. Lanner here," confided 
 Mrs. Olston to Clovis the next afternoon ; " he's 
 always been engaged when Fve asked him before. 
 Such a nice man ; he really ought to be married 
 to some nice girl. Between you and me, I have an 
 idea that he came down here for a certain reason." 
 
 " I've had much the same idea," said Clovis, 
 lowering his voice ; "in fact, I'm almost certain 
 of it." 
 
 " You mean he's attracted by " began Mrs. 
 
 Olston eagerly. 
 
 " I mean he's here for what he can get," said Clovis. 
 
 *' For what he can get ? " said the hostess with a 
 touch of indignation in her voice ; " what do you 
 mean ? He's a very rich man. What should he 
 want to get here ? " 
 
 " He has one ruling passion," said Clovis, " and 
 there's something he can get here that is not to be 
 had for love nor for money anywhere else in the 
 country, as far as I know." 
 
THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 193 
 
 " But what ? Whatever do you mean ? What 
 is his ruHng passion ? " 
 
 " Egg-collecting," said Clovis. " He has agents 
 all over the world getting rare eggs for him, and his 
 collection is one of the finest in Europe ; but his great 
 ambition is to collect his treasures personally. He 
 stops at no expense nor trouble to achieve that end.'* 
 
 " Good heavens ! The buzzards, the rough- 
 legged buzzards ! " exclaimed Mrs. Olston ; " you 
 don't think he's going to raid their nest ? " 
 
 " What do you think yourself ? " asked Clovis ; 
 " the only pair of rough-legged buzzards known to 
 breed in this country are nesting in your woods. 
 Very few people know about them, but as a member 
 of the league for protecting rare birds that informa- 
 tion would be at his disposal. I came down in the 
 train with him, and I noticed that a bulky volume 
 of Dresser's ' Birds of Europe ' was one of the 
 requisites that he had packed in his travelling-kit. 
 It was the volume dealing with short-winged hawks 
 and buzzards." 
 
 Clovis beheved that if a lie was worth teUing it 
 was worth telling well. 
 
 " This is appalling," said Mrs. Olston ; "my 
 husband would never forgive me if anything hap- 
 pened to those birds. They've been seen about the 
 woods for the last year or two, but this is the first 
 
194 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 time they've nested. As you say, they are almost 
 the only pair known to be breeding in the whole 
 of Great Britain ; and now their nest is going to be 
 harried by a guest staying under my roof. I must 
 do something to stop it. Do you think if I appealed 
 to him " 
 
 Clovis laughed. 
 
 " There is a story going about, which I fancy is 
 true in most of its details, of something that hap- 
 pened not long ago somewhere on the coast of the 
 Sea of Marmora, in which our friend had a hand. 
 A Syrian nightjar, or some such bird, was known 
 to be breeding in the olive gardens of a rich Armenian, 
 who for some reason or other wouldn't allow Lanner 
 to go in and take the eggs, though he offered cash 
 down for the permission. The Armenian was found 
 beaten nearly to death a day or two later, and his 
 fences levelled. It was assumed to be a case of 
 Mussulman aggression, and noted as such in all the 
 Consular reports, but the eggs are in the Lanner 
 collection. No, I don't think I should appeal to his 
 better feelings if I were you." 
 
 " I must do something," said Mrs. Olston tear- 
 fully ; " my husband's parting words when he went 
 off to Norway were an injunction to see that those 
 birds were not disturbed, and he's asked about them 
 every time he's written. Do suggest something." 
 
THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 195 
 
 " I was going to suggest picketing," said Clevis. 
 
 " Picketing ! You mean setting guards round 
 the birds ? " 
 
 " No ; round Lanner. He can't find his way 
 through those woods by night, and you could arrange 
 that you or Evelyn or Jack or the German governess 
 should be by his side in relays all day long. A 
 fellow guest he could get rid of, but he couldn't 
 very well shake off members of the household, and 
 even the most determined collector would hardly 
 go climbing after forbidden buzzards' eggs with a 
 German governess hanging round his neck, so to 
 speak." 
 
 Lanner, who had been lazily watching for an 
 opportunity for prosecuting his courtship of the 
 Coulterneb girl, found presently that his chances 
 of getting her to himself for ten minutes even were 
 non-existent. If the girl was ever alone he never 
 was. His hostess had changed suddenly, as far 
 as he was concerned, from the desirable type that 
 lets her guests do nothing in the way that best 
 pleases them, to the sort that drags them over the 
 ground like so many harrows. She showed him 
 the herb garden and the greenhouses, the village 
 church, some water-colour sketches that her sister 
 had done in Corsica, and the place where it was 
 hoped that celery would grow later in the year. 
 
196 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 He was shown all the Aylesbury ducklings and the 
 row of wooden hives where there would have been 
 bees if there had not been bee disease. He was 
 also taken to the end of a long lane and shown a 
 distant mound whereon local tradition reported 
 that the Danes had once pitched a camp. And 
 when his hostess had to desert him temporarily 
 for other duties he would find Evelyn walking 
 solemnly by his side. Evelyn was fourteen and 
 talked chiefly about good and evil, and of how much 
 one might accomplish in the way of regenerating 
 the world if one was thoroughly determined to do 
 one's utmost. It was generally rather a reUef when 
 she was displaced by Jack, who was nine years old, 
 and talked exclusively about the Balkan War with- 
 out throwing any fresh light on its poHtical or 
 miUtary history. The German governess told Lanner 
 more about Schiller than he had ever heard in his 
 Ufe about any one person ; it was perhaps his own 
 fault for having told her that he was not interested 
 in Goethe. When the governess went off picket 
 duty the hostess was again on hand with a not-to-be- 
 gainsaid invitation to visit the cottage of an old 
 woman who remembered Charles James Fox ; the 
 woman had been dead for two or three years, but 
 the cottage was still there. Lanner was called 
 back to town earlier than he had originally intended. 
 
THE FORBIDDEN BUZZARDS 197 
 
 Hugo did not bring ofE his affair with Betty 
 Coulterneb. Whether she refused him or whether, 
 as was more generally supposed, he did not get a 
 chance of sa3dng three consecutive words, has never 
 been exactly ascertained. Anyhow, she is still the 
 jolly Coulterneb girl. 
 
 The buzzards successfully reared two young ones, 
 which were shot by a local hairdresser. 
 
198 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 R 
 
 THE STAKE 
 
 ^^ X^ ONNIE is a great trial to me," said Mrs. 
 Attray plaintively. "Only eighteen 
 years old last February and already 
 a confirmed gambler. I am sure I don't know where 
 he inherits it from ; his father never touched cards, 
 and you know how Httle I play — a game of bridge 
 on Wednesday afternoons in the winter, for three- 
 pence a hundred, and even that I shouldn't do if 
 it wasn't that Edith always wants a fourth and 
 would be certain to ask that detestable Jenkinham 
 woman if she couldn't get me. I would much rather 
 sit and talk any day than play bridge ; cards are 
 such a waste of time, I think. But as to Ronnie, 
 bridge and baccarat and poker-patience are posi- 
 tively all that he thinks about. Of course I've done 
 my best to stop it ; I've asked the Norridrums not 
 to let him play cards when he's over there, but you 
 might as well ask the Atlantic Ocean to keep quiet 
 for a crossing as expect them to bother about a 
 mother's natural anxieties." 
 
THE STAKE 199 
 
 " Why do you let him go there ? " asked Eleanor 
 Saxelby. 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Attray, " I don't want to 
 offend them. After all, they are my landlords and 
 I have to look to them for anything I want done 
 about the place ; they were very accommodating 
 about the new roof for the orchid house. And they 
 lend me one of their cars when mine is out of order ; 
 you know how often it gets out of order." 
 
 " I don't know how often," said Eleanor, " but it 
 must happen very frequently. Whenever I want 
 you to take me anywhere in your car I am always 
 told that there is something wrong with it, or else 
 that the chauffeur has got neuralgia and you don't 
 like to ask him to go out." 
 
 " He suffers quite a lot from neuralgia," said 
 Mrs. Attray hastily. " Anyhow," she continued, 
 " you can understand that I don't want to offend 
 the Norridrums. Their household is the most 
 rackety one in the county, and I believe no one 
 ever knows to an hour or two when any particular 
 meal will appear on the table or what it will consist 
 of when it does appear." 
 
 Eleanor Saxelby shuddered. She liked her meals 
 to be of regular occurrence and assured proportions. 
 
 " Still," pursued Mrs. Attray, "whatever their 
 own home life may be, as landlords and neighbours 
 
200 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 they are considerate and obliging, so I don't want to 
 quarrel with them. Besides, if Ronnie didn't play 
 cards there he'd be playing somewhere else." 
 
 " Not if you were firm with him," said Eleanor ; 
 " I believe in being firm." 
 
 " Firm ? I am firm," exclaimed Mrs. Attray ; 
 " I am more than firm — I am farseeing. I've done 
 everything I can think of to prevent Ronnie from 
 playing for money. I've stopped his allowance 
 for the rest of the year, so he can't even gamble 
 on credit, and I've subscribed a lump sum to the 
 church offertory in his name instead of giving him 
 instalments of small silver to put in the bag on 
 Sundays. I wouldn't even let him have the money 
 to tip the hunt servants with, but sent it by postal 
 order. He was furiously sulky about it, but I 
 reminded him of what happened to the ten shillings 
 that I gave him for the Young Men's Endeavour 
 League ' Self-Denial Week.' " 
 
 " What did happen to it ? " asked Eleanor. 
 
 " Well, Ronnie did some preliminary endeavour- 
 ing with it, on his own account, in connection with 
 the Grand National. If it had come off, as he ex- 
 pressed it, he would have given the League twenty- 
 five shillings and netted a comfortable commission for 
 himself ; as it was, that ten shillings was one of the 
 things the League had to deny itself. Since then 
 
THE STAKE 201 
 
 I've been careful not to let him have a penny piece 
 in his hands." 
 
 "He'll get round that in some way," said Eleanor 
 with quiet conviction ; " he'll sell things." 
 
 " My dear, he's done all that is to be done in that 
 direction already. He's got rid of his wrist-watch 
 and his hunting flask and both his cigarette cases, 
 and I shouldn't be surprised if he's wearing imita- 
 tion-gold sleeve hnks instead of those his Aunt 
 Rhoda gave him on his seventeenth birthday. He 
 can't sell his clothes, of course, except his winter 
 overcoat, and I've locked that up in the camphor 
 cupboard on the pretext of preserving it from moth. 
 I really don't see what else he can raise money on. 
 I consider that I've been both firm and far- 
 seeing." 
 
 " Has he been at the Norridrums lately ? " asked 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " He was there yesterday afternoon and stayed 
 to dinner," said Mrs. Attray. " I don't quite know 
 when he came home, but I fancy it was late." 
 
 " Then depend on it he was gambhng," said 
 Eleanor, with the assured air of one who has few 
 ideas and makes the most of them. " Late hours 
 in the country always mean gambling." 
 
 " He can't gamble if he has no money and no 
 chance of getting any," argued Mrs. Attray ; " even 
 
202 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 if one plays for small stakes one must have a decent 
 prospect of pajdng one's losses." 
 
 " He may have sold some of the Amherst pheasant 
 chicks," suggested Eleanor ; " they would fetch 
 about ten or twelve shillings each, I daresay." 
 
 " Ronnie wouldn't do such a thing," said Mrs. 
 Attray ; " and anyhow I went and counted them this 
 morning and they're all there. No," she continued, 
 with the quiet satisfaction that comes from a sense 
 of painstaking and merited achievement, " I fancy 
 that Ronnie had to content himself with the role 
 of onlooker last night, as far as the card-table was 
 concerned." 
 
 " Is that clock right ? " asked Eleanor, whose 
 eyes had been strajdng restlessly towards the mantel- 
 piece for some httle time ; " lunch is usually so 
 punctual in your estabhshment." 
 
 " Three minutes past the half-hour," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Attray ; " cook must be preparing something 
 unusually sumptuous in your honour. I am not 
 in the secret ; I've been out all the morning, you 
 know." 
 
 Eleanor smiled forgivingly. A special effort by 
 Mrs. Attray's cook was worth waiting a few minutes 
 for. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the luncheon fare, when it 
 made its tardy appearance, was distinctly unworthy 
 
THE STAKE 203 
 
 of the reputation which the justly- treasured cook 
 had built up for herself. The soup alone would have 
 sufficed to cast a gloom over any meal that it had 
 inaugurated, and it was not redeemed by anything 
 that followed. Eleanor said Httle, but when she 
 spoke there was a hint of tears in her voice that was 
 far more eloquent than outspoken denunciation 
 would have been, and even the insouciant Ronald 
 showed traces of depression when he tasted the 
 rognons Saltikoff. 
 
 " Not quite the best luncheon I've enjoyed in your 
 house," said Eleanor at last, when her final hope 
 had flickered out with the savoury. 
 
 " My dear, it's the worst meal I've sat down to 
 for years," said her hostess ; " that last dish tasted 
 principally of red pepper and wet toast. I'm awfully 
 sorry. Is anything the matter in the kitchen, 
 PelHn ? " she asked of the attendant maid. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, the new cook hadn't hardly time 
 
 to see to things properly, coming in so sudden " 
 
 commenced Pellin by way of explanation. 
 
 " The new cook ! " screamed Mrs. Attray. 
 
 " Colonel Norridrum's cook, ma'am," said PelHn. 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? What is Colonel 
 Norridrum's cook doing in my kitchen — and where 
 is my cook ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I can explain better than Pellin can," 
 
204 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 said Ronald hurriedly ; " the fact is, I was dining 
 at the Norridrums' yesterday, and they were wishing 
 they had a swell cook like yours, just for to-day and 
 to-morrow, while they've got some gourmet staying 
 with them : their own cook is no earthly good — well , 
 you've seen what she turns out when she's at all 
 flurried. So I thought it would be rather sporting 
 to play them at baccarat for the loan of our cook 
 against a money stake, and I lost, that's all. I have 
 had rotten luck at baccarat all this year." 
 
 The remainder of his explanation, of how he had 
 assured the cooks that the temporary transfer had 
 his mother's sanction, and had smuggled the one 
 out and the other in during the maternal absence, 
 was drowned in the outcry of scandaHsed upbraiding. 
 
 " If I had sold the woman into slavery there 
 couldn't have been a bigger fuss about it," he con- 
 fided afterwards to Bertie Norridrum, " and Eleanor 
 Saxelby raged and ramped the louder of the two. 
 I tell you what, I'll bet you two of the Amherst 
 pheasants to five shilUngs that she refuses to have 
 me as a partner at the croquet tournament. We're 
 drawn together, you know." 
 
 This time he won his bet. 
 
PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 205 
 
 CLOVIS ON PARENTAL 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 
 
 MARION EGGELBY sat talking to Clovis 
 on the only subject that she ever 
 willingly talked about — her offspring 
 and their varied perfections and accomplishments. 
 Clovis was not in what could be called a receptive 
 mood ; the younger generation of Eggelby, depicted 
 in the glowing improbable colours of parent impres- 
 sionism, aroused in him no enthusiasm. Mrs. 
 Eggelby, on the other hand, was furnished with 
 enthusiasm enough for two. 
 
 " You would like Eric," she said, argumentatively 
 rather than hopefully. Clovis had intimated very 
 unmistakably that he was unlikely to care extrava- 
 gantly for either Amy or Willie. " Yes, I feel sure 
 you would Hke Eric. Every one takes to him at 
 once. You know, he always reminds me of that 
 famous picture of the youthful David — I forget 
 who it's by, but it's very well known." 
 
 " That would be sufficient to set me against him, 
 
2o6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 if I saw much of him/' said Clovis. " Just imagine 
 at auction bridge, for instance, when one was trying 
 to concentrate one's mind on what one's partner's 
 original declaration had been, and to remember 
 what suits one's opponents had originally discarded, 
 what it would be like to have some one persistently 
 reminding one of a picture of the youthful David. 
 It would be simply maddening. If Eric did that 
 I should detest him." 
 
 " Eric doesn't play bridge," said Mrs. Eggelby 
 with dignity. 
 
 " Doesn't he ? " asked Clovis ; " why not ? " 
 
 " None of my children have been brought up to 
 play card games," said Mrs. Eggelby ; " draughts 
 and halma and those sorts of games I encourage. 
 Eric is considered quite a wonderful draughts- 
 player." 
 
 ** You are strewing dreadful risks in the path of 
 your family," said Clovis ; "a friend of mine who 
 is a prison chaplain told me that among the worst 
 criminal cases that have come under his notice, men 
 condemned to death or to long periods of penal 
 servitude, there was not a single bridge-player. On 
 the other hand, he knew at least two expert draughts- 
 players among them." 
 
 " I really don't see what my boys have got to do 
 with the criminal classes," said Mrs. Eggelby 
 
PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 207 
 
 resentfully. " They have been most carefully 
 brought up, I can assure you that." 
 
 " That shows that you were nervous as to how 
 they would turn out," said Clovis. " Now, my 
 mother never bothered about bringing me up. She 
 just saw to it that I got whacked at decent intervals 
 and was taught the difference between right and 
 wrong ; there is some difference, you know, but Fve 
 forgotten what it is." 
 
 " Forgotten the difference between right and 
 wrong ! " exclaimed Mrs. Eggelby. 
 
 " Well, you see, I took up natural history and a 
 whole lot of other subjects at the same time, and 
 one can't remember everything, can one ? I used 
 to know the difference between the Sardinian dor- 
 mouse and the ordinary kind, and whether the wry- 
 neck arrives at our shores earlier than the cuckoo, 
 or the other way round, and how long the walrus 
 takes in growing to maturity ; I daresay you knew 
 all those sorts of things once, but I bet you've for- 
 gotten them." 
 
 " Those things are not important," said Mrs. 
 Eggelby, " but " 
 
 " The fact that we've both forgotten them proves 
 that they are important," said Clovis ; " you must 
 have noticed that it's always the important things 
 that one forgets, while the trivial, unnecessary 
 
2o8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 facts of life stick in one's memory. There's my 
 cousin, Editha Clubberley, for instance ; I can never 
 forget that her birthday is on the 12th of October. 
 It's a matter of utter indifference to me on what date 
 her birthday falls, or whether she was born at all ; 
 either fact seems to me absolutely trivial, or unnec- 
 essary — I've heaps of other cousins to go on with. 
 On the other hand, when I'm staying with Hilde- 
 garde Shrubley I can never remember the important 
 circumstance whether her first husband got his 
 unenviable reputation on the Turf or the Stock 
 Exchange, and that uncertainty rules Sport and 
 Finance out of the conversation at once. One can 
 never mention travel, either, because her second 
 husband had to live permanently abroad." 
 
