Herbert Jenkins

“ What it was that happened Beresford was never quite able to determine; but Lady Drewitt's figure seemed to undergo some strange convulsion, causing her chair to recede at least two inches and she with it. Never had he seen surprise manifest itself so overwhelmingly. She sat staring at him as if he had suddenly changed into a camelopard or a four-winged griffin.
"You see," he began apologetically, "I'm twenty-eight and you are always urging Drew to marry."
"Going to get married!" repeated Lady Drewitt, as if she had not yet properly realised the significance of the words. ”

“ Inspector Wensdale was sitting bolt upright in his chair, gazing at Malcolm Sage as if he had been requested to supply two lorry-loads of archangels.
"It will be moonlight, and caps might fall off," explained Malcolm Sage. "You cannot very well ask a man to black his head. Above all," he continued evenly, "be sure you give no indication to anyone why you want the men, and tell them not to talk. You follow me?" he queried.
"Yes," said the inspector, "I—I follow."
"Don't go down Hempdon way again, and tell no one in the neighbourhood; no one, you understand, is to know anything about it. ”

“ Rising, Malcolm Sage walked across and placed his hand upon her arm.
"It will be better for everybody if you will try and control yourself," he said gently, "and above all tell us the truth."
As if surprised at the gentleness of his tone, she slowly raised her drawn face and looked at him in wonder.
"Now listen to me," continued Malcolm Sage, drawing up a chair and seating himself beside her, "and tell me if I am wrong. Whilst you were acting as Sir Lyster's secretary you met Paul Cressit at the Admiralty, and you were attracted to him." ”

“ Patricia determined to temporise in order to gain time. She knew Aunt Adelaide to be capable of anything, even to calling upon Lord Peter Bowen's family and enquiring if it were he to whom her niece was engaged. She was too bewildered to know how to act. It would be so like this absurd person to turn out to be a lord and make her still more ridiculous. If he were Lord Peter, why on earth had he not told her? Had he thought she would be dazzled?
Suddenly there flashed into Patricia's mind an explanation which caused her cheeks to flame and her eyes to flash. ”

“ Could he disown this uncle? Should he explain that the whole thing was an invention, and that he had never possessed a rich uncle in Australia? Was it possible that by some curious trick there really was a Josiah Williams, Australian millionaire and philanthropist? If these men would only go and leave him alone to think!
Then suddenly there presented itself to his mind the other question: what would Josiah Williams be like? Would he be hopelessly unpresentable? Would he humiliate him, Reginald Graves, and render his subsequent years at St. Joseph's intolerable? ”

“ He knew the Chief better than Gladys, he told himself, and if there were one thing calculated to bring out all the sternness in his nature it was flippancy, and what could be more flippant than decorating the room of a great detective with huge bowls and vases of red and white roses.
Regardless of Thompson's forebodings, Lady Dene smiled to herself as she put the finishing touches to the last vase, whilst Gladys Norman gathered up the litter of leaves and stalks that lay on the floor, throwing them into the fireplace. She then removed the last spots of water from Malcolm Sage's table. ”

“ Groups of miserable cattle huddled together under hedges, or beneath trees that gave no shelter from the pitiless rain. Here and there some despairing beast lay down in the open, as if refusing to continue the self-deception. The tree trunks glistened like beavers; for the rain beat relentlessly through their thin foliage, in short, the world was wet to the skin, and Richard Beresford with the world. ”

“ Burying his face in his arms, he sobbed the hard, dry sobs of a man who is alone with his soul.
"Well, I'm blowed," muttered Bindle, his eyes upon the light patch on the back of Mr. Crane's head. "If this ain't It"; and he walked over to the table and stood gazing down at the sobbing man, as if he had been some new and strange animal.
"Please leave us now," said a quiet voice behind him. He turned swiftly to find Mrs. Crane standing just inside the kitchen door, a new light in her eyes. "Get the furniture back in the van, please; I will settle up everything with your employers. ”

“ The men grouped themselves round him, breathless with interest.
"By the way," said Malcolm Sage, turning to Alf Pond, "does Burns happen to smoke long Havana cigars with a red——"
"Smoke!" yelled Alf Pond in horror. "Him smoke! You blinkin' well barmy?" he demanded, looking Malcolm Sage up and down as if meditating an attack upon him. "I'd like to see the man who'd so much as dare to strike a match here," and he glared about him angrily, whilst the sparring-partners shuffled their feet and murmured among themselves. ”

“ In the centre of the garden was a sundial, moss-green from exposure to the weather, the base overgrown with grass and some sort of weed-like creeper, whilst from above the lattice-windowed inn, a chimney reared its long neck and smoked lazily into the blueness of the sky. Birds were twittering and dropping on to the grass, seizing the crumbs of cake that Beresford idly tossed to them, then, as if suddenly realising their daring, they would speed away to devour their plunder in safety.
As the days passed, Lola and Beresford had drifted into the habit of spending all their time together. ”

“ Sir John Hackblock glared at Inspector Wensdale as if it were he who was responsible for the deception.
They were seated smoking in Sir John's library after a particularly early breakfast.
"I always said it was the work of a madman," said the inspector in self-defence.
"Callice is no more mad than I am," snapped Sir John. "I wish I were going to try him," he added grimly. "The scoundrel! To think——" His indignation choked him.
"He is not mad in the accepted sense," said Malcolm Sage as he sucked meditatively at his pipe. "I should say that it is a case of race-memory." ”

