[image]"'DAZE ME!' SAID THE CONSTABLE. 'SURELY—AY, 'TIS THE MAYOR.'""Of course I'm the mayor!" said Noakes, truculently. "These young ruffians have assaulted me. I give them in charge, Brown.""That's cool!" said Eves. "Don't pay any attention to him, constable. He's mad, or intoxicated. Mr. Templeton had occasion to come back to the shop, and we found this fellow in the act of trying to open a drawer where Mr. Templeton keeps important papers. He got a bit ruffled, of course. He says he's the mayor, but is that likely? Take him to the station, constable: we'll give the superintendent the facts.""He's the mayor, or his double," said the constable. "And as to arresting the mayor——""Don't be a fool, Brown," said Noakes. "It's all a mistake—and a mistake that'll cost these young ruffians dear. I came here to see Wilkins, and afore I could get a word out, they knocked me down and nigh squeezed the breath out of me.""And Wilkins knows that you open his drawers in his absence?" said Eves. "Are these your keys, Bob, or Wilkins's?"He held up the bunch of keys which Noakes had dropped."Neither," said Templeton. "Mine are in my pocket: Mr. Wilkins no doubt has his.""Well, jown me if I know what to do!" said the constable. "You'd better all come along and charge each other, seems to me!""What's all this?" said a voice at the door.Wilkins entered breathlessly."They rang me up from the station, and told me there was burglars in my shop. Where be they? Mr. Noakes, what have been going on? What have come to your eye?""You may well ask, Wilkins. I came to have a word with you about that estimate, you know——" Wilkins tried to look as if he knew—"and these fellows, one an assistant of yours, I understand, set on me and half murdered me—took me for a burglar, ha! ha!""He was trying his keys on this drawer, Mr. Wilkins," said Eves."And why not?" demanded Wilkins, indignantly. "Why not, I ask 'ee? 'Tis my drawer, I keep my papers there, and Mr. Noakes having come to see me about an estimate, of course he saves time and gets the estimate out ready.""And Brown will take 'em in charge for an unprovoked assault," said Noakes."Well, now, Mr. Noakes," said Wilkins, soothingly, "I wouldn't go so far as that. Not if it was me. It do seem 'twas a mistake. They took 'ee for a burglar—a nat'ral mistake, that's what it was, and my advice to one and all is, let it bide and say no more about it. We don't want no newspapers getting a hold of things like this. Won't do none of us no good—that's what I say."Eves was loth to let Noakes go scot free, but after a whispered consultation with Templeton, who pointed out the improbability of any magistrate being induced to believe, in face of Wilkins's explanation, that the mayor was a burglar, he grudgingly agreed to withdraw the charge. Templeton took the precaution of removing all his own papers from the drawer, and leaving Noakes with Wilkins, returned with Eves to Mrs. Pouncey's cottage."So much for your rough diamond!" said Eves. "Noakes evidently didn't know before to-day that you were here, and when I saw him confabbing with Wilkins he was no doubt asking all about you. Wilkins must have told him about your inventions, and he thought a visit to your drawer would give him an idea or two, and enable him to get in first with a patent.""But you don't suppose Wilkins was in the plot?""I don't know about that, but he's clearly under Noakes's thumb. Some one said that you know a man by the company he keeps. Wilkins keeps uncommonly bad company.""I'm disappointed in him, I confess," said Templeton. "To-morrow I'll give him a week's notice, and work on my own for the rest of my leave."IIINext morning Templeton, after breakfast, went to the workshop as usual, leaving Eves to his own devices until lunch-time. Eves spent an hour pottering about in the shed, and was particularly interested in the fire extinguishing composition."Rummy old sport!" he thought. "I suppose he will strike something really good one of these days, and be a bloated millionaire while I'm pinching on a miserable pension. Wonder what temperature this stuff melts at, by the way."He found, standing against the wall, a metal tray pierced with holes which had been plugged with the composition. A thermometer hung on a nail."Hanged if I don't experiment on my own account!" he thought.He filled the tray with water from the pump in Mrs. Pouncey's garden, laid it on an iron tripod which he found in the shed, and obtaining some firewood and coke from Mrs. Pouncey, kindled a small fire in an iron brazier. This he put underneath the tray, hanging the thermometer from the tripod. In a few minutes a sizzling informed him that water was trickling through the holes, and lifting the thermometer, he discovered that it registered 76°."By George! What a rag!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if it can be done! Mustn't tell Bob, though!"He put out the fire, emptied the brazier and the tray, replugged the holes and removed all traces of his experiment. Then he walked into the town, and made his way to the Literary Institute."Good morning, Mr. Johnson," he said to the builder, whom he found reading a newspaper in the large hall, and smiling broadly. "You've got all ready for to-night, I see. How many will the place hold?""Two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts," said the builder."That's about the whole able-bodied population of Pudlington, isn't it?""Why no, sir, not with the women folk. They've got votes now-a-days, and there be more women voters than men, seemingly. Have 'ee seen theEcho, sir?""Your local rag? Anything in it?""A rare bit o' news that you won't see every week. Look 'ee here."He handed thePudlington Echoto Eves, pointing to a paragraph headed with large type."MISTAKEN FOR A BURGLAR"AMAZING EXPERIENCE OF THE MAYOR"Our worthy mayor was involved in an awkward predicament last night. In pursuance of an appointment with Mr. Wilkins, of the British Motor Garage, he arrived at the workshop between eight and nine o'clock, and was awaiting the proprietor, when he was suddenly seized and thrown down by a young man in the uniform of a second lieutenant, who had come up in company with Mr. Wilkins's assistant, and, not familiar with the mayor's lineaments, had mistaken him for a burglar. The police were telephoned for, and Constable Brown, on reaching the scene, found himself in an unenviable position, between cross-charges of burglary and common assault. The tension was relieved by the arrival of Mr. Wilkins, who saw at once that a pardonable mistake had been made by his assistant and the young officer, and by the exercise of his accustomed tact succeeded in bringing both parties to an amicable understanding. We have unfortunately to record that in the regrettable fracas our mayor sustained an ocular abrasion, the consequences of which, while temporarily disfiguring, will, we trust, be otherwise negligible. As a comparative newcomer Mr. Noakes may not be aware that he is in good company. Those familiar with the chronicles of our ancient borough will remember the historic bout between Ted Sloggins and Jemmy Wild, the prizefighter once Mayor of Pudlington, when the latter was knocked out in the tenth round with two broken ribs and a black eye.""That's a nasty one!" said Eves, returning the paper."That last bit, sir? True, I feel it so—very nasty indeed. That feller have got his knife into the mayor, in a sly sort of way.""Mr. Noakes isn't very popular, then? The local paper would hardly give a dig at a popular mayor.""Well, sir, to tell 'ee the truth, there's two parties, one for and one against. Mr. Noakes is almost a newcomer, and some folks don't take kindly to his pushing ways. I don't myself, I own it. He's near driven me off my head over this meeting, and though I'd do anything in the way of business, I don't hold with his views. He was one of they 'Stop the War' kidney, and though goodness knows I'd 'a stopped the war, having a son over in France, I wouldn't stop it a moment afore we'd done what we set out to do, and thankful I am our lads have done it. That there young officer last night"—he smiled—"was you, I take it, sir.""The curtain's dropped over that, Mr. Johnson," said Eves. "By the way, you were going to try Mr. Templeton's new fire extinguisher. Have you rigged up the apparatus?""Ay, sure, 'tis all ready. Come up along, and I'll show 'ee. I'll try it next week, just afore I plaster the ceiling."He took Eves to the floor above, and showed him, between the workmen's planks and the matchboard, a large shallow tank of sheet iron resting on the rafters. It was filled with water, and the builder explained that the holes in the bottom had been plugged with the composition a week before."Most ingenious," said Eves, making a mental note of the position of the tank. "If it answers, I suppose you will make a tank to cover the whole of the ceiling.""Surely, and put it into every house, hall or church I build.""Johnson, where are you?" came a call from below."'Tis Mr. Noakes himself, come to bother me again!" said Johnson in an undertone. Aloud he cried: "Coming, Mr. Noakes, coming! ... Belike you'll bide here a bit," he added with a smile."I'm not keen on meeting your worthy mayor," replied Eves. "I'll come down when he's gone."Through the matchboard Eves clearly heard the conversation between the two men."Look 'ee here, Johnson," began Noakes, irritably, "this won't do. The place is as cold as an ice-house, and my orders was to heat en well. Folks won't be no good listening to speeches if they're all of a shiver.""Why, bless 'ee, Mr. Noakes, 'tis only ten o'clock. There's plenty of time to get the room comfortable warm by seven. The furnace is going, and you don't want the place like a greenhouse, do 'ee? Folks 'ud all drop asleep.""There's a medium, Johnson. I count on you to regulate the furnace so's we're cosy-like. 