 " Mrs. Shrubley and I move in very different 
 circles," said Mrs. Eggelby stiffly. 
 
 " No one who knows Hildegarde could possibly 
 accuse her of moving in a circle," said Clovis ; " her 
 view of life seems to be a non-stop run with an inex- 
 haustible supply of petrol. If she can get some one 
 else to pay for the petrol so much the better. I 
 don't mind confessing to you that she has taught me 
 more than any other woman I can think of." 
 
 " What kind of knowledge ? " demanded Mrs. 
 Eggelby, with the air a jury might collectively wear 
 when finding a verdict without leaving the box. 
 
PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 209 
 
 " Well, among other things, she's introduced me 
 to at least four different ways of cooking lobster," 
 said Clovis gratefully. " That, of course, wouldn't 
 appeal to you ; people who abstain from the pleasures 
 of the card-table never really appreciate the finer 
 possibilities of the dining-table. I suppose their 
 powers of enlightened enjoyment ^ei atrophied 
 from disuse." 
 
 " An aunt of mine was very ill after eating a 
 lobster," said Mrs. Eggelby. 
 
 " I daresay, if we knew more of her history, we 
 should find out that she'd often been ill before eating 
 the lobster. Aren't you concealing the fact that 
 she'd had measles and influenza and nervous head- 
 ache and hysteria, and other things that aunts do 
 have, long before she ate the lobster ? Aunts that 
 have never known a day's illness are very rare ; in 
 fact, I don't personally know of any. Of course 
 if she ate it as a child of two weeks old it might 
 have been her first illness — and her last. But if 
 that was the case I think you should have said 
 so." 
 
 " I must be going," said Mrs. Eggelby, in a tone 
 which had been thoroughly sterilised of even per- 
 functory regret. 
 
 Clovis rose with an air of graceful reluctance. 
 
 " I have so enjoyed our little talk about Eric," 
 
 p 
 
210 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 he said ; " I quite look forward to meeting him some 
 day/' 
 
 " Good-bye," said Mrs. Eggelby frostily ; the 
 supplementary remark which she made at the back 
 of her throat was — 
 
 " I'll take care that you never shall ! " 
 
A HOLIDAY TASK 211 
 
 A HOLIDAY TASK 
 
 KENELM JERTON entered the dining-hall 
 of the Golden Galleon Hotel in the full 
 crush of the luncheon hour. Nearly every 
 seat was occupied, and small additional tables had 
 been brought in, where floor space permitted, to 
 accommodate late-comers, with the result that many 
 of the tables were almost touching each other. 
 Jerton was beckoned by a waiter to the only vacant 
 table that was discernible, and took his seat with 
 the uncomfortable and wholly groundless idea that 
 nearly every one in the room was staring at him. 
 He was a youngish man of ordinary appearance, 
 quiet of dress and unobtrusive of manner, and he 
 could never wholly rid himself of the idea that a 
 fierce light of public scrutiny beat on him as though 
 he had been a notability or a super-nut. After he 
 had ordered his lunch there came the unavoidable 
 interval of waiting, with nothing to do but to stare 
 at the fiower-vase on his table and to be stared at 
 (in imagination) by several flappers, some maturer 
 
212 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 beings of the same sex, and a satirical-looking Jew. 
 In order to carry off the situation with some appear- 
 ance of unconcern he became spuriously interested 
 in the contents of the flower-vase. 
 
 " What is the name of these roses, d'you know ? " 
 he asked the waiter. The waiter was ready at all 
 times to conceal his ignorance concerning items of 
 the wine-list or menu ; he was frankly ignorant as 
 to the specific name of the roses. 
 
 "Amy Sylvester Partington," said a voice at 
 Jerton's elbow. 
 
 The voice came from a pleasant-faced, well- 
 dressed young woman who was sitting at a table 
 that almost touched Jerton's. He thanked her 
 hurriedly and nervously for the information, and 
 made some inconsequent remark about the flowers. 
 
 "It is a curious thing," said the young woman, 
 " that I should be able to tell you the name of those 
 roses without an effort of memory, because if you 
 were to ask me my name I should be utterly unable 
 to give it to you." 
 
 Jerton had not harboured the least intention of 
 extending his thirst for name-labels to his neighbour. 
 After her rather remarkable announcement, however, 
 he was obliged to say something in the way of polite 
 inquiry. 
 
 "Yes," answered the lady, "I suppose it is a 
 
A HOLIDAY TASK 213 
 
 case of partial loss of memory. I was in theltrain 
 coming down here; my ticket told me that I had come 
 from Victoria and was bound for this place. I had a 
 couple of five-pound notes and a sovereign on me, 
 no visiting cards or any other means of identifica- 
 tion, and no idea as to who I am. I can only hazily 
 recollect that I have a title ; I am Lady Somebody 
 — ^beyond that my mind is a blank." 
 
 '' Hadn't you any luggage with you ? " asked 
 Jerton. 
 
 " That is what I didn't know. I knew the name 
 of this hotel and made up my mind to come here, 
 and when the hotel porter who meets the trains 
 asked if I had any luggage I had to invent a dressing- 
 bag and dress-basket ; I could always pretend that 
 they had gone astray. I gave him the name of 
 Smith, and presently he emerged from a confused 
 pile of luggage and passengers with a dressing-bag 
 and dress-basket labelled Kestrel-Smith. I had to 
 take them ; I don't see what else I could have done." 
 
 Jerton said nothing, but he rather wondered what 
 the lawful owner of the baggage would do. 
 
 '* Of course it was dreadful arriving at a strange 
 hotel with the name of Kestrel-Smith, but it would 
 have been worse to have arrived without luggage. 
 Anyhow, I hate causing trouble." 
 
 Jerton had visions of harassed railway officials 
 
214 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 and distraught Kestrel-Smiths, but he made no 
 attempt to clothe his mental picture in words. The 
 lady continued her story. 
 
 " Naturally, none of my keys would fit the things, 
 but I told an intelligent page boy that I had lost my 
 key-ring, and he had the locks forced in a twinkUng. 
 Rather too intelligent, that boy ; he will probably 
 end in Dartmoor. The Kestrel-Smith toilet tools 
 aren't up to much, but they are better than 
 nothing," 
 
 " If you feel sure that you have a title," said 
 Jerton, " why not get hold of a peerage and go right 
 through it ? " 
 
 " I tried that. I skimmed through the list of the 
 House of Lords in * Whitaker,' but a mere printed 
 string of names conveys awfully little to one, you 
 know. If you were an army officer and had lost 
 your identity you might pore over the Army List 
 for months without finding out who your were. I'm 
 going on another tack ; I'm trying to find out by 
 various little tests who I am not — that will narrow 
 the range of uncertainty down a bit. You may have 
 noticed, for instance, that I'm lunching principally 
 off lobster Newburg." 
 
 Jerton had not ventured to notice anything of 
 the sort. 
 
 " It's an extravagance, because it's one of the 
 
A HOLIDAY TASK 215 
 
 most expensive dishes on the menu, but at any rate 
 it proves that I'm not Lady Starping ; she never 
 touches shell-fish, and poor Lady Braddleshrub 
 has no digestion at all ; if I am her I shall certainly 
 die in agony in the course of the afternoon, and the 
 duty of finding out who I am will devolve on the 
 press and the police and those sort of people ; I 
 shall be past caring. Lady Knewford doesn't know 
 one rose from another and she hates men, so she 
 wouldn't have spoken to you in any case ; and Lady 
 Mousehilton flirts with every man she meets — I 
 haven't flirted with you, have I ? " 
 
 Jerton hastily gave the required assurance. 
 
 " Well, you see," continued the lady, " that 
 knocks four off the Ust at once." 
 
 " It'll be rather a lengthy process bringing the list 
 down to one," said Jerton. 
 
 " Oh, but, of course, there are heaps of them that 
 I couldn't possibly be — women who've got grand- 
 children or sons old enough to have celebrated their 
 coming of age. I've only got to consider the ones 
 about my own age. I tell you how you might help 
 me this afternoon, if you don't mind ; go through 
 any of the back numbers of Country Life and those 
 sort of papers that you can find in the smoking-room, 
 and see if you come across my portrait with infant 
 «^on or anything of that sort. It won't take you 
 
2i6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 ten minutes. I'll meet you in the lounge about 
 tea-time. Thanks awfully." 
 
 And the Fair Unknown, having graciously pressed 
 Jerton into the search for her lost identity, rose and 
 left the room. As she passed the young man's 
 table she halted for a moment and whispered : 
 
 " Did you notice that I tipped the waiter a shil- 
 ling ? We can cross Lady Ulwight off the Hst ; 
 she would have died rather than do that." 
 
 At five o'clock Jerton made his way to the hotel 
 lounge ; he had spent a diligent but fruitless quarter 
 of an hour among the illustrated weeklies in the 
 smoking-room. His new acquaintance was seated 
 at a small tea-table, with a waiter hovering in 
 attendance. 
 
 '' China tea or Indian ? " she asked as Jerton 
 came up. 
 
 " China, please, and nothing to eat. Have you 
 discovered anything ? " 
 
 " Only negative information. I'm not Lady 
 Befnal. She disapproves dreadfully of any form 
 of gambling, so when I recognised a well-known 
 book maker in the hotel lobby I went and put a 
 tenner on an unnamed filly by William the Third 
 out of Mitrovitza for the three-fifteen race. I sup- 
 pose the fact of the animal being nameless was what 
 attracted me/' 
 
A HOLIDAY TASK 217 
 
 " Did it win ? " asked Jerton. 
 
 " No, came in fourth, the most irritating thing 
 a horse can do when you've backed it win or place. 
 Anyhow, I know now that I'm not Lady Befnal." 
 
 " It seems to me that the knowledge was rather 
 dearly bought," commented Jerton. 
 
 " Well, yes, it has rather cleared me out," ad- 
 mitted the identity-seeker ; "a florin is about all 
 I've got left on me. The lobster Newburg made 
 my lunch rather an expensive one, and, of course, 
 I had to tip that boy for what he did to the Kestrel- 
 Smith locks. I've got rather a useful idea, though. 
 I feel certain that I belong to the Pivot Club ; I'll 
 go back to town and ask the hall porter there if there 
 are any letters for me. He knows all the members by 
 sight, and if there are any letters or telephone mes- 
 sages waiting for me of course that will solve the pro- 
 blem. If he says there aren't any I shall say : ' You 
 know who I am, don't you ? ' so I'll find out anyway." 
 
 The plan seemed a sound one ; a difficulty in its 
 execution suggested itself to Jerton. 
 
 " Of course," said the lady, when he hinted at the 
 obstacle, " there's my fare back to town, and my bill 
 here and cabs and things. If you'll lend me three 
 pounds that ought to see me through comfortably. 
 Thanks ever so. Then there is the question of that 
 luggage : I don't want to be saddled with that for 
 
2i8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 the rest of my life. I'll have it brought down to the 
 hall and you can pretend to mount guard over it 
 while I'm writing a letter. Then I shall just slip 
 away to the station, and you can wander off to the 
 smoking-room, and they can do what they Hke with 
 the things. They'll advertise them after a bit and 
 the owner can claim them." 
 
 Jerton acquiesced in the manoeuvre, and duly 
 mounted guard over the luggage while its temporary 
 owner slipped unobtrusively out of the hotel. Her 
 departure was not, however, altogether unnoticed. 
 Two gentlemen were strolling past Jerton, and one 
 of them remarked to the other : 
 
 *' Did you see that tall young woman in grey 
 who went out just now ? She is the Lady " 
 
 His promenade carried him out of earshot at the 
 critical moment when he was about to disclose the 
 elusive identity. The Lady Who ? Jerton could 
 scarcely run after a total stranger, break into his 
 conversation, and ask him for information concerning 
 a chance passer-by. Besides, it was desirable that 
 he should keep up the appearance of looking after 
 the luggage. In a minute or two, however, the 
 important personage, the man who knew, came 
 strolling back alone. Jerton summoned up all his 
 courage and waylaid him. 
 
 " I think I heard you say you knew the lady who 
 
A HOLIDAY TASK 219 
 
 went out of the hotel a few minutes ago, a tall lady, 
 dressed in grey. Excuse me for asking if you 
 could tell me her name ; I've been talking to her 
 for half an hour ; she — er — she knows all my people 
 and seems to know me, so I suppose I've met her 
 somewhere before, but I'm blest if I can put a name 
 to her. Could you ? " 
 
 " Certainly. She's a Mrs. Stroope." 
 
 " Mrs. ? " queried Jerton. 
 
 " Yes, she's the Lady Champion at golf in my 
 part of the world. An awful good sort, and goes 
 about a good deal in Society, but she has an awkward 
 habit of losing her memory every now and then, and 
 gets into all sorts of fixes. She's furious, too, if you 
 make any allusion to it afterwards. Good day, sir." 
 
 The stranger passed on his way, and before Jerton 
 had had time to assimilate his information he found 
 his whole attention centred on an angry-looking lady 
 who was making loud and fretful-seeming inquiries 
 of the hotel clerks. 
 
 " Has any luggage been brought here from the 
 station by mistake, a dress-basket and dressing- 
 case, with the name Kestrel-Smith? It can't be 
 traced anywhere. I saw it put in at Victoria, that 
 I'll swear. Why — there is my luggage ! and 
 the locks have been tampered with ! " 
 
 Jerton heard no more. He fled down to the 
 Turkish bath, and stayed there for hours. 
 
220 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE STALLED OX 
 
 THEOPHIL ESHLEY was an artist by pro- 
 fession, a cattle painter by force of environ- 
 ment. It is not to be supposed that he 
 lived on a ranche or a dairy farm, in an atmo- 
 sphere pervaded with horn and hoof, milking-stool, 
 and branding-iron. His home was in a park-like, villa- 
 dotted district that only just escaped the reproach 
 of being suburban. On one side of his garden there 
 abutted a small, picturesque meadow, in which an 
 enterprising neighbour pastured some small pictur'- 
 esque cows of the Channel Island persuasion. At 
 noonday in summertime the cows stood knee-deep 
 in tall meadow-grass under the shade of a group of 
 walnut trees, with the sunhght falling in dappled 
 patches on their mouse-sleek coats. Eshley had 
 conceived and executed a dainty picture of two 
 reposeful milch-cows in a setting of walnut tree and 
 meadow-grass and filtered sunbeam, and the Royal 
 Academy had duly exposed the same on the walls 
 of its Summer Exhibition. The Royal Academy 
 
THE STALLED OX 221 
 
 encourages orderly, methodical habits in its children. 
 Eshley had painted a successful and acceptable 
 picture of cattle drowsing picturesquely under 
 walnut trees, and as he had begun, so, of necessity, 
 he went on. His " Noontide Peace," a study of 
 two dun cows under a walnut tree, was followed by 
 " A Mid-day Sanctuary," a study of a walnut tree, 
 with two dun cows under it. In due succession there 
 came " Where the Gad-FUes Cease from Troubling," 
 " The Haven of the Herd," and " A-dream in Dairy- 
 land," studies of walnut trees and dun cows. His 
 two attempts to break away from his own tradition 
 were signal failures : " Turtle Doves alarmed by 
 Sparrow-hawk " and " Wolves on the Roman Cam- 
 pagna " came back to his studio in the guise of 
 abominable heresies, and Eshley climbed back into 
 grace and the pubhc gaze with " A Shaded Nook 
 where Drowsy Milkers Dream." 
 
 On a fine afternoon in late autumn he was putting 
 some finishing touches to a study of meadow weeds 
 when his neighbour, Adela Pingsford, assailed the 
 outer door of his studio with loud peremptory 
 knockings. 
 
 " There is an ox in my garden," she announced, in 
 explanation of the tempestuous intrusion. 
 
 "An ox," said Eshley blankly, and rather fatu- 
 ously ; " what kind of ox ? " 
 
222 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Oh, I don't know what kind," snapped the lady. 
 " A common or garden ox, to use the slang expres- 
 sion. It is the garden part of it that I object to. 
 My garden has just been put straight for the winter, 
 and an ox roaming about in it won't improve matters. 
 Besides, there are the chrysanthemums just coming 
 into flower." 
 
 " How did it get into the garden ? " asked 
 Eshley. 
 
 " I imagine it came in by the gate," said the lady 
 impatiently ; "it couldn't have climbed the walls, 
 and I don't suppose anyone dropped it from an 
 aeroplane as a Bovril advertisement. The imme- 
 diately important question is not how it got in, but 
 how to get it out." 
 
 " Won't it go ? " said Eshley. 
 
 " If it was anxious to go," said Adela Pingsford 
 rather angrily, " I should not have come here to chat 
 with you about it. I'm practically all alone ; the 
 housemaid is having her afternoon out and the cook 
 is lying down with an attack of neuralgia. Any- 
 thing that I may have learned at school or in after 
 life about how to remove a large ox from a small 
 garden seems to have escaped from my memory 
 now. All I could think of was that you were a near 
 neighbour and a cattle painter, presumably more or 
 less familiar with the subjects that you painted, and 
 
THE STALLED OX 223 
 
 that you might be of some sHght assistance. Pes* 
 sibly I was mistaken." 
 
 " I paint dairy cows, certainly," admitted Eshley, 
 " but I cannot claim to have had any experience 
 in rounding-up stray oxen. I've seen it done on a 
 cinema film, of course, but there were always horses 
 and lots of other accessories ; besides, one never 
 knows how much of those pictures are faked." 
 
 Adela Pingsford said nothing, but led the way 
 to her garden. It was normally a fair-sized garden, 
 but it looked small in comparison with the ox, a 
 huge mottled brute, dull red about the head and 
 shoulders, passing to dirty white on the flanks and 
 hind-quarters, with shaggy ears and large blood- 
 shot eyes. It bore about as much resemblance to 
 the dainty paddock heifers that Eshley was accus- 
 tomed to paint as the chief of a Kurdish nomad clan 
 would to a Japanese tea-shop girl. Eshley stood 
 very near the gate while he studied the animal's 
 appearance and demeanour. Adela Pingsford con- 
 tinued to say nothing. 
 
