V

8 0 00

V

Long, and Full of Salvage Work

I

“Well, well!” cried the voice, though softly. “Well, well!”

“Is it the same?” asked the nurse.

“The very same,” the voice replied. It had lost some of the deep rough burr it had had years ago, this voice, but there was no mistaking it. “No,” it went on now, “I’ll not do that. Let her have her sleep out.”

Miss Trant, however, had already had her sleep out. She was awake now, although her eyes were still closed and she had not stirred. The sound of that first quiet but startled “Well!” had drawn her from some deep dreamless place into an upper region of flickering shadows, dreams, and voices. Where was she? The hotel? The hospital? No. The Mirland Nursing Home. And it was Tuesday afternoon. She was back now in full consciousness, though all it offered her at the moment was a quivering brownish space and these two voices. And one of them was his, hardly changed at all.

She opened her eyes, which discovered a world very bright, solid, looking as if it had just been made. He was standing by the door. She was not surprised to see him. She had not been surprised to hear his voice. It was as if she had spent years and years being surprised not to see him and hear his voice, and that that state of things had now quietly stopped.

“Hello!” she cried, feebly.

He came forward, smiling. He looked older, of course, but not strangely so. On the contrary, he looked more himself, as if this were the age he had been aiming at when she had known him, years ago. “Miss Elizabeth Trant,” he said, with deliberation. Nobody else would have said it like that.

“Doctor Hugh McFarlane,” she replied, giving him her hand.

The nurse nodded brightly at the pair of them and departed.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, sitting down beside her. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You recognized me then?”

“I did,” and left it at that. He was just the same. He was capable of leaving the most gigantic gaps in conversation, never dreamt of filling them in with the nearest rubbish.

‚ÄúHow did you know I was here? Did you‚ÅÝ‚Äîread about us in the paper?‚Äù For the local paper had been very excited about last Saturday‚Äôs doings at the Hippodrome.

“No, I never saw a word about it in the paper,” he replied. “That would be the paper here though, wouldn’t it? I only see The Times and Glasgow Herald, and there wasn’t anything in them about it.”

“I should hope not.”

“But I did hear something about it,” he continued, thrashing the thing out in the same old way. “Then I had to come here to see a patient of mine and saw your name, so I came to see if it was the Miss Elizabeth Trant I knew.”

She could not resist it. “I thought you would have forgotten all about me by this time,” she murmured.

He shook his head gravely. “Not at all. I hadn’t forgotten you. I recognized you as soon as I came in. You haven’t changed much, even with your little accident too. Subnormal now, aren’t you? Yes, you would be.”

‚ÄúI thought I saw you‚ÅÝ‚Äîin a car‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe other day,‚Äù she told him. ‚ÄúOne day last week it was, about ten miles out of Gatford. I came to the conclusion that it couldn‚Äôt be you, but now I think it must have been.‚Äù

“Now exactly when was that? Last week, you say. What time of day would it be?” He brought out, quite solemnly, a little pocketbook.

‚ÄúAfternoon, sometime,‚Äù she replied vaguely. ‚ÄúIt was‚ÅÝ‚Äîlet me see‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou were on the main road going out of Gatford‚ÅÝ‚Äîit seems ages ago now. Oh, it doesn‚Äôt matter, does it?‚Äù

“It must have been last Tuesday, I think,” he said, frowning hard at his little book. “Today week. I’d called here. Was I driving a red two-seater? I was? Then it was me you saw. Isn’t that curious? I wish I’d known you were here.”

Miss Trant hesitated for a moment, evaded his level glance, then said hastily: ‚ÄúAs a matter of fact, we‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI‚ÅÝ‚Äîtried to find out if you were here, just to make sure. But your name wasn‚Äôt in the telephone book. And doctors are always in the telephone book, aren‚Äôt they?‚Äù

‚ÄúNot if they‚Äôve just arrived,‚Äù he said, smiling at her. ‚ÄúThere hasn‚Äôt been time to put me in the telephone directory yet. I‚Äôve just entered into partnership with Doctor Heard‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe‚Äôs a man of some age and is giving up the practice soon‚ÅÝ‚Äîout there at Waterfield on the main road. I shouldn‚Äôt have come here but I‚Äôve been doing some work on the parathyroid glands, and that meant being near Masters in London or Hudson here in Gatford. So I came here to work with Hudson. You‚Äôll have heard of him?‚Äù

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” she said, smiling back at him. “It’s terrible, but you people do the most wonderful things and we never hear anything about you.”

He stroked his long bony face. “I suppose that is so, though I can’t complain myself because I haven’t done anything wonderful yet. But how did you come to be here? I never knew you had any inclinations towards the stage.”

She laughed. “I hadn’t and I haven’t. It’s all rather ridiculous, though I must say it doesn’t seem very funny just now.” And she told him, briefly, what had happened since her father died. Sometimes he stared at her in blank amazement, and sometimes he gave a little low chuckle. It made her feel as if she were describing a visit to the moon.

“And now,” she concluded, “don’t ask me what I’m going to do, because I don’t know.”

“I do. You’re going to stay here until that arm’s mended and you’ve had a nice rest and your nerves are quiet again.” He still called them “nairrves.” He still brought out those huge vowels and smashing consonants, and when he turned his face towards the light there was still that glint of hair about his cheekbones. “And if there’s anything that must be done, let me do it for you.”

“Oh, I can’t worry you with my silly affairs. I’m sure you’ve plenty to do, too much, as it is.”

‚ÄúNot at all. I don‚Äôt say I haven‚Äôt plenty to do‚ÅÝ‚Äîwe‚Äôre always busy you know‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut still an old bachelor like me has time for anything.‚Äù

“You haven’t married then?”

“No.” He stopped, and fingered his chin. “Up to now, I seem to have been too busy. It’s a thing that takes time, I suppose, getting married.”

“Well, you mustn’t call yourself an old bachelor, not to me. You see, I happen to remember you’re only two years older than I am, and I don’t want to be told I’m old too.”

“Two years older! That’s it exactly. Now who’d have thought you would have remembered that!” he cried, lighting up and altogether more animated now. “You’ve as good a memory as I have.”

“I remember some things very well.”

‚ÄúOch, so do I.‚Äù He was charging in quite recklessly now, without thinking where he might be going. ‚ÄúI‚Äôve never heard a mention of that old rock of Gibraltar without thinking of you‚ÅÝ‚Äîand the Colonel,‚Äù he added, hastily.

“Which of us reminds you of Gibraltar?” she inquired, laughing at him. “Not me, I hope. It must have been my father. I think you were always rather frightened of him.”

“Of the Colonel! Not the least bit. It was you I was frightened of, if you must know.”

“Me!” This was too absurd. A memory of that large, masterful, dogmatic young Scot, setting her right about everything, suddenly invaded her mind. “I’m sure that’s not true. I never knew anybody who bullied me quite so much.”

“Ay, I was raw then, a raw lad.”

Tea came in at that moment. “I’ve brought a cup for Doctor McFarlane,” the girl remarked, setting down her tray by the side of the bed.

“Thank you,” said Miss Trant. “You will stay, won’t you? You’ll have to pour it out for both of us, I’m afraid. I can’t manage it with this arm all tied up.”

If she imagined he would be very awkward and clumsy with the teapot, she was wrong. He did it all very deftly indeed, and she noticed now‚ÅÝ‚Äîand this was a new discovery‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat his long bony hands were very finely controlled, sensitive. And then‚ÅÝ‚Äîit came in a flash while she was finishing her first piece of bread-and-butter‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe suddenly felt how incredible it was that he should be actually there, the whole enormous lump of him, so tremendously like himself, quietly sharing her tea. And yet one part of her, so small and remote that it could not be said to have a voice, refused to see anything incredible in all this, would not even be faintly surprised, but settled itself down, as if this were the natural order of things. They talked easily now, chiefly about the present, Gatford and the Good Companions, and so forth. The afternoon, itself a pale flower of the early spring, filled the room with washed and delicate light, called out anew the scent of the daffodil and narcissus, and was ecstatically busy with rumours of a fragrant and budding world outside.

‚ÄúAnd will you be going on with this‚ÅÝ‚Äîer‚ÅÝ‚Äîstage business?‚Äù he asked her. When he saw her smile a little ruefully and shake her head, his face cleared. ‚ÄúThere‚Äôs nothing wrong with it, of course,‚Äù he continued, ‚Äúbut it seems a daft sort of thing for somebody like yourself to be doing.‚Äù

‚ÄúThe moment they can get on without me, I shall give it up,‚Äù she confessed. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs been‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, fun, if you like. Anyhow, I wouldn‚Äôt have missed it for anything. But for some time now I‚Äôve been thinking I ought to give it up. You see, to begin with, it‚Äôs impossible for me to take it seriously‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúI should think not,‚Äù cried Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane heartily, with the air of a man to whom a troupe of pierrots are no more than so many buzzing flies.

“But that’s not fair to them, you see. It’s their world, their life. I don’t want to let them down now. It looked as if everything was going to be splendid. We were making money, and I was getting back all I’d lost. The clever young ones all thought they might get engagements in town, because some big revue man came down on Saturday to see them.”

“Was the row too much for him?”

‚ÄúOh no, worse than that. It‚Äôs a miserable business for them, poor dears‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut it‚Äôs rather funny. I can‚Äôt help laughing. It seems he came and got mixed up somehow in a dreadful scrimmage in the audience, and Joe, who didn‚Äôt know who he was and probably didn‚Äôt care, having thoroughly lost his temper, hit this man terribly hard, so hard that he had to be carried out.‚Äù

“Well, well! A knockout, eh? I wouldn’t have thought an actor-laddie could have done that.”

‚ÄúYes, but then Joe was once a heavyweight boxer‚ÅÝ‚Äîin the Navy.‚Äù

‚ÄúAh!‚Äù said Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane, who apparently knew something about heavyweight boxers in the Navy. ‚ÄúHe might well do that then.‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd now they‚Äôre all heartbroken, though they pretend not to be when they come here to see me. The young ones feel they have lost their chance, and one of them, Jerningham, seems to have disappeared. Nobody has seen him since Saturday night. One of the older ones‚ÅÝ‚ÄîMr.¬ÝNunn, the comedian‚ÅÝ‚Äîhas his head bandaged up and won‚Äôt be fit to act for a week or two. And the others don‚Äôt know what is going to happen to them. We had taken the Hippodrome for another week, but of course we couldn‚Äôt play in it even if it were fit to use.‚Äù

“It certainly isn’t that, from what I hear,” he said grimly.

“That’s the awful thing,” she told him. “I’m responsible for all that damage.”

He stared at her in horror and dismay. “You mean they’ll come on to you to pay for all that?”

‚ÄúI believe so. The Hippodrome people are going to claim it all from me. It‚Äôs a wicked shame because it wasn‚Äôt our fault at all, and we‚Äôve already suffered for it. And just as I thought I should get back most of the money I‚Äôd lost, this comes along. Oh, it‚Äôs a miserable business. And the others are absolutely heartbroken about it. They feel it‚Äôs their fault, though it isn‚Äôt at all, of course. It‚Äôs mine, if it‚Äôs anybody‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Don’t pay a penny piece,” he cried, rising from his chair. Because a man has been working hard on parathyroid glands, and in addition has contrived to remember a girl he once knew on a voyage years ago, that does not mean that he cannot be appalled at the thought of good money being paid out like that. It was a prospect to make hundreds of McFarlanes turn in their graves. It now made this McFarlane stride up and down the room. “You’ve heard nothing definite yet?” he asked, finally.

“No, not yet,” she replied, smiling rather wanly. She suddenly felt tired now.

He stopped, looked at her, then quietly sat down again. “You’re tired now, Elizabeth?” he said, not taking his eyes off her face.

It coloured faintly. “I believe I am.”

“Should I have said ‘Miss Trant’?”

“No, of course not,” returning his steady look with wide candid grey eyes.

“Too much talking. It’s my fault.”