“ Triggs stopped suddenly and looked apprehensively at Lady Tanagra.
"What is it you want, Mr. Triggs?" enquired Patricia quickly.
"Er—er—I—I—forget, I—I forget," floundered Mr. Triggs, still looking anxiously at Lady Tanagra.
"When you're in the company of women, Mr. Triggs, you should never appear to want anything else. It makes an unfavourable impression upon us."
"God bless my soul, I don't!" cried Mr. Triggs earnestly. "I've been looking forward to this ever since I got your wire yesterday afternoon."
"Now he has given me away," cried Lady Tanagra. "How like a man!" ”

“ Lady Knob-Kerrick was just in the act of getting into her carriage when the jet of water from the hose took her in the small of the back and literally washed her into her seat as, a moment later, it washed her coachman off his. The horses reared and plunged; but McFie and Bindle rushed to their heads. Several men busied themselves with undoing the traces, the frightened animals were freed from the pole, and a cut from the whip, aided by the noise of the crowd, was sufficient to send them clattering down the road. ”

“ She followed him along the carpeted corridor conscious of a mad desire to turn and fly. What would Peel do? she wondered. Possibly in the madness of the moment his mantle of discretion might fall from him, and he would dash after her. What a sensation for the Quadrant! A girl tearing along as if for her life pursued by a gentleman's servant. It would look just like the poster of "Charley's Aunt."
Peel opened the door of Bowen's sitting-room, and Patricia entered with the smile still on her lips that the thought of "Charley's Aunt" had aroused. ”

“ He noticed that her cloak was lined with some tint of amber, or was it orange? Then suddenly his faculties returned to him with a rush. With a swift movement he threw his hat, stick and gloves on to a chair.
"Lola!" It was a sob rather than a greeting.
Suddenly there had come back to him with overwhelming force the realisation of what he had planned to do. He was like a man who has just realised that he has passed through some awful danger. It was the reaction. It was the great will to live, and going away would have been death. ”

“ Gandy saw the outer doors pushed open, admitting a stream of yellow sunshine and with it a little bald-headed man with a red nose and green baize apron. It was Bindle. He approached the counter, eyed Mr. Gandy deliberately, and ordered a pint of ale.
Mr. Gandy drew the beer as if it were a sacred office, wheezing the while. He was a man with a ponderous manner, and a full bar or an empty bar made no difference to the sacred flow of the liquor. He had an eye that could cower a "drunk" more effectually than the muscle of a barman. ”

“ Lady Drewitt was not without shrewdness. Cecily Seymour was useful to her as a target for her arrows of scorn; but she possessed no illusions as to the nature of her niece and nephew's devotion. The uncompromising independence of Beresford, although it angered her, at the same time commanded her respect. She was a woman, and the strong masculine personality of Beresford appealed to her in spite of herself. She demanded subservience; yet scorned those who gave it. She strove to break spirits, all the time instinctively admiring those that refused to be broken. ”

“ Her simple evening frock of black voile, unrelieved by any colour save a ribbon of St. Patrick's green that bound her hair, showed up the paleness of her skin and the redness of her lips. At the last moment, as if under protest, she had pinned some of Bowen's carnations in her belt.
As she entered the dining-room, Miss Wangle and Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe exchanged significant glances. Woman-like they sensed something unusual. Galvin House did not usually dress for dinner.
"Going out?" enquired Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe sweetly.
"Probably," was Patricia's laconic reply. ”

“ It was obviously impossible to pour out his own coffee and leave her the remainder. Should he ring for the waiter? No, the coffee should act as master of the ceremonies and bridge the gulf between them. Placing the coffee-pot and the milk-jug on the hearth, he waited, substituting a cigarette for his briar, lest its rich, juicy note might prove unmusical to feminine ears. For ten minutes he waited. Had the waiter merely made a mistake in bringing two cups instead of one? Possibly at this very moment she was enjoying her coffee in the dining-room. ”

“ Bindle's cry had attracted general attention to Graves, but too late to stop him. With a bound he reached the door and tore down the stairs.
"After him, you chaps," cried Guggers, and with yells and cries ranging from "Tally-ho!" to the "Bushmen's war-cry" the whole company streamed out of Bungem's and tore down "the High" in hot pursuit.
That night those who were late out beheld the strange sight of a white-faced man in evening-dress running apparently for his life, pursued by a pack of some two hundred other men similarly garbed and uttering the most horrible shouts and threats. ”

“ Triggs," said Bowen.
"On your side?" queried Mr. Triggs, not understanding.
"Yes," said Bowen, "you see Patricia believes in long engagements, whereas I believe in short ones. I want her to marry me at once; but she will not. She wants to wait until we are both too old to enjoy each other's society, and she is too deaf to hear me say how charming she is."
"If you love each other you'll never be too old to enjoy each other's company," said Mr. Triggs seriously. ”

“ Whereat Mrs. Hearty collapsed into ripples and wheezes. Bindle was the only self-possessed person in the room. He regarded his fellow-guests with keen interest, noted the odour of camphor and mustiness and the obvious creases in the men's coats. "Smells like a pawn-shop," he muttered. Then he came to the Rev. Mr. Sopley, a gaunt, elderly man, with ragged beard that covered his entire face, save the cheeks which, like two little hillocks of flesh, peeped out from a riot of whiskered undergrowth.
"'Ow are yer, sir?" asked Bindle.
Mr. Sopley raised a pair of agonised eyes. ”

“ They were sitting in the garden of an old inn having tea. Lola had expressed a wish for an excursion inland, and Beresford had hired a car.
It was an old-fashioned spot surrounded by an ivy-covered wall. The back of the house was obscured by a trellis covered with crimson-ramblers. A few fruit trees disputed with currant and rose bushes the possession of the garden. It seemed as if Nature had been permitted to go her own way, without either help or hindrance from man. ”