 " It's eating a chrysanthemum," said Eshley 
 at last, when the silence had become unbearable. 
 
 " How observant you are," said Adela bitterly. 
 " You seem to notice everything. As a matter of 
 fact, it has got six chrysanthemums in its mouth at 
 the present moment." 
 
224 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 The necessity for doing something was becoming 
 imperative. Eshley took a step or two in the direc- 
 tion of the animal, clapped his hands, and made 
 noises of the " Hish " and " Shoo " variety. If the 
 ox heard them it gave no outward indication of the 
 fact. 
 
 " If any hens should ever stray into my garden,'* 
 said Adela, " I should certainly send for you to 
 frighten them out. You ' shoo ' beautifully. Mean- 
 while, do you mind trying to drive that ox away ? 
 That is a Mademoiselle Louise Bichot that he's begun 
 on now," she added in icy calm, as a glowing orange 
 head was crushed into the huge munching mouth. 
 
 " Since you have been so frank about the variety 
 of the chrysanthemum," said Eshley, " I don't mind 
 teUing you that this is an Ayrshire ox." 
 
 The icy calm broke down ; Adela Pingsford used 
 language that sent the artist instinctively a few feet 
 nearer to the ox. He picked up a pea-stick and 
 flung it with some determination against the animal's 
 mottled flanks. The operation of mashing Made- 
 moiselle Louise Bichot into a petal salad was suspended 
 for a long moment, while the ox gazed with concen- 
 trated inquiry at the stick-thrower. Adela gazed 
 with equal concentration and more obvious hostility 
 at the same focus. As the beast neither lowered 
 its head nor stamped its feet Eshley ventured on 
 
THE STALLED OX 225 
 
 another javelin exercise with another pea-stick. 
 The ox seemed to reahse at once that it was to go ; 
 it gave a hurried final pluck at the bed where the 
 chrysanthemums had been, and strode swiftly up 
 the garden. Eshley ran to head it towards the 
 gate, but only succeeded in quickening its pace from 
 a walk to a lumbering trot. With an air of inquiry, 
 but with no real hesitation, it crossed the tiny strip 
 of turf that the charitable called the croquet lawn, 
 and pushed its way through the open French window 
 into the morning-room. Some chrysanthemums 
 and other autumn herbage stood about the room in 
 vases, and the animal resumed its browsing opera- 
 tions ; all the same, Eshley fancied that the begin- 
 nings of a himted look had come into its eyes, a look 
 that counselled respect. He discontinued his attempt 
 to interfere with its choice of surroundings. 
 
 " Mr. Eshley," said Adela in a shaking voice, " I 
 asked you to drive that beast out of my garden, but 
 I did not ask you to drive it into my house. If I 
 must have it anywhere on the premises I prefer the 
 garden to the morning-room." 
 
 " Cattle drives are not in my line," said Eshley ; 
 " if I remember I told you so at the outset." 
 
 " I quite agree," retorted the lady, " painting 
 pretty pictures of pretty little cows is what you're 
 suited for. Perhaps you'd Uke to do a nice sketch 
 
 Q 
 
226 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 of that ox making itself at home in my morning- 
 room ? " 
 
 This time it seemed as if the worm had turned ; 
 Eshley began striding away. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " screamed Adela. 
 
 "To fetch implements," was the answer. 
 
 " Implements ? I won't have you use a lasso. 
 The room will be wrecked if there's a struggle." 
 
 But the artist marched out of the garden. In a 
 couple of minutes he returned, laden with easel, 
 sketching-stool, and painting materials. 
 
 *' Do you mean to say that you're going to sit 
 quietly down and paint that brute while it's destroy- 
 ing my morning-room ? " gasped Adela. 
 
 " It was your suggestion," said Eshley, setting 
 his canvas in position. 
 
 "I forbid it ; I absolutely forbid it ! " stormed Adela. 
 
 " I don't see what standing you have in the 
 matter," said the artist ; " you can hardly pretend 
 that it's your ox, even by adoption." 
 
 " You seem to forget that it's in my morning-room, 
 eating my flowers," came the raging retort. 
 
 " You seem to forget that the cook has neuralgia," 
 said Eshley ; " she may be just dozing off into a 
 merciful sleep and your outcry will waken her. 
 Consideration for others should be the guiding 
 principle of people in our station of life." 
 
THE STALLED OX 227 
 
 " The man is mad ! " exclaimed Adela tragically. 
 A moment later it was Adela herself who appeared 
 to go mad. The ox had finished the vase-flowers 
 and the cover of " Israel Kalisch," and appeared 
 to be thinking of leaving its rather restricted 
 quarters. Eshley noticed its restlessness and 
 promptly flung it some bunches of Virginia creeper 
 leaves as an inducement to continue the sitting. 
 
 " I forget how the proverb runs," he observed ; 
 " something about ' better a dinner of herbs than a 
 stalled ox where hate is.' We seem to have all the 
 ingredients for the proverb ready to hand." 
 
 " I shall go to the PubUc Library and get them to 
 telephone for the pohce/' announced Adela, and, 
 raging audibly, she departed. 
 
 Some minutes later the ox, awakening probably 
 to the suspicion that oil cake and chopped mangold 
 was waiting for it in some appointed byre, stepped 
 with much precaution out of the morning-room, 
 stared with grave inquiry at the no longer obtrusive 
 and pea-stick-throwing human, and then lumbered 
 heavily but swiftly out of the garden. Eshley 
 packed up his tools and followed the animal's example 
 and " Larkdene " was left to neuralgia and the cook. 
 
 The episode was the turning-point in Eshley's 
 artistic career. His remarkable picture, "Ox in a 
 morning-room, late autumn," was one of the 
 
228 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 sensations and successes of the next Paris Salon, and 
 when it was subsequently exhibited at Munich it was 
 bought by the Bavarian Government, in the teeth 
 of the spirited bidding of three meat-extract firms. 
 From that moment his success was continuous and 
 assured, and the Royal Academy was thankful, two 
 years later, to give a conspicuous position on its 
 walls to his large canvas " Barbary Apes Wrecking 
 a Boudoir." 
 
 Eshley presented Adela Pingsf ord with a new copy 
 of " Israel Kalisch," and a couple of finely flowering 
 plants of Madame Andre Blusset, but nothing in the 
 nature of a real reconciliation has taken place 
 between them. 
 
THE STORY-TELLER 229 
 
 THE STORY-TELLER 
 
 IT was a hot afternoon, and the railway carriage 
 was correspondingly sultry, and the next 
 stop was at Templecombe, nearly an hour 
 ahead. The occupants of the carriage were a small 
 girl, and a smaller girl, and a small boy. An aunt 
 belonging to the children occupied one corner seat, 
 and the further corner seat on the opposite side was 
 occupied by a bachelor who was a stranger to their 
 party, but the small girls and the small boy emphati- 
 cally occupied the compartment. Both the aunt 
 and the children were conversational in a limited, 
 persistent way, reminding one of the attentions of a 
 housefly that refuses to be discouraged. Most of 
 the aunt's remarks seemed to begin with " Don't," 
 and nearly all of the children's remarks began with 
 " Why ? " The bachelor said nothing out loud. 
 
 " Don't, Cyril, don't," exclaimed the aunt, as 
 the small boy began smacking the cushions of the 
 seat, producing a cloud of dust at each blow. 
 
 " Come and look out of the window," she added. 
 
230 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 The child moved reluctantly to the window. 
 " Why are those sheep being driven out of that 
 field ? " he asked. 
 
 " I expect they are being driven to another field 
 where there is more grass," said the aunt weakly. 
 
 " But there is lots of grass in that field," pro- 
 tested the boy ; " there's nothing else but grass 
 there. Aunt, there's lots of grass in that field." 
 
 " Perhaps the grass in the other field is better/' 
 suggested the aunt fatuously. 
 
 " Why is it better ? " came the swift, inevitable 
 question. 
 
 " Oh, look at those cows ! " exclaimed the aunt. 
 Nearly every field along the line had contained cows 
 or bullocks, but she spoke as though she were 
 drawing attention to a rarity. 
 
 " Why is the grass in the other field better ? " 
 persisted Cyril. 
 
 The frown on the bachelor's face was deepening 
 to a scowl. He was a hard, unsympathetic man, the 
 aunt decided in her mind. She was utterly unable 
 to come to any satisfactory decision about the grass 
 in the other field. 
 
 The smaller girl created a diversion by beginning 
 to recite " On the Road to Mandalay." She only 
 knew the first line, but she put her limited knowledge 
 to the fullest possible use. She repeated the line 
 
THE STORY-TELLER 231 
 
 over and over again in a dreamy but resolute and 
 very audible voice ; it seemed to the bachelor as 
 though some one had had a bet with her that she 
 could not repeat the line aloud two thousand times 
 without stopping. Whoever it was who had made 
 the wager was likely to lose his bet. 
 
 " Come over here and listen to a story," said the 
 aunt, when the bachelor had looked twice at her and 
 once at the communication cord. 
 
 The children moved listlessly towards the aunt's 
 end of the carriage. Evidently her reputation as a 
 story-teller did not rank high in their estimation. 
 
 In a low, confidential voice, interrupted at fre- 
 quent intervals by loud, petulant questionings from 
 her listeners, she began an unenterprising and 
 deplorably uninteresting story about a little girl 
 who was good, and made friends with every one on 
 account of her goodness, and was finally saved from 
 a mad bull by a number of rescuers who admired 
 her moral character. 
 
 " Wouldn't they have saved her if she hadn't been 
 good ? " demanded the bigger of the small girls. 
 It was exactly the question that the bachelor had 
 wanted to ask. 
 
 " Well, yes," admitted the aunt lamely, " but I 
 don't think they would have run quite so fast to 
 her help if they had not liked her so much." 
 
232 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " It's the stupidest story Tve ever heard/* said 
 the bigger of the small girls, with immense con- 
 viction. 
 
 " I didn't listen after the first bit, it was so stupid,'* 
 said C5nil. 
 
 The smaller girl made no actual comment on the 
 story, but she had long ago recommenced a mur- 
 mured repetition of her favourite line. 
 
 " You don't seem to be a success as a story- 
 teller," said the bachelor suddenly from his corner. 
 
 The aunt bristled in instant defence at this unex- 
 pected attack. 
 
 " It's a very difficult thing to tell stories that chil- 
 dren can both imderstand and appreciate," she said 
 stiffly. 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said the bachelor. 
 
 " Perhaps you would Hke to tell them a story," 
 was the aunt's retort. 
 
 " Tell us a story," demanded the bigger of the 
 small girls. 
 
 " Once upon a time," began the bachelor, " there 
 was a little girl called Bertha, who was extra- 
 ordinarily good." 
 
 The children's momentarily-aroused interest began 
 at once to flicker ; all stories seemed dreadfully 
 alike, no matter who told them. 
 
 " She did all that she was told, she was always 
 
THE STORY-TELLER 233 
 
 truthful, she kept her clothes clean, ate milk pud- 
 dings as though they were jam tarts, learned her 
 lessons perfectly, and was poHte in her manners." 
 
 " Was she pretty ? " asked the bigger of the small 
 girls. 
 
 " Not as pretty as any of you," said the bachelor, 
 " but she was horribly good." 
 
 There was a wave of reaction in favour of the 
 story ; the word horrible in connection with goodness 
 was a novelty that commended itself. It seemed 
 to introduce a ring of truth that was absent from 
 the aunt's tales of infant Ufe. 
 
 " She was so good," continued the bachelor, 
 " that she won several medals for goodness, which 
 she always wore, pinned on to her dress. There was 
 a medal for obedience, another medal for punctuality, 
 and a third for good behaviour. They were large 
 metal medals and they cHcked against one another 
 as she walked. No other child in the town where 
 she lived had as many as three medals, so everybody 
 knew that she must be an extra good child." 
 
 " Horribly good," quoted Cyril. 
 
 " Everybody talked about her goodness, and the 
 Prince of the country got to hear about it, and he 
 said that as she was so very good she might be 
 allowed once a week to walk in his park, which was 
 just outside the town. It was a beautiful park, 
 
234 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 and no children were ever allowed in it, so it was a 
 great honour for Bertha to be allowed to go there." 
 
 " Were there any sheep in the park ? " demanded 
 Cyril. 
 
 " No;" said the bachelor, " there were no sheep." 
 
 " Why weren't there any sheep ? " came the 
 inevitable question arising out of that answer. 
 
 The aunt permitted herself a smile, which might 
 almost have been described as a grin. 
 
 " There were no sheep in the park," said the 
 bachelor, " because the Prince's mother had once 
 had a dream that her son would either be killed by 
 a sheep or else by a clock faUing on him. For that 
 reason the Prince never kept a sheep in his park or 
 a clock in his palace." 
 
 The aunt suppressed a gasp of admiration. 
 
 " Was the Prince killed by a sheep or by a clock ? " 
 asked Cyril. 
 
 "He is still alive, so we can't tell whether the 
 dream will come true," said the bachelor unconcern- 
 edly ; " anyway, there were no sheep in the park, 
 but there were lots of Httle pigs running all over the 
 place." 
 
 " What colour were they ? " 
 
 " Black with white faces, white with black spots, 
 black all over, grey with white patches, and some 
 were white all over." 
 
THE STORY-TELLER 235 
 
 The story-teller paused to let a full idea of the 
 park's treasures sink into the children's imaginations ; 
 then he resumed : 
 
 *' Bertha was rather sorry to find that there were 
 no flowers in the park. She had promised her aunts, 
 with tears in her eyes, that she would not pick any 
 of the kind Prince's flowers, and she had meant to 
 keep her promise, so of course it made her feel silly 
 to find that there were no flowers to pick." 
 
 " Why weren't there any flowers ? " 
 
 " Because the pigs had eaten them all," said the 
 bachelor promptly. " The gardeners had told the 
 Prince that you couldn't have pigs and flowers, so 
 he decided to have pigs and no flowers." 
 
 There was a murmur of approval at the excellence 
 of the Prince's decision ; so many people would have 
 decided the other way. 
 
 " There were lots of other deUghtful things in 
 the park. There were ponds with gold and blue 
 and green fish in them, and trees with beautiful 
 parrots that said clever things at a moment's notice, 
 and humming birds that hummed all the popular 
 tunes of the day. Bertha walked up and down and 
 enjoyed herself immensely, and thought to herself : 
 * If I were not so extraordinarily good I should not 
 have been allowed to come into this beautiful park 
 and enjoy all that there is to be seen in it,' and her 
 
236 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 three medals clinked against one another as she 
 walked and helped to remind her how very good she 
 really was. Just then an enormous wolf came 
 prowling into the park to see if it could catch a fat 
 little pig for its supper." 
 
 " What colour was it ? " asked the children, amid 
 an immediate quickening of interest. 
 
 " Mud-colour all over, with a black tongue and 
 pale grey eyes that gleamed with unspeakable 
 ferocity. The first thing that it saw in the park was 
 Bertha ; her pinafore was so spotlessly white and 
 clean that it could be seen from a great distance. 
 Bertha saw the wolf and saw that it was stealing 
 towards her, and she began to wish that she had 
 never been allowed to come into the park. She 
 ran as hard as she could, and the wolf came after 
 her with huge leaps and bounds. She managed 
 to reach a shrubbery of myrtle bushes and she hid 
 herself in one of the thickest of the bushes. The 
 wolf came sniffing among the branches, its black 
 tongue loHing out of its mouth and its pale grey 
 eyes glaring with rage. Bertha was terribly fright- 
 ened, and thought to herself : ' If I had not been 
 so extraordinarily good I should have been safe in 
 the town at this moment.' However, the scent of 
 the myrtle was so strong that the wolf could not 
 sniff out where Bertha was hiding, and the bushes 
 
THE STORY-TELLER 237 
 
 were so thick that he might have hunted about in 
 them for a long time without catching sight of her, 
 so he thought he might as well go off and catch a 
 Uttle pig instead. Bertha was trembling very 
 much at having the wolf prowling and sniffing so 
 near her, and as she trembled the medal for obe- 
 dience clinked against the medals for good conduct 
 and punctuality. The wolf was just moving away 
 when he heard the sound of the medals clinking 
 and stopped to listen ; they clinked again in a bush 
 quite near him. He dashed into the bush, his pale 
 grey eyes gleaming with ferocity and triumph, and 
 dragged Bertha out and devoured her to the last 
 morsel. All that was left of her were her shoes, 
 bits of clothing, and the three medals for goodness." 
 
 " Were any of the Httle pigs killed ? " 
 
 " No, they all escaped." 
 
 " The story began badly," said the smaller of the 
 small girls, " but it had a beautiful ending." 
 
 " It is the most beautiful story that I ever heard," 
 said the bigger of the small girls, with immense decision. 
 
 " It is the only beautiful story I have ever heard," 
 said Cyril. 
 
 A dissentient opinion came from the aunt. 
 
 " A most improper story to tell to young children ! 
 You have undermined the effect of years of careful 
 teaching." 
 
238 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " At any rate," said the bachelor, collecting his 
 belongings preparatory to leaving the carriage, " I 
 kept them quiet for ten minutes, which was more than 
 you were able to do/' 
 
 " Unhappy woman ! " he observed to himself 
 as he walked down the platform of Templecombe 
 station ; "for the next six months or so those 
 children will assail her in public with demands for 
 an improper story ! " 
 
A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND 239 
 
 A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND 
 
 TREDDLEFORD sat in an easeful arm-chair 
 in front of a slumberous fire, with a 
 volume of verse in his hand and the 
 comfortable consciousness that outside the club 
 windows the rain was dripping and pattering with 
 persistent purpose. A chill, wet October afternoon 
 was merging into a bleak, wet October evening, and 
 the club smoking-room seemed warmer and cosier 
 by contrast. It was an afternoon on which to be 
 wafted away from one's climatic surroundings, 
 and " The Golden Journey to Samarkand " promised 
 to bear Treddleford well and bravely into other lands 
 and under other skies. He had already migrated 
 from London the rain-swept to Bagdad the Beautiful, 
 and stood by the Sun Gate " in the olden time " 
 when an icy breath of imminent annoyance seemed 
 to creep between the book and himself. Amble- 
 cope, the man with the restless, prominent eyes 
 and the mouth ready mobilised for conversational 
 openings, had planted himself in a neighbouring 
 
240 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 arm-chair. For a twelvemonth and some odd weeks 
 Treddleford had skilfully avoided making the 
 acquaintance of his voluble fellow-clubman ; he had 
 marvellously escaped from the infliction of his relent- 
 less record of tedious personal achievements, or 
 alleged achievements, on golf links, turf, and gaming 
 table, by flood and field and covert-side. Now 
 his season of immunity was coming to an end. 
 There was no escape ; in another moment he would 
 be numbered among those who knew Amblecope 
 to speak to — or rather, to suffer being spoken to. 
 