‚ÄúThen I shall have to report you to Doctor Mason, Hugh. But don‚Äôt go for a minute. Let me talk a little longer and then I shall feel better. What do you think I ought to do? I had thought of asking my brother-in-law‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe‚Äôs a solicitor in town‚ÅÝ‚Äîto come up and try and straighten it all out for me, but he and Hilda, my sister, are in the South of France. And even if they weren‚Äôt, somehow I don‚Äôt want the family here, crowing over me. Then I thought of asking Mr.¬ÝTruby, he‚Äôs my own solicitor at Cheltenham, to see what he could do, but he‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, I don‚Äôt feel he‚Äôd be much good. He probably thinks I‚Äôm mad.‚Äù

‚ÄúIf it‚Äôs a matter of taking to the law, I don‚Äôt mean in court, but just being represented, then a local man is what you want, a man who knows what goes on in this town. I know a solicitor here‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe‚Äôs a patient of mine‚ÅÝ‚Äîof the name of Gooch, a fat fellow but sharp as a needle. I‚Äôll go and talk to him about it, and do what I can myself at the same time. And all you‚Äôve got to do is to lie here quietly, not seeing your actor friends too often, just making your mind easy, reading a book or two‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù He broke off, and regarded her quizzically. ‚ÄúDo you still devote yourself to those romances and historical novels you used to like so well?‚Äù

‚ÄúYes. I don‚Äôt read quite so many as I used to do‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere aren‚Äôt enough good ones to go on with‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut I haven‚Äôt tired yet.‚Äù

“Do you remember my telling you I thought them awful trash? I was raw then, if ever a lad was. I’ve been ploughing my way through Walter Scott whiles, and there’s a great deal of human nature in those Waverley Novels of his. He’d have made a fine general practitioner, Sir Walter would.”

“There! You’re coming on, Hugh.”

He gave a short confused laugh. “No, I’m going on. I’ll be looking in tomorrow if I can at all. If not, the next day for certain. That is, if you would like to see me.”

‚ÄúOf course I should like to see you. I didn‚Äôt think, though, you‚Äôd be able to get here again as early as that. Is‚ÅÝ‚Äîer‚ÅÝ‚Äîyour patient here worse?‚Äù

“Ay,” he replied, with only the ghost of a twinkle to show that a joke was in progress, “poor fellow, he seems to have taken a turn for the worse since this afternoon. So he’ll need an early return visit.” He rose and took her hand. “It’s been a strange meeting this. I didn’t think you’d have remembered.”

“It was clever of you to recognize me at once, like that, when I was asleep too.”

Having brought off one joke, there was no holding him now. “I won’t say I remembered your face, Miss Elizabeth Trant,” he said solemnly, “but from the way you were lying, the sterno-mastoid muscle was prominent, and I thought I remembered the look of that.”

‚ÄúWhat! Where? You don‚Äôt‚ÅÝ‚ÄîOh, I see. You are absurd. Very well, Doctorrr H‚Äëew McFarrrlane, it was your terrible accent‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô only that‚ÅÝ‚Äîah remembered. Goodbye, Hugh. And if you can do anything to prevent me from having to throw all my money away here in Gatford, I shall be awfully grateful.‚Äù

Looking very grave again, at the thought of money being thrown away, he stood before her and declared with emphasis that he would do something about it. He was wearing a good suit‚ÅÝ‚Äîand was a far smarter figure than the bony young man she had known before‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut it wanted brushing in places and there were one or two deplorable little stains and burns here and there. And his tie, of course, was monstrous. But greying hair suited him; he was almost handsome now.

“Fancy Doctor McFarlane being such an old friend!” cried the nurse afterwards. She was removing things very deftly, but as she spoke she kept an eye on her patient’s face. Her duties compelled her to see life chiefly in terms of that rickety machine, the body, so it is not surprising that her hobby should have been human interest. Her next “Fancy!,” which was not long in coming, had quite a note of triumph in it. Evidently things were looking up in the Mirland Nursing Home.

II

“You’ve not had a reply?” cried Susie.

“I have,” Inigo replied, coming into the room. It was some time after eleven on the Wednesday morning. Susie had been dusting her sitting-room, which was also her landlady’s parlour, in a fashion that fluctuated between the dreary and the dreamy. Ever since Saturday night, she had felt lost.

“It’s not from Monte Mortimer himself,” Inigo went on, speaking rather carefully, as if he thought he was a solicitor or someone of that kind. “It’s from his secretary.”

“That’s all the same. Hurry up, idiot, and tell me what he says. You’re so slow, Inigo.” Then she plomped down into a chair. “It’s a washout, isn’t it? I can see it is. Go on, though.”

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a letter and from the secretary,‚Äù said Inigo, sitting down and taking out the sheet of paper. ‚ÄúThis is what it says: ‚ÄòDear Sir, I have communicated your yesterday‚Äôs wire to Mr.¬ÝMortimer, who is away from the office at present, and he requests me, in reply, to tell you to go to the devil. He also requests me to add that any further communication from you or any other member of your troupe will be regarded as coming from there and will not receive any reply whatever. Yours truly, J. Hamilton Levy, Secretary.‚Äô And that,‚Äù Inigo added, with a poor attempt at nonchalance, ‚Äúis that.‚Äù

‚ÄúLet me have a look at it,‚Äù Susie commanded, and then read it through herself. Having done that, she crumpled it fiercely and hurled it into the fire. ‚ÄúAnd to think I‚Äôve been sorry for that‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat object‚ÅÝ‚Äîfor the last three days! Mean beast! I hope Joe‚Äôs punch knocked him silly. I don‚Äôt care, I do.‚Äù

“Well, it did, my dear,” said Inigo, “hence this colossal snub, absolutely. Looks to me as if he’s still off duty.”

“I wouldn’t have minded so much if he hadn’t been so smart-alecky about it. There’s no need for him to try to be funny. His next revue’ll need all the gags he can ever think of. Anyhow, he must be a rotten manager or he’d never let a thing like that stop him from getting in some good new talent. If I was running a show, I wouldn’t care if I got fifty biffs, I’d engage people who could do something.”

“I’m awfully sorry, Susie,” he began.

‚ÄúDon‚Äôt be silly. It‚Äôs not your fault. It isn‚Äôt anybody‚Äôs fault, really, and it certainly isn‚Äôt yours. It‚Äôs a washout, that‚Äôs all, and the best thing I can do is to remember it‚Äôs twice daily on the pier, or if fine at the pierhead and if wet in the shelter, that‚Äôs my programme‚ÅÝ‚Äîif I‚Äôm lucky, because it‚Äôs boiling down to that now, when you come to think of it. Hell! Give me a cigarette. No, don‚Äôt, thanks. I don‚Äôt want one.‚Äù

‚ÄúYou ought to smoke a pipe,‚Äù he said, lighting his. ‚ÄúBy the way, I saw Jimmy this morning‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Is he better?”

“Practically. Head still hums a bit, and says he’s dizzy when he tries to walk about. He won’t be fit for work for a week or two. But what I wanted to say was, Mamie Potter’s gone.”

“Thank God! She wasn’t much good anyhow, and she’s brought us nothing but rotten luck. Thinks we’re not good enough for her now, I suppose?”

“Something like that. Anyhow, she’s gone. And nobody seems to know anything about Master Jerningham.”

‚ÄúOh, he‚Äôs pushed off too, I expect,‚Äù said Susie, who was clearly anxious to relieve her feelings. ‚ÄúHe would! He‚Äôll look after himself all right‚ÅÝ‚ÄîAi give you mai ward.‚Äù

“I dunno. He may turn up again, babbling about his trousers as he did last time. Where was that? Tewborough, wasn’t it? Gosh! the holes we’ve been in, Susie!”

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs nothing to the hole we‚Äôre in now, laddie,‚Äù she said darkly. ‚ÄúWe‚Äôre in a mess, busted absolutely‚ÅÝ‚Äîas our sweet young pianist says. There‚Äôs poor Miss Trant in a nursing home, and though she‚Äôs sweet about it, she must be fed up to the teeth with the lot of us. They say she‚Äôll have to pay for all the damage too. Well, she‚Äôs had enough of it, you can bet. No more Good Companions for her. That means we shan‚Äôt have a cent to go on with. If she offered us any money, I wouldn‚Äôt take it. Not after all she‚Äôs done and had to pay out.‚Äù

“Well, I’ve got a spot, you know,” he remarked.

‚ÄúKeep your spot, my child. I‚Äôm coming to your part in it soon. Then Potter‚Äôs gone. That doesn‚Äôt matter, but still it means we‚Äôll have to get another soubrette. Jerry‚Äôs gone too, and that‚Äôs really awkward. You wouldn‚Äôt get another light comedian as good‚ÅÝ‚Äînot for C.P. work‚ÅÝ‚Äîif you advertised till all was blue. Then Jimmy‚Äôs not fit for work yet. We‚Äôd have to put in old Jess as a Yorkshire comedian. Wouldn‚Äôt he be marvellous! It‚Äôs all right laughing, but‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh, it‚Äôs murder. I saw myself up in town by this time, signing contracts like mad, looking for a flat. What a hope! And a week ago I was sniffing at Bournemouth. Bournemouth! It wouldn‚Äôt look at us now. Two-night stands are all we‚Äôre fit for, with a return visit to Rawsley the event of the season. Susie Dean. A riot of Sandybay! Front chairs one-and-ten-pence! Patronize the pierrots, girls and boys! Oh, hell‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh!‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Susie!” He jumped out of his chair.

She shook her head fiercely, her thick dark bobbed hair swinging. Then she touched his hand for a moment and pushed him back. “No, sit down, idiot. We’re both idiots. I work myself up in the most ghastly way these days. It must be because I’m so excited inside all the time, have been for days.”

“I know,” said Inigo sympathetically. He was sitting down again now, but his hands were stretched out in front of him, as if it was impossible to restrain them from reaching out to her.

“You don’t know. You don’t know anything about it.” She was smiling mistily. “O lord! where’s my handkerchief? Wait a minute. Now then, I’ve not finished yet. There’s you.”

“Me! What about me? I’m all right.”

‚ÄúYou‚Äôre not. To begin with, you‚Äôre absurd, and always will be. No, don‚Äôt start saying you‚Äôre not, because that‚Äôs not what I‚Äôm going to talk about. You went up to Felder and Hunterman‚Äôs on Saturday, they heard your stuff, and what‚Äôs his name‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou know‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Pitsner?”

“That’s right. Well, Pitsner wanted your songs, didn’t he, just as that ape Monte Mortimer did?”

“He did. I won’t say he was keen, because I don’t believe that man was ever keen about anything. He’s got a sort of ‘But she is in her grave, and oh the difference to me!’ look about him, Master Pitsner. Still, he wanted them all right.”

“Well, there you are. Pitsner didn’t get a punch from Joe, you know.”

‚ÄúTrue,‚Äù Inigo murmured. He knew what was coming and was hoping to dodge it. ‚ÄúPitsner didn‚Äôt. But I‚Äôve no doubt at all that something could be arranged, if you feel he ought to have one too. He could come down here for it, or perhaps one of us might go up there‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúDon‚Äôt be funny,‚Äù she told him wearily. ‚ÄúYou‚Äôre not bad until you start being funny. Then you make me feel sick. Let‚Äôs talk sense. You know he‚Äôll take those songs like a shot. And you know‚ÅÝ‚Äîor you ought to know, by this time‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou can make bags of money up there turning out these things. Well, that‚Äôs where you‚Äôre going.‚Äù

‚ÄúYou mean‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI ought to clear out too?‚Äù

“Of course! The sooner the better!”

“But I don’t want to.”