'Tis a raw morning, and 'twill be worse to-night. Keep the furnace going steady, and come four o'clock shet all the winders to keep out the night air.""But what about ventilation? If so be there's a good audience you'll have women fainting, and I don't know what all.""There'll be plenty of ventilation through the matchboard," said Noakes, looking upward. "Besides, we've always the winders to cool the air if need be, but if you ain't got a good fire—why there you are! See that my orders are carried out, Johnson.""Very good. You shall have it like an oven if you like: 'tis not for me to say."Noakes, whose face suggested the recent application of a beefsteak, inspected the rows of chairs, mounted the platform and re-arranged the table, scolded the charwoman who had left her dust-pan on the chairman's seat, and finally departed. Then Eves rejoined the builder."They'll be warm afore they gets to work," said the latter, smiling, "And if so be there's any opposition, I won't say but what tempers 'll rise to biling point. However!""A queer man, your mayor!" said Eves. "By the way, I'd like to have a look at your furnace.""Surely, sir. Come wi' me."He led Eves into the basement, where a young man in shirt-sleeves was stoking the fire."I'll have to keep 'ee to-night, Fred," said the builder, "and sorry I be to say it, but the mayor's just been talking to me, and wants the place hotted up. You must stay till eight, my lad, and leave a good fire when you go: there's no telling how long the speechifying will last; these 'lection meetings are that uncertain."The stoker brushed his arm across his damp brow, and muttered something uncomplimentary of the mayor. Johnson expounded to Eves the merits of his heating system, and followed him up the stairs again."The mayor's a busy man just now," said Eves. "Isn't there some sort of a ceremony coming on?""Ay, so 'tis, a ceremony that's come down from very ancient days, very ancient indeed, when we was all heathens, so it seems. 'Tis the anointing of the British Stone, they do call it, a rare old block of granite all by itself in a field some way north o' the town. Nobody knows how it come there, but 'tis said there was a battle on the spot, I don't know how many hundred years ago, and a whole cemetery of bones down below. Whatever the truth is, the mayor and corporation marches out in full rig once a year, and the mayor breaks a bottle o' cider, the wine o' the country, atop of the stone. I say 'tis just an excuse for a randy, for they make a sort of fair o't, wi' stalls and merry-go-rounds, and I don't know what all. There won't be so much fun as usual this year, though, owing to shortage of sugar for sweets and cakes and such. Still, maybe 'twill be worth your seeing, being so ancient.""Rather! I'm tremendously keen on rags, ancient or modern. I'll be there!"Eves bade the builder good-bye at the door of the hall, and the latter went up the street to his office. As soon as his back was turned, Eves hastened below to the furnace room."Pretty thirsty work, isn't it?" he said to the man. "I don't wonder you're not keen to be kept so long at it.""'Tisn't that, sir," said the stoker. "The truth o't is I was going to take my girl to the cinema to-night. It begins at seven, and she'll be in a taking, 'cos they're showing some war pictures, and I'm in one of 'em, and she's mad on seeing me, though I tell her I ain't doing nothing, only looking down my nose at a blooming Hun prisoner.""Naturally she wants to see you, and squeeze your hand, and—you know. I should myself. Well, I'll tell you what. I'll come about 6.45 and release you."The man stared."I mean it, no kid," Eves went on. "I intended coming to the meeting, but there'll be nothing very interesting until half time, and the stoking will be finished by then.""But you'll mess your clothes, sir, not to speak of your hands.""Oh, no! I'll see to that. Besides, you know, we didn't fret ourselves about dirt in the trenches. That's all right, then, and look here—get your young woman a box of chocolates, a pound box—all one price, four shillings. She'll like your picture all the more."He handed the man a couple of half-crowns, cut short his effusive thanks, and made his way back to the cottage."Bob come home, Mrs. Pouncey?" he asked the old dame."Not yet, sir, and I do hope he won't be late, for I've got as tender a loin of young pig as ever I've roasted.""Capital! I'm ravenous, I always am. It's a disease, Mrs. Pouncey. Don't I show it in my face?""Bless your heart, sir, your face does me good: it do look so happy!""Happy thoughts, old dear. I've had a particularly happy thought all the morning, and it shines out on my ingenuous countenance. Some folks never show anything, you know. My friend Templeton, now—ah! here he is! Roast pork, Bob—hurry up!"IVAfter early supper that evening, Eves and Templeton, giving each an arm to Mrs. Pouncey, set off for the Literary Institute. The good woman was greatly excited at the prospect of giving her vote for the first time next day, and had announced her intention of voting for "the gentleman," whereupon Eves had reproached her, with well-assumed severity."That is not the right spirit, I am sure of it," he said. "You are going to exercise for the first time the priceless privilege, or right, or duty, of the franchise: a most solemn responsibility, Mrs. Pouncey. Yet you have made up your mind to vote for 'the gentleman' without considering what views he professes, and without hearing the other side, which may be one of Nature's gentlemen.""I like 'em best bred, same as pig," said Mrs. Pouncey, stoutly."I don't dispute your taste," returned Eves, "but I think you owe it to the principle of fair play at least to hear what the other fellow may have to say. This is your last chance: to-morrow is the fatal day: like the man in the poem, you must make up your mind between truth and falsehood, 'twixt the good and evil side.""Oh! how you do talk, Mr. Eves!" said Mrs. Pouncey. "I'll go, then, to please you, and I hope as I shan't be sorry for it.""I don't think you will; in fact I think you will have quite a pleasant entertainment. Mr. Noakes has insisted on the hall being warm and cosy-like, and the chairs are quite good. I'll find you a good place at the back of the hall.""Not too far back, then, for my hearing bain't what it was.""But your eyes are good—wonderfully good for a lady of forty or so. You shall sit where you can hear—and see—everything."Templeton had privately taken Eves to task for persuading the old dame to venture out on a cold night; but Eves had only chuckled.The young officers were both in mufti, Eves having borrowed an old suit from his friend.It was twenty minutes to seven when they reached the hall. The first few rows of chairs were already occupied, and people were streaming in. Eves piloted Mrs. Pouncey to a seat in the middle of the sixth row from the back wall."It do be warmish, to be sure," she said, removing her tippet."Thanks to the mayor! Bob, look after Mrs. Pouncey. I'll be back presently."He dodged his way through the incoming stream, and disappeared.Templeton sat beside Mrs. Pouncey, looking around the audience with an air of mild interest, and quite unconscious that the good lady was basking in the glory reflected upon her by the companionship of the "young feller as had his name in the paper." She nodded and smiled at her friends and acquaintances, and bridled visibly when she saw heads put together, nods in her direction, curious glances at Templeton, and lips whispering into ready ears.The hall gradually filled. Tradesmen of the town, farmers from the outskirts, a sprinkling of khaki, and a considerable number of women, occupied all the chairs, and overflowed into the aisles along the walls. Conversation buzzed; the broad Doric of the county mingled quaintly with the north-country burr and the cockney twang of the soldiers whom chance had camped in the neighbourhood."Where be Mr. Eves, I wonder?" said Mrs. Pouncey, presently. She was in truth disappointed. "Mr. Templeton was a nice young gentleman, to be sure" (so she afterwards confided to a gossip), "but he was that quiet—well, you didn't like to speak to him promiscous-like, for fear you spoiled the high thoughts a-rooting in his mind. But that Mr. Eves, now—well, you weren't afeared of high thoughts with him. He was a merry feller, that he was, full of his fun; and talk—my dear, you should have heard him; 'twas just as if you poured out a kettle till it run dry, and the most beautiful long words, I do assure 'ee.""Where be Mr. Eves, I wonder?"The question roused Templeton from his abstracted scrutiny of the audience. He glanced at his watch; it was two minutes to seven. Some of the soldiers were already stamping their feet and calling "Time!" He looked up and down the hall, along the walls, into the doorway. Eves was not to be seen. A misgiving seized him. Eves had been very keen on coming to this meeting. Was he contemplating a "rag"? The idea made Templeton perspire.An outburst of cheers and clapping of hands drew his attention from his uneasy thoughts. The platform party had arrived. Noakes, wearing his chain of office, stepped first on to the platform. He was followed by a lean, hungry-looking man with fiery eyes, clean-shaven, his reddish hair brushed up from the scalp. Templeton recognised the features of a fanatical agitator whose portrait had appeared in the picture papers. The