 The intruder was armed with a copy of Country 
 Life, not for purposes of reading, but as an aid to 
 conversational ice-breaking. 
 
 " Rather a good portrait of Throstlewing," he 
 remarked explosively, turning his large challenging 
 eyes on Treddleford ; " somehow it reminds me 
 very much of Yellowstep, who was supposed to be 
 such a good thing for the Grand Prix in 1903. 
 Curious race that was ; I suppose I've seen every 
 race for the Grand Prix for the last " 
 
 " Be kind enough never to mention the Grand 
 Prix in my hearing," said Treddleford desper- 
 ately ; "it awakens acutely distressing memories. 
 I can't explain why without going into a long and 
 complicated story." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, certainly," said Amblecope 
 
A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND 241 
 
 hastily ; long and complicated stories that were not 
 told by himself were abominable in his eyes. He 
 turned the pages of Country Life and became 
 spuriously interested in the picture of a Mongolian 
 pheasant. 
 
 " Not a bad representation of the MongoHan 
 variety," he exclaimed, holding it up for his 
 neighbour's inspection. " They do very well in 
 some covers. Take some stopping too, once they're 
 fairly on the wing. I suppose the biggest bag I 
 ever made in two successive days " 
 
 *' My aunt, who owns the greater part of Lincoln- 
 shire," broke in Treddleford, with dramatic abrupt- 
 ness, " possesses perhaps the most remarkable 
 record in the way of a pheasant bag that has ever 
 been achieved. She is seventy-five and can't hit 
 a thing, but she always goes out with the guns. 
 When I say she can't hit a thing, I don't mean to 
 say that she doesn't occasionally endanger the lives 
 of her fellow-guns, because that wouldn't be true. 
 In fact, the chief Government Whip won't allow 
 Ministerial M.P.'s to go out with her ; ' We don't 
 want to incur by-elections needlessly,' he quite 
 reasonably observed. Well, the other day she 
 winged a pheasant, and brought it to earth with a 
 feather or two knocked out of it ; it was a runner, 
 and my aunt saw herself in danger of being done 
 
242 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 out of about the only bird she'd hit during the present 
 reign. Of course she wasn't going to stand that ; 
 she followed it through bracken and brushwood, 
 and when it took to the open country and started 
 across a ploughed field she jumped on to the shooting 
 pony and went after it. The chase was a long one, 
 and when my aunt at last ran the bird to a standstill 
 she was nearer home than she was to the shooting 
 party ; she had left that some five miles behind her." 
 
 " Rather a long run for a wounded pheasant," 
 snapped Amblecope. 
 
 " The story rests on my aunt's authority," said 
 Treddleford coldly, " and she is local vice-president 
 of the Young Women's Christian Association. She 
 trotted three miles or so to her home, and it was not 
 till the middle of the afternoon that it was discovered 
 that the lunch for the entire shooting party was in 
 a pannier attached to the pony's saddle. Anyway, 
 she got her bird." 
 
 " Some bkds, of course, take a lot of killing," 
 said Amblecope ; " so do some fish. I remember 
 once I was fishing in the Exe, lovely trout stream, 
 lots of fish, though they don't run to any great 
 size " 
 
 " One of them did," announced Treddleford, with 
 emphasis. " My uncle, the Bishop of South- 
 molton, came across a giant trout in a pool just off 
 
A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND 243 
 
 the main stream of the Exe near Ugworthy ; he 
 tried it with every kind of fly and worm every day 
 for three weeks without an atom of success, and 
 then Fate intervened on his behalf. There was a 
 low stone bridge just over this pool, and on the last 
 day of his fishing holiday a motor van ran violently 
 into the parapet and turned completely over ; no 
 one was hurt, but part of the parapet was knocked 
 away, and the entire load that the van was carrying 
 was pitched over and fell a little way into the pool. 
 In a couple of minutes the giant trout was flapping 
 and twisting on bare mud at the bottom of a water- 
 less pool, and my uncle was able to walk down to 
 him and fold him to his breast. The van-load con- 
 sisted of blotting-paper, and every drop of water 
 in that pool had been sucked up into the mass of 
 spilt cargo." 
 
 There was silence for nearly half a minute in the 
 smoking-room, and Treddleford began to let his 
 mind steal back towards the golden road that led 
 to Samarkand. Amblecope, however, rallied, and 
 remarked in a rather tired and dispirited voice : 
 
 " Talking of motor accidents, the narrowest 
 squeak I ever had was the other day, motoring 
 with old Tommy Yarby in North Wales. Awfully 
 good sort, old Yarby, thorough good sportsman, 
 and the best " 
 
244 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 — -^' 
 
 " It was in North Wales," said Treddleford, 
 " that my sister met with her sensational carriage 
 accident last year. She was on her way to a garden- 
 party at Lady Nineveh's, about the only garden- 
 party that ever comes to pass in those parts in the 
 course of the year, and therefore a thing that she 
 would have been very sorry to miss. She was 
 driving a young horse that she'd only bought a week 
 or two previously, warranted to be perfectly steady 
 with motor traffic, bicycles, and other common 
 objects of the roadside. The animal hved up to 
 its reputation, and passed the most explosive of 
 motor-bikes with an indifference that almost 
 amounted to apathy. However, I suppose we all 
 draw the line somewhere, and this particular cob 
 drew it at travelling wild beast shows. Of course 
 my sister didn't know that, but she knew it very 
 distinctly when she turned a sharp comer and found 
 herself in a mixed company of camels, piebald 
 horses, and canary-coloured vans. The dogcart 
 was overturned in a ditch and kicked to splinters, 
 and the cob went home across country. Neither 
 my sister nor the groom was hurt, but the problem 
 of how to get to the Nineveh garden-party, some 
 three miles distant, seemed rather difficult to solve ; 
 once there, of course, my sister would easily find 
 some one to drive her home. * I suppose you 
 
A DEFENSIVE DIAMOND 245 
 
 wouldn't care for the loan of a couple of my camels ? ' 
 the showman suggested, in humorous sympathy. 
 ' I would,' said my sister, who had ridden camel- 
 back in Egypt, and she overruled the objections 
 of the groom, who hadn't. She picked out two of 
 the most presentable-looking of the beasts and had 
 them dusted and made as tidy as was possible at 
 short notice, and set out for the Nineveh mansion. 
 You may imagine the sensation that her small but 
 imposing caravan created when she arrived at the 
 hall door. The entire garden-party flocked up to 
 gape. My sister was rather glad to sUp down from 
 her camel, and the groom was thankful to scramble 
 down from his. Then young Billy Doulton, of the 
 Dragoon Guards, who has been a lot at Aden and 
 thinks he knows camel-language backwards, thought 
 he would show off by making the beasts kneel down 
 in orthodox fashion. Unfortunately camel words- 
 of-command are not the same all the world over ; 
 these were magnificent Turkestan camels, accus- 
 tomed to stride up the stony terraces of mountain 
 passes, and when Doulton shouted at them they went 
 side by side up the front steps, into the entrance 
 hall, and up the grand staircase. The German 
 governess met them just at the turn of the corridor. 
 The Ninevehs nursed her with devoted attention 
 for weeks, and when I last heard from them she was 
 
246 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 well enough to go about her duties again, but the 
 doctor says she will always suffer from Hagenbeck 
 heart. " 
 
 Amblecope got up from his chair and moved to 
 another part of the room. Treddleford reopened 
 his book and betook himself once more across 
 
 The dragon-green, the luminous, the dark, the serpent-haunted 
 sea. 
 
 For a blessed half-hour he disported himself in 
 imagination by the " gay Aleppo-Gate," and lis- 
 tened to the bird-voiced singing-man. Then the 
 world of to-day called him back ; a page summoned 
 him to speak with a friend on the telephone. 
 
 As Treddleford was about to pass out of the room 
 he encountered Amblecope, also passing out, on his 
 way to the biUiard-room, where, perchance, some 
 luckless wight might be secured and held fast to 
 listen to the number of his attendances at the Grand 
 Prix, with subsequent remarks on Newmarket and 
 the Cambridgeshire. Amblecope made as if to pass 
 out first, but a new-born pride was surging in Treddle- 
 ford's breast and he waved him back. 
 
 '* I believe I take precedence," he said coldly ; 
 " you are merely the club Bore ; I am the club 
 Liar." 
 
THE ELK 247 
 
 THE ELK 
 
 TERESA, Mrs. Thropplestance, was the 
 richest and most intractable old woman 
 in the county of Woldshire. In her 
 dealings with the world in general her manner sug- 
 gested a blend between a Mistress of the Robes and 
 a Master of Foxhounds, with the vocabulary of 
 both. In her domestic circle she comported herself 
 in the arbitrary style that one attributes, probably 
 without the least justification, to an American 
 poHtical Boss in the bosom of his caucus. The late 
 Theodore Thropplestance had left her, some thirty- 
 five years ago, in absolute possession of a consider- 
 able fortune, a large landed property, and a gallery 
 full of valuable pictures. In those intervening 
 years she had outUved her son and quarrelled with 
 her elder grandson, who had married without her 
 consent or approval. Bertie Thropplestance, her 
 younger grandson, was the heir-designate to her 
 property, and as such he was a centre of interest 
 and concern to some half-hundred ambitious mothers 
 
248 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 with daughters of marriageable age. Bertie was 
 an amiable, easy-going young man, who was quite 
 ready to marry anyone who was favourably recom- 
 mended to his notice, but he was not going to waste 
 his time in falling in love with anyone who would 
 come under his grandmother's veto. The favour- 
 able recommendation would have to come from 
 Mrs. Thropplestance. 
 
 Teresa's house-parties were always rounded off 
 with a plentiful garnishing of presentable young 
 women and alert, attendant mothers, but the old 
 lady was emphatically discouraging whenever any 
 one of her girl guests became at all likely to outbid 
 the others as a possible granddaughter-in-law. It 
 was the inheritance of her fortune and estate that 
 was in question, and she was evidently disposed to 
 exercise and enjoy her powers of selection and rejec- 
 tion to the utmost. Bertie's preferences did not 
 greatly matter ; he was of the sort who can be stolidly 
 happy with any kind of wife ; he had cheerfully 
 put up with his grandmother all his life, so he was 
 not likely to fret and fume over anything that might 
 befall him in the way of a helpmate. 
 
 The party that gathered under Teresa's roof 
 in Christmas week of the year nineteen-hundred- 
 and-something was of smaller proportions than 
 usual, and Mrs. Yonelet, who formed one of the 
 
THE ELK 249 
 
 party, was inclined to deduce hopeful augury from 
 this circumstance. Dora Yonelet and Bertie were 
 so obviously made for one another, she confided 
 to the vicar's wife, and if the old lady were accus- 
 tomed to seeing them about a lot together she might 
 adopt the view that they would make a suitable 
 married couple. 
 
 " People soon get used to an idea if it is dangled 
 constantly before their eyes," said Mrs. Yonelet 
 hopefully, " and the more often Teresa sees those 
 young people together, happy in each other's com- 
 pany, the more she will get to take a kindly interest 
 in Dora as a possible and desirable wife for Bertie." 
 
 " My dear," said the vicar's wife resignedly, 
 " my own Sybil was thrown together with Bertie 
 under the most romantic circumstances — I'll tell 
 you about it some day — but it made no impression 
 whatever on Teresa ; she put her foot down in the 
 most uncompromising fashion, and Sybil married 
 an Indian civilian." 
 
 " Quite right of her," said Mrs. Yonelet with 
 vague approval ; " it's what any girl of spirit would 
 have done. Still, that was a year or two ago, I 
 believe ; Bertie is older now, and so is Teresa. 
 Naturally she must be anxious to see him settled." 
 
 The vicar's wife reflected that Teresa seemed to be 
 the one person who showed no immediate anxiety 
 
250 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 to supply Bertie with a wife, but she kept the thought 
 to herself. 
 
 Mrs. Yonelet was a woman of resourceful energy 
 and generalship ; she involved the other members 
 of the house-party, the deadweight, so to speak, in 
 all manner of exercises and occupations that segre- 
 gated them from Bertie and Dora, who were left 
 to their own devisings — that is to say, to Dora's 
 devisings and Bertie's accommodating acquies- 
 cence. Dora helped in the Christmas decorations 
 of the parish church, and Bertie helped her to help. 
 Together they fed the swans, till the birds went on 
 a dyspepsia-strike, together they played billiards, 
 together they photographed the village almshouses, 
 and, at a respectful distance, the tame elk that 
 browsed in solitary aloofness in the park. It was 
 " tame " in the sense that it had long ago discarded 
 the least vestige of fear of the human race ; nothing 
 in its record encouraged its human neighbours to 
 feel a reciprocal confidence. 
 
 Whatever sport or exercise or occupation Bertie 
 and Dora indulged in together was unfailingly 
 chronicled and advertised by Mrs. Yonelet for the 
 due enlightenment of Bertie's grandmother. 
 
 " Those two inseparables have just come in from 
 a bicycle ride," she would announce ; " quite a pic- 
 ture they make, so fresh and glowing after their spin." 
 
THE ELK 251 
 
 " A picture needing words," would be Teresa's 
 private comment, and as far as Bertie was concerned 
 she was determined that the words should remain 
 unspoken. 
 
 On the afternoon after Christmas Day Mrs. 
 Yonelet dashed into the drawing-room, where her 
 hostess was sitting amid a circle of guests and tea- 
 cups and mufhn-dishes. Fate had placed what 
 seemed like a trump-card in the hands of the 
 patiently-manoeuvring mother. With eyes blazing 
 with excitement and a voice heavily escorted with 
 exclamation marks she made a dramatic announce- 
 ment. 
 
 " Bertie has saved Dora from the elk ! " 
 
 In swift, excited sentences, broken with maternal 
 emotion, she gave supplementary information as to 
 how the treacherous animal had ambushed Dora 
 as she was hunting for a strayed golf ball, and how 
 Bertie had dashed to her rescue with a stable fork 
 and driven the beast off in the nick of time. 
 
 " It was touch and go ! She threw her niblick 
 at it, but that didn't stop it. In another moment 
 she would have been crushed beneath its hoofs," 
 panted Mrs. Yonelet. 
 
 " The animal is not safe," said Teresa, handing her 
 agitated guest a cup of tea. " I forget if you take 
 sugar. I suppose the solitary life it leads has soured 
 
252 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 its temper. There are muffins in the grate. It's 
 not my fault ; I've tried to get it a mate for ever 
 so long. You don't know of anyone with a lady elk 
 for sale or exchange, do you ? " she asked the com- 
 pany generally. 
 
 But Mrs. Yonelet was in no humour to listen to 
 talk of elk marriages. The mating of two human 
 beings was the subject uppermost in her mind, and 
 the opportunity for advancing her pet project was 
 too valuable to be neglected. 
 
 " Teresa," she exclaimed impressively, " after 
 those two young people have been thrown together 
 so dramatically, nothing can be quite the same again 
 between them. Bertie has done more than save 
 Dora's life ; he has earned her affection. One 
 cannot help feeling that Fate has consecrated them 
 for one another." 
 
 " Exactly what the vicar's wife said when Bertie 
 saved Sybil from the elk a year or two ago," observed 
 Teresa placidly ; " I pointed out to her that he had 
 rescued Mirabel Hicks from the same predicament 
 a few months previously, and that priority really 
 belonged to the gardener's boy, who had been rescued 
 in the January of that year. There is a good deal 
 of sameness in country life, you know." 
 
 " It seems to be a very dangerous animal," said 
 one of the guests. 
 
THE ELK 253 
 
 " That's what the mother of the gardener's boy 
 said," remarked Teresa ; " she wanted me to have 
 it destroyed, but I pointed out to her that she had 
 eleven children and I had only one elk. I also gave 
 her a black silk skirt ; she said that though there 
 hadn't been a funeral in her family she felt as if 
 there had been. Anyhow, we parted friends. I 
 can't offer you a silk skirt, Emily, but you may have 
 another cup of tea. As I have already remarked, 
 there are muffins in the grate." 
 
 Teresa closed the discussion, having deftly con- 
 veyed the impression that she considered the mother 
 of the gardener's boy had shown a far more reason- 
 able spirit than the parents of other elk-assaulted 
 victims. 
 
 " Teresa is devoid of feeling," said Mrs. Yonelet 
 afterwards to the vicar's wife ; " to sit there, talking 
 of muffins, with an appalling tragedy only narrowly 
 averted " 
 
 " Of course you know whom she really intends 
 Bertie to marry ? " asked the vicar's wife ; " I've 
 noticed it for some time. The Bickelbys' German 
 governess." 
 
 " A German governess ! What an idea ! " gasped 
 Mrs. Yonelet. 
 
 " She's of (juite good family, I believe," said the 
 vicar's wife, ** and not at all the mouse-in-the-back- 
 
254 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 ground sort of person that governesses are usually 
 supposed to be. In fact, next to Teresa, she's about 
 the most assertive and combative personality in the 
 neighbourhood. She's pointed out to my husband 
 all sorts of errors in his sermons, and she gave Sir 
 Laurence a public lecture on how he ought to handle 
 the hounds. You know how sensitive Sir Laurence 
 is about any criticism of his Mastership, and to 
 have a governess laying down the law to him nearly 
 drove him into a fit. She's behaved Hke that to 
 every one, except, of course, Teresa, and every one 
 has been defensively rude to her in return. The 
 Bickelbys are simply too afraid of her to get rid of 
 her. Now isn't that exactly the sort of woman 
 whom Teresa would take a delight in instaUing as 
 her successor ? Imagine the discomfort and awk- 
 wardness in the county if we suddenly found that 
 she was to be the future hostess at the Hall. Teresa's 
 only regret will be that she won't be alive to see it." 
 