‚ÄúI dare say,‚Äù she cried. ‚ÄúBecause I‚Äôm not going, eh? I know your little game. You want to stay with us, going the old round, thumping out the old stuff, and looking at me over the top of the piano with the love-light in your eyes. For her sake alone he‚ÅÝ‚Äîthingumy-bobbed‚ÅÝ‚Äîrenounced wealth and fame. Love was his guiding star. Came the dawn. Yeogh!‚Äù Here she gave a very unladylike imitation of acute sickness. ‚ÄúWhat do you think you are‚ÅÝ‚Äîa little hero from Hollywood? Out you go, laddie. Honestly, you don‚Äôt want to go trailing round another year‚ÅÝ‚ÄîRawsley, Dotworth, Sandybay, Winstead, Haxby, Middleford, and Tewborough‚ÅÝ‚Äîmy God!‚Äù

‚ÄúOh, I don‚Äôt know,‚Äù said Inigo, examining the bowl of his pipe with unnecessary interest. ‚ÄúSeeing England and all that. On t‚Äôroad‚ÅÝ‚Äîas our friend, Master Oakroyd, says. It‚Äôs the sort of experience that might be very useful to a man of letters‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Man of letters!” Susie made a number of uncomplimentary noises.

Inigo flushed and kicked out a foot at nothing in particular. “Shut up, Susie. I will write something decent some day, you see if I don’t.”

Her dark eyes rested on his sulky boy‚Äôs face for a moment, and lost their hard brilliance. ‚ÄúSorry! I don‚Äôt know anything about it. I only know about silly songs, and you‚Äôre marvellously clever at them. Anyhow, the point is‚ÅÝ‚Äîno self-sacrifice stuff. You‚Äôve got to clear out of this mess.‚Äù

“But you see, there’s no self-sacrifice stuff about it,” he explained quietly and slowly, while he examined, with what was apparently strong distaste, a large photogravure bearing the title “On the Road to Gretna Green.” “I want to be where you are, as I’ve told you before.”

To this Susie made no reply. She looked into the fire, and they were both silent for a minute or two. “But after all,” she said, finally, “if you want to do something for me, you ought to clear out and get up to London. Look what you did last Saturday.”

“That’s true,” he cried, brightening. “That’s the place to work it from.” He paused, thinking it over. “I don’t know, though. I’d have a pop at it, of course, but last Saturday’s effort was gigantic cheek, absolutely, and I don’t know if I could drag out any more Monte Mortimers. Still, you could slip up, couldn’t you?”

She nodded, then frowned at the fire. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a mess. Everything‚Äôs got into a mess. I expect you must think sometimes I‚Äôm an awful little hard nut, always on the make. No, listen,‚Äù as he began to protest. ‚ÄúBut something nags at me inside telling me to get on quick. It‚Äôs a sort of feeling I have about my father and mother. I‚Äôve told you about it before, haven‚Äôt I? As if it was because they had such a rotten time. And I feel I can‚Äôt wait long. It‚Äôs all right people saying ‚ÄòOh, you‚Äôre young. Plenty of time!‚Äô‚ÅÝ‚Äîthat sounds all right‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut there isn‚Äôt. If nothing happens, I‚Äôll get stale soon. I know I will. I oughtn‚Äôt to, but there you are. I expect I haven‚Äôt the guts to keep on and keep it up.‚Äù

“That’s rot. I see what you mean, absolutely, but it’s rot about not having the guts. You’ve guts enough for ten.”

She laughed, came over to him, and twisted a finger in his lock of hair. “Awful, isn’t it? We sound like a butcher’s shop. Let’s talk about something else.”

‚ÄúBy the way,‚Äù he began. ‚ÄúOw! That hurts. Look here, creature, if you want to know what to do with your hands‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“I don’t, thank you,” letting him go.

“Pity,” he grumbled. “However, I was going to say, I’ve just remembered that Saturday night was your benefit.”

“You don’t mean to say you’d forgotten that?”

“No, not exactly. What I meant was, I’d forgotten you got the money. How much was it, and what have you done with it, and so on and so forth?”

“I haven’t done anything with it, idiot. Matter of fact, I don’t know exactly how much it all comes to yet, but anyhow I’m not taking it. Of course not, don’t be silly! How can I? Here’s Miss Trant going to be run in for hundreds and hundreds. I can’t possibly take anything.”

“No, I suppose not,” he replied, poking his face meditatively with the stem of his pipe. “Gosh! I’d forgotten about that.”

‚ÄúYou‚Äôre lucky! That‚Äôs all part of the hellish mess. I‚Äôm going to see Miss Trant this afternoon. I think I‚Äôll ask Mrs.¬ÝJoe to come too. At times like this, us girls must stick together, my child.‚Äù

They looked at one another, laughed, then carefully explained that they were really very miserable. And indeed they were about as depressed as it was possible for two such lively, youthful, optimistic souls to be. It was all the worse because there was nothing for them to do.

“Well,” said Inigo at length, after wandering vaguely about the room, “I suppose I must be thinking about a spot of food. I’m having lunch out somewhere. Coming with me?”

“I don’t feel like facing Ye Jollie Dutche,” she told him. “I think I’ll tea-and-egg it here. Hello, what’s that?”

“That, my dear,” he replied, at the window, “is a car. And it’s stopping here.”

“Let me have a look. I knew it was. I felt it was. I’ve seen that car before somewhere. Something’s going to happen, Inigo. It is, I know it is.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Come away from the window or you might spoil it. No, we must pretend now we don’t care, else it might stop happening at the last minute. I’ve always felt that, haven’t you? There you are, a knock.”

“Probably the doctor or somebody like that.”

“It can’t be. I’m sure it isn’t.”

And it wasn‚Äôt. The landlady‚Äôs head appeared and announced that a shover had called with a message for Miss Dean and for Mr.¬ÝJollifant too if he was here, which he was as her own eyes could see for themselves, and she would send it in to give it to them.

Susie recognized the chauffeur at once, and we recognize him too, having met him once on the pier at Sandybay and then again, one Sunday afternoon, outside Hicklefield. Yes, it is Lawley, Lady Partlit’s chauffeur.

“And you’re to come round to the Victoria Midland Hotel for lunch, Miss,” he explained. “And you, sir, too. I was going round to your rooms, but this has saved me the trouble. And I had to tell you that it was specially important, and they would be expecting you as soon as you could get round.”

“They?” cried Susie. “Who are the others? Yes, we’ll come, won’t we, Inigo? But what’s it all about?”

“Well,” said Lawley, grinning, “it’s a bit of a surprise, Miss. You’ll soon see.”

Susie looked at him a moment with widening eyes, then flashed a glance that might have meant a thousand things at Inigo, and bolted, screaming as she went: “Back in a minute!”

“Not so blowy as it has been,” remarked Lawley coolly to Inigo, “but still on the cold side, if you ask me.”

III

They both jumped and spoke, but Susie’s cry was a second quicker than Inigo’s.

“Married!”

‚ÄúYes, quite a surprise, isn‚Äôt it?‚Äù said the lady who had once been a Partlit. She glittered and jangled and flashed before their startled eyes; her little round mouth looked as if it would never be shut again; her big staring eyes were now dancing with happiness; and though she still resembled a cockatoo, neither cage nor jungle had ever seen a cockatoo so excited, so triumphant. ‚ÄúAnd only this very morning. What a rush, my dear! I haven‚Äôt breathed since Saturday, that horrible, horrible night. Yes, I‚Äôve heard all about it, such a business! If I‚Äôd been a second later getting him away, I really think I should have died. At the time, of course, I could only think about him, but I‚Äôve thought about you all since and felt so sorry. And poor Miss Trant too! But aren‚Äôt you going to‚ÅÝ‚Äîor is that too late?‚Äù

“Of course we are,” cried Susie. “It’s lovely, and I’m sure you’ll both be marvellously happy.”

“Absolutely,” muttered Inigo, who was still rather dazed.

‚ÄúNow isn‚Äôt that nice! Of course it‚Äôs taken you completely by surprise. I knew it would,‚Äù the bride rattled on. ‚ÄúAnd now, my dear, you must be ready for lunch. I think I‚Äôll ring the bell. He should be here any minute now. Telephoning, you know. We haven‚Äôt had a single moment to spare since Monday morning, it‚Äôs been such a rush. There he is, I think.‚Äù She flew to the door. ‚ÄúHere we are, darling, and they were both so surprised‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI knew they would be. Isn‚Äôt it amusing?‚Äù

Susie was the first again. “Marvellous, Jerry!” She was busy shaking his hand. “I’m so glad. I hadn’t any idea what was happening.”

For one wild moment, Inigo, who had not yet come to his senses, saw himself stepping forward to congratulate Jerningham on becoming Lord Partlit or something of that kind. It seemed incredible that Partlit should be merged into Jerningham. ‚ÄúMany happy returns,‚Äù he stammered. ‚ÄúI mean‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou know‚ÅÝ‚Äîbest wishes and all that.‚Äù

“Tharnks, Susie. Tharnks, Inigo,” said Jerningham gravely and without the flicker of an eyelid. He was more dignified, more beautiful, than ever, but his accent was also more fantastic. That alone had been unsettled by these momentous events; strange at any time, it was now wildly alien; and every sentence he spoke heaped up the mangled syllables. “Glard you could cem on to lernch.”

“And we’ve got news for them, haven’t we, darling?” cried his wife, who looked even more excited and happy now that he was here, as if there had been just a slight possibility before that he might never come back from the telephone.

“I should think you have news,” said Susie, smiling and being tremendously woman-to-woman.

‚ÄúOh, but that‚Äôs not all, my dear, I assure you. Lots of surprises for you today. Isn‚Äôt Mr.¬ÝMemsworth coming, darling? Lunch is ready.‚Äù

“Raight, he won’t be lorng,” replied Jerry. “He’s jerst petting through a call to tawn.”

Susie glanced sharply at Inigo. ‚ÄúWhat have we here?‚Äù this glance inquired, but did not stay for an answer. A waiter arrived with cocktails, and for the next few minutes they all sipped and chatted, with one eye on the door. The table was laid for five, so evidently Mr.¬ÝMemsworth was to be of the party. It had quite a festive appearance, though the room itself, the only small private dining-room in the hotel, seemed to have given up hope of provincial social life about 1892. But what the Victoria Midland Hotel could do, it was obviously about to do for Mr.¬Ýand Mrs.¬ÝJerningham.

At last, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth made his entrance. It happened that there was a waiter on each side of the door when he appeared, but there ought to have been at least twenty, to say nothing of an orchestra. Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, however, contrived at once to create an atmosphere in which two waiters looked like twenty. The moment he stalked in, with his ‚ÄúSorry to keep you waiting‚Äù in a rich baritone that went straight to the back of the dress-circle, Susie realized in a flash it was the Memsworth, the great Memsworth, one greater than Monte Mortimer, and known in the profession as ‚ÄúThe Emperor‚Äù or, more familiarly, perhaps ironically, as ‚ÄúThe Emp.‚Äù This was partly a tribute to his managerial powers, for he was the greatest despot in the musical-comedy world, and partly a tribute to his actual presence, his terrific style. Unlike most manager-producers, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth had been an actor himself, having for years played ‚Äúleads‚Äù in musical comedy. Those were the days when the scene of every musical comedy was set in some vague Central European state, when every leading juvenile was a prince in hussar uniform and every principal comedian a baron with a red nose, a squeaky voice, and a passion for ladies‚Äô maids, when every stage was noisy with heel-clicking, hussar choruses, and stentorian announcements of ‚ÄúHis Highness, Prince Michael of Slavonia.‚Äù Night after night, year after year, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth had been some Highness or other, with the result that the manner had grown upon him; he could not divest himself of kingship. And now that he was a manager-producer‚ÅÝ‚Äîand a very successful one, having a sound knowledge of the public taste, an eye for talent, and a very good head for business‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe still made princely exits and entrances, patted people on the back as if he were bestowing an order upon them, and laughed in that hearty manner only possible to great public personages. The fashion in musical comedy had changed‚ÅÝ‚Äîand he had been one of the first to recognize the fact‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut Slavonia, with its soldiers and soubrettes, its waltz-time and impossible scenery, lived on in him. And now, as he came forward to the luncheon table, it seemed strange that he was not followed by two files of baritone dragoons.