local Labour candidate, a burly fellow with a jolly red face and closely trimmed beard, took his seat beside the speaker of the evening, and the remaining chairs on the platform were occupied by his principal supporters, male and female.The cheers subsided, and the mayor rose. In the silence a high-pitched voice enquired from the rear of the hall, "Who said burglar?" Some of the audience laughed, some cried "Shame!" and a shrill cry of "It wasn't me!" and a scuffle announced that the chucker-out had proved more than equal to the occasion. Noakes smiled blandly until the noise had ceased: then he began."Ladies and gentlemen."But there is no need to report his opening speech, which indeed was unusually brief for a chairman's. Templeton had begun to think better of him, until, after announcing that he would not stand between the audience and their great comrade from London, he said that, when the speech of the evening was finished, he would venture to make a few remarks by way of applying its principles to local circumstances. He then introduced his friend and comrade, and sat down.Nor is it worth while, perhaps, to follow the "comrade from London" through his hour's declamation. "The fellow could speak," said Templeton, afterwards, "and what he said wasn't all rot. But it was full of the most hopelessly unpractical ideas, streaked with a vein of bitterness against every thing and every body, and absolutely vitiated for me by the assumption that every rich man is a knave, and every poor man a martyr. Noakes ought to have let well alone, but he tried to dot the i's and simply provoked Eves's question. If he had closed the meeting after the big speech, there'd have been no trouble."Whether it was that the bucolic mind moved too slowly to keep pace with the orator's flying periods, or that the townsmen from London and the North were spell-bound by his fervid eloquence, or simply that the growing heat of the hall induced lethargy; certain it is that the meeting was quite orderly and decorous during the great speech. Not until the chairman was again on his feet did trouble arise, and that was due to a simple question put by Eves. But we must go back a little.When Eves descended into the furnace room, and released the stoker, he stripped off coat, waistcoat and collar, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and started energetically upon his self-assumed task. Hardly two minutes had elapsed when he heard a rasping voice behind him."That's the way. Keep it going steady, my man. There's a thermometer on the wall just inside the hall; run up every now and again and take a look at it: never let it drop below 60°.""Ay sure," said Eves, counterfeiting the local brogue, and Noakes, who had been standing on the bottom step, went away gratified that his orders were being carried out so well."Not below 60°!" said Eves under his breath. "Sixteen degrees to go! Well, it's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart isthere!" And he ladled coal and coke into the furnace with the fresh enthusiasm of an amateur.It occurred to him that if he was to slip up into the hall for the purpose of examining the thermometer it would be just as well to look the part he was playing. So he smeared his face and arms, and what was visible of his shirt, with coal dust, much assisted by the dampness of his perspiring skin.He paid his first visit to the thermometer just as the meeting opened. It hung on the wall near a group of Tommies who had been unable to obtain seats. They eyed him with a certain humorous sympathy. The thermometer registered 62°.During the hour-long oration Eves was up and down several times, noting with satisfaction that the mercury was steadily rising, yet a little doubtful whether it would reach the critical point before the close of the meeting. He noticed towards the end of the hour that the heat was telling on some members of the audience. Women were fanning themselves; two or three plethoric farmers had fallen asleep: all the Tommies had unbuttoned their tunics. "Some fug, mate!" one of them remarked in a stage whisper. Eves only smiled in answer; he had seen that the mercury now touched 74°, and having stoked up the furnace to its full capacity, was satisfied that he could do no more, and stood among the soldiers.The great speech ended in wild and whirling words: the speaker sat down amid applause, and Noakes arose."Now, my friends, we've heard a terrible fine speech, that we have, and I agree with every word of it. Afore I call upon our candidate—he'll be our member to-morrow—to propose a vote of thanks to our comrade, I've a thing or two to say for to bring it home to the hearts o' the men and women o' Pudlington. Capitalism, as he truly said, is the deadly poison as is driving a nail into the roots o' the nation: I couldn't say better nor that. Well, then, neighbours all, what I do say is, don't 'ee go and vote for no capitalist as belongs to a covey of profiteers, birds of prey as peck out the vitals o' the widder and the orphan. Ah, neighbours! my heart bleeds as I think o' the poor lone widder woman as pays dear for her bread, and can't get no cheese, scraping to pay the rate collector as he——""Who raised Widow Pouncey's rent?" came a clear voice from the back of the hall.The mayor paused, and cast a swift glance in the direction of the questioner. He had recognised the voice, and sought for that well-remembered figure in officer's khaki. The somnolent audience was roused, every head was turned, many people had risen from their seats. Mrs. Pouncey, who had been dozing, her head constantly wobbling over towards Templeton's shoulder, suddenly sat erect, and exclaimed with a cry of delight: "That's Mr. Eves at last, bless him!" Eves himself, having launched his question, and ascertained that the mercury stood at 75°, turned with a smile towards the eager Tommies who wanted to know all about Widow Pouncey.Noakes recovered from the shock before the first thrill of excitement had passed off."'Tis low manners to interrupt," he said in his smoothest tones, still trying to discover Eves's whereabouts, but in vain. "I was a-going to say——""Answer the question!" came in a chorused roar from the soldiers. "Who raised Widow Pouncey's rent?""Shall I tell 'em, sir?" whispered Mrs. Pouncey."No, no!" advised Templeton, anxious to avoid publicity. "Better say nothing.""Ay, I be that shy, and the room so terrible hot.""As chairman of this meeting," said Noakes, with a patient smile, "I rule that questions can't be asked now.""Who—raised—Widow—Pouncey's—rent?" sang the Tommies, to the tune of "Here we suffer grief and pain"da capo."Who was it, mate?" asked one of them."I dare say he'll tell us presently," said Eves, "if you keep it up a little longer."He had his eyes on the thermometer.The "comrade from London" got up and spoke earnestly in Noakes's ear, while the chorus continued. The mayor gave a sickly smile and held up his hand. There was silence."My friend on my right," said the mayor, "reminds me as there's nothing more powerful than the truth.""Righto!" yelled the Tommies. "Who—raised——""Nobody!" shouted the mayor. "'Tis a lie!""What's a lie?" cried one of the men. The others looked enquiringly at Eves."I say 'tis a lie!" repeated the mayor. "Mrs. Pouncey pays me five shilling a week, the same as she's paid——"He stopped, for three parts of the way down the hall there rose a stout figure, with face flushed and bonnet awry. There was a moment's breathless silence, then Mrs. Pouncey, with forefinger outstretched towards the mayor, spoke out."Ay, the same as I've paid honest for twenty year, afore ever you come into the town, and 'twas you as said 'twould be doubled as soon as Parlyment lets you, if not afore, and not a word of a lie in it, Mr. Noakes."The old woman collapsed into her seat, amid murmurs of "Shame!""Good old Mrs. Pouncey!" "Who said profiteer?" "Noakes raised Widow Pouncey's rent!" "Chuck him out!" "Get out, old crocodile!"The hall rang with various cries. Eves, smiling broadly, glanced at the thermometer The mercury touched 76°. Noakes leant forward over the table, and shaking his fists, roared:"As chairman of this meeting, and Mayor of Pudlington, here I be, and here I bide."He started back suddenly, putting a finger between his collar and his neck, and looking upward. Next moment he dropped his head and brushed a drop of water from his nose. Several of the platform party turned their faces up, started back, and upset their chairs. Two or three thin streams of water, as from the eyelets in the spray of a shower bath, were descending from the unplastered ceiling. Noakes edged a little to the left, and was opening his mouth again, when with a hiss and clatter like a heavy shower of rain upon a glass house, the whole contents of Templeton's experimental tank poured down between the laths of the matchboard. Noakes gasped and spluttered, the ladies of his party shrieked, all the occupants of the platform stampeded like a flock of sheep, overturning their chairs, obstructing one another in their mad flight for the stairs. For one moment of amazement the audience was silent; then a roar of inextinguishable laughter broke from nearly three hundred throats, whistles and cat-calls resounded, the Tommies looked round for the stoker, whom, by some obscure instinct or intuition, they connected with the catastrophic shower. But Eves had slipped away.