 " But," objected Mrs. Yonelet, " surely Bertie 
 hasn't shown the least sign of being attracted in that 
 quarter ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's quite nice-looking in a way, and dresses 
 well, and plays a good game of tennis. She often 
 comes across the park with messages from the 
 Bickelby mansion, and one of these days Bertie 
 will rescue her from the elk, which has become almost 
 
THE ELK 255 
 
 a habit with him, and Teresa will say that Fate has 
 consecrated them to one another. Bertie might 
 not be disposed to pay much attention to the con- 
 secrations of Fate, but he would not dream of 
 opposing his grandmother." 
 
 The vicar's wife spoke with the quiet authority 
 of one who has intuitive knowledge, and in her heart 
 of hearts Mrs. Yonelet beheved her. 
 
 Six months later the elk had to be destroyed. In 
 a fit of exceptional moroseness it had killed the 
 Bickelbys' German governess. It was an irony of 
 its fate that it should achieve popularity in the last 
 moments of its career ; at any rate, it established 
 the record of being the only Hving thing that had 
 permanently thwarted Teresa Thropplestance's plans. 
 
 Dora Yonelet broke off her engagement with an 
 Indian civiUan, and married Bertie three months 
 after his grandmother's death — Teresa did not 
 long survive the German governess fiasco. At 
 Christmas time every year young Mrs. Thropple- 
 stance hangs an extra large festoon of evergreens 
 on the elk horns that decorate the hall. 
 
 " It was a fearsome beast," she observes to 
 Bertie, " but I always feel that it was instrumental 
 in bringing us together." 
 
 Which, of course, was true. 
 
256 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 H 
 
 DOWN PENS" 
 
 *' Y ^ AVE you written to thank the Frop- 
 Imsons for what they sent us? " asked 
 Egbert. 
 
 " No," said Janetta, with a note of tired defiance 
 in her voice ; " I've wTitten eleven letters to-day 
 expressing surprise and gratitude for sundry un- 
 merited gifts, but I haven't written to the Froplin- 
 sons." 
 
 " Some one will have towriteto them," said Egbert. 
 
 " I don't dispute the necessity, but I don't think 
 the some one should be me," said Janetta. " I 
 wouldn't mind writing a letter of angry recrimina- 
 tion or heartless satire to some suitable recipient ; in 
 fact, I should rather enjoy it, but I've come to the 
 end of my capacity for expressing servile amiability. 
 Eleven letters to-day and nine yesterday, all couched 
 in the same strain of ecstatic thankfulness : really, 
 you can't expect me to sit down to another. There 
 is such a thing as writing oneself out." 
 
 " I've written nearly as many," said Egbert, 
 
DOW'X PENS 257 
 
 " and I've had my usual bosmess cotrR^wndcnce 
 to get throng too. Besides, I don't know fdiat it 
 was that the Frof^insons sent ns." 
 
 " A WUhsm the Conqueror calendar/' said Jan- 
 etta, " with a qnotaticHi of one of his great thonghts 
 for every day in the year." 
 
 "Impossible," said Egbert; "he didn't have 
 three hmidred and sixty-hve thoo^ts in the whole 
 of his hf e, or, if he did, he kept them to himseif. 
 He was a man of action, not of intio^)ection." 
 
 " Wen, it was WUham Wcx^sworth, then," said 
 Janetta ; " I know Wiltiam came into it some- 
 
 "That sonnds mOTe iHX)baWe," said Egbert; 
 "well, let's collaborate on this letter of thanks 
 and get it done. Ill dictate, and you can scdbUe 
 it down. ' Dear Mis. Fio|dinsoo-4hank yoa and 
 your husband so much for the veiy pretty rakaidar 
 you sent us. It was veiy good of yoa to think of 
 us. 
 
 "You can't possiUy say that," said Janetta, 
 laying down her pen. 
 
 " It's ¥diat I always do say, and what eveiy <me 
 says to me," protested Egbert. 
 
 " VVe sent them something cm the twenty-seccnd," 
 said Janetta, " so they smpfy had to think of us. 
 There was no getting away from it." 
 
258 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " What did we send them ? " asked Egbert 
 gloomily 
 
 " Bridge-markers," said Janetta, "in a card- 
 board case, with some inanity about ' digging for 
 fortune with a royal spade ' emblazoned on the cover. 
 The moment I saw it in the shop I said to myself 
 ' Froplinsons ' and to the attendant ' How much ? ' 
 When he said ' Ninepence,' I gave him their address, 
 jabbed our card in, paid tenpence or elevenpence 
 to cover the postage, and thanked heaven. With 
 less sincerity and infinitely more trouble they 
 eventually thanked me." 
 
 " The Froplinsons don't play bridge," said Egbert. 
 
 " One is not supposed to notice social deformities 
 of that sort," said Janetta ; "it wouldn't be poUte. 
 Besides, what trouble did they take to find out 
 whether we read Wordsworth with gladness ? 
 For all they knew or cared we might be frantically 
 embedded in the behef that all poetry begins and 
 ends with John Masefield, and it might infuriate 
 or depress us to have a daily sample of Words- 
 worthian products flimg at us." 
 
 " Well, let's get on with the letter of thanks," 
 said Egbert. 
 
 " Proceed," said Janetta. 
 
 " * How clever of you to guess that Wordsworth 
 is our favourite poet,' " dictated Egbert. 
 
DOWN PENS 259 
 
 Again Janetta laid down her pen. 
 
 " Do you realise what that means ? " she asked ; 
 '* a Wordsworth booklet next Christmas, and another 
 calendar the Christmas after, with the same problem 
 of having to write suitable letters of thankfulness. 
 No, the best thing to do is to drop all further allusion 
 to the calendar and switch off on to some other 
 topic." 
 
 " But what other topic? " 
 
 " Oh, something Uke this : ' What do you think 
 of the New Year Honours List ? A friend of ours 
 made such a clever remark when he read it/ Then 
 you can stick in any remark that comes into your 
 head ; it needn't be clever. The Froplinsons won't 
 know whether it is or isn't." 
 
 " We don't even know on which side they are in 
 politics," objected Egbert ; " and anyhow you can't 
 suddenly dismiss the subject of the calendar. 
 Surely there must be some intelligent remark that 
 can be made about it." 
 
 " Well, we can't think of one," said Janetta 
 wearily ; " the fact is, we've both written ourselves 
 out. Heavens ! I've just remembered Mrs. Stephen 
 Ludberry. I haven't thanked her for what she 
 sent." 
 
 " What did she send ? " 
 
 " I forget ; I think it was a calendar." 
 
26o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 There was a long silence, the forlorn silence of 
 those who are bereft of hope and have almost ceased 
 to care. 
 
 Presently Egbert started from his seat with an 
 air of resolution. The light of battle was in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Let me come to the writing-table," he exclaimed. 
 
 " Gladly," said Janetta. " Are you going to 
 write to Mrs. Ludberry or the FropHnsons ? " 
 
 " To neither," said Egbert, drawing a stack 
 of notepaper towards him ; "I'm going to write 
 to the editor of every enlightened and influential 
 newspaper in the Kingdom. I'm going to suggest 
 that there should be a sort of epistolary Truce of 
 God during the festivities of Christmas and New 
 Year. From the twenty-fourth of December to the 
 third or fourth of January it shall be considered 
 an offence against good sense and good feeling to 
 write or expect any letter or communication that 
 does not deal with the necessary events of the 
 moment. Answers to invitations, arrangements 
 about trains, renewal of club subscriptions, and, of 
 course, all the ordinary everyday affairs of business, 
 sickness, engaging new cooks, and so forth, these 
 will be dealt with in the usual manner as something 
 inevitable, a legitimate part of our daily Hfe. But 
 all the devastating accretions of correspondence. 
 
DOWN PENS 261 
 
 incident to the festive season, these should be 
 swept away to give the season a chance of being 
 really festive, a time of untroubled, unpunctuated 
 peace and good will." 
 
 " But you would have to make some acknowledg- 
 ment of presents received," objected Janetta ; 
 " otherwise people would never know whether they 
 had arrived safely." 
 
 " Of course, I have thought of that," said Egbert ; 
 " every present that was sent off would be accom- 
 panied by a ticket bearing the date of dispatch 
 and the signature of the sender, and some conven- 
 tional hieroglyphic to show that it was intended 
 to be a Christmas or New Year gift ; there would 
 be a counterfoil with space for the recipient's name 
 and the date of arrival, and all you would have to 
 do would be to sign and date the counterfoil, add a 
 conventional hieroglyphic indicating heartfelt thanks 
 and gratified surprise, put the thing into an envelope 
 and post it." 
 
 " It sounds delightfully simple," said Janetta 
 wistfully, " but people would consider it too cut- 
 and-dried, too perfunctory." 
 
 " It is not a bit more perfunctory than the present 
 system," said Egbert ; " I have only the same con- 
 ventional language of gratitude at my disposal with 
 which to thank dear old Colonel Chuttle for his 
 
262 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 perfectly delicious Stilton, which we shall devour 
 to the last morsel, and the Froplinsons for their 
 calendar, which we shall never look at. Colonel 
 Chuttle knows that we are grateful for the Stilton, 
 without having to be told so, and the Frophnsons 
 know that we are bored with their calendar, whatever 
 we may say to the contrary, just as we know that 
 they are bored with the bridge-markers in spite of 
 their written assurance that they thanked us for 
 our charming little gift. What is more, the Colonel 
 knows that even if we had taken a sudden aversion 
 to Stilton or been forbidden it by the doctor, we 
 should still have written a letter of hearty thanks 
 around it. So you see the present system of acknow- 
 ledgment is just as perfunctory and conventional 
 as the counterfoil business would be, only ten times 
 more tiresome and brain-racking." 
 
 " Your plan would certainly bring the ideal of a 
 Happy Christmas a step nearer realisation," said 
 Janetta. 
 
 " There are exceptions, of course," said Egbert, 
 " people who really try to infuse a breath of 
 reality into their letters of acknowledgment. Aunt 
 Susan, for instance, who writes : ' Thank you very 
 much for the ham ; not such a good flavour as the 
 one you sent last year, which itself was not a par- 
 ticularly good one. Hams are not what they used 
 
DOWN PENS 263 
 
 to be.' It would be a pity to be deprived of her 
 Christmas comments, but that loss would be 
 swallowed up in the general gain/' 
 
 " Meanwhile," said Janetta, " what am I to 
 say to the Froplinsons ? " 
 
264 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE NAME-DAY 
 
 ADVENTURES, according to the proverb, 
 are to the adventurous. Quite as often 
 they are to the non-adventurous, to 
 the retiring, to the constitutionally timid. John 
 James Abbleway had been endowed by Nature 
 with the sort of disposition that instinctively avoids 
 Carlist intrigues, slum crusades, the tracking of 
 wounded wild beasts, and the moving of hostile 
 amendments at political meetings. If a mad dog 
 or a Mad Mullah had come his way he would have 
 surrendered the way without hesitation. At school 
 he had unwillingly acquired a thorough knowledge 
 of the German tongue out of deference to the plainly- 
 expressed wishes of a foreign-languages master, 
 who, though he taught modern subjects, employed 
 old-fashioned methods in driving his lessons home. 
 It was this enforced famiUarity with an important 
 commercial language which thrust Abbleway in later 
 years into strange lands where adventures were 
 less easy to guard against than in the ordered atmo- 
 
THE NAME-DAY 265 
 
 sphere of an English country town. The firm that 
 he worked for saw fit to send him one day on a 
 prosaic business errand to the far city of Vienna, and, 
 having sent him there, continued to keep him there, 
 still engaged in humdrum affairs of commerce, but 
 with the possibilities of romance and adventure, 
 or even misadventure, jostling at his elbow. After 
 two and a half years of exile, however, John James 
 Abbleway had embarked on only one hazardous 
 undertaking, and that was of a nature which would 
 assuredly have overtaken him sooner or later if he 
 had been leading a sheltered, stay-at-home existence 
 at Dorking or Huntingdon. He fell placidly in love 
 with a placidly lovable English girl, the sister of one 
 of his commercial colleagues, who was improving 
 her mind by a short trip to foreign parts, and in due 
 course he was formally accepted as the young man 
 she was engaged to. The further step by which she 
 was to become Mrs. John Abbleway was to take 
 place a twelvemonth hence in a town in the English 
 midlands, by which time the firm that employed 
 John James would have no further need for his 
 presence in the Austrian capital. 
 
 It was early in April, two months after the instal- 
 lation of Abbleway as the young man Miss Penning 
 was engaged to, when he received a letter from her, 
 written from Venice, She was still peregrinating 
 
266 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 under the wing of her brother, and as the latter's 
 business arrangements would take him across to 
 Fiume for a day or two, she had conceived the idea 
 that it would be rather jolly if John could obtain 
 leave of absence and run down to the Adriatic coast 
 to meet them. She had looked up the route on the 
 map, and the journey did not appear likely to be 
 expensive. Between the Hues of her communication 
 there lay a hint that if he really cared for her 
 
 Abbleway obtained leave of absence and added 
 a journey to Fiume to his hfe's adventures. He 
 left Vienna on a cold, cheerless day. The flower 
 shops were full of spring blooms, and the weekly 
 organsof illustrated humour were full of spring topics, 
 but the skies were heavy with clouds that looked 
 Hke cotton-wool that has been kept over long in a 
 shop window. 
 
 " Snow comes," said the train official to the station 
 officials ; and they agreed that snow was about to 
 come. And it came, rapidly, plenteously. The 
 train had not been more than an hour on its journey 
 when the cotton- wool clouds commenced to dissolve 
 in a blinding downpour of snowflakes. The forest 
 trees on either side of the line were speedily coated 
 with a heavy white mantle, the telegraph wires 
 became thick gUstening ropes, the Hne itself was 
 buried more and more completely under a carpeting 
 
THE NAME-DAY 267 
 
 of snow, through which the not very powerful engine 
 ploughed its way with increasing difficulty. The 
 Vienna-Fiume line is scarcely the best equipped of 
 the Austrian State railways, and Abbleway began 
 to have serious fears for a breakdown. The train 
 had slowed down to a painful and precarious crawl 
 and presently came to a halt at a spot where the 
 drifting snow had accumulated in a formidable 
 barrier. The engine made a special effort and broke 
 through the obstruction, but in the course of another 
 twenty minutes it was again held up. The process 
 of breaking through was renewed, and the train 
 doggedly resumed its way, encountering and sur- 
 mounting fresh hindrances at frequent intervals. 
 After a standstill of unusually long duration in a 
 particularly deep drift the compartment in which 
 Abbleway was sitting gave a huge jerk and a lurch, 
 and then seemed to remain stationary ; it undoubtedly 
 was not moving, and yet he could hear the puffing 
 of the engine and the slow rumbling and jolting 
 of wheels. The puffing and rumbling grew fainter, 
 as though it were dying away through the agency 
 of intervening distance. Abbleway suddenly gave 
 vent to an exclamation of scandalised alarm, opened 
 the window, and peered out into the snowstorm. 
 The flakes perched on his eyelashes and blurred 
 his vision, but he saw enough to help him to realise 
 
268 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 what had happened. The engine had made a mighty 
 plunge through the drift and had gone merrily 
 forward, Hghtened of the load of its rear carriage, 
 whose coupling had snapped under the strain. Abble- 
 way was alone, or almost alone, with a derelict 
 railway waggon, in the heart of some Styrian or 
 Croatian forest. In the third-class compartment 
 next to his own he remembered to have seen a 
 peasant woman, who had entered the train at a 
 small wayside station. " With the exception of 
 that woman," he exclaimed dramatically to himself, 
 " the nearest living beings are probably a pack of 
 wolves." 
 
 Before making his way to the third-class compart- 
 ment to acquaint his fellow-traveller with the extent 
 of the disaster Abbleway hurriedly pondered the 
 question of the woman's nationality. He had 
 acquired a smattering of Slavonic tongues during 
 his residence in Vienna, and felt competent to grapple 
 with several racial possibilities. 
 
 " If she is Croat or Serb or Bosniak I shall be 
 able to make her understand," he promised himself. 
 " If she is Magyar, heaven help me ! We shall 
 have to converse entirely by signs." 
 
 He entered the carriage and made his momentous 
 announcement in the best approach to Croat speech 
 that he could achieve. 
 
THE NAME-DAY 269 
 
 " The train has broken away and left us ! " 
 
 The woman shook her head with a movement 
 that might be intended to convey resignation to the 
 will of heaven, but probably meant noncompre- 
 hension. Abbleway repeated his information with 
 variations of Slavonic tongues and generous displays 
 of pantomime. 
 
 " Ah," said the woman at last in German dialect, 
 " the train has gone ? We are left. Ah, so." 
 
 She seemed about as much interested as though 
 Abbleway had told her the result of the municipal 
 elections in Amsterdam. 
 
 " They will find out at some station, and when the 
 line is clear of snow they will send an engine. It 
 happens that way sometimes." 
 
 " We may be here all night ! " exclaimed Abbleway. 
 
 The woman nodded as though she thought it 
 possible. 
 
 " Are there wolves in these parts ? " asked Abble- 
 way hurriedly. 
 
 " Many," said the woman ; "just outside this 
 forest my aunt was devoured three years ago, as 
 she was coming home from market. The horse and 
 a young pig that was in the cart were eaten too. 
 The horse was a very old one, but it was a beautiful 
 young pig, oh, so fat. I cried when I heard that it 
 was taken . They spare nothing . ' ' 
 
270 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " They may attack us here," said Abbleway 
 tremulously ; " they could easily break in, these 
 carriages are like matchwood. We may both be 
 devoured." 
 
 ** You, perhaps," said the woman calmly ; " not 
 me." 
 
 " Why not you ? " demanded Abbleway. 
 
 " It is the day of Saint Maria Kleopha, my name- 
 day. She would not allow me to be eaten by wolves 
 on her day. Such a thing could not be thought of. 
 You, yes, but not me." 
 
 Abbleway changed the subject. 
 
 " It is only afternoon now ; if we are to be left here 
 till morning we shall be starving." 
 
 " I have here some good eatables," said the 
 woman tranquilly ; " on my festival day it is natural 
 that I should have provision with me. I have five 
 good blood-sausages ; in the town shops they cost 
 twenty-five heller each. Things are dear in the 
 town shops." 
 
 " I will give you fifty heller apiece for a couple 
 of them," said Abbleway with some enthusiasm. 
 
 " In a railway accident things become very dear," 
 said the woman ; " these blood-sausages axe four 
 kronen apiece." 
 