Susie nearly choked when she was introduced‚ÅÝ‚Äîor rather, presented‚ÅÝ‚Äîto him. She knew all about him. The Emp. himself‚ÅÝ‚Äîhere in Gatford! But then, of course, Lady Partlit‚ÅÝ‚ÄîMrs.¬ÝJerningham‚ÅÝ‚Äîhad something to do with West End theatres. She remembered that talk in the hotel outside Hicklefield. Those were Memsworth‚Äôs theatres too. It was obvious now. Jerry had married her so that he could star in Memsworth‚Äôs productions‚ÅÝ‚Äîsomething like that. ‚ÄúAnd you‚Äôre on in this, Susie,‚Äù she told herself, nearly bursting with excitement.

Inigo was quite cool, for the simple reason that he did not know who Memsworth was, except that he seemed the nearest thing one could ever get in this lower world to Prince Florizel of Bohemia.

They had not been sat down long when Mr.¬ÝMemsworth looked gravely from one to the other of them, and, raising a fork, commanded silence. ‚ÄúMiss Dean, Mr.¬ÝJollifant,‚Äù he began, in deep, solemn tones, ‚Äúthe other night I had the pleasure of seeing your show here.‚Äù

“When?” gasped Susie.

“On Saturday night,” he told her.

“And I was there too,” the bride put in. “Wasn’t I, darling? And a terrible night it was too, my dear.”

“It was you in the box,” cried Susie.

‚ÄúOf course it was. It was all going to be such a nice surprise. Mr.¬ÝMemsworth had to see me on business, and I said to him, ‚ÄòYou must come and see these clever people,‚Äô and he laughed‚ÅÝ‚Äîthis was on the telephone‚ÅÝ‚Äîyou did laugh, didn‚Äôt you, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth?‚Äù

‚ÄúI believe I was rather amused,‚Äù the Emperor admitted. ‚ÄúBut then who wouldn‚Äôt have been, dear lady? I mean, in my position. New talent in Gatford is not an impossibility‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere are no impossibilities in our profession‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut it‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîer‚ÅÝ‚Äîan improbability. I think you‚Äôll agree with me there.‚Äù

‚ÄúAbsolutely,‚Äù said Inigo heartily. He was enjoying Mr.¬ÝMemsworth and so thought that this was the least he could do.

‚ÄúBut though I laughed,‚Äù the great man continued, very impressively, ‚ÄúI came, I saw‚ÅÝ‚Äîand I was conquered.‚Äù

Inigo gave a sudden gurgle. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t help thinking about Monte Mortimer, who came and saw and was conquered too.”

“And I hope he’s still feeling it,” said Susie.

The others stared at them.

“Mai dar Jollifant,” said Jerningham, raising his exquisite eyebrows, “whort is all this about?”

‚ÄúAh, Monte,‚Äù the Emperor murmured. ‚ÄúSo you know Monte, do you? A very able fellow, very able‚ÅÝ‚Äîin his own line of business.‚Äù

‚ÄúYou see,‚Äù cried Susie, ‚Äúhe was there on Saturday too‚ÅÝ‚Äîto have a look at us.‚Äù

“What!” Susie and Inigo began explaining together, and contrived to tumble out the story between them.

Mr.¬ÝMemsworth roared with laughter. It was as good as a baritone solo. ‚ÄúBut do you mean to say he was laid out?‚Äù he demanded. ‚ÄúHe was? Right under my nose too. My dear people, I‚Äôd have given pounds, pounds, to have seen it. Monte! On the jaw, I think you said?‚Äù The room shook with his imperial mirth. ‚ÄúWaiter, the champagne. We must drink to this, we really must. Oh, why didn‚Äôt I know at the time. You made him come up and then he was knocked out. Monte! What a story! Next time I see Monte at the club, I shall go up to him, look him in the eyes, and then simply say one word‚ÅÝ‚ÄîGatford. Monte will be at my mercy. Why, if this story got about‚ÅÝ‚Äî!‚Äù Mr.¬ÝMemsworth raised his eyes, his hands, towards Heaven, and then drank some champagne. ‚ÄúBut, Miss Dean, Mr.¬ÝJollifant, this has its serious side,‚Äù he went on, solemn again now. ‚ÄúAre you tied up with him in any way?‚Äù

“He told us to go to the devil,” said Susie. And Inigo explained about the letter they had received that very morning.

‚ÄúWhat a rude man!‚Äù cried Mrs.¬ÝJerningham.

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs the Oriental,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, ‚Äúthe Oriental, dear lady. Monte is not a sportsman‚ÅÝ‚Äînever was, never will be. I know him well, in business and outside it. A very able fellow, as I said before‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI don‚Äôt know anybody who can put on a revue of the medium-class, semi-intimate, semi-spectacular‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut not a gentleman.‚Äù He turned to Susie and Inigo. ‚ÄúSo that leaves you free. No more Monte! Well, I don‚Äôt mind admitting that I think you‚Äôre lucky. I don‚Äôt say that Monte couldn‚Äôt have done something for you. He could have done a great deal. He‚Äôs made one or two good people. But I can do more‚ÅÝ‚Äîbelieve me, much more. I can put you‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere.‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd will, won‚Äôt you, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth?‚Äù said Mrs.¬ÝJerningham, who was evidently not only happy herself but anxious that everybody else should be happy. A bird of Paradise, not a cockatoo.

‚ÄúI will try, if these‚ÅÝ‚Äîif your friends here‚ÅÝ‚Äîwill allow me,‚Äù he replied majestically. ‚ÄúAs I say, I saw the show on Saturday, and to my astonishment, I discovered that here‚ÅÝ‚Äîplaying in Gatford‚ÅÝ‚Äîin a troupe whose name is entirely unknown to me‚ÅÝ‚Äîare three young people of real, quite undoubted talent.‚Äù He paused, holding them with his eye. ‚ÄúFirst, a young comedienne, who can sing, who can dance, who can act, who has‚ÅÝ‚Äîand this is the great thing‚ÅÝ‚Äîcharm and personality. If she has ambition, as I‚Äôm told she has‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“I’m bursting with it.” Susie told him breathlessly.

He bowed. ‚ÄúSo I believe. That‚Äôs very important, more important every day. Must have ambition, must be ready to work hard, to put your profession first. Society and the journalists are ruining so many of our young ladies. They achieve a little success‚ÅÝ‚Äîand then, what happens? They go here, they go there; their names, their photographs, are in all the papers‚ÅÝ‚Äîvery good publicity, of course‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI don‚Äôt object to it; but they don‚Äôt work.‚Äù

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs true, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth,‚Äù said Susie eagerly. ‚ÄúBut I‚Äôm ready to work till I drop, honestly I am. I‚Äôm not doing it for fun. I was‚ÅÝ‚Äîwas born in the profession.‚Äù

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs what we want,‚Äù he said. ‚ÄúAs a matter of fact, I was myself. Now, second‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI found a juvenile lead.‚Äù He bowed to Jerningham, who blushed for once in his cool unblushing life. ‚ÄúI know all about him now, so I needn‚Äôt say any more. But third‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI found a young composer who can write songs that get across and stay there,‚Äù He turned to Inigo. ‚ÄúDo you think you can write some more like those numbers I heard?‚Äù

‚ÄúI should think so,‚Äù replied Inigo carelessly. He was beginning to feel wonderlandish again, what with Mr.¬ÝMemsworth and the champagne. ‚ÄúAny amount.‚Äù

The great man looked at him in grave astonishment, in which there was perhaps a touch of awe. Here was a very extraordinary young man, who was not at all impressed by the fact that he was about to be taken up by Memsworth. “My word, my boy!” he ejaculated.

‚ÄúHe can too, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth,‚Äù cried Susie. ‚ÄúInigo‚Äôs marvellous. He can just knock them off like anything.‚Äù

‚ÄúThart is so,‚Äù said Jerry, with lofty kindness. ‚ÄúYou can barnk on Jollifant, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth. You‚Äôve nobody writing nambers for you to tech him.‚Äù

“And they eat them, even in the stupidest places,” Susie continued. “You could see that the other night, couldn’t you? But p’raps you couldn’t. I was forgetting that wretched rotten business, busting up the show.”

‚ÄúAh yes. Curious, that, very curious. I‚Äôve not seen anything like it for years.‚Äù Mr.¬ÝMemsworth looked thoughtful. ‚ÄúNo, nothing as bad for twenty years. I don‚Äôt know what you people made of it, but to me it was obvious, quite obvious. Hooliganism, of course‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut organized hooliganism. Somebody must have paid them to do that. The house in general was very enthusiastic. I saw that. Then why should these fellows kick up such a row, and go on doing it? Paid to do it. There for the purpose. I don‚Äôt know who employed them, I don‚Äôt know why they were employed, all I say is they were employed, paid to do it. I‚Äôve seen it happen before, though not lately. I‚Äôve had a lot of experience. You take my word for it. Organized rowdyism.‚Äù

‚ÄúI‚Äôm beginning to think that, too,‚Äù said Susie, ‚Äúand I know that Mrs.¬ÝJoe does. I shall tell Miss Trant, don‚Äôt you think so, Inigo, Jerry?‚Äù

‚ÄúMeanwhile‚ÅÝ‚Äîto business,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, looking as if he were about to give his loyal subjects a Constitution. ‚ÄúI take it, then, Mr.¬ÝJollifant, you‚Äôre free to work for me?‚Äù

Inigo thought so, but put in a word about Felder and Hunterman.

‚ÄúThat can be arranged,‚Äù and Mr.¬ÝMemsworth waved a hand. ‚ÄúLeave that to me. What I want you to do is to see Julian Jaffery, who‚Äôs supposed to be doing the music for my new show or at least putting some new stuff into it. We should want those numbers I heard the other night and one or two others, and then you can set to work on another thing I‚Äôm planning. I‚Äôve got most of the book. And I want you, Miss Dean, to rehearse a big part‚ÅÝ‚Äîin which you‚Äôll be playing opposite Mr.¬ÝJerningham here, and you can work together‚ÅÝ‚Äîin this show that‚Äôs nearly ready. You can take Mr.¬ÝJollifant‚Äôs numbers that you‚Äôre doing now straight into it, though I may get one of my librettists to alter the words a bit.‚Äù He had in hand, it seemed, a splendid new musical comedy, that bore the provisional title The Mascot Girl. It had begun as a French farce, but had been taken to Vienna, where it was transformed into an operetta, which was entirely rewritten in New York as a song-and-dance show; and now, the last vestiges of the original plot having been removed, new words and music were being introduced so that it could blossom out again as an English comedy. Mr.¬ÝMemsworth told them all about it or at least contrived to suggest that he was telling them all about it, for there was not really much to tell. It was obvious that the thing would only begin to have a shape at the rehearsal. Nevertheless, it appeared that Susie and Jerry would have very important parts in it, and that Inigo‚Äôs tunes would soon be delighting or worrying the whole country. In short, their fortunes were made, their ships almost in harbour.

“No,” cried Susie, her eyes dancing, “I really couldn’t eat or drink anything else. If I did I should be sick, I’m so excited.”

‚ÄúSweet!‚Äù murmured Mrs.¬ÝJerningham, and patted her hand.

‚ÄúBut it‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh, golly!‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs marvellous. Isn‚Äôt it, Inigo? Don‚Äôt sit there, pretending you don‚Äôt care tuppence. Isn‚Äôt it marvellous? Aren‚Äôt you dizzy?‚Äù

“Absolutely,” said Inigo, who was in fact a trifle dizzy.

“I don’t mind saying it’s jerst whort I’ve warnted,” Jerningham admitted. And he gave his wife such a sudden, unexpected and unasked for, altogether beautiful smile that no doubt she felt dizzy too. For smiles like that, she would have bought him whole theatres.

Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, whom the champagne had made more benevolent and regal than ever, so that he sat there like another Haroun al Raschid, smiled upon them all, and then explained to Susie and Inigo that they had better clear things up in Gatford and then report to him in town if possible in two days‚Äô time, and on Monday at the latest. Then he would have contracts ready and everything.

Susie stared at him in a happy dream: ‚ÄúOh, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, don‚Äôt disappear or anything, will you? I feel as if I‚Äôm sitting in my digs making this up, just to pass the afternoon. In a minute I shall wake up.‚Äù

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs so very nice for you, isn‚Äôt it?‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJerningham cooed.