[image]"THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF TEMPLETON'S EXPERIMENTAL TANK POURED DOWN."A special Election Edition of thePudlington Echoappeared next day, and was bought up eagerly by the crowds who, in spite of the pouring rain, had flocked into the town to record their votes. The Editor had filled half a column with a descriptive paragraph in his best style."SHOWER BATH AT A MEETING"REMARKABLE INCIDENT"THE MAYOR MISSES HIS UMBRELLA"The meeting at the Literary Institute in support of the candidature of Mr. Benjamin Moggridge was broken up by a most remarkable unrehearsed effect, which is probably without parallel in the political life of this country. The mayor, Alderman Noakes, was in the act of protesting, with all the dignity pertaining to his exalted office, against the demands of certain unruly spirits that he should vacate the chair, when a quantity of water, calculated to be equal to a rainfall of 2.8 ins., descended with startling suddenness and almost tropical violence upon the platform, bringing the meeting to a summary end. We understand that this inauspicious close to Mr. Moggridge's campaign was due to the unexpected operation of a new fire extinguisher, which the builder, our well-known and respected fellow citizen Mr. James Johnson, had located above the hall with a view to experimenting on a suitable occasion. The premature exhibition of this remarkable invention, which promises to be an epoch-making success, appears to have originated in the laudable desire of Mr. Noakes that the large audience should be in no way inconvenienced by the inclemency of the weather. His orders that the hall, which, in its unfinished state, might otherwise have sown the seeds of dangerous and possibly fatal complaints, should be heated to a wholesome degree of temperature, were carried out with what proved to be supererogatory solicitude; but our worthy mayor will doubtless console himself for his temporary discomfiture—the second this week, it will be remembered—with the reflection that the efficacy of the new fire extinguisher was abundantly demonstrated, and that the future immunity of the Literary Institute from the ravages of the devouring monster is assured."A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMYIEves was dozing comfortably beneath a pile of blankets. It was a cold morning, and though he had been awakened when Templeton rose from the adjacent bed, he had merely snorted in reply to his friend's declaration that it was time to get up, and turned over on the other side.His slumbering ears were just conscious of a shout from below; but he paid no heed to it, even when it was repeated. He was settling down in luxurious warmth to that early morning sleep which so deliciously rounds off the night's repose, when two sinewy hands wrenched away the bedclothes wherein he had rolled himself, and Templeton shouted:"Get up, you slugabed. It's come!""Cover me up, confound you!" cried Eves, wrathfully. "I shall catch my death of cold.""Get up. I've been dressed half an hour. It's come, I tell you."Eves bent his knees and pulled his pyjamas down over his ankles."I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care. Mrs. Pouncey"—he raised his voice—"come and drag this murdering ruffian away. He's giving me pneumonia.""Don't be an ass, Tom. Breakfast is nearly ready, and as the nozzle has just come by parcel post, I want to fix it and see how it works before I go off to the shop.""You and your inventions will be the death of me," grumbled Eves, hugging himself. Then with a sudden movement he caught up his pillow, slammed it at Templeton's head, followed it up with a rush, and began to throw off his pyjamas. "Get out!" he cried. "I'll tub and dress in five minutes—not for you, old greaser, but for the bacon I smell frying.""Well, I'll have time to fit on the nozzle before you're down."He dashed out of the room, took the staircase in three resounding leaps, and ran bare-headed through the rain to the shed.Eves smiled as he watched him through the window."Old Bob's excited this morning," he thought. "Another rag, I wonder?"Templeton's usual stolidity was in fact quite broken down by the arrival of the nozzle made to his own design, for which he had been waiting in order to complete his reconstruction of the ancient road-sweeper. At breakfast he was too much excited to do full justice to the dish of bacon and eggs which the excellent Mrs. Pouncey had provided."It's just the thing, Tom," he cried. "It fits perfectly, and I believe the old 'bus will go like one o'clock. The only thing left, if it does work, is to complete my specification and fire it in at the Patent Office.""I don't see that. Nobody wants a road-sweeper to go like a Rolls-Royce.""You don't understand. I'm not out for making road-sweepers. I only bought the old thing to experiment on. It's the reversible steering I'm going to patent. Look here; here's my rough draft. That'll give you an idea of what I'm driving at."Eves took the paper handed to him, and read aloud:"'I, Robert Templeton, of the Red House, Wonston, Hampshire, in the Kingdom of England, lately a lieutenant in His Majesty's Forces, do hereby declare the nature of this invention and in what manner the same is to be performed to be particularly described and ascertained in and by the following——'Oh, I say! I can't wade through all this balderdash. Tell me in plain English what you're after.""Well, in plain English, then, my motor is provided with two sets of steering-gear, and the clutch couplings are so arranged that I can engage one and disengage the other simply by shifting round on the seat, on the pivot of which a cam is keyed——""For goodness' sake, Bob, spare me the rest, if that's plain English. D'you mean that you can drive your 'bus forward or backward as you please?""You can put it like that if you like, only, of course, the 'bus is always going forward, because when you shift round on the seat——""Exactly. Not a word more. Why couldn't you say that in a sentence instead of meandering through page after page? Why, hang it all, this will make a book before you've done with it.""It does seem a little long-winded," Templeton admitted, seriously, "but you've no idea how particular the Patent Office people are. You have to be correct in the smallest detail, and draw diagrams showing everything. There's a lot of work to be done on this draft yet before it's ready.""Well, let's go and see how it works in practice. I'd die happy if I thought one of your old inventions was really going to make your fortune.""I'm afraid there isn't time now. I must hurry off to the shop. But we'll try it to-night when I get back. It's a pity old Wilkins insisted on my working out my week's notice; I'd have liked to devote all my time to it.""Can't you forfeit your screw or something?""I offered to, but Wilkins wouldn't hear of it, and as I hate bothers, and my leaving without notice would certainly put him in a hole, I'll stick it till Saturday. Are you coming with me to the shop?""I'll walk with you so far; then I'll go on to the town and inquire tenderly after Noakes. We'll meet at the 'Three Tuns' for lunch. Mrs. Pouncey will be glad of a day off."Encased in macintoshes, they trudged up the muddy lane. At the corner they met a farmer driving his cart westward. He nodded to Templeton."You've gotten she at last, zur," he said, with a smile."Yes; all right now, Mr. West.""Ay. I knowed she'd come, gie un time. Gie un time, I said, and she'll come. Well, marnen to 'ee, zur.""Who's your she, Bob?" asked Eves as they went on."Oh, he means the nozzle. They're fond of the feminine about here.""But how on earth does he know anything about the nozzle? It came by post, you said?""Yes. I suppose the postman told him. You're not used to country ways.""But how did the postman know what was in the parcel? They don't open things, I suppose?""Of course not. I dare say I mentioned to the postman one day what I was expecting, and they gossip about anything and everything here.""What a place! Look here, my son, you'll have one of your inventions forestalled one of these days if you don't keep your mouth shut. Then you'd be sorry."It was not Eves's way to keep his mouth shut, and he expatiated on the evils of talkativeness all the way to the workshop, where the friends parted. The same topic was revived when they met at the "Three Tuns" for lunch."Wilkins was unusually amiable to-day," Templeton happened to remark. "He seemed quite pleased that the nozzle is a success.""Were you juggins enough to tell him that?" asked Eves with a touch of scorn."Well, what else could I do when he asked me point-blank? I didn't mention it first.""I suppose he heard of it from the postman or from Farmer West, or from any other inhabitant of this gossiping old monkey-house. Wilkins is the last man who ought to know anything about your private affairs. Upon my word, I think I'd better get demobilised and take a job as your keeper. You're not fit to be trusted alone."After lunch Eves accompanied Templeton to the shop, and watched over him with fatherly interest through the afternoon. He was amused to see Templeton from time to time break off his work on a purely mechanical job, hurry to his coat hanging on a peg, extract the specification from his breast-pocket, and make some trifling alteration in text or diagram."Is that the result of what they call unconscious cerebration?" he asked. "Or can your mighty mind attend to two things at once? You're a wonder, Bobby, and I hope I shall live long enough to write you a thumping obituary notice."
[image]"'DAZE ME!' SAID THE CONSTABLE. 'SURELY—AY, 'TIS THE MAYOR.'"
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"'DAZE ME!' SAID THE CONSTABLE. 'SURELY—AY, 'TIS THE MAYOR.'"
"Of course I'm the mayor!" said Noakes, truculently. "These young ruffians have assaulted me. I give them in charge, Brown."