 " Four kronen ! " exclaimed Abbleway ; " four 
 kronen for a blood-sausage ! " 
 
THE NAME-DAY 271 
 
 " You cannot get them any cheaper on this train," 
 said the woman, with relentless logic, " because there 
 aren't any others to get. In Agram you can buy 
 them cheaper, and in Paradise no doubt they will 
 be given to us for nothing, but here they cost four 
 kronen each. I have a small piece of Emmen thaler 
 cheese and a honey-cake and a piece of bread that I 
 can let you have. That will be another three kronen, 
 eleven kronen in all. There is a piece of ham, but 
 that I cannot let you have on my name-day." 
 
 Abbleway wondered to himself what price she 
 would have put on the ham, and hurried to pay her 
 the eleven kronen before her emergency tariff ex- 
 panded into a famine tariff. As he was taking posses- 
 sion of his modest store of eatables he suddenly heard 
 a noise which set his heart thumping in a miserable 
 fever of fear. There was a scraping and shuffling 
 as of some animal or animals trying to climb up to 
 the footboard. In another moment, through the 
 snow-encrusted glass of the carriage window, he saw a 
 gaunt prick-eared head, with gaping jaw and lolling 
 tongue and gleaming teeth ; a second later another 
 head shot up. 
 
 " There are hundreds of them," whispered Abble- 
 way ; " they have scented us. They will tear the 
 carriage to pieces. We shall be devoured." 
 
 " Not me, on my name-day. The holy Maria 
 
272 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Kleopha would not permit it," said the woman with 
 provoking calm. 
 
 The heads dropped down from the window and 
 an uncanny silence fell on the beleaguered carriage. 
 Abbleway neither moved nor spoke. Perhaps the 
 brutes had not clearly seen or winded the human 
 occupants of the carriage, and had prowled away on 
 some other errand of rapine. 
 The long torture-laden minutes passed slowly away. 
 
 " It grows cold," said the woman suddenly, 
 crossing over to the far end of the carriage, where the 
 heads had appeared. " The heating apparatus does 
 not work any longer. See, over there beyond the 
 trees, there is a chimney with smoke coming from 
 it. It is not far, and the snow has nearly stopped. 
 I shall find a path through the forest to that house 
 with the chimney." 
 
 " But the wolves ! " exclaimed Abbleway ; " they 
 may " 
 
 " Not on my name-day," said the woman obstin- 
 ately, and before he could stop her she had opened 
 the door and climbed down into the snow. A moment 
 later he hid his face in his hands ; two gaunt lean 
 figures rushed upon her from the forest. No doubt 
 she had courted her fate, but Abbleway had no 
 wish to see a human being torn to pieces and devoured 
 before his eyes. 
 
THE NAME-DAY 273 
 
 When he looked at last a new sensation of scan- 
 dalised astonishment took possession of him. He 
 had been straitly brought up in a small English 
 town, and he was not prepared to be the witness of 
 a miracle. The wolves were not doing anything 
 worse to the woman than drench her with snow 
 as they gambolled round her. 
 
 A short, joyous bark revealed the clue to the 
 situation. 
 
 " Are those — dogs ? " he called weakly. 
 
 " My cousin Karl's dogs, yes," she answered ; 
 " that is his inn, over beyond the trees. I knew it 
 was there, but I did not want to take you there ; 
 he is always grasping with strangers. However, 
 it grows too cold to remain in the train. Ah, ah, 
 see what comes ! " 
 
 A whistle sounded, and a reUef engine made its 
 appearance, snorting its way sulkily through the 
 snow. Abbleway did not have the opportunity for 
 finding out whether Karl was really avaricious. 
 
274 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE LUMBER ROOM 
 
 THE children were to be driven, as a special 
 treat, to the sands at Jagborough. 
 Nicholas was not to be of the party ; he 
 was in disgrace. Only that morning he had refused 
 to eat his wholesome bread-and-milk on the seem- 
 ingly frivolous ground that there was a frog in it. 
 Older and wiser and better people had told him 
 that there could not possibly be a frog in his bread- 
 and-milk and that he was not to talk nonsense ; 
 he continued, nevertheless, to talk what seemed the 
 veriest nonsense, and described with much detail 
 the colouration and markings of the alleged frog. 
 The dramatic part of the incident was that there 
 really was a frog in Nicholas' basin of bread-and- 
 milk ; he had put it there himself, so he felt entitled 
 to know something about it. The sin of taking a 
 frog from the garden and putting it into a bowl of 
 wholesome bread-and-milk was enlarged on at great 
 length, but the fact that stood out clearest in the 
 whole affair, as it presented itself to the mind of 
 
THE LUMBER ROOM 275 
 
 Nicholas, was that the older, wiser, and better 
 people had been proved to be profoundly in error 
 in matters about which they had expressed the 
 utmost assurance. 
 
 " You said there couldn't possibly be a frog in 
 my bread- and-milk ; there was a frog in my bread- 
 and-milk," he repeated, with the insistence of a 
 skilled tactician who does not intend to shift from 
 favourable ground. 
 
 So his boy-cousin and girl-cousin and his quite 
 uninteresting younger brother were to be taken to 
 Jagborough sands that afternoon and he was to stay 
 at home. His cousins' aunt, who insisted, by an 
 unwarranted stretch of imagination, in styling herself 
 his aunt also, had hastily invented the Jagborough 
 expedition in order to impress on Nicholas the delights 
 that he had justly forfeited by his disgraceful conduct 
 at the breakfast-table. It was her habit, whenever 
 one of the children fell from grace, to improvise 
 something of a festival nature from which the offender 
 would be rigorously debarred ; if all the children 
 sinned collectively they were suddenly informed of a 
 circus in a neighbouring town, a circus of unrivalled 
 merit and uncounted elephants, to which, but for 
 their depravity, they would have been taken that 
 very day. 
 
 A few decent tears were looked for on the part of 
 
276 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 Nicholas when the moment for the departure of the 
 expedition arrived. As a matter of fact, however, 
 all the crying was done by his girl-cousin, who 
 scraped her knee rather painfully against the step 
 of the carriage as she was scrambling in 
 
 "How she did howl," said Nicholas cheerfully, 
 as the party drove off without any of the elation 
 of high spirits that should have characterised it. 
 
 *' She'll soon get over that," said the soi-disant 
 aunt ; ''it will be a glorious afternoon for racing 
 about over those beautiful sands. How they will 
 enjoy themselves ! " 
 
 " Bobby won't enjoy himself much, and he won't 
 race much either," said Nicholas with a grim chuckle ; 
 " his boots are hurting him. They're too tight." 
 
 " Why didn't he tell me they were hurting ? " 
 asked the aunt with some asperity. 
 
 " He told you twice, but you weren't listening. 
 You often don't listen when we tell you important 
 things." 
 
 " You are not to go into the gooseberry garden," 
 said the aunt, changing the subject. 
 
 " Why not ? " demanded Nicholas. 
 
 " Because you are in disgrace," said the aunt 
 loftily. 
 
 Nicholas did not admit the flawlessness of the 
 reasoning ; he felt perfectly capable of being in 
 
THE LUMBER ROOM 277 
 
 disgrace and in a gooseberry garden at the same 
 moment. His face took on an expression of con- 
 siderable obstinacy. It was clear to his aunt that 
 he was determined to get into the gooseberry garden, 
 " only," as she remarked to herself, " because I have 
 told him he is not to." 
 
 Now the gooseberry garden had two doors by 
 which it might be entered, and once a small person 
 like Nicholas could slip in there he could effectually 
 disappear from view amid the masking growth of 
 artichokes, raspberry canes, and fruit bushes. The 
 aunt had many other things to do that afternoon, 
 but she spent an hour or two in trivial gardening 
 operations among flower beds and shrubberies, 
 whence she could keep a watchful eye on the two 
 doors that led to the forbidden paradise. She was a 
 woman of few ideas, with immense powers of con- 
 centration. 
 
 Nicholas made one or two sorties into the front 
 garden, wriggling his way with obvious stealth of 
 purpose towards one or other of the doors, but 
 never able for a moment to evade the aunt's watch- 
 ful eye. As a matter of fact, he had no intention 
 of trying to get into the gooseberry garden, but it 
 was extremely convenient for him that his aunt 
 should believe that he had ; it was a belief that would 
 keep her on self-imposed sentry-duty for the greater 
 
278 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 part of the afternoon. Having thoroughly confirmed 
 and fortified her suspicions Nicholas slipped back 
 into the house and rapidly put into execution a plan 
 of action that had long germinated in his brain. 
 By standing on a chair in the library one could 
 reach a shelf on which reposed a fat, important- 
 looking key. The key was as important as it looked ; 
 it was the instrument which kept the mysteries of 
 the lumber-room secure from unauthorised intrusion, 
 which opened a way only for aunts and such-like 
 privileged persons. Nicholas had not had much 
 experience of the art of fitting keys into keyholes 
 and turning locks, but for some days past he had 
 practised with the key of the schoolroom door ; 
 he did not believe in trusting too much to luck and 
 accident. The key turned stiffly in the lock, but it 
 turned. The door opened, and Nicholas was in 
 an unknown land, compared with which the goose- 
 berry garden was a stale delight, a mere material 
 pleasure. 
 
 Often and often Nicholas had pictured to himself 
 what the lumber-room might be like, that region 
 that was so carefully sealed from youthful eyes and 
 concerning which no questions were ever answered. 
 It came up to his expectations. In the first place 
 it was large and dimly lit, one high window opening 
 on to the forbidden garden being its only source of 
 
THE LUMBER ROOM 279 
 
 illumination. In the second place it was a store- 
 house of unimagined treasures. The aunt-by-asser- 
 tion was one of those people who think that things 
 spoil by use and consign them to dust and damp by 
 way of preserving them. Such parts of the house 
 as Nicholas knew best were rather bare and cheerless, 
 but here there were wonderful things for the eye to 
 feast on. First and foremost there was a piece of 
 framed tapestry that was evidently meant to be a 
 fire-screen. To Nicholas it was a living, breathing 
 story ; he sat down on a roll of Indian hangings, 
 glowing in wonderful colours beneath a layer of dust, 
 and took in all the details of the tapestry picture. 
 A man, dressed in the hunting costume of some 
 remote period, had just transfixed a stag with an 
 arrow ; it could not have been a difficult shot because 
 the stag was only one or two paces away from him ; 
 in the thickly-growing vegetation that the picture 
 suggested it would not have been difficult to creep 
 up to a feeding stag, and the two spotted dogs that 
 were springing forward to join in the chase had 
 evidently been trained to keep to heel till the arrow 
 was discharged. That part of the picture was 
 simple, if interesting, but did the huntsman see, 
 what Nicholas saw, that four galloping wolves were 
 coming in his direction through the wood ? There 
 might be more than four of them hidden behind the 
 
28o BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 trees, and in any case would the man and his dogs 
 be able to cope with the four wolves if they made 
 an attack ? The man had only two arrows left in 
 his quiver, and he might miss with one or both of 
 them ; all one knew about his skill in shooting was 
 that he could hit a large stag at a ridiculously short 
 range. Nicholas sat for many golden minutes re- 
 volving the possibilities of the scene ; he was inclined 
 to think that there were more than four wolves 
 and that the man and his dogs were in a tight corner. 
 But there were other objects of delight and interest 
 claiming his instant attention : there were quaint 
 twisted candlesticks in the shape of snakes, and a 
 teapot fashioned Uke a china duck, out of whose 
 open beak the tea was supposed to come. How dull 
 and shapeless the nursery teapot seemed in com- 
 parison ! And there was a carved sandal-wood box 
 packed tight with aromatic cottonwool, and between 
 the layers of cottonwool were little brass figures, 
 hump-necked bulls, and peacocks and gobhns, 
 dehghtful to see and to handle. Less promising 
 in appearance was a large square book with plain 
 black covers ; Nicholas peeped into it, and, behold, 
 it was full of coloured pictures of birds. And such 
 birds ! In the garden, and in the lanes when he 
 went for a walk, Nicholas came across a few birds, 
 of which the largest were an occasional magpie 
 
THE LUMBER ROOM 281 
 
 or wood-pigeon ; here were herons and bustards, 
 kites, toucans, tiger-bitterns, brush turkeys, ibises, 
 golden pheasants, a whole portrait gallery of un- 
 dreamed-of creatures. And as he was admiring 
 the colouring of the mandarin duck and assigning 
 a life-history to it, the voice of his aunt in shrill 
 vociferation of his name came from the gooseberry 
 garden without. vShe had grown suspicious at his 
 long disappearance, and had leapt to the conclusion 
 that he had climbed over the wall behind the shelter- 
 ing screen of the lilac bushes ; she was now engaged 
 in energetic and rather hopeless search for him 
 among the artichokes and raspberry canes. 
 
 " Nicholas, Nicholas ! " she screamed, " you are 
 to come out of this at once. It's no use trying to 
 hide there ; I can see you all the time." 
 
 It was probably the first time for twenty years 
 that anyone had smiled in that lumber-room. 
 
 Presently the angry repetitions of Nicholas' 
 name gave way to a shriek, and a cry for somebody 
 to come quickly. Nicholas shut the book, restored 
 it carefully to its place in a corner, and shook some 
 dust from a neighbouring pile of newspapers over 
 it. Then he crept from the room, locked the door, 
 and replaced the key exactly where he had found it. 
 His aunt was still calling his name when he sauntered 
 into the front garden. 
 
282 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Who's calling ? " he asked. 
 
 " Me," came the answer from the other side of the 
 wall ; " didn't you hear me ? I've been looking 
 for you in the gooseberry garden, and I've slipped 
 into the rain-water tank. Luckily there's no water 
 in it, but the sides are shppery and I can't get out. 
 Fetch the Httle ladder from under the cherry 
 tree " 
 
 " I was told I wasn't to go into the gooseberry 
 garden," said Nicholas promptly. 
 
 " I told you not to, and now I tell you that you 
 may," came the voice from the rain-water tank, 
 rather impatiently. 
 
 *' Your voice doesn't sound like aunt's," objected 
 Nicholas ; " you may be the Evil One tempting me 
 to be disobedient. Aunt often tells me that the 
 Evil One tempts me and that I always yield. This 
 time I'm not going to yield." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense," said the prisoner in the 
 tank ; " go and fetch the ladder. " 
 
 " Will there be strawberry jam for tea ? " asked 
 Nicholas innocently. 
 
 " Certainly there will be," said the aunt, privately 
 resolving that Nicholas should have none of 
 it. 
 
 " Now I know that you are the Evil One and not 
 aunt," shouted Nicholas gleefully ; " when we 
 
THE LUMBER ROOM 283 
 
 asked aunt for strawberry jam yesterday she said 
 there wasn't any. I know there are four jars of it 
 in the store cupboard, because I looked, and of 
 course you know it's there, but she doesn't, because 
 she said there wasn't any. Oh, Devil, you have 
 sold yourself ! " 
 
 There was an unusual sense of luxury in being 
 able to talk to an aunt as though one was talking to 
 the Evil One, but Nicholas knew, with childish dis- 
 cernment, that such luxuries were not to be over- 
 indulged in. He walked noisily away, and it was 
 a kitchenmaid, in search of parsley, who event- 
 ually rescued the aunt from the rain-water 
 tank. 
 
 Tea that evening was partaken of in a fearsome 
 silence. The tide had been at its highest when the 
 children had arrived at Jagborough Cove, so there 
 had been no sands to play on — a circumstance that 
 the aunt had overlooked in the haste of organising 
 her punitive expedition. The tightness of Bobby's 
 boots had had disastrous effect on his temper the 
 whole of the afternoon, and altogether the children 
 could not have been said to have enjoyed themselves. 
 The aunt maintained the frozen muteness of one 
 who has suffered undignified and unmerited deten- 
 tion in a rain-water tank for thirty-five minutes. 
 As for Nicholas, he, too, was silent, in the 
 
284 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 absorption of one who has much to think about ; it 
 was just possible, he considered, that the huntsman 
 would escape with his hounds while the wolves 
 feasted on the stricken stag. 
 
FUR 285 
 
 Y 
 
 FUR 
 
 ^^ ^ /'OU look worried, dear/' said Eleanor. 
 
 " I am worried," admitted Suzanne ; 
 not worried exactly, but anxious. 
 You see, my birthday happens next week *' 
 
 " Ycu lucky person," interrupted Eleanor ; " my 
 birthday doesn't come till the end of March." 
 
 " Well, old Bertram Kneyght is over in England 
 just now from the Argentine. He's a kind of distant 
 cousin of my mother's, and so enormously rich that 
 we've never let the relationship drop out of sight. 
 Even if we don't see him or hear from him for years 
 he is always Cousin Bertram when he does turn up. 
 I can't say he's ever been of much solid use to us, 
 but yesterday the subject of my birthday cropped 
 up, and he asked me to let him know what I wanted 
 for a present." 
 
 " Now I understand the anxiety," observed 
 Eleanor. 
 
 '* As a rule when one is confronted with a problem 
 like that," said Suzanne, *' all one's ideas vanish ; 
 
286 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 one doesn't seem to have a desire in the world. Now 
 it so happens that I have been very keen on a Httle 
 Dresden figure that I saw somewhere in Kensington ; 
 about thirty-six shilHngs, quite beyond my means. 
 I was very nearly describing the figure, and giving 
 Bertram the address of the shop. And then it 
 suddenly struck me that thirty-six shillings was such 
 a ridiculously inadequate sum for a man of his 
 immense wealth to spend on a birthday present. 
 He could give thirty-six pounds as easily as you or 
 I could buy a bunch of violets. I don't want to 
 be greedy, of course, but I don't like being wasteful." 
 
 " The question is," said Eleanor, " what are his 
 ideas as to present-giving ? Some of the wealthiest 
 people have curiously cramped views on that sub- 
 ject. When people grow gradually rich their 
 requirements and standard of living expand in pro- 
 portion, while their present-giving instincts often 
 remain in the undeveloped condition of their earlier 
 days. Something showy and not-too-expensive 
 in a shop is their only conception of the ideal gift. 
 That is why even quite good shops have their counters 
 and windows crowded with things worth about four 
 shillings that look as if they might be worth seven- 
 and-six, and are priced at ten shillings and labelled 
 * seasonable gifts.' " 
 
 " I know," said Suzanne ; " that is why it is so 
 
FUR 287 
 
 risky to be vague when one is giving indications of 
 one's wants. Now if I say to him : ' I am going out 
 to Davos this winter, so anything in the traveUing 
 hne would be acceptable,' he might give me a dressing- 
 bag with gold-mounted fittings, but, on the other 
 hand, he might give me Baedeker's Switzerland, or 
 ' Ski-ing without Tears,' or something of that 
 sort." 
 