‚ÄúNice! It‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh, I can‚Äôt begin. And you‚Äôve done it, Lady‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI mean, Mrs.¬ÝJerningham, and I‚Äôm so glad you‚Äôve married Jerry and I hope you‚Äôll both be happy forever and ever.‚Äù And she flung out her hands, and Jerry shook one, with a solemn ‚ÄúTharnks, Susie,‚Äù while his bride squeezed the other, saying: ‚ÄúYou know, we‚Äôve to go up to town tonight. All such a rush, isn‚Äôt it? But I do adore a rush, don‚Äôt you, my dear?‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd this,‚Äù said Inigo, who had just accepted and lit a large cigar so that he felt almost vulgarly opulent already, ‚Äúis the end‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe very end‚ÅÝ‚Äîof the Good Companions.‚Äù

Susie’s face fell. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? I’d forgotten that. Yes, it’s all right laughing, but it’s rather sad, really. Why can’t we have one nice thing without having to give up another nice thing?”

‚ÄúThat, my dear lady, is Life.‚Äù Mr.¬ÝMemsworth did this magnificently.

‚ÄúI suppose it is, but it‚Äôs beastly all the same,‚Äù said Susie. ‚ÄúOh, and what about the others, Jimmy and the Joes? What are they going to do now, poor darlings? Can‚Äôt you do anything for them, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth? They‚Äôre awfully good, really. You didn‚Äôt get a chance to see them properly the other night.‚Äù

He shook his head. ‚ÄúI don‚Äôt doubt it. I wish I could do something for them. I‚Äôd like to oblige you, Miss Dean, and I like to see people in our profession sticking to their friends. But these others‚ÅÝ‚Äîsorry‚ÅÝ‚Äînot in my line. Too old, you know. Much too old even for the chorus. I might possibly find a very small part in something or other for the little comedian, but really I think he‚Äôd be far better off in his own concert-party work. And the others certainly would. Sorry, but still, they‚Äôll find work all right. Can‚Äôt they carry on this present show?‚Äù

“Nathing left in it,” said Jerry. “All the real tarlent gone.”

“No, that’s not fair, Jerry,” Susie told him. “But there wouldn’t be enough of them to do anything with it. I mean, it couldn’t be the same show, now that half of it has gone. Oh, it’s a shame. They’ll have to find work with another C.P. and it won’t be easy getting into a good one ’cos the season’s nearly beginning.”

Mr.¬ÝMemsworth looked thoughtful. ‚ÄúThe season‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe season,‚Äù he mused. ‚ÄúNow that reminds me of something that was said to me the other day. What was it? Ah, I have it. Bellerby, that‚Äôs the man. Bellerby used to do a good deal of work for me at one time, and I ran across him the other day in town and he told me he was getting a resident concert party together for some resort or other, Eastbourne, Hastings, one of those places, you know. In fact, he asked me if I could recommend him a few decent people.‚Äù

“Oh, but that would be marvellous! Just what they want! Do you think this man would take them?” Susie asked.

‚ÄúA word from me,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, and a wave of his hand told them the rest.

‚ÄúBut how are you‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI mean‚ÅÝ‚Äîwill you write to him or something?‚Äù

‚ÄúMr.¬ÝJollifant, just touch that bell, will you?‚Äù the great man commanded. This‚ÅÝ‚Äîhis manner informed them‚ÅÝ‚Äîwas his way of doing things, and they must now keep their eyes and ears open. The bell brought a waiter, and the waiter was told to bring Mr.¬ÝNurris, who it appeared was Mr.¬ÝMemsworth‚Äôs secretary. Mr.¬ÝNurris was a pallid young man with darkish horn-rimmed spectacles. ‚ÄúLook here, Nurris,‚Äù cried his employer. ‚ÄúCan you remember Bellerby‚Äôs address? You remember him? South coast somewhere. You can, eh? Then take a wire. Wait a minute, though. I must be out of this town by five. It‚Äôs no use him wiring back to me. Who‚Äôll act for these four people?‚Äù he asked Susie and Inigo.

They gave him Jimmy‚Äôs name and address. Thereupon, Mr.¬ÝMemsworth dictated a telegram of theatrical dimensions, recommending one comedian, one conjurer-banjoist, one baritone and feed, and contralto, all experienced C.P. artistes, and asking for terms, dates, and other details, to be wired to Jimmy Nunn. ‚ÄúAnd if that doesn‚Äôt bring a reply by tonight, you may take it from me that Bellerby is either drunk or missing or both. Get it off at once, Nurris.‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd now,‚Äù said Susie to Inigo, after they had shaken hands all round and declared how splendid it all was and taken their leave, ‚Äúit looks as if we‚Äôre all going to be fixed up. Aren‚Äôt you excited? Honestly, I‚Äôm nearly ill. I want to rush up to everybody and tell them all about it. Just think of us sitting there this morning‚ÅÝ‚Äîme, anyhow‚ÅÝ‚Äîgiving it all up as a bad job. And then this comes along. Wouldn‚Äôt it be ghastly if I got run over or something now?‚Äù She squeezed his arm hard, then let it go and laughed.

“You’ve forgotten two people,” he told her, after she had finished happily babbling. “One is Miss Trant.”

“I’m going to see her now, to tell her all the news. And I’m sure she won’t mind a bit. I believe she’ll be glad. And I shall tell her to keep all my benefit money, to help to pay the damages they say they’re going to claim at the measly Hippodrome. It’ll all help, won’t it?”

“A spot,” he replied. “Those damages are going to be a nasty piece of work. I don’t like the idea of poor Miss Trant being left here, with a bad arm and a bill a mile long, while we trot off to town to make our fortunes.”

‚ÄúIf you put it like that‚ÅÝ‚Äîand I must say, Inigo, you‚Äôve a nasty way of putting things‚ÅÝ‚Äîit sounds nearly as bad as murder. But it‚Äôll be all right. Everything‚Äôs going to be all right for everybody, I feel sure it is. I‚Äôve felt so all along. The trouble about you, my laddie, is you‚Äôve no confidence‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúWell, by gosh! I like that,‚Äù he protested, ‚Äúwhen it‚Äôs only a few hours since you were moping away‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúDon‚Äôt talk such rot, Inigo. That‚Äôs the worst of you. You talk such a lot of rot. It must be because you‚Äôre‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhat is it?‚ÅÝ‚Äîan author‚ÅÝ‚Äîno, something worse than that‚ÅÝ‚Äîa man of let‚Äëters. No, don‚Äôt start being cross now, or you‚Äôll spoil everything. Who‚Äôs the other one I‚Äôve forgotten?‚Äù

‚ÄúOur Mr.¬ÝOakroyd.‚Äù

“Jess lad. So I had,” she cried. “What a shame! I haven’t seen him for days. Have you? Oh, something nice must happen to him, it really must. We can’t all just leave him, alone with his bag of tools and his little basket thing. Do you remember his little basket trunk? Wasn’t it sweet? He’s been a bit broody lately too, so p’raps he wants a change like the rest of us. Well, I’m sure it’ll be easy to find him a job. We could take him with us, or the others might be able to find him something if they get that resident job, or Miss Trant might want him to stay with her.”

“Why, what could she give him to do? What’s she going to do herself anyhow?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t be so silly and impatient, young man. Well, this is where we part. I’m going to see Miss Trant. I don’t know what she’ll think about me. Do I look all right, because honestly I feel tight, though I only had one glass of that champagne? And you run along and write another song or two, just to keep your hand in. No, run away. Isn’t it marvellous? See you soon.”

“When?”

‚ÄúTonight‚ÅÝ‚Äîperhaps.‚Äù

He watched her dart across the road and then trip away down the other side, so eager, so happy, like a girl in a shining fairytale. It almost hurt him to see her like that. Something old, unreasonable, stirred apprehensively inside him‚ÅÝ‚Äîa little Inigo that had once looked up from his bone and his bride to see the trampling mastodon blotting out the sky. Then he grinned at himself and walked away.

IV

Once more we discover Mrs.¬ÝJoe in her sitting-room, surrounded by the brown cotton-woolly moors and glens that haunted the imagination of Mrs.¬ÝPennyfeather‚Äôs uncle. Mrs.¬ÝJoe is still knitting that mysterious garment, which is now more complicated and untidier than ever. She had knitted steadily through these dark idle days, and it looks as if there is a danger of her knitting herself inside this pink monster and having to be rescued with a pair of shears. We have never pretended that she was young but now, as she sits there, working away, she looks older than she did. In that mask of mingled dignity and simple foolishness, there has been a recent invasion of fine lines; her face begins to droop and sag. This past week she has suffered as an artiste, a wife, and a mother‚ÅÝ‚Äîfor though George is safe on Denmark Hill, he has to be paid for, for his passion for playing football in side-streets with a little india-rubber ball is creating a terrible boot problem. No doubt she is thinking about these things, the bewildering mechanics of life, as she stares into the microscopic fire, itself evidence enough of the Brundit new economic policy. For a few minutes, during which we shall do well to look upon her with kindness, for very soon, this very night in fact, she is going her way and we are going ours and the acquaintance is at an end, she sits and stares and weaves the monstrous mesh. Then she starts up. Somebody has burst into the room. It is Susie.

Susie takes a deep breath, plucks off her hat, and flings it anywhere, takes another deep breath, and falls into a chair.

‚ÄúYou did give me a Start, my dear,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJoe tells her, reproachfully. ‚ÄúI wondered what on earth it could be.‚Äù

And now Susie begins: ‚ÄúTalk about news! My dear, I‚Äôm simply bursting with ‚Äôem. Jerry‚Äôs married Lady Partlit, the woman I told you about, who sent the bouquet, and I‚Äôve seen them both, had lunch with them, and Mr.¬ÝMemsworth, the Emperor, you know, the musical-comedy man, he was there too, and we‚Äôre all going to London and Jerry and I are going to have parts, really fat parts, in a new show he‚Äôs doing, and Inigo‚Äôs going to write the music, and Mr.¬ÝMemsworth‚Äôs wired to a man who‚Äôs getting up a resident C.P. somewhere‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúStop it, child, stop it,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJoe shrieks. ‚ÄúYou‚Äôre putting me in a Maze, with your Lady Partridges and Emperors. I don‚Äôt know whether I‚Äôm sitting in this room or where I am. Now just calm yourself down and get your breath and begin at the beginning and let me take it all in.‚Äù

‚ÄúWell, you see‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúBut, Susie, my dear, you‚Äôre not teasing me, are you? I mean, you‚Äôre not just making it all up. I couldn‚Äôt bear that just now. Some other time, perhaps, it would be just a little fun and frolic between ourselves‚ÅÝ‚Äînobody can say I don‚Äôt like a little joking in a friendly way‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut just now, what with all things being at Sixes and Sevens, no, worse than that, if you count in the injuries and loss of salaries, to say nothing of future engagements, that is, whether there‚Äôll be any at all and if so, where‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI really couldn‚Äôt bear it. So don‚Äôt tell me anything you‚Äôre making up, will you?‚Äù

‚ÄúMaking it up! I couldn‚Äôt make it up. Nobody could. Just you listen and don‚Äôt say a word.‚Äù After which, Mrs.¬ÝJoe does listen, entranced, to a very full account of the lunch.

‚ÄúDid you ever!‚Äù cried Mrs.¬ÝJoe. ‚ÄúI never did. There‚Äôs your Chance, come at last, you might say, when hope had fled. Doesn‚Äôt it show you? My words, it does.‚Äù She is almost aghast at this revelation of her prophetic powers. ‚ÄúThere was I, on Saturday, saying to you when you told me that Mortimer man was there, ‚ÄòWhat did I tell you? Here‚Äôs your Chance, come to you, without asking, in Gatford.‚Äô And then when nothing came of it and the things I‚Äôve said to Joe about what he did that night really won‚Äôt bear thinking of, not in cold blood‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhen nothing came of it, I could have slapped myself for Leading You On. ‚ÄòYou‚Äôve only gone and made it worse, you silly creature,‚Äô I said to myself. And yet something told me. Try as I might, it still told me. And now here you are, with a Bigger Chance. And it had to come, even if it took a marriage no more expected than the Man in the Moon to do it, you might say. It‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚ÅÝ‚Äîa thing like this‚ÅÝ‚Äîmakes you ask yourself, Where Are We?‚ÅÝ‚ÄîWhat Are We?‚ÅÝ‚Äîif you see what I mean.‚Äù She loses herself in these profundities for a moment or two. Then she throws aside all her knitting and needles and balls of wool. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm glad. I‚Äôm very very glad, my dear. I know it means breaking up and starting afresh some‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhere else for us, with the season so near too, but I‚Äôm still glad, just for your own sake, my dear.‚Äù And she leans forward and kisses her young friend‚Äôs flushed face.