"That's cool!" said Eves. "Don't pay any attention to him, constable. He's mad, or intoxicated. Mr. Templeton had occasion to come back to the shop, and we found this fellow in the act of trying to open a drawer where Mr. Templeton keeps important papers. He got a bit ruffled, of course. He says he's the mayor, but is that likely? Take him to the station, constable: we'll give the superintendent the facts."
"He's the mayor, or his double," said the constable. "And as to arresting the mayor——"
"Don't be a fool, Brown," said Noakes. "It's all a mistake—and a mistake that'll cost these young ruffians dear. I came here to see Wilkins, and afore I could get a word out, they knocked me down and nigh squeezed the breath out of me."
"And Wilkins knows that you open his drawers in his absence?" said Eves. "Are these your keys, Bob, or Wilkins's?"
He held up the bunch of keys which Noakes had dropped.
"Neither," said Templeton. "Mine are in my pocket: Mr. Wilkins no doubt has his."
"Well, jown me if I know what to do!" said the constable. "You'd better all come along and charge each other, seems to me!"
"What's all this?" said a voice at the door.
Wilkins entered breathlessly.
"They rang me up from the station, and told me there was burglars in my shop. Where be they? Mr. Noakes, what have been going on? What have come to your eye?"
"You may well ask, Wilkins. I came to have a word with you about that estimate, you know——" Wilkins tried to look as if he knew—"and these fellows, one an assistant of yours, I understand, set on me and half murdered me—took me for a burglar, ha! ha!"
"He was trying his keys on this drawer, Mr. Wilkins," said Eves.
"And why not?" demanded Wilkins, indignantly. "Why not, I ask 'ee? 'Tis my drawer, I keep my papers there, and Mr. Noakes having come to see me about an estimate, of course he saves time and gets the estimate out ready."
"And Brown will take 'em in charge for an unprovoked assault," said Noakes.
"Well, now, Mr. Noakes," said Wilkins, soothingly, "I wouldn't go so far as that. Not if it was me. It do seem 'twas a mistake. They took 'ee for a burglar—a nat'ral mistake, that's what it was, and my advice to one and all is, let it bide and say no more about it. We don't want no newspapers getting a hold of things like this. Won't do none of us no good—that's what I say."
Eves was loth to let Noakes go scot free, but after a whispered consultation with Templeton, who pointed out the improbability of any magistrate being induced to believe, in face of Wilkins's explanation, that the mayor was a burglar, he grudgingly agreed to withdraw the charge. Templeton took the precaution of removing all his own papers from the drawer, and leaving Noakes with Wilkins, returned with Eves to Mrs. Pouncey's cottage.
"So much for your rough diamond!" said Eves. "Noakes evidently didn't know before to-day that you were here, and when I saw him confabbing with Wilkins he was no doubt asking all about you. Wilkins must have told him about your inventions, and he thought a visit to your drawer would give him an idea or two, and enable him to get in first with a patent."
"But you don't suppose Wilkins was in the plot?"
"I don't know about that, but he's clearly under Noakes's thumb. Some one said that you know a man by the company he keeps. Wilkins keeps uncommonly bad company."
"I'm disappointed in him, I confess," said Templeton. "To-morrow I'll give him a week's notice, and work on my own for the rest of my leave."
III
Next morning Templeton, after breakfast, went to the workshop as usual, leaving Eves to his own devices until lunch-time. Eves spent an hour pottering about in the shed, and was particularly interested in the fire extinguishing composition.
"Rummy old sport!" he thought. "I suppose he will strike something really good one of these days, and be a bloated millionaire while I'm pinching on a miserable pension. Wonder what temperature this stuff melts at, by the way."
He found, standing against the wall, a metal tray pierced with holes which had been plugged with the composition. A thermometer hung on a nail.
"Hanged if I don't experiment on my own account!" he thought.
He filled the tray with water from the pump in Mrs. Pouncey's garden, laid it on an iron tripod which he found in the shed, and obtaining some firewood and coke from Mrs. Pouncey, kindled a small fire in an iron brazier. This he put underneath the tray, hanging the thermometer from the tripod. In a few minutes a sizzling informed him that water was trickling through the holes, and lifting the thermometer, he discovered that it registered 76°.
"By George! What a rag!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if it can be done! Mustn't tell Bob, though!"
He put out the fire, emptied the brazier and the tray, replugged the holes and removed all traces of his experiment. Then he walked into the town, and made his way to the Literary Institute.
"Good morning, Mr. Johnson," he said to the builder, whom he found reading a newspaper in the large hall, and smiling broadly. "You've got all ready for to-night, I see. How many will the place hold?"
"Two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts," said the builder.
"That's about the whole able-bodied population of Pudlington, isn't it?"
"Why no, sir, not with the women folk. They've got votes now-a-days, and there be more women voters than men, seemingly. Have 'ee seen theEcho, sir?"
"Your local rag? Anything in it?"
"A rare bit o' news that you won't see every week. Look 'ee here."
He handed thePudlington Echoto Eves, pointing to a paragraph headed with large type.
"MISTAKEN FOR A BURGLAR
"AMAZING EXPERIENCE OF THE MAYOR
"Our worthy mayor was involved in an awkward predicament last night. In pursuance of an appointment with Mr. Wilkins, of the British Motor Garage, he arrived at the workshop between eight and nine o'clock, and was awaiting the proprietor, when he was suddenly seized and thrown down by a young man in the uniform of a second lieutenant, who had come up in company with Mr. Wilkins's assistant, and, not familiar with the mayor's lineaments, had mistaken him for a burglar. The police were telephoned for, and Constable Brown, on reaching the scene, found himself in an unenviable position, between cross-charges of burglary and common assault. The tension was relieved by the arrival of Mr. Wilkins, who saw at once that a pardonable mistake had been made by his assistant and the young officer, and by the exercise of his accustomed tact succeeded in bringing both parties to an amicable understanding. We have unfortunately to record that in the regrettable fracas our mayor sustained an ocular abrasion, the consequences of which, while temporarily disfiguring, will, we trust, be otherwise negligible. As a comparative newcomer Mr. Noakes may not be aware that he is in good company. Those familiar with the chronicles of our ancient borough will remember the historic bout between Ted Sloggins and Jemmy Wild, the prizefighter once Mayor of Pudlington, when the latter was knocked out in the tenth round with two broken ribs and a black eye."
"That's a nasty one!" said Eves, returning the paper.
"That last bit, sir? True, I feel it so—very nasty indeed. That feller have got his knife into the mayor, in a sly sort of way."
"Mr. Noakes isn't very popular, then? The local paper would hardly give a dig at a popular mayor."
"Well, sir, to tell 'ee the truth, there's two parties, one for and one against. Mr. Noakes is almost a newcomer, and some folks don't take kindly to his pushing ways. I don't myself, I own it. He's near driven me off my head over this meeting, and though I'd do anything in the way of business, I don't hold with his views. He was one of they 'Stop the War' kidney, and though goodness knows I'd 'a stopped the war, having a son over in France, I wouldn't stop it a moment afore we'd done what we set out to do, and thankful I am our lads have done it. That there young officer last night"—he smiled—"was you, I take it, sir."
"The curtain's dropped over that, Mr. Johnson," said Eves. "By the way, you were going to try Mr. Templeton's new fire extinguisher. Have you rigged up the apparatus?"
"Ay, sure, 'tis all ready. Come up along, and I'll show 'ee. I'll try it next week, just afore I plaster the ceiling."
He took Eves to the floor above, and showed him, between the workmen's planks and the matchboard, a large shallow tank of sheet iron resting on the rafters. It was filled with water, and the builder explained that the holes in the bottom had been plugged with the composition a week before.
"Most ingenious," said Eves, making a mental note of the position of the tank. "If it answers, I suppose you will make a tank to cover the whole of the ceiling."
"Surely, and put it into every house, hall or church I build."
"Johnson, where are you?" came a call from below.
"'Tis Mr. Noakes himself, come to bother me again!" said Johnson in an undertone. Aloud he cried: "Coming, Mr. Noakes, coming! ... Belike you'll bide here a bit," he added with a smile.
"I'm not keen on meeting your worthy mayor," replied Eves. "I'll come down when he's gone."
Through the matchboard Eves clearly heard the conversation between the two men.
"Look 'ee here, Johnson," began Noakes, irritably, "this won't do. The place is as cold as an ice-house, and my orders was to heat en well. Folks won't be no good listening to speeches if they're all of a shiver."