 " He would be more likely to say : * She'll be going 
 to lots of dances, a fan will be sure to be useful.' " 
 
 " Yes, and I've got tons of fans, so you see where 
 the danger and anxiety lies. Now if there is one 
 thing more than another that I really urgently 
 want it is furs. I simply haven't any. I'm told 
 that Davos is full of Russians, and they are sure to 
 wear the most lovely sables and things. To be 
 among people who are smothered in furs when one 
 hasn't any oneself makes one want to break most 
 of the Commandments." 
 
 " If it's furs that you're out for," said Eleanor, 
 " you will have to superintend the choice of them in 
 person. You can't be sure that your cousin knows 
 the difference between silver-fox and ordinary 
 squirrel." 
 
 " There are some heavenly silver-fox stoles at 
 Goliath and Mastodon's," said Suzanne, with a 
 sigh ; " if I could only inveigle Bertram into their 
 
288 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 building and take him for a stroll through the fur 
 department ! " 
 
 " He lives somewhere near there, doesn't he ? " 
 said Eleanor. "Do you know what his habits are ? 
 Does he take a walk at any particular time of day ? " 
 
 " He usually walks down to his club about three 
 o'clock, if it's a fine day. That takes him right past 
 Goliath and Mastodon's." 
 
 " Let us two meet him accidentally at the street 
 corner to-morrow," said Eleanor ; ''we can walk 
 a little way with him, and with luck we ought to be 
 able to side-track him into the shop. You can say 
 you want to get a hair-net or something. When 
 we're safely there I can say : * I wish you'd tell me 
 what you want for your birthday.' Then you'll 
 have everything ready to hand — the rich cousin, 
 the fur department, and the topic of birthday 
 presents." 
 
 " It's a great idea," said Suzanne ; " you really 
 are a brick. Come round to-morrow at twenty to 
 three ; don't be late, we must carry out our ambush 
 to the minute." 
 
 At a few minutes to three the next afternoon the 
 fur-trappers walked warily towards the selected 
 corner. In the near distance rose the colossal pile 
 of Messrs. Goliath and Mastodon's famed estab- 
 lishment. The afternoon was brilliantly fine, exactly 
 
FUR 289 
 
 the sort of weather to tempt a gentleman of advanc- 
 ing years into the discreet exercise of a leisurely 
 walk. 
 
 " I say, dear, I wish you'd do something for me 
 this evening," said Eleanor to her companion ; 
 *' just drop in after dinner on some pretext or other, 
 and stay on to make a fourth at bridge with Adela 
 and the aunts. Otherwise I shall have to play, and 
 Harry Scarisbrooke is going to come in unexpectedly 
 about nine-fifteen, and I particularly want to be 
 free to talk to him while the others are playing." 
 
 " Sorry, my dear, no can do," said Suzanne ; 
 " ordinary bridge at threepence a hundred, with such 
 dreadfully slow players as your aunts, bores me to 
 tears. I nearly go to sleep over it." 
 
 " But I most particularly want an opportunity 
 to talk with Harry," urged Eleanor, an angry 
 glint coming into her eyes. 
 
 " Sorry, anything to oblige, but not that," said 
 Suzanne cheerfully ; the sacrifices of friendship 
 were beautiful in her eyes as long as she was not 
 asked to make them. 
 
 Eleanor said nothing further on the subject, but 
 the corners of her mouth rearranged themselves. 
 
 " There's our man ! " exclaimed Suzanne sud- 
 denly ; " hurry ! " 
 
 Mr. Bertram Kneyght greeted his cousin and her 
 
 u 
 
290 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 friend with genuine heartiness, and readily accepted 
 their invitation to explore the crowded mart that 
 stood temptingly at their elbow. The plate-glass 
 doors swung open and the trio plunged bravely into 
 the jostling throng of buyers and loiterers. 
 
 "Is it always as full as this ? '' asked Bertram 
 of Eleanor. 
 
 " More or less, and autumn sales are on just now," 
 she replied. 
 
 Suzanne, in her anxiety to pilot her cousin to 
 the desired haven of the fur department, was usually 
 a few paces ahead of the others, coming back to 
 them now and then if they lingered for a moment 
 at some attractive counter, with the nervous 
 solicitude of a parent rook encouraging its young 
 ones on their first flying expedition. 
 
 " It's Suzanne's birthday on Wednesday next," 
 confided Eleanor to Bertram Kneyght at a moment 
 when Suzanne had left them unusually far behind ; 
 '* my birthday comes the day before, so we are both 
 on the look-out for something to give each other." 
 
 *' Ah," said Bertram. " Now, perhaps you can 
 advise me on that very point. I want to give 
 Suzanne something, and I haven't the least idea 
 what she wants." 
 
 " She's rather a problem," said Eleanor. " She 
 seems to have everything one can think of, lucky 
 
FUR 291 
 
 girl. A fan is always useful ; she'll be going to a 
 lot of dances at Davos this winter. Yes, I should 
 think a fan would please her more than anything. 
 After our birthdays are over we inspect each other's 
 muster of presents, and I always feel dreadfully 
 humble. She gets such nice things, and I never have 
 anything worth showing. You see, none of my 
 relations or any of the people who give me presents 
 are at all well off, so I can't expect them to do any- 
 thing more than just remember the day with some 
 little trifle. Two years ago an uncle on my mother's 
 side of the family, who had come into a small legacy, 
 promised me a silver-fox stole for my birthday. I 
 can't tell you how excited I was about it, how I 
 pictured myself showing it off to all my friends and 
 enemies. Then just at that moment his wife died, 
 and, of course, poor man, he could not be expected 
 to think of birthday presents at such a time. He has 
 lived abroad ever since, and I never got my fur. 
 Do you know, to this day I can scarcely look at a 
 silver-fox pelt in a shop window or round anyone's 
 neck without feeling ready to burst into tears. I 
 suppose if I hadn't had the prospect of getting one I 
 shouldn't feel that way. Look, there is the fan 
 counter, on your left ; you can easily slip away in 
 the crowd. Get her as nice a one as you can see — 
 she is such a dear, dear girl." 
 
292 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 ** Hullo, I thought I had lost you," said Suzanne, 
 making her way through an obstructive knot of 
 shoppers. " Where is Bertram ? " 
 
 " I got separated from him long ago. I thought 
 he was on ahead with you," said Eleanor. " We 
 shall never find him in this crush." 
 
 Which turned out to be a true prediction. 
 
 " All our trouble and forethought thrown away," 
 said Suzanne sulkily, when they had pushed their 
 way fruitlessly through half a dozen depart- 
 ments. 
 
 " I can't think why you didn't grab him by the 
 arm," said Eleanor ; "I would have if I'd known 
 him longer, but I'd only just been introduced. It's 
 nearly four now, we'd better have tea." 
 
 Some days later Suzanne rang Eleanor up on 
 the telephone. 
 
 " Thank you very much for the photograph 
 frame. It was just what I wanted. Very good of 
 you. I say, do you know what that Kneyght person 
 has given me ? Just what you said he would — a 
 wretched fan. What ? Oh yes, quite a good 
 enough fan in its way, but still ..." 
 
 *' You must come and see what he's given me," 
 came in Eleanor's voice over the 'phone. 
 
 ** You ! Why should he give you anything ? " 
 
 " Your cousin appears to be one of those rare 
 
FUR 293 
 
 people of wealth who take a pleasure in giving good 
 presents," came the reply. 
 
 '* I wondered why he was so anxious to know 
 where she lived," snapped Suzanne to herself as 
 she rang off. 
 
 A cloud has arisen between the friendships of the 
 two young women ; as far as Eleanor is concerned, 
 the cloud has a silver-fox lining. 
 
294 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 THE PHILANTHROPIST AND 
 THE HAPPY CAT 
 
 JOCANTHA BESSBURY was in the mood to be 
 serenely and graciously happy. Her world 
 was a pleasant place, and it was wearing one 
 of its pleasantest aspects. Gregory had managed to 
 get home for a hurried lunch and a smoke afterwards 
 in the little snuggery ; the lunch had been a good 
 one, and there was just time to do justice to the 
 coffee and cigarettes. Both were excellent in their 
 way, and Gregory was, in his way, an excellent 
 husband. Jocantha rather suspected herself of 
 making him a very charming wife, and more than 
 suspected herself of having a first-rate dressmaker. 
 " I don't suppose a more thoroughly contented 
 personality is to be found in all Chelsea," observed 
 Jocantha in allusion to herself ; " except perhaps 
 Attab," she continued, glancing towards the large 
 tabby-marked cat that lay in considerable ease in a 
 corner of the divan. " He Hes there, purring and 
 dreaming, shifting his limbs now and then in an 
 
THE PHILANTHROPIST 295 
 
 ecstasy of cushioned comfort. He seems the incar- 
 nation of everything soft and silky and velvety, 
 without a sharp edge in his composition, a dreamer 
 whose philosophy is sleep and let sleep ; and then, as 
 evening draws on, he goes out into the garden with 
 a red glint in his eyes and slays a drowsy sparrow." 
 
 " As every pair of sparrows hatches out ten or 
 more young ones in the year, while their food supply 
 remains stationary, it is just as well that the Attabs 
 of the community should have that idea of how to 
 pass an amusing afternoon," said Gregory. Having 
 delivered himself of this sage comment he lit another 
 cigarette, bade Jocantha a playfully affectionate 
 good-bye, and departed into the outer world. 
 
 " Remember, dinner's a wee bit earlier to-night, 
 as we're going to the Haymarket," she called after 
 him. 
 
 Left to herself, Jocantha continued the process 
 of looking at her life with placid, introspective eyes. 
 If she had not everything she wanted in this world, 
 at least she was very well pleased with what she 
 had got. She was very well pleased, for instance, 
 with the snuggery, which contrived somehow to be 
 cosy and dainty and expensive all at once. The 
 porcelain was rare and beautiful, the Chinese enamels 
 took on wonderful tints in the firelight, the rugs 
 and hangings led the eye through sumptuous 
 
296 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 harmonies of colouring. It was a room in which 
 one might have suitably entertained an ambassador 
 or an archbishop, but it was also a room in which 
 one could cut out pictures for a scrap-book without 
 feeling that one was scandalising the deities of the 
 place with one's litter. And as with the snuggery, so 
 with the rest of the house, and as with the house, 
 so with the other departments of Jocantha's Hfe ; 
 she really had good reason for being one of the most 
 contented women in Chelsea. 
 
 From being in a mood of simmering satisfaction 
 with her lot she passed to the phase of being gener- 
 ously commiserating for those thousands around her 
 whose lives and circumstances were dull, cheap, 
 pleasureless, and empty. Work girls, shop assistants 
 and so forth, the class that have neither the happy- 
 go-lucky freedom of the poor nor the leisured freedom 
 of the rich, came specially within the range of her 
 sympathy. It was sad to think that there were 
 young people who, after a long day's work, had to 
 sit alone in chill, dreary bedrooms because they 
 could not afford the price of a cup of coffee and a 
 sandwich in a restaurant, still less a shilling for a 
 theatre gallery. 
 
 Jocantha's mind was still dwelling on this theme 
 when she started forth on an afternoon campaign 
 of desultory shopping ; it would be rather a comfort- 
 
THE PHILANTHROPIST 297 
 
 ing thing, she told herself, if she could do something, 
 on the spur of the moment, to bring a gleam of 
 pleasure and interest into the life of even one or two 
 wistful-hearted, empty-pocketed workers ; it would 
 add a good deal to her sense of enjoyment at the 
 theatre that night. She would get two upper circle 
 tickets for a popular play, make her way into some 
 cheap tea-shop, and present the tickets to the first 
 couple of interesting work girls with whom she could 
 casually drop into conversation. She could explain 
 matters by saying that she was unable to use the 
 tickets herself and did not want them to be wasted, 
 and, on the other hand, did not want the trouble 
 of sending them back. On further reflection she 
 decided that it might be better to get only one ticket 
 and give it to some lonely-looking girl sitting eating 
 her frugal meal by herself ; the girl might scrape 
 acquaintance with her next-seat neighbour at the 
 theatre and lay the foundations of a lasting friend- 
 ship. 
 
 With the Fairy Godmother impulse strong upon 
 her, Jocantha marched into a ticket agency and 
 selected with immense care an upper circle seat for 
 the " Yellow Peacock," a play that was attracting 
 a considerable amount of discussion and criticism. 
 Then she went forth in search of a tea-shop and 
 philanthropic adventure, at about the same time 
 
298 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 that Attab sauntered into the garden with a mind 
 attuned to sparrow stalking. In a corner of an 
 A.B.C. shop she found an unoccupied table, whereat 
 she promptly installed herself, impelled by the fact 
 that at the next table was sitting a young girl, 
 rather plain of feature, with tired, listless eyes, and 
 a general air of uncomplaining forlornness. Her 
 dress was of poor material, but aimed at being in the 
 fashion, her hair was pretty, and her complexion 
 bad ; she was finishing a modest meal of tea and 
 scone, and she was not very different in her way from 
 thousands of other girls who were finishing, or begin- 
 ning, or continuing their teas in London tea-shops 
 at that exact moment. The odds were enormously 
 in favour of the supposition that she had never seen 
 the " Yellow Peacock " ; obviously she supplied 
 excellent material for Jocantha's first experiment 
 in haphazard benefaction. 
 
 Jocantha ordered some tea and a muffin, and then 
 turned a friendly scrutiny on her neighbour with a 
 view to catching her eye. At that precise moment 
 the girl's face lit up with sudden pleasure, her eyes 
 sparkled, a flush came into her cheeks, and she 
 looked almost pretty. A young man, whom she 
 greeted with an affectionate " Hullo, Bertie," came 
 up to her table and took his seat in a chair facing her. 
 Jocantha looked hard at the new-comer ; he was in 
 
THE PHILANTHROPIST 299 
 
 appearance a few years younger than herself, very 
 much better looking than Gregory, rather better 
 looking, in fact, than any of the young men of her 
 set. She guessed him to be a well-mannered young 
 clerk in some wholesale warehouse, existing and 
 amusing himself as best he might on a tiny salary, 
 and commanding a holiday of about two weeks in the 
 year. He was aware, of course, of his good looks, 
 but with the shy self-consciousness of the Anglo- 
 Saxon, not the blatant complacency of the Latin 
 or Semite. He was obviously on terms of friendly 
 intimacy with the girl he was talking to, probably 
 they were drifting towards a formal engagement. 
 Jocantha pictured the boy's home, in a rather narrow 
 circle, with a tiresome mother who always wanted 
 to know how and where he spent his evenings. He 
 would exchange that humdrum thraldom in due 
 course for a home of his own, dominated by a chronic 
 scarcity of pounds, shillings, and pence, and a 
 dearth of most of the things that made life attractive 
 or comfortable. Jocantha felt extremely sorry for 
 him. She wondered if he had seen the " Yellow 
 Peacock " ; the odds were enormously in favour 
 of the supposition that he had not. The girl had 
 finished her tea and would shortly be going back 
 to her work ; when the boy was alone it would be 
 quite easy for Jocantha to say : "My husband 
 
300 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 has made other arrangements for me this evening ; 
 would you care to make use of this ticket, which 
 would otherwise be wasted ? " Then she could 
 come there again one afternoon for tea, and, if she 
 saw him, ask him how he liked the play. If he was 
 a nice boy and improved on acquaintance he could 
 be given more theatre tickets, and perhaps asked 
 to come one Sunday to tea at Chelsea. Jocantha 
 made up her mind that he would improve on ac- 
 quaintance, and that Gregory would Uke him, and 
 that the Fairy Godmother business would prove far 
 more entertaining than she had originally antici- 
 pated. The boy was distinctly presentable ; he 
 knew how to brush his hair, which was possibly 
 an imitative faculty; he knew what colour of tie 
 suited him, which might be intuition ; he was exactly 
 the type that Jocantha admired, which of course 
 was accident. Altogether she was rather pleased 
 when the girl looked at the clock and bade a friendly 
 but hurried farewell to her companion. Bertie 
 nodded " good-bye," gulped down a mouthful of 
 tea, and then produced from his overcoat pocket 
 a paper-covered book, bearing the title " Sepoy 
 and Sahib, a tale of the great Mutiny." 
 
 The laws of tea-shop etiquette forbid that you 
 should offer theatre tickets to a stranger without 
 having first caught the stranger's eye. It is even 
 
THE PHILANTHROPIST 301 
 
 better if you can ask to have a sugar basin passed 
 to you, having previously concealed the, fact that 
 you have a large and well-filled sugar basin on your 
 own table ; this is not difficult to manage, as the 
 printed menu is generally nearly as large as the 
 table, and can be made to stand on end. Jocantha 
 set to work hopefully ; she had a long and rather 
 high-pitched discussion with the waitress concerning 
 alleged defects in an altogether blameless muffin, 
 she made loud and plaintive inquiries about the 
 tube service to some impossibly remote suburb, she 
 talked with brilliant insincerity to the tea-shop 
 kitten, and as a last resort she upset a milk- jug 
 and swore at it daintily. Altogether she attracted 
 a good deal of attention, but never for a moment 
 did she attract the attention of the boy with the 
 beautifully-brushed hair, who was some thousands 
 of miles away in the baking plains of Hindo- 
 stan, amid deserted bungalows, seething bazaars, 
 and riotous barrack squares, listening to the 
 throbbing of tom-toms and the distant rattle of 
 musketry. 
 
 Jocantha went back to her house in Chelsea, 
 which struck her for the first time as looking dull 
 and over-furnished. She had a resentful conviction 
 that Gregory would be uninteresting at dinner, and 
 that the play would be stupid after dinner. On the 
 
302 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 whole her frame of mind showed a marked diverg- 
 ence from the purring complacency of Attab, who 
 was again curled up in his corner of the divan with 
 a great peace radiating from every curve of his body. 
 But then he had killed his sparrow. 
 