“But, you stupid, I’ve news for you, too,” Susie points out.

‚ÄúAnything I‚Äôm sure will be welcome,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJoe replies. Then she adds, a trifle wistfully: ‚ÄúThere hasn‚Äôt been anything said about us, has there?‚Äù

‚ÄúOf course there has. That‚Äôs what I‚Äôm trying to tell you.‚Äù And out it comes, to delight Mrs.¬ÝJoe.

‚ÄúThough,‚Äù she is careful to say, ‚Äúas things go in the ordinary way‚ÅÝ‚Äîand unless Luckiness has set in all round‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs only a Shot in the Dark so far. A manager says he wants artistes for a resident season at one of our best resorts. He says it once. Well and good! He may say it twice. Twice is quite possible. But after that, he‚Äôs not going to say it any more‚ÅÝ‚Äîand why? Because he‚Äôs got the artistes. They flocked in, my dear, flocked. They don‚Äôt need to be told twice. You do see what I mean, don‚Äôt you? He told Mr.¬ÝMemsworth about this some days ago‚ÅÝ‚Äîperhaps a week ago, perhaps longer‚ÅÝ‚Äîand if he‚Äôs told other people, he‚Äôs already had the choice of a hundred. To ask for artistes for a good resident season,‚Äù she adds solemnly, ‚Äúis like‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, you might as well ask for haystacks for a needle.‚Äù

“Oh, he may not have booked anybody,” Susie remarks, rather carelessly. “Anyhow, we’ll soon see. He was told to wire a reply to Jimmy.”

“Joe’s over there now. Went to discuss the situation, and so I told him, ‘Very well, but if it’s to be a discussion, stay in the rooms and have something in. Send Out for a bottle or two of beer and leave it at that, and don’t go discussing on licensed premises, because that’s how the money goes.’ That’s a thing to watch when you’re married, my dear. Always get him to Send Out for something and do his discussing at home.”

Susie laughs. “I’ll remember that, though it doesn’t matter because I don’t intend ever to get married.”

‚ÄúDon‚Äôt tell me, because I know how you feel. I was just the same at your age. But then‚ÅÝ‚Äîall of a sudden, before you can say Jack Robinson‚ÅÝ‚Äîit comes over you.‚Äù

“I think I know somebody it’s coming over now,” Susie tells her confidentially. “And that’s Miss Trant.”

“No!”

‚ÄúYes. I‚Äôve just seen her. And I found him there, the great him. Didn‚Äôt I ever tell you about that Scotch doctor she‚Äôs been quietly in love with for ages?‚Äù To make sure of the matter, she tells her now. ‚ÄúAnd there he was the day,‚Äù she concludes, employing what passes in theatrical circles for a good Scots accent, ‚Äúlooking into herrr eyes and callin‚Äô herrr Eleezabeth. He‚Äôs verra tall an‚Äô verra bony an‚Äô verra seerious, but wi‚Äô a nice kind face. An‚Äô if he‚Äôs not proposin‚Äô marritch the morn‚Äôs morn an‚Äô if she‚Äôs no gladly acceptin‚Äô him, ah‚Äôll go an‚Äô eat ma best bonnet. Hoots, woman, its a‚ÅÝ‚Äîoh, I can‚Äôt do any more, but anyhow there they are, falling in love all over again like billy-oh, and blushing away every time they look at one another. And Miss Trant pretends to be very worried about what we‚Äôre all going to do, and about the show busting up, and about all this money she may have to pay out, but she doesn‚Äôt care a damn, really. I could see it in her eye. What she‚Äôs thinking about now is her Doctorr McFarlane, ye ken. And good luck to her, the darling, I say.‚Äù

‚ÄúSo do I, indeed I do,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJoe reflects for a moment. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a noble profession, though I must say I could never fancy one of them. Don‚Äôt you feel that too, my dear? I mean, as soon as you said anything to keep them in their place a bit, they‚Äôd say, ‚ÄòLet me look at your tongue,‚Äô and then where would you be? Besides, think of being married to a man who knew everything that was going on inside you, all about your liver and everything! You‚Äôd never be able to look him in the face. I remember a doctor‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, he wasn‚Äôt quite a doctor but he was going to be one‚ÅÝ‚Äîa medical student, you know‚ÅÝ‚Äîand he was very attached to me, I couldn‚Äôt keep him away‚ÅÝ‚Äîthis was before I met Joe, long before, when I first went on the stage‚ÅÝ‚Äîand he was very good-looking and most amusing company, but one Sunday night, when he‚Äôd had a little too much‚ÅÝ‚Äîwe‚Äôd been out to Richmond, I remember, and it was a very hot day‚ÅÝ‚Äîand he told me what he‚Äôd been doing to a rabbit‚ÅÝ‚Äîit was a dead rabbit, but still‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, I never fancied him after that. I didn‚Äôt like the look in his eye. But Miss Trant, I dare say, is different. You feel‚ÅÝ‚Äîdon‚Äôt you, my dear?‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe wouldn‚Äôt care about a thing like that. It‚Äôs all Temperament.‚Äù

But now there are noises off. Enter three gentlemen, carrying bottled ale.

“Has Susie told you?” Joe roars at his wife. “Well, Jimmy’s just had a wire. We’ve just left him.” He rubs his hands and shows her a long slow delighted grin.

‚ÄúWhat does he say then?‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝJoe demands, impatiently. ‚ÄúDon‚Äôt stand there, without a word. Of all the aggravating men, Joe‚ÅÝ‚Äî!‚Äù

‚ÄúWants to see us on Monday,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝMorton Mitcham tells her. ‚ÄúTerms are good. Open middle of April, clean run through until end of September. Rehearse beginning of April, on full pay. And if it‚Äôs the same Bellerby I played with in Nought Six, he‚Äôs a gentleman.‚Äù

“Bit of your doing, this, Susie,” Joe roars again. “I’ve heard all about you. After this, up among the stars so high, eh? Shan’t be allowed to talk to you after this week.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Joe. But honestly, isn’t it marvellous?”

“Splendiferous! And what do you say to me for giving that other fellow a tap on the jaw? Don’t forget us, will you?”

“As if I should!”

He gives her a gigantic hug. Mrs.¬ÝJoe and Mr.¬ÝMitcham explain to one another, with the ease and rapidity of veterans, the advantages of a resident season on the South coast. Inigo discovers some tumblers on the sideboard and opens the beer. The gentlemen immediately fall to drinking healths and Mrs.¬ÝJoe admits that at this moment she could do with ‚Äúsomething sharp.‚Äù Susie, perched on the edge of the table, exchanges smiles with Inigo, because the others seem so happy. Somebody wants to know where Mr.¬ÝOakroyd is, and nobody is able to supply the information. Everybody, however, has so much to say and is so eager to say it that Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, who after all has not disappeared into the blue, is soon forgotten. Susie has accepted a cigarette, Joe and Inigo have their pipes, Mr.¬ÝMitcham has brought out one of his famous cheroots, so that now the room is full of smoke. Thus we see them through a blue haze: Mr.¬ÝMorton Mitcham, towering, fantastic, less like a broken-down senator than he was when we first met him at Dullingham Junction, but still the same conglomeration of creaking bone, bending brow, and retreating hair, the same traveller from unimaginable places; Mrs.¬ÝJoe, flushed, almost sparkling now, ten years younger than she was an hour ago, talking away and sipping her bottled beer but still ready at any moment to play the Duchess of Dorking; the great shoulders and honest beaming face of Joe himself, as he nods and grins and agrees with everybody; Inigo of the wandering nose and wandering lock of hair, at once clean and untidy in the pleasant undergraduate fashion that remains with some men; and Susie, swinging her legs at the table‚Äôs edge, turning eagerly from one to another of her companions, talking, laughing, teasing, fooling, as if those dark eyes of hers would see ten thousand years of life undimmed. In another moment they will be nothing but names and news. We see them through this haze, which thickens, deepens, shredding away colour, blurring shape, like Time itself flowing mistily away, and then the curtain comes rustling down, and now we cannot see them at all and perhaps will never see them again.

V

And what was Mr.¬ÝOakroyd doing all this time? What has kept him in the background? The answer is‚ÅÝ‚Äîa new part. For the first and last time in his life, Mr.¬ÝOakroyd played the detective, a role for which‚ÅÝ‚Äînot being a reader of sensational fiction‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe had no particular liking or aptitude. But the great catastrophe had left him darkly brooding, and after innumerable pipes of Old Salt and some talk with his friend, Mr.¬ÝJock Campbell, a man compact of suspicion, he had begun to put two and two together. Thus it came about that he played the detective, and we shall soon discover to what purpose if we wait for him in Miss Trant‚Äôs room at the nursing home, on the morning of the day when Susie and Inigo were due to depart to London, and even Mrs.¬ÝJoe and the others were thinking seriously about packing.

Miss Trant was still in the nursing home, but if she had been in a hurry to leave it, she could have done so. She preferred, however, to stay on until her arm was completely better, to the great content of her new medical adviser, Dr.¬ÝHugh McFarlane, who contrived to visit her every day. He had now gone into the matter of the Hippodrome claims with Mr.¬ÝGooch, and this meant, of course, that he had to see her as often as possible, whatever might happen to a good general practice and the parathyroid glands. Having completely recovered from the shock, Miss Trant was now able to get up, but for the time being she was keeping to her room. When Hugh called, on this particular morning, he found her sitting in an armchair.

“I telephoned to Gooch,” he explained, “and he’s coming along to see you. Something very special, he says. I don’t know that I can stay for long, but he’ll tell you all about it, Elizabeth.”

“It’s a shame, your doing so much,” she told him. “I’m sure you can’t spare the time. You mustn’t bother any more about it, Hugh.”

And he replied that it was no trouble at all, and she said she was sure it must be, and he replied again, quite gruffly, that it was a pleasure, and by this time their eyes had joined in the dialogue and were making the most reckless remarks to one another, so that though their tongues had framed only the most innocent friendly syllables, she was bright pink and he was brick-red. Shy people can engage in this commerce for quite a long time before anything decisive happens, and it is not a stage of the passion that has any interest at all for outsiders (though Miss Trant‚Äôs nurse, who had followed every move, noted every blush, and taken the temperature of the affair each day, must be excepted), so that we can safely withdraw to await the arrival of Mr.¬ÝGooch.

Mr.¬ÝGooch was a solicitor with a very large practice and also a marked Midlands accent. These two things taken together indicate that he was an unusually astute man who knew a great deal about everybody in Gatford, Mundley, and Stort. Miss Trant‚Äôs family solicitor, Mr.¬ÝTruby of Cheltenham, would not have approved of Mr.¬ÝGooch at all, but then Mr.¬ÝTruby would have been afraid to contest claims that Mr.¬ÝGooch regarded as mere whims, impudent triflings. Hugh‚Äôs Scotch instinct for a good fighting lawyer had not been at fault when it had taken him to Mr.¬ÝGooch. For the rest, it only remains to be said that Mr.¬ÝGooch was not at all sharp, wizened, ferret-faced, but a stout rubicund man with an enormous flat face that suggested nothing but a sleepy good-humour.

Having bluntly told Miss Trant that he was pleased to meet her and glad to see she was sitting up, Mr.¬ÝGooch came at once to business. ‚ÄúNow, Miss Trant,‚Äù he began, ‚ÄúI‚Äôve looked into this matter. I thought at first it was a hopeless job. You can‚Äôt deny your liability, you see. I‚Äôve had a look at your agreement with the Hippodrome, and your liability‚Äôs there all right. Of course you never thought of anything of this sort happening, did you?‚Äù

“Naturally not,” Miss Trant replied. “Who would? I mean, it’s not the kind of thing that does happen, you see.”