"Why, bless 'ee, Mr. Noakes, 'tis only ten o'clock. There's plenty of time to get the room comfortable warm by seven. The furnace is going, and you don't want the place like a greenhouse, do 'ee? Folks 'ud all drop asleep."
"There's a medium, Johnson. I count on you to regulate the furnace so's we're cosy-like. 'Tis a raw morning, and 'twill be worse to-night. Keep the furnace going steady, and come four o'clock shet all the winders to keep out the night air."
"But what about ventilation? If so be there's a good audience you'll have women fainting, and I don't know what all."
"There'll be plenty of ventilation through the matchboard," said Noakes, looking upward. "Besides, we've always the winders to cool the air if need be, but if you ain't got a good fire—why there you are! See that my orders are carried out, Johnson."
"Very good. You shall have it like an oven if you like: 'tis not for me to say."
Noakes, whose face suggested the recent application of a beefsteak, inspected the rows of chairs, mounted the platform and re-arranged the table, scolded the charwoman who had left her dust-pan on the chairman's seat, and finally departed. Then Eves rejoined the builder.
"They'll be warm afore they gets to work," said the latter, smiling, "And if so be there's any opposition, I won't say but what tempers 'll rise to biling point. However!"
"A queer man, your mayor!" said Eves. "By the way, I'd like to have a look at your furnace."
"Surely, sir. Come wi' me."
He led Eves into the basement, where a young man in shirt-sleeves was stoking the fire.
"I'll have to keep 'ee to-night, Fred," said the builder, "and sorry I be to say it, but the mayor's just been talking to me, and wants the place hotted up. You must stay till eight, my lad, and leave a good fire when you go: there's no telling how long the speechifying will last; these 'lection meetings are that uncertain."
The stoker brushed his arm across his damp brow, and muttered something uncomplimentary of the mayor. Johnson expounded to Eves the merits of his heating system, and followed him up the stairs again.
"The mayor's a busy man just now," said Eves. "Isn't there some sort of a ceremony coming on?"
"Ay, so 'tis, a ceremony that's come down from very ancient days, very ancient indeed, when we was all heathens, so it seems. 'Tis the anointing of the British Stone, they do call it, a rare old block of granite all by itself in a field some way north o' the town. Nobody knows how it come there, but 'tis said there was a battle on the spot, I don't know how many hundred years ago, and a whole cemetery of bones down below. Whatever the truth is, the mayor and corporation marches out in full rig once a year, and the mayor breaks a bottle o' cider, the wine o' the country, atop of the stone. I say 'tis just an excuse for a randy, for they make a sort of fair o't, wi' stalls and merry-go-rounds, and I don't know what all. There won't be so much fun as usual this year, though, owing to shortage of sugar for sweets and cakes and such. Still, maybe 'twill be worth your seeing, being so ancient."
"Rather! I'm tremendously keen on rags, ancient or modern. I'll be there!"
Eves bade the builder good-bye at the door of the hall, and the latter went up the street to his office. As soon as his back was turned, Eves hastened below to the furnace room.
"Pretty thirsty work, isn't it?" he said to the man. "I don't wonder you're not keen to be kept so long at it."
"'Tisn't that, sir," said the stoker. "The truth o't is I was going to take my girl to the cinema to-night. It begins at seven, and she'll be in a taking, 'cos they're showing some war pictures, and I'm in one of 'em, and she's mad on seeing me, though I tell her I ain't doing nothing, only looking down my nose at a blooming Hun prisoner."
"Naturally she wants to see you, and squeeze your hand, and—you know. I should myself. Well, I'll tell you what. I'll come about 6.45 and release you."
The man stared.
"I mean it, no kid," Eves went on. "I intended coming to the meeting, but there'll be nothing very interesting until half time, and the stoking will be finished by then."
"But you'll mess your clothes, sir, not to speak of your hands."
"Oh, no! I'll see to that. Besides, you know, we didn't fret ourselves about dirt in the trenches. That's all right, then, and look here—get your young woman a box of chocolates, a pound box—all one price, four shillings. She'll like your picture all the more."
He handed the man a couple of half-crowns, cut short his effusive thanks, and made his way back to the cottage.
"Bob come home, Mrs. Pouncey?" he asked the old dame.
"Not yet, sir, and I do hope he won't be late, for I've got as tender a loin of young pig as ever I've roasted."
"Capital! I'm ravenous, I always am. It's a disease, Mrs. Pouncey. Don't I show it in my face?"
"Bless your heart, sir, your face does me good: it do look so happy!"
"Happy thoughts, old dear. I've had a particularly happy thought all the morning, and it shines out on my ingenuous countenance. Some folks never show anything, you know. My friend Templeton, now—ah! here he is! Roast pork, Bob—hurry up!"
IV
After early supper that evening, Eves and Templeton, giving each an arm to Mrs. Pouncey, set off for the Literary Institute. The good woman was greatly excited at the prospect of giving her vote for the first time next day, and had announced her intention of voting for "the gentleman," whereupon Eves had reproached her, with well-assumed severity.
"That is not the right spirit, I am sure of it," he said. "You are going to exercise for the first time the priceless privilege, or right, or duty, of the franchise: a most solemn responsibility, Mrs. Pouncey. Yet you have made up your mind to vote for 'the gentleman' without considering what views he professes, and without hearing the other side, which may be one of Nature's gentlemen."
"I like 'em best bred, same as pig," said Mrs. Pouncey, stoutly.
"I don't dispute your taste," returned Eves, "but I think you owe it to the principle of fair play at least to hear what the other fellow may have to say. This is your last chance: to-morrow is the fatal day: like the man in the poem, you must make up your mind between truth and falsehood, 'twixt the good and evil side."
"Oh! how you do talk, Mr. Eves!" said Mrs. Pouncey. "I'll go, then, to please you, and I hope as I shan't be sorry for it."
"I don't think you will; in fact I think you will have quite a pleasant entertainment. Mr. Noakes has insisted on the hall being warm and cosy-like, and the chairs are quite good. I'll find you a good place at the back of the hall."
"Not too far back, then, for my hearing bain't what it was."
"But your eyes are good—wonderfully good for a lady of forty or so. You shall sit where you can hear—and see—everything."
Templeton had privately taken Eves to task for persuading the old dame to venture out on a cold night; but Eves had only chuckled.
The young officers were both in mufti, Eves having borrowed an old suit from his friend.
It was twenty minutes to seven when they reached the hall. The first few rows of chairs were already occupied, and people were streaming in. Eves piloted Mrs. Pouncey to a seat in the middle of the sixth row from the back wall.
"It do be warmish, to be sure," she said, removing her tippet.
"Thanks to the mayor! Bob, look after Mrs. Pouncey. I'll be back presently."
He dodged his way through the incoming stream, and disappeared.
Templeton sat beside Mrs. Pouncey, looking around the audience with an air of mild interest, and quite unconscious that the good lady was basking in the glory reflected upon her by the companionship of the "young feller as had his name in the paper." She nodded and smiled at her friends and acquaintances, and bridled visibly when she saw heads put together, nods in her direction, curious glances at Templeton, and lips whispering into ready ears.
The hall gradually filled. Tradesmen of the town, farmers from the outskirts, a sprinkling of khaki, and a considerable number of women, occupied all the chairs, and overflowed into the aisles along the walls. Conversation buzzed; the broad Doric of the county mingled quaintly with the north-country burr and the cockney twang of the soldiers whom chance had camped in the neighbourhood.
"Where be Mr. Eves, I wonder?" said Mrs. Pouncey, presently. She was in truth disappointed. "Mr. Templeton was a nice young gentleman, to be sure" (so she afterwards confided to a gossip), "but he was that quiet—well, you didn't like to speak to him promiscous-like, for fear you spoiled the high thoughts a-rooting in his mind. But that Mr. Eves, now—well, you weren't afeared of high thoughts with him. He was a merry feller, that he was, full of his fun; and talk—my dear, you should have heard him; 'twas just as if you poured out a kettle till it run dry, and the most beautiful long words, I do assure 'ee."
"Where be Mr. Eves, I wonder?"
The question roused Templeton from his abstracted scrutiny of the audience. He glanced at his watch; it was two minutes to seven. Some of the soldiers were already stamping their feet and calling "Time!" He looked up and down the hall, along the walls, into the doorway. Eves was not to be seen. A misgiving seized him. Eves had been very keen on coming to this meeting. Was he contemplating a "rag"? The idea made Templeton perspire.