ON APPROVAL 303 
 
 ON APPROVAL 
 
 OF all the genuine Bohemians who strayed 
 from time to time into the would-be 
 Bohemian circle of the Restaurant Nurem- 
 berg, Owl Street, Soho, none was more interesting 
 and more elusive than Gebhard Knopfschrank. 
 He had no friends, and though he treated all the 
 restaurant frequenters as acquaintances he never 
 seemed to wish to carry the acquaintanceship beyond 
 the door that led into Owl Street and the outer world. 
 He dealt with them all rather as a market woman 
 might deal with chance passers-by, exhibiting her 
 wares and chattering about the weather and the 
 slackness of business, occasionally about rheumatism, 
 but never showing a desire to penetrate into their 
 daily lives or to dissect their ambitions. 
 
 He was understood to belong to a family of peasant 
 farmers, somewhere in Pomerania ; some two years 
 ago, according to all that was known of him, he had 
 abandoned the labours and responsibiUties of 
 swine tending and goose rearing to try his fortune 
 as an artist in London. 
 
304 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 " Why London and not Paris or Munich ? " he 
 had been asked by the curious. 
 
 Well, there was a ship that left Stolpmiinde for 
 London twice a month, that carried few passengers, 
 but carried them cheaply ; the railway fares to 
 Munich or Paris were not cheap. Thus it was that 
 he came to select London as the scene of his great 
 adventure. 
 
 The question that had long and seriously agitated 
 the frequenters of the Nuremberg was whether this 
 goose-boy migrant was really a soul-driven genius, 
 spreading his wings to the light, or merely an enter- 
 prising young man who fancied he could paint and 
 was pardonably anxious to escape from the mono- 
 tony of rye bread diet and the sandy, swine-bestrewn 
 plains of Pomerania. There was reasonable ground 
 for doubt and caution ; the artistic groups that 
 foregathered at the little restaurant contained so 
 many young women with short hair and so many 
 young men with long hair, who supposed themselves 
 to be abnormally gifted in the domain of music, 
 poetry, painting, or stagecraft, with little or nothing 
 to support the supposition, that a self-announced 
 genius of any sort in their midst was inevitably 
 suspect. On the other hand, there was the ever- 
 imminent danger of entertaining, and snubbing, 
 an angel unawares. There had been the lamentable 
 
ON APPROVAL 305 
 
 case of Sledonti, the dramatic poet, who had been 
 behttled and cold-shouldered in the Owl Street hall 
 of judgment, and had been afterwards hailed as a 
 master singer by the Grand Duke Constantine 
 Constantinovitch — " the most educated of the 
 Romanoffs," according to Sylvia Strubble, who 
 spoke rather as one who knew every individual 
 member of the Russian imperial family ; as a matter 
 of fact, she knew a newspaper correspondent, a 
 young man who ate bortsch with the air of having 
 invented it. Sledonti's " Poems of Death and 
 Passion " were now being sold by the thousand in 
 seven European languages, and were about to be 
 translated into Syrian, a circumstance which made 
 the discerning critics of the Nuremberg rather shy 
 of maturing their future judgments too rapidly 
 and too irrevocably. 
 
 As regards Knopf schrank's work, they did not 
 lack opportunity for inspecting and appraising it. 
 However resolutely he might hold himself aloof 
 from the social Ufe of his restaurant acquaintances, 
 he was not minded to hide his artistic performances 
 from their inquiring gaze. Every evening, or nearly 
 every evening, at about seven o'clock, he would make 
 his appearance, sit himself down at his accustomed 
 table, throw a bulky black portfolio on to the chair 
 opposite him, nod round indiscriminately at his 
 
3o6 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 fellow-guests, and commence the serious business 
 of eating and drinking. When the coffee stage was 
 reached he would light a cigarette, draw the port- 
 folio over to him, and begin to rummage among its 
 contents. With slow deliberation he would select 
 a few of his more recent studies and sketches, and 
 silently pass them round from table to table, paying 
 especial attention to any new diners who might be 
 present. On the back of each sketch was marked 
 in plain figures the announcement " Price ten 
 shillings." 
 
 If his work was not obviously stamped with the 
 hall-mark of genius, at any rate it was remarkable 
 for its choice of an unusual and unvarying theme. 
 His pictures always represented some well-known 
 street or public place in London, fallen into decay 
 and denuded of its human population, in the place 
 of which there roamed a wild fauna, which, from its 
 wealth of exotic species, must have originally escaped 
 from Zoological Gardens and traveUing beast shows. 
 " Giraffes drinking at the fountain pools, Trafalgar 
 Square," was one of the most notable and character- 
 istic of his studies, while even more sensational was 
 the gruesome picture of " Vultures attacking dying 
 camel in Upper Berkeley Street." There were also 
 photographs of the large canvas on which he had 
 been engaged for some months, and which he was 
 
ON APPROVAL 307 
 
 now endeavouring to sell to some enterprising dealer 
 or adventurous amateur. The subject was " Hyaenas 
 asleep in Euston Station," a composition that left 
 nothing to be desired in the way of suggesting un- 
 fathomed depths of desolation. 
 
 " Of course it may be immensely clever, it may 
 be something epoch-making in the realm of art," 
 said Sylvia Strubble to her own particular circle 
 of listeners, " but, on the other hand, it may be 
 merely mad. One mustn't pay too much attention 
 to the commercial aspect of the case, of course, but 
 still, if some dealer would make a bid for that hyaena 
 picture, or even for some of the sketches, we should 
 know better how to place the man and his 
 work." 
 
 " We may all be cursing ourselves one of these 
 days," said Mrs. Nougat- Jones, " for not having 
 bought up his entire portfolio of sketches. At the 
 same time, when there is so much real talent going 
 about, one does not feel like planking down ten 
 shiUings for what looks like a bit of whimsical oddity. 
 Now that picture that he showed us last week, 
 * Sand-grouse roosting on the Albert Memorial,' 
 was very impressive, and of course I could see there 
 was good workmanship in it and breadth of treat- 
 ment ; but it didn't in the least convey the Albert 
 Memorial to me, and Sir James Beanquest tells me 
 
3o8 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 that sand-grouse don't roost, they sleep on the 
 ground." 
 
 Whatever talent or genius the Pomeranian artist 
 might possess, it certainly failed to receive com- 
 mercial sanction. The portfolio remained bulky 
 with imsold sketches, and the " Euston Siesta," as 
 the wits of the Nuremberg nicknamed the large 
 canvas, was still in the market. The outward 
 and visible signs of financial embarrassment began 
 to be noticeable ; the half-bottle of cheap claret 
 at dinner-time gave way to a small glass of lager, 
 and this in turn was displaced by water. The one- 
 and-sixpenny set dinner receded from an everyday 
 event to a Sunday extravagance ; on ordinary 
 days the artist contented himself with a sevenpenny 
 omelette and some bread and cheese, and there 
 were evenings when he did not put in an appear- 
 ance at all. On the rare occasions when he spoke 
 of his own affairs it was observed that he began to 
 talk more about Pomerania and less about the 
 great world of art. 
 
 "It is a busy time there now with us," he said 
 wistfully ; " the schwines are driven out into 
 the fields after harvest, and must be looked 
 after. I could be helping to look after if I was 
 there. Here it is difficult to live ; art is not 
 appreciate." 
 
ON APPROVAL 309 
 
 " Why don't you go home on a visit ? " some one 
 asked tactfully. 
 
 " Ah, it cost money ! There is the ship passage to 
 Stolpmiinde, and there is money that I owe at my 
 lodgings. Even here I owe a few schillings. If I 
 could sell some of my sketches " 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Nougat- Jones, " if 
 you were to offer them for a little less, some of us 
 would be glad to buy a few. Ten shillings is always 
 a consideration, you know, to people who are not 
 over well off. Perhaps if you were to ask six or 
 seven shillings " 
 
 Once a peasant, always a peasant. The mere 
 suggestion of a bargain to be struck brought a twinkle 
 of awakened alertness into the artist's eyes, and 
 hardened the lines of his mouth. 
 
 " Nine schilling nine pence each," he snapped, 
 and seemed disappointed that Mrs. Nougat- Jones 
 did not pursue the subject further. He had evi- 
 dently expected her to offer seven and fourpence. 
 
 The weeks sped by, and Knopfschrank came more 
 rarely to the restaurant in Owl Street, while his 
 meals on those occasions became more and more 
 meagre. And then came a triumphal day, when 
 he appeared early in the evening in a high state 
 of elation, and ordered an elaborate meal that 
 scarcely stopped short of being a banquet. The 
 
310 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 ordinary resources of the kitchen were supplemented 
 by an imported dish of smoked goosebreast, a 
 Pomeranian deUcacy that was luckily procurable at 
 a firm of delikatessen merchants in Coventry Street, 
 while a long-necked bottle of Rhine wine gave a 
 finishing touch of festivity and good cheer to the 
 crowded table. 
 
 " He has evidently sold his masterpiece," whis- 
 pered Sylvia Strubble to Mrs. Nougat-Jones, who 
 had come in late. 
 
 " Who has bought it ? " she whispered back. 
 
 " Don't know ; he hasn't said anything yet, but 
 it must be some American. Do you see, he has 
 got a little American flag on the dessert dish, and 
 he has put pennies in the music box three times, once 
 to play the ' Star-spangled Banner,' then a Sousa 
 march, and then the * Star-spangled Banner ' again. 
 It must be an American millionaire, and he's evi- 
 dently got a very big price for it ; he's just beaming 
 and chuckling with satisfaction." 
 
 " We must ask him who has bought it," said Mrs. 
 Nougat-Jones. 
 
 *' Hush ! no, don't. Let's buy some of his 
 sketches, quick, before we are supposed to know that 
 he's famous ; otherwise he'll be doubling the prices. 
 I am so glad he's had a success at last. I always 
 believed in him, you know." 
 
ON APPROVAL 311 
 
 For the sum of ten shillings each Miss Stnibble 
 acquired the drawings of the camel dying in Upper 
 Berkeley Street and of the giraffes quenching their 
 thirst in Trafalgar Square ; at the same price Mrs. 
 Nougat-Jones secured the study of roosting sand- 
 grouse. A more ambitious picture, '* Wolves and 
 wapiti fighting on the steps of the Athenaeum Club," 
 found a purchaser at fifteen shillings. 
 
 " And now what are your plans ? '* asked a young 
 man who contributed occasional paragraphs to an 
 artistic weekly. 
 
 *' I go back to Stolpmiinde as soon as the ship 
 sails," said the artist, " and I do not return. Never." 
 " But your work ? Your career as painter ? " 
 " Ah, there is nossing in it. One starves. Till 
 to-day I have sold not one of my sketches. To-night 
 you have bought a few, because I am going away 
 from you, but at other times, not one." 
 
 " But has not some American ? " 
 
 " Ah, the rich American," chuckled the artist. 
 " God be thanked. He dash his car right into our 
 herd of schwines as they were being driven out to 
 the fields. Many of our best schwines he killed, 
 but he paid all damages. He paid perhaps more than 
 they were worth, many times more than they would 
 have fetched in the market after a month of fatten- 
 ing, but he was in a hurry to get on to Dantzig. 
 
312 BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS 
 
 When one is in a hurry one must pay what one is 
 asked. God be thanked for rich Americans, who are 
 always in a hurry to get somewhere else. My 
 father and mother, they have now so plenty of 
 money ; they send me some to pay my debts and 
 come home. I start on Monday for Stolpmiinde 
 and I do not come back. Never." 
 
 " But your picture, the hyaenas ? " 
 
 " No good. It is too big to carry to Stolpmiinde. 
 I bum it." 
 
 In time he will be forgotten, but at present Knopf- 
 schrank is almost as sore a subject as Sledonti 
 with some of the frequenters of the Nuremberg 
 Restaurant, Owl Street, Soho. 
 
BOOKS BY H. H. MUNRO ("Saki") 
 
 WHEN WILLIAM CAME 
 
 A Story of London under the Hohenzollerns, 
 
 Grown 8vo, 6s. 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 Times. — " A bitter and remarkably clever satire. . . . 
 It is a remarkable tour de force, worked out with great 
 cleverness." 
 
 Morning Post. — " Mr. Munro's first novel with a purpose 
 is above all things notable because it succeeds in its purpose. 
 In his newest guise he still wears his cap and bells, and 
 carries them as well as ever. But the jester's bauble has 
 become a whip, and every stroke tells." 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "A novel that is likely to take its 
 place as the very first of its kind, far above tales of mere 
 military sensationalism. A remarkably clever book for its 
 unsensational presentation of a sensational theme." 
 
 Manchester Guardian. — " Handled with all the force of a 
 keen intelligence, a wit polished to dazzling, and acute 
 understanding of the diplomatic world. The Author's 
 capacity to write is such that on almost every page there 
 are sentences one longs to remember." 
 
 Scotsman. — " It is rather like a bad dream." 
 
 Spectator. — " Our only doubt is whether the scathing satire 
 which Mr. Munro directs against our self-protective 
 sybarites may not be neutralized by the fact that, while 
 they are represented in a contemptible light, they are also 
 extremely amusing. . . . We might easily fill a page 
 of the Spectator with the good sayings and epigrams which 
 enliven the pages of ' When William Came,' but we have 
 purposely refrained from discounting the intellectual ex- 
 hilaration to be derived from the study of this brilliant if 
 disquieting romance. ' ' 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 TORONTO: BELL AND COCKBURN 
 
BOOKS BY H. H. MUNRO (" Saki ") 
 
 WHEN WILLIAM CAME 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS {Continued) 
 
 Sketch. — " Every man and every woman in the country 
 should read this vivid writing on the wall. Bright with 
 unconquerable humour though it be, few will escape a sick 
 feeling about that region where loss and grief and shame do 
 most impress themselves." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — " Mr. Munro is a master of social 
 satire, but he goes further than that in • When William 
 Came." He wields a biting lash, and it draws blood — 
 every stroke." 
 
 Punch. — " Mr. Munro is to be heartily congratulated." 
 
 Cork Constitution. — " Almost incredibly clever 
 
 Will probably be the most notable book of the year in the 
 department of fiction." 
 
 Daily Graphic — " Mr. Munro has so often been called 
 brilliant that we hesitate to use the adjective again, though 
 we might do so, and we will therefore only say that for wit, 
 and for ideas, and for hitting power, ' When William Came ' 
 is a thing by itself. ' ' 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — "His satire is rapier-like in its vivid, 
 biting intensity." 
 
 Daily Express. — " ' Saki ' writes with an irony that is more 
 effective, more stinging, than any bluster or melodrama." 
 
 Glasgow Herald.—" We congratulate • Saki ' on a brilliant 
 study." 
 
 Daily News. — "A thoroughly illegitimate work of art, 
 competent and unscrupulous in its competence." 
 
 Academy. — •' Grim and relentless irony." 
 
 Evening News. — " A gruesome tale, because of the sunny 
 atmosphere that envelops it, with flashes of the most 
 poignant and insulting pain, and pain deserved too, thrust at 
 us here and there. But abounding in wit, bristling with it." 
 
 Sunday Chronicle. — " He has brought something more 
 than artistry to his task. He has really fought the thing 
 out from every possible point of view — historical, social, 
 economic, political, geographical ; above all, psychological." 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 TORONTO: BELL AND COCKBURN 
 
BOOKS BY H. H. MUNRO ("Saki") 
 
 THE 
 UNBEARABLE BASSINGTON 
 
 Crown 8vo, 6s. 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 Observer. — •• One of the wittiest books, not only of the 
 year, but of this decade. . . . It is not even only witty : 
 it has a deepening humanity towards the end that comes to 
 a climax of really disturbing pathos." 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — •• 'The Unbearable Bassington' is simply 
 delightful." 
 
 Academy. — "The book is clever right through. . . . 
 Comus, the wayward son of Francesca Bassington, is one of 
 the most delightful and original characters in recent fiction." 
 
 Dundee Advertiser. — " A pain and a pleasure to read. . . . 
 One of the cleverest things in current fiction." 
 
 Times, — " Not only alive but sparkling with really enjoy- 
 able wit." 
 
 Spectator. — " Almost bearable." 
 
 Truth. — " A brilliantly ironic book." 
 
 Punch. — "The most brilliant exhibition of conversational 
 fireworks since • The Importance of Being Earnest.' " 
 
 Evening Standard. — " ' The Unbearable Bassington ' would 
 be unbearably witty if it were not also so human and so 
 charming. . . . The story, a study of a young scape- 
 grace, something of a ' waster,' something of a • rotter,' but 
 a good deal of a wistful, lovable, perverse young human 
 soul, is extraordinarily pathetic." 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK : JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 TORONTO : BELL AND COCKBURN 
 
BOOKS BY H. H. MUNRO ("Saki")- 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF 
 CLOVIS 
 
 Crown 8vo, 6s. 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS. 
 
 English Review. — "A collection of short stories printed 
 from various newspapers and magazines. Every one was 
 worth reprinting and some, notably ' The Great Weep ' and 
 • Sredni Vashtar,' are very good indeed. Mr. Munro con- 
 ceals pills of cleverness in a sugar-coating of wit — real wit — : 
 and the result is a chuckle-provoking book, except on the 
 occasions when its author was touched to grim realism and 
 wrote his mood." 
 
 Morning Post. — "They offer unrivalled entertainment for 
 the classes. In ' Sredni Vashtar ' we have a short story 
 marked by great restraint, by economy of words, and by a 
 gruesome power of suggestion almost unequalled." 
 
 Westminster Gazette. — " These sketches, which at a first 
 reading are so delightful, stand the test of republication 
 extraordinarily well. Always a student of psychic as well 
 as of psychological phenomena, Mr. Munro has, as this book 
 shows, of late occupied himself more and more with mani- 
 festations of the mental relationships of men and animals." 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "Every story has its point, sharp and 
 polished, and the art of the telling is as much to be enjoyed 
 as the interest of the thing told. ' The Chronicles of Clovls ' 
 is that rare bird among British books — a collection of short 
 stories in which the elusive art of the conte is thoroughly 
 understood and mastered." 
 
 Saturday Review. — "Mr. Jacobs, in his 'Monkey's Paw' 
 vein, never yet wrote so gruesome a tale — nor one near so 
 good — as ' Sredni Vashtar' ; while ' Tobermory,' the story 
 of the cat that talked, is worthy of F. Anstey at his best." 
 
 Spectator. — "Mr. Munro has an extraordinarily freakish 
 fancy, a witty pen, and great skill in depicting certain types 
 of fashionable pleasure-hunters of the day. He is a first- 
 rate phrasemaker in the extravagant vein," 
 
 LONDON : JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 TORONTO: BELL AND COCKBURN 
 
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