‚ÄúQuite so,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch, creasing his vast face. ‚ÄúOnly you‚Äôve got to be prepared for anything in this world. That‚Äôs what agreements and contracts are for. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred they‚Äôre only time and money thrown away, but there‚Äôs always the hundredth. This is it. It‚Äôs a pity you put your name to that agreement, Miss Trant, if you don‚Äôt mind me saying so. These theatrical lettings are out of my line‚ÅÝ‚Äîand I don‚Äôt pretend to know a lot about ‚Äôem‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut that one you signed doesn‚Äôt look right to me, smells fishy, that one. And that‚Äôs going to be worth looking into, I fancy‚ÅÝ‚Äîafterwards, just to make a bit of mischief. But it‚Äôs watertight, no mistake about that. You‚Äôre liable, and when they claim, you‚Äôll have to pay up.‚Äù Having said this, he looked at her in a manner that suggested he was quite pleased about it.

Miss Trant was not pleased and came to the conclusion that Mr.¬ÝGooch was a fool. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a shame,‚Äù she cried. ‚ÄúI wouldn‚Äôt care if it was my fault in any way. But it wasn‚Äôt, as you know, and I‚Äôve had to suffer anyhow. I and my party have lost money, you see, quite apart from anything I may have to pay. And then we‚Äôve suffered in other ways too. And all because a few hooligans were determined to spoil our performance.‚Äù

Here Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane muttered something that hinted what he would do to such fellows if he caught them. It may have concerned their parathyroid glands.

‚ÄúQuite so,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch again, still smiling good-humouredly. ‚ÄúBut though we might whittle the claim down a bit when it comes‚ÅÝ‚Äîit hasn‚Äôt come yet, you know, but it‚Äôs on its way, you might say‚ÅÝ‚Äîwe can‚Äôt contest it. I want to make you understand that, Miss Trant. That‚Äôs clear, isn‚Äôt it? All right, then that‚Äôs settled.‚Äù

He still seemed very pleased with himself, and Miss Trant began to think that even poor Mr.¬ÝTruby, though he may have been thinking for months she was wrong in her head, could have done better than this. And what made it much worse was that he was Hugh‚Äôs choice. Poor Hugh!‚ÅÝ‚Äîhe had looked so knowing about his Mr.¬ÝGooch.

‚ÄúBut there‚Äôs another point,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch continued, with relish, ‚Äúand this is where we really come in. You‚Äôre responsible to them, all right. But who‚Äôs responsible to you? Who, in fact, is the guilty party?‚Äù He paused and looked at her expectantly.

She gave a mental if not an actual shrug. ‚ÄúThat‚Äôs soon settled too,‚Äù she replied, not without irony, ‚Äúbut it doesn‚Äôt help much. A gang of roughs‚ÅÝ‚Äîfrom nowhere. If it hadn‚Äôt been for them, nothing would have happened. But what good will that do us‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI mean, knowing that? Oh‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs all stupid! I‚Äôm sorry, but it really is.‚Äù

‚ÄúIt might turn out stupid for somebody,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch, who was quite unperturbed, ‚Äúbut it‚Äôs not half so stupid as it looks. Quite tricky up to a point, in fact‚ÅÝ‚Äîquite tricky. I didn‚Äôt want to bother you just now with all this, but I thought you‚Äôd better know the line I‚Äôm taking. If you don‚Äôt mind waiting a minute, I‚Äôll just see if he‚Äôs here. I left a message for him to come along.‚Äù With that, he lumbered out, leaving Miss Trant staring at her companion.

‚ÄúI don‚Äôt understand what he‚Äôs talking about,‚Äù she confessed, frowning. ‚ÄúIs he‚ÅÝ‚Äîreally‚ÅÝ‚Äîa reliable man?‚Äù

Hugh laughed. “I’ve been watching you, Elizabeth. I saw you thought he wasn’t going to be any use to you.”

‚ÄúNo, that‚Äôs not fair. I didn‚Äôt. Only‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Just wait. He’s here.”

He was and there was somebody with him. It was Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, tightly clutching his cap and looking very embarrassed. He gave her a very uneasy grin.

‚ÄúWell, Mr.¬ÝOakroyd,‚Äù and she smiled, ‚Äúthis is very nice. I didn‚Äôt expect to see you.‚Äù

Mr.¬ÝOakroyd cleared his throat. ‚ÄúAr yer getting on, Miss Trant?‚Äù

“Very well, thank you. What have you been doing lately?”

‚ÄúWell‚ÅÝ‚Äîer‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI‚Äôve been busy‚ÅÝ‚Äîlike.‚Äù And he nodded towards Mr.¬ÝGooch.

‚ÄúOh!‚Äù cried Miss Trant. ‚ÄúI didn‚Äôt understand. You‚Äôve come here with Mr.¬ÝGooch, have you?‚Äù

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs right,‚Äù replied Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, more at ease now. ‚ÄúAny rate, he left word for me to come here. Said I‚Äôd better tell yer mysen.‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd you got hold of the other chap,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch inquired, putting his head on one side in a droll fashion, ‚Äúmade sure of him, did you?‚Äù

‚ÄúHe‚Äôs here,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

‚ÄúHe‚Äôs here, is he?‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch was quite lively. ‚ÄúWhere? Outside?‚Äù

‚ÄúOn t‚Äômat,‚Äù replied Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, grinning. ‚ÄúD‚Äôyou want him in?‚Äù

‚ÄúIf Miss Trant doesn‚Äôt mind,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch, glancing at her.

“Of course I don’t mind,” said Miss Trant, staring at them. “But what is it all about?” And she suddenly began to laugh.

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs like this here, Miss Trant,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝOakroyd began, earnestly; ‚ÄúAfter that there do o‚Äô Saturday, I begins to put two an‚Äô two together. There‚Äôd been summat up all t‚Äôweek, though it were nowt to Saturday. Saturday capped t‚Äôlot, as yer knaw very well. Nar there‚Äôs one or two had said to me they thowt it were a put-up job, them chaps makking all that to-do. I didn‚Äôt like look on it at all, I didn‚Äôt. So I put my thinking cap on.‚Äù

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs the way,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch approvingly. ‚ÄúThinking cap.‚Äù

‚ÄúNar a friend o‚Äô mine that doesn‚Äôt belong here but ‚Äôud been here a bit, this chap ‚Äôud dropped a remark to me when I saw him last week‚ÅÝ‚Äîit were in t‚ÄôMarket Tavern o‚Äô Thursday‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô when I towd him I was here wi‚Äô T‚ÄôGood Companions, then he says, ‚ÄòYou had any bother lately, ‚Äôcos you‚Äôre going to have some right sharp?‚Äô Summat like that, he says. Well, I didn‚Äôt tak‚Äô much notice on it at time, an‚Äô he were off afore I could say owt. So I lets it drop, you might say. But t‚Äôother day, o‚Äô Monday it wor, when I begins to puzzle it out a bit, I thowt, ‚ÄòAr did he knaw we‚Äôd have some bother?‚Äô He‚Äôd said we would have and‚ÅÝ‚Äîby gow!‚ÅÝ‚Äîwe‚Äôd had some bother an‚Äô all. So I puts two an‚Äô two together. I thowt to mysen, ‚ÄòHe‚Äôs in t‚Äôknow, he is. If this here‚Äôs a put-up job, he‚Äôs been where they‚Äôve been putting it up, as you might say.‚Äô That‚Äôs what I thowt.‚Äù

Mr.¬ÝGooch wagged his huge head at Miss Trant. ‚ÄúThat‚Äôs the way,‚Äù he said once more. ‚ÄúThinking cap again.‚Äù

Miss Trant was interested now. ‚ÄúGo on, Mr.¬ÝOakroyd. This is exciting.‚Äù

‚ÄúSo I sets off to look for him, this here friend o‚Äô mine. Any rate, I maks a few inquiries. Meantime, I goes to see Jimmy Nunn, an‚Äô he tells me what Soosie towd him about Doctor McFarlane here going to Mr.¬ÝGoodge about this here job, so I goes to Mr.¬ÝGoodge an‚Äô all an‚Äô tells him what I think about it an‚Äô he says there might be summat in it an‚Äô I‚Äôd better keep on looking for this friend o‚Äô mine, d‚Äôyou see. ‚ÄòI‚Äôll do what I can,‚Äô he says, ‚Äòto help you to find him. What‚Äôs he like?‚Äô he says. An‚Äô I tells him, an‚Äô off I goes again an‚Äô comes on one chap ‚Äôat ‚Äôud seen him an‚Äô he puts me on to another chap. Eh, it were a business! But at finish up, I finds him.‚Äù

“Was he here in Gatford?” Miss Trant asked.

‚ÄúHere! He wor fowty mile away an‚Äô just settin‚Äô off to go another fowty or fifty. He‚Äôs allus on t‚Äômove,‚Äù he added, not without pride. ‚ÄúI were wi‚Äô him one time‚ÅÝ‚Äîon t‚Äôroad. If I hadn‚Äôt been, he wouldn‚Äôt ha‚Äô come back. He worn‚Äôt set on it‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äôcos he didn‚Äôt want to be mixed up in t‚Äôjob‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut he come i‚Äô t‚Äôfinish, being a pal o‚Äô mine.‚Äù

‚ÄúWell, we‚Äôd better have him in now,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch, ‚Äúunless Miss Trant doesn‚Äôt want to be bothered. You can leave it all to me, you know, Miss Trant, but I thought you might like to hear what he has to say.‚Äù

“I should think so!” cried Miss Trant. “Hurry up and bring him before he runs away.”

‚ÄúNay, he‚Äôll noan do that,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, almost reproachfully. ‚ÄúI‚Äôll fetch him.‚Äù And off he went.

‚ÄúAnd you really think there‚Äôs something in this?‚Äù said Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane, looking anxiously at Mr.¬ÝGooch.

‚ÄúI‚Äôm pretty sure there is,‚Äù that gentleman replied, smiling and half-closing his eyes. ‚ÄúPre‚Äëtty sure there is.‚Äù Then he opened his eyes, wide. ‚ÄúBut I can‚Äôt tell you exactly what‚ÅÝ‚Äînot yet.‚Äù

‚ÄúWell, whether there is or not,‚Äù cried Miss Trant excitedly, ‚Äúit‚Äôs lovely. And I hope there is, just for Mr.¬ÝOakroyd‚Äôs sake. I‚Äôve told you about him, haven‚Äôt I, Hugh?‚Äù

‚ÄúThis is him,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd, returning at that moment, ‚ÄúJoby Jackson. Nar, Joby lad, yer can tell ‚Äôem yersen.‚Äù

Our old friend Mr.¬ÝJackson looked from one to another of his audience and rubbed his chin dubiously. We see him for a moment robbed of that bright confidence which was part of his charm.

‚ÄúNow then?‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch.