An outburst of cheers and clapping of hands drew his attention from his uneasy thoughts. The platform party had arrived. Noakes, wearing his chain of office, stepped first on to the platform. He was followed by a lean, hungry-looking man with fiery eyes, clean-shaven, his reddish hair brushed up from the scalp. Templeton recognised the features of a fanatical agitator whose portrait had appeared in the picture papers. The local Labour candidate, a burly fellow with a jolly red face and closely trimmed beard, took his seat beside the speaker of the evening, and the remaining chairs on the platform were occupied by his principal supporters, male and female.
The cheers subsided, and the mayor rose. In the silence a high-pitched voice enquired from the rear of the hall, "Who said burglar?" Some of the audience laughed, some cried "Shame!" and a shrill cry of "It wasn't me!" and a scuffle announced that the chucker-out had proved more than equal to the occasion. Noakes smiled blandly until the noise had ceased: then he began.
"Ladies and gentlemen."
But there is no need to report his opening speech, which indeed was unusually brief for a chairman's. Templeton had begun to think better of him, until, after announcing that he would not stand between the audience and their great comrade from London, he said that, when the speech of the evening was finished, he would venture to make a few remarks by way of applying its principles to local circumstances. He then introduced his friend and comrade, and sat down.
Nor is it worth while, perhaps, to follow the "comrade from London" through his hour's declamation. "The fellow could speak," said Templeton, afterwards, "and what he said wasn't all rot. But it was full of the most hopelessly unpractical ideas, streaked with a vein of bitterness against every thing and every body, and absolutely vitiated for me by the assumption that every rich man is a knave, and every poor man a martyr. Noakes ought to have let well alone, but he tried to dot the i's and simply provoked Eves's question. If he had closed the meeting after the big speech, there'd have been no trouble."
Whether it was that the bucolic mind moved too slowly to keep pace with the orator's flying periods, or that the townsmen from London and the North were spell-bound by his fervid eloquence, or simply that the growing heat of the hall induced lethargy; certain it is that the meeting was quite orderly and decorous during the great speech. Not until the chairman was again on his feet did trouble arise, and that was due to a simple question put by Eves. But we must go back a little.
When Eves descended into the furnace room, and released the stoker, he stripped off coat, waistcoat and collar, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and started energetically upon his self-assumed task. Hardly two minutes had elapsed when he heard a rasping voice behind him.
"That's the way. Keep it going steady, my man. There's a thermometer on the wall just inside the hall; run up every now and again and take a look at it: never let it drop below 60°."
"Ay sure," said Eves, counterfeiting the local brogue, and Noakes, who had been standing on the bottom step, went away gratified that his orders were being carried out so well.
"Not below 60°!" said Eves under his breath. "Sixteen degrees to go! Well, it's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart isthere!" And he ladled coal and coke into the furnace with the fresh enthusiasm of an amateur.
It occurred to him that if he was to slip up into the hall for the purpose of examining the thermometer it would be just as well to look the part he was playing. So he smeared his face and arms, and what was visible of his shirt, with coal dust, much assisted by the dampness of his perspiring skin.
He paid his first visit to the thermometer just as the meeting opened. It hung on the wall near a group of Tommies who had been unable to obtain seats. They eyed him with a certain humorous sympathy. The thermometer registered 62°.
During the hour-long oration Eves was up and down several times, noting with satisfaction that the mercury was steadily rising, yet a little doubtful whether it would reach the critical point before the close of the meeting. He noticed towards the end of the hour that the heat was telling on some members of the audience. Women were fanning themselves; two or three plethoric farmers had fallen asleep: all the Tommies had unbuttoned their tunics. "Some fug, mate!" one of them remarked in a stage whisper. Eves only smiled in answer; he had seen that the mercury now touched 74°, and having stoked up the furnace to its full capacity, was satisfied that he could do no more, and stood among the soldiers.
The great speech ended in wild and whirling words: the speaker sat down amid applause, and Noakes arose.
"Now, my friends, we've heard a terrible fine speech, that we have, and I agree with every word of it. Afore I call upon our candidate—he'll be our member to-morrow—to propose a vote of thanks to our comrade, I've a thing or two to say for to bring it home to the hearts o' the men and women o' Pudlington. Capitalism, as he truly said, is the deadly poison as is driving a nail into the roots o' the nation: I couldn't say better nor that. Well, then, neighbours all, what I do say is, don't 'ee go and vote for no capitalist as belongs to a covey of profiteers, birds of prey as peck out the vitals o' the widder and the orphan. Ah, neighbours! my heart bleeds as I think o' the poor lone widder woman as pays dear for her bread, and can't get no cheese, scraping to pay the rate collector as he——"
"Who raised Widow Pouncey's rent?" came a clear voice from the back of the hall.
The mayor paused, and cast a swift glance in the direction of the questioner. He had recognised the voice, and sought for that well-remembered figure in officer's khaki. The somnolent audience was roused, every head was turned, many people had risen from their seats. Mrs. Pouncey, who had been dozing, her head constantly wobbling over towards Templeton's shoulder, suddenly sat erect, and exclaimed with a cry of delight: "That's Mr. Eves at last, bless him!" Eves himself, having launched his question, and ascertained that the mercury stood at 75°, turned with a smile towards the eager Tommies who wanted to know all about Widow Pouncey.
Noakes recovered from the shock before the first thrill of excitement had passed off.
"'Tis low manners to interrupt," he said in his smoothest tones, still trying to discover Eves's whereabouts, but in vain. "I was a-going to say——"
"Answer the question!" came in a chorused roar from the soldiers. "Who raised Widow Pouncey's rent?"
"Shall I tell 'em, sir?" whispered Mrs. Pouncey.
"No, no!" advised Templeton, anxious to avoid publicity. "Better say nothing."
"Ay, I be that shy, and the room so terrible hot."
"As chairman of this meeting," said Noakes, with a patient smile, "I rule that questions can't be asked now."
"Who—raised—Widow—Pouncey's—rent?" sang the Tommies, to the tune of "Here we suffer grief and pain"da capo.
"Who was it, mate?" asked one of them.
"I dare say he'll tell us presently," said Eves, "if you keep it up a little longer."
He had his eyes on the thermometer.
The "comrade from London" got up and spoke earnestly in Noakes's ear, while the chorus continued. The mayor gave a sickly smile and held up his hand. There was silence.
"My friend on my right," said the mayor, "reminds me as there's nothing more powerful than the truth."
"Righto!" yelled the Tommies. "Who—raised——"
"Nobody!" shouted the mayor. "'Tis a lie!"
"What's a lie?" cried one of the men. The others looked enquiringly at Eves.
"I say 'tis a lie!" repeated the mayor. "Mrs. Pouncey pays me five shilling a week, the same as she's paid——"
He stopped, for three parts of the way down the hall there rose a stout figure, with face flushed and bonnet awry. There was a moment's breathless silence, then Mrs. Pouncey, with forefinger outstretched towards the mayor, spoke out.
"Ay, the same as I've paid honest for twenty year, afore ever you come into the town, and 'twas you as said 'twould be doubled as soon as Parlyment lets you, if not afore, and not a word of a lie in it, Mr. Noakes."
The old woman collapsed into her seat, amid murmurs of "Shame!"
"Good old Mrs. Pouncey!" "Who said profiteer?" "Noakes raised Widow Pouncey's rent!" "Chuck him out!" "Get out, old crocodile!"
The hall rang with various cries. Eves, smiling broadly, glanced at the thermometer The mercury touched 76°. Noakes leant forward over the table, and shaking his fists, roared:
"As chairman of this meeting, and Mayor of Pudlington, here I be, and here I bide."
He started back suddenly, putting a finger between his collar and his neck, and looking upward. Next moment he dropped his head and brushed a drop of water from his nose. Several of the platform party turned their faces up, started back, and upset their chairs. Two or three thin streams of water, as from the eyelets in the spray of a shower bath, were descending from the unplastered ceiling. Noakes edged a little to the left, and was opening his mouth again, when with a hiss and clatter like a heavy shower of rain upon a glass house, the whole contents of Templeton's experimental tank poured down between the laths of the matchboard. Noakes gasped and spluttered, the ladies of his party shrieked, all the occupants of the platform stampeded like a flock of sheep, overturning their chairs, obstructing one another in their mad flight for the stairs. For one moment of amazement the audience was silent; then a roar of inextinguishable laughter broke from nearly three hundred throats, whistles and cat-calls resounded, the Tommies looked round for the stoker, whom, by some obscure instinct or intuition, they connected with the catastrophic shower. But Eves had slipped away.
[image]"THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF TEMPLETON'S EXPERIMENTAL TANK POURED DOWN."
[image]
[image]
"THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF TEMPLETON'S EXPERIMENTAL TANK POURED DOWN."
A special Election Edition of thePudlington Echoappeared next day, and was bought up eagerly by the crowds who, in spite of the pouring rain, had flocked into the town to record their votes. The Editor had filled half a column with a descriptive paragraph in his best style.
"SHOWER BATH AT A MEETING
"REMARKABLE INCIDENT
"THE MAYOR MISSES HIS UMBRELLA
"The meeting at the Literary Institute in support of the candidature of Mr. Benjamin Moggridge was broken up by a most remarkable unrehearsed effect, which is probably without parallel in the political life of this country. The mayor, Alderman Noakes, was in the act of protesting, with all the dignity pertaining to his exalted office, against the demands of certain unruly spirits that he should vacate the chair, when a quantity of water, calculated to be equal to a rainfall of 2.8 ins., descended with startling suddenness and almost tropical violence upon the platform, bringing the meeting to a summary end. We understand that this inauspicious close to Mr. Moggridge's campaign was due to the unexpected operation of a new fire extinguisher, which the builder, our well-known and respected fellow citizen Mr. James Johnson, had located above the hall with a view to experimenting on a suitable occasion. The premature exhibition of this remarkable invention, which promises to be an epoch-making success, appears to have originated in the laudable desire of Mr. Noakes that the large audience should be in no way inconvenienced by the inclemency of the weather. His orders that the hall, which, in its unfinished state, might otherwise have sown the seeds of dangerous and possibly fatal complaints, should be heated to a wholesome degree of temperature, were carried out with what proved to be supererogatory solicitude; but our worthy mayor will doubtless console himself for his temporary discomfiture—the second this week, it will be remembered—with the reflection that the efficacy of the new fire extinguisher was abundantly demonstrated, and that the future immunity of the Literary Institute from the ravages of the devouring monster is assured."
A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY
I
Eves was dozing comfortably beneath a pile of blankets. It was a cold morning, and though he had been awakened when Templeton rose from the adjacent bed, he had merely snorted in reply to his friend's declaration that it was time to get up, and turned over on the other side.
His slumbering ears were just conscious of a shout from below; but he paid no heed to it, even when it was repeated. He was settling down in luxurious warmth to that early morning sleep which so deliciously rounds off the night's repose, when two sinewy hands wrenched away the bedclothes wherein he had rolled himself, and Templeton shouted:
"Get up, you slugabed. It's come!"
"Cover me up, confound you!" cried Eves, wrathfully. "I shall catch my death of cold."
"Get up. I've been dressed half an hour. It's come, I tell you."
Eves bent his knees and pulled his pyjamas down over his ankles.
"I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care. Mrs. Pouncey"—he raised his voice—"come and drag this murdering ruffian away. He's giving me pneumonia."
"Don't be an ass, Tom. Breakfast is nearly ready, and as the nozzle has just come by parcel post, I want to fix it and see how it works before I go off to the shop."
"You and your inventions will be the death of me," grumbled Eves, hugging himself. Then with a sudden movement he caught up his pillow, slammed it at Templeton's head, followed it up with a rush, and began to throw off his pyjamas. "Get out!" he cried. "I'll tub and dress in five minutes—not for you, old greaser, but for the bacon I smell frying."
"Well, I'll have time to fit on the nozzle before you're down."
He dashed out of the room, took the staircase in three resounding leaps, and ran bare-headed through the rain to the shed.
Eves smiled as he watched him through the window.
"Old Bob's excited this morning," he thought. "Another rag, I wonder?"
Templeton's usual stolidity was in fact quite broken down by the arrival of the nozzle made to his own design, for which he had been waiting in order to complete his reconstruction of the ancient road-sweeper. At breakfast he was too much excited to do full justice to the dish of bacon and eggs which the excellent Mrs. Pouncey had provided.
"It's just the thing, Tom," he cried. "It fits perfectly, and I believe the old 'bus will go like one o'clock. The only thing left, if it does work, is to complete my specification and fire it in at the Patent Office."
"I don't see that. Nobody wants a road-sweeper to go like a Rolls-Royce."
"You don't understand. I'm not out for making road-sweepers. I only bought the old thing to experiment on. It's the reversible steering I'm going to patent. Look here; here's my rough draft. That'll give you an idea of what I'm driving at."
Eves took the paper handed to him, and read aloud:
"'I, Robert Templeton, of the Red House, Wonston, Hampshire, in the Kingdom of England, lately a lieutenant in His Majesty's Forces, do hereby declare the nature of this invention and in what manner the same is to be performed to be particularly described and ascertained in and by the following——'
Oh, I say! I can't wade through all this balderdash. Tell me in plain English what you're after."
"Well, in plain English, then, my motor is provided with two sets of steering-gear, and the clutch couplings are so arranged that I can engage one and disengage the other simply by shifting round on the seat, on the pivot of which a cam is keyed——"
"For goodness' sake, Bob, spare me the rest, if that's plain English. D'you mean that you can drive your 'bus forward or backward as you please?"
"You can put it like that if you like, only, of course, the 'bus is always going forward, because when you shift round on the seat——"
"Exactly. Not a word more. Why couldn't you say that in a sentence instead of meandering through page after page? Why, hang it all, this will make a book before you've done with it."
"It does seem a little long-winded," Templeton admitted, seriously, "but you've no idea how particular the Patent Office people are. You have to be correct in the smallest detail, and draw diagrams showing everything. There's a lot of work to be done on this draft yet before it's ready."
"Well, let's go and see how it works in practice. I'd die happy if I thought one of your old inventions was really going to make your fortune."
"I'm afraid there isn't time now. I must hurry off to the shop. But we'll try it to-night when I get back. It's a pity old Wilkins insisted on my working out my week's notice; I'd have liked to devote all my time to it."
"Can't you forfeit your screw or something?"
"I offered to, but Wilkins wouldn't hear of it, and as I hate bothers, and my leaving without notice would certainly put him in a hole, I'll stick it till Saturday. Are you coming with me to the shop?"
"I'll walk with you so far; then I'll go on to the town and inquire tenderly after Noakes. We'll meet at the 'Three Tuns' for lunch. Mrs. Pouncey will be glad of a day off."
Encased in macintoshes, they trudged up the muddy lane. At the corner they met a farmer driving his cart westward. He nodded to Templeton.
"You've gotten she at last, zur," he said, with a smile.
"Yes; all right now, Mr. West."
"Ay. I knowed she'd come, gie un time. Gie un time, I said, and she'll come. Well, marnen to 'ee, zur."
"Who's your she, Bob?" asked Eves as they went on.
"Oh, he means the nozzle. They're fond of the feminine about here."
"But how on earth does he know anything about the nozzle? It came by post, you said?"
"Yes. I suppose the postman told him. You're not used to country ways."
"But how did the postman know what was in the parcel? They don't open things, I suppose?"
"Of course not. I dare say I mentioned to the postman one day what I was expecting, and they gossip about anything and everything here."
"What a place! Look here, my son, you'll have one of your inventions forestalled one of these days if you don't keep your mouth shut. Then you'd be sorry."
It was not Eves's way to keep his mouth shut, and he expatiated on the evils of talkativeness all the way to the workshop, where the friends parted. The same topic was revived when they met at the "Three Tuns" for lunch.
"Wilkins was unusually amiable to-day," Templeton happened to remark. "He seemed quite pleased that the nozzle is a success."
"Were you juggins enough to tell him that?" asked Eves with a touch of scorn.
"Well, what else could I do when he asked me point-blank? I didn't mention it first."
"I suppose he heard of it from the postman or from Farmer West, or from any other inhabitant of this gossiping old monkey-house. Wilkins is the last man who ought to know anything about your private affairs. Upon my word, I think I'd better get demobilised and take a job as your keeper. You're not fit to be trusted alone."
After lunch Eves accompanied Templeton to the shop, and watched over him with fatherly interest through the afternoon. He was amused to see Templeton from time to time break off his work on a purely mechanical job, hurry to his coat hanging on a peg, extract the specification from his breast-pocket, and make some trifling alteration in text or diagram.
"Is that the result of what they call unconscious cerebration?" he asked. "Or can your mighty mind attend to two things at once? You're a wonder, Bobby, and I hope I shall live long enough to write you a thumping obituary notice."