‚ÄúIt‚Äôs like this,‚Äù said Joby hoarsely. ‚ÄúYer not making a police-court job o‚Äô this, are yer? If y‚Äôare, I want to keep out, see? Anything to oblige a pal‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô anyhow they did the dirty on yer‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut I don‚Äôt want to be put in a little box with a clever bloke on the other side saying, ‚ÄòAnd where were you on the fourteenth of July last?‚Äô No witnessing for me. Oh no! I‚Äôll tell yer what I know for George ‚Äôere, but yer don‚Äôt put me in the box, see?‚Äù

‚ÄúThere isn‚Äôt going to be a box; don‚Äôt worry,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch. ‚ÄúIt isn‚Äôt that sort of business at all.‚Äù

‚ÄúGood enough then,‚Äù said Joby, hesitating no longer and speaking with more freedom. ‚ÄúWhat yer want to know is ‚Äôow did I come to know there might be a bit o‚Äô bother, that‚Äôs it, isn‚Äôt it? Right.‚Äù He paused, gave a sharp glance round, thoroughly enjoying the situation. ‚ÄúWell, I‚Äôm ‚Äôere in Gatford, see. One morning in a boozer‚ÅÝ‚Äînot the Market Tavern, lower class of ‚Äôouse altogether‚ÅÝ‚Äîtell yer its moniker in a minute‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe Black Bull, that‚Äôs it. Know it?‚Äù

Mr.¬ÝGooch pondered for a moment. ‚ÄúCorner of Castle Street,‚Äù he said finally. ‚ÄúLittle place. Nearly got its licence taken away last year.‚Äù

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs the place,‚Äù said Joby. ‚ÄúWell, I‚Äôm in there, see‚ÅÝ‚Äîone morning, havin‚Äô one with some o‚Äô the lads. When I say some o‚Äô the lads, I don‚Äôt mean they was pals o‚Äô mine. But I knew some of ‚Äôem. Matter o‚Äô fact, some of ‚Äôem was on the road, same as meself. They wasn‚Äôt workin‚Äô just then, ‚Äôcos Gorley‚Äôs place is near ‚Äôere, see‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô Gorley‚Äôs the feller that owns some o‚Äô them Cock‚Äôrels and Swishbacks‚ÅÝ‚Äîand they was ‚Äôere, waitin‚Äô for the engines to be over‚Äôaulded, see. The other fellers I didn‚Äôt know-local fellers, they was, all in a click, y‚Äôknow, a gang, with about the price of a pint between the lot of ‚Äôem. Well there we are‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhen in comes a feller, a biggish bloke, all dressed up, smart feller. One or two o‚Äô the lads knows ‚Äôim, see, same as if they‚Äôd done a bit o‚Äô work for ‚Äôim one time, when they did work. This feller then looks us over, nods ‚Äôere an‚Äô there, very friendly like, calls the landlord an‚Äô orders drinks all round. Sensation in court! Then when the landlord‚Äôs gone and we‚Äôre all well into the pig‚Äôs ear, he sort o‚Äô gathers us round like an‚Äô says quietly, ‚ÄòAny o‚Äô you fellers like to earn some easy money?‚Äô ‚ÄòWhat‚Äôs the idear?‚Äô we want to know. ‚ÄòOnly a bit of a joke on my part,‚Äô ‚Äôe says, ‚Äòjust payin‚Äô somebody off,‚Äô ‚Äôe says, ‚Äòan‚Äô money for nothing for some o‚Äô you lads.‚Äô He didn‚Äôt look a money-for-nothing bloke to me, I don‚Äôt mind tellin yer, an‚Äô when ‚Äôe says, ‚ÄòBefore we go any further, who‚Äôs game?,‚Äô I didn‚Äôt catch on, see. I thought, ‚ÄòI don‚Äôt like the look of you, chum. Bit too careful about your joke. Too much lookin‚Äô over the shoulder.‚Äô So me an‚Äô two or three more wasn‚Äôt in it, see, an‚Äô we sits in the other corner, tryin‚Äô to look as if we wasn‚Äôt still drinkin‚Äô the beer he paid for. ‚ÄôE whispers for about ten minutes, then slings it. But I got a word or two, something about a show at the Hip. When ‚Äôe goes, the other fellers lets on then, see. ‚ÄòWhy don‚Äôt yer come in?‚Äô they says to us. ‚ÄòQuid each for sittin‚Äô at the back o‚Äô the Hip. an‚Äô giving ‚Äôem the bird, an‚Äô p‚Äôraps another quid for Saturday if it pans out all right,‚Äô they says‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“And those were the men then,” Miss Trant gasped. “But why? I don’t understand. Who was this man?”

‚ÄúNow we come to it,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch. ‚ÄúWho was he?‚Äù

‚ÄúI ‚Äôeard ‚Äôis name,‚Äù Joby replied slowly, ‚Äú‚Ää‚Äôcos, as I say, some of ‚Äôem knew ‚Äôim‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

“Good! And what was it?”

‚ÄúThat‚Äôs it. I‚Äôve forgotten it. Clean gone. An‚Äô me with a memory, my God! that‚Äôs won me more pints o‚Äô beer in bets than you could swallow from now to‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúCome along,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch. ‚ÄúThis won‚Äôt do, you know. You might as well give us the name now. It‚Äôs just that we want.‚Äù

“It’s no good yer coming along me,” cried Joby aggressively. “Yer can come along till yer blue an’ it won’t make no difference. I’ve tried to remember that feller’s moniker all day. ’Ere, George, you can tell ’em. Wasn’t I tryin’ to remember it all along the road’ere?”

‚ÄúAy, yer wor, Joby,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝOakroyd replied mournfully. It began to look as if he had had all his trouble for nothing.

‚ÄúWell, can‚Äôt you remember anything about him?‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch, who looked neither sleepy nor good-humoured now.

“Let’s see. ’Alf a minute. Biggish bloke. Clean-shaved. Reddish face. Baggy under the eyes, poached-egg style. Too much whisky.” But that did not seem to help much, for Gatford and district could boast of dozens of middle-aged gentlemen exactly like that. Then Joby remembered something else. “ ’Ere, ’alf a minute. Pitchers. Something to do with pitchers.”

‚ÄúPitchers?‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch stared at him.

“That’s ri’. Yer know, films, cinemas!”

‚ÄúAh!‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch sounded triumphant. ‚ÄúWas his name Ridvers?‚Äù

‚ÄúYou‚Äôve got it, chum,‚Äù shouted Joby, in great excitement. ‚ÄúYou‚Äôve got it in one. Ridvers, that‚Äôs it. Now ‚Äôow the‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI mean‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äôow did I come to forget that? Ridvers. That‚Äôs it all right an‚Äô no mistake. Do yer know‚Äôim, Mister?‚Äù

‚ÄúI know Mr.¬ÝRidvers,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝGooch replied, a trifle grimly, ‚Äúand Mr.¬ÝRidvers knows me. I don‚Äôt think I shall have a lot of trouble with Mr.¬ÝRidvers. I happen to know he‚Äôs trying to sell his three cinema halls to a big syndicate. In fact, I know a lot about Mr.¬ÝRidvers. And now I know a bit more, don‚Äôt I? Well, well! Hello!‚Äù He stared at Miss Trant, who was wrinkling her brow. ‚ÄúDo you know him too?‚Äù

‚ÄúI‚Äôm just trying to think. There was a man, a horrid man, pushed his way into my room at the hotel one afternoon, two or three weeks ago, and he said he had something to do with cinemas here. He was awfully rude and disagreeable‚ÅÝ‚Äîa beast of a man‚ÅÝ‚Äîand so I wouldn‚Äôt listen to him, just told him to go. And I heard afterwards that some of the men in the party had some trouble with him after that, downstairs. I‚Äôm sure that must be the same man.‚Äù

‚ÄúSo am I,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch.

‚ÄúI‚Äôve a mind to call on this Ridvers,‚Äù Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane began, looking very fierce.

‚ÄúLeave him to me, Doctor, leave him to me,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝGooch. ‚ÄúI‚Äôll attend to him. He‚Äôs had his little joke, and this is where he pays for it.‚Äù He turned to Joby. ‚ÄúAnd don‚Äôt you worry about courts of law. This won‚Äôt get that far, if I know Mr.¬ÝRidvers; But I tell you what you can do, my lad, and I‚Äôll see you don‚Äôt lose by it. You can just give me as many names of those other fellows as you can remember. That‚Äôll help us to show Mr.¬ÝRidvers we know all about his little games.‚Äù He whipped out paper and pencil and took Joby aside.

‚ÄúWell done, Mr.¬ÝOakroyd!‚Äù said Dr.¬ÝMcFarlane, shaking him by the hand. ‚ÄúThat‚Äôs fine.‚Äù

“Isn’t it?” cried Miss Trant. “Whatever happens, I’m very very grateful to you. You’ve been wonderful, finding all this out for us.”

“Nay, I’ve done nowt. It’s Joby who’ll ha’ done t’trick.”

“No, it’s you really, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am. And listen, I’ve been wanting to talk to you, now that we’ve all broken up. Aren’t you sorry?”

‚ÄúEh, I am, Miss Trant. I don‚Äôt like thowt on us all leavin‚Äô one another, I don‚Äôt. Ther‚Äôs Soos an‚Äô Inigo off this afternoon‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI‚Äôm off to t‚Äôstation wi‚Äô em if I can get‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô though I‚Äôm right glad they‚Äôre doing so well, I‚Äôll be right sorry to see ‚Äôem go, I will that. Eh, we‚Äôve had wer bit o‚Äô fun together, three on us.‚Äù

“But tell me,” said Miss Trant, looking at him very earnestly, “what are you going to do? I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that.”

‚ÄúNay, I‚Äôve been so throng wi‚Äô this business, I don‚Äôt fairly knaw. Ther‚Äôs been a bit o‚Äô talk about it. Soos wants me to go to London afore so long, ‚Äôcos she fancies she can get me summat to do there. An‚Äô Joe says if I went wi‚Äô them, p‚Äôraps ther‚Äôd be a job there‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù

‚ÄúAnd I don‚Äôt know exactly what I‚Äôm going to do,‚Äù she said, ‚Äúbut that‚Äôs what I was going to say to you too. But look here, will you talk to the others seriously today, and then come to see me‚ÅÝ‚Äîlet me see‚ÅÝ‚Äîtomorrow morning sometime, and then we can talk about it properly. Will you do that?‚Äù

‚ÄúAy, I will,‚Äù said Mr.¬ÝOakroyd solemnly, and then awkwardly took his leave of her. But he did not talk it over with the others and he did not call upon her the next morning.

‚ÄúYer mun come an‚Äô have a bit o‚Äô dinner wi‚Äô me, Joby lad,‚Äù he said, as they left the nursing home in triumph. ‚ÄúI towd t‚Äôlandlady yer might‚ÅÝ‚Äîshe‚Äôs a right good sort is this, an‚Äô I‚Äôve been there a time nar‚ÅÝ‚Äîan‚Äô she‚Äôll have it ready.‚Äù

‚ÄúI‚Äôm with yer, George,‚Äù said Joby in great content. He had been promised a reward for his services by Mr.¬ÝGooch, and, reward or no reward, had enjoyed his morning.

They had hardly set foot in the house, however, before the landlady rushed up and thrust something in Mr.¬ÝOakroyd‚Äôs face, just as if it had been there some time and she was anxious to get rid of it, fearing that it would explode at any moment. And indeed this is indeed exactly what she felt, for the thing she handed over was a telegram. At the sight of it Mr.¬ÝOakroyd‚Äôs triumphant morning crashed to smithereens. ‚ÄúBy gow!‚Äù he muttered, staring.

It was Joby’s turn to read it now. Come at once mother bad. Leonard. He made a little clucking noise. “That’s ruddy ’ard lines, George,” he said, seriously, sympathetically. “The old trouble-and-strife, eh? Bad, eh? Aw, that’s rotten, George. ’Ope for the best, though.”

‚ÄúI knew ther were summat. I did, I knew,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝOakroyd was muttering. Then he looked at Joby. ‚ÄúI mun be off soon as I can. When‚Äôs t‚Äônext train up there, lad?‚Äù

Joby knew, for he was an authority on trains. There was one in the middle of the afternoon, and this gave him time after dinner to scrawl his Bruddersford address and a few words of explanation on a bit of paper, to be conveyed to Miss Trant by “t’landlady’s little lad,” to put his things together and settle his bill, to hurry round and say goodbye to Susie and Inigo. There was no time to see the others, but perhaps they would not be gone when he returned, if he did return. Joby went with him to the station, though his own train did not go until five o’clock.

‚ÄúAll the best, George. An‚Äô don‚Äôt forget‚ÅÝ‚ÄîJoby Jackson, World‚Äôs Fair‚ÅÝ‚Äîfinds me ev‚Äôry time, see. Keep smilin‚Äô.‚Äù

“So long, Joby lad. See thee again some day. On t’road, eh?”

And then the train went roaring North.