XIIOutside in the vestibule the Duke looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past nine.The girl by his side was quiet, but her eyes never left his face."I'm going to do it," he said grimly. He looked at her and of a sudden took her face between his hands and kissed her."You're worth it," he said simply.St. John's station was ten minutes walk from the hall.The three (for Hank led the way) reached there in five. The station inspector was on the platform, a courteous man with a cheerful eye and a short grey beard. Hank was to the point."I want you to flag the Continental," he said."That's an Americanism, isn't it," smiled the inspector. "You want me to put the signal against the Continental Mail." Hank nodded."I won't say it cannot be done," said the inspector, "but there will have to be a very urgent reason.""That," said the admiring Hank, "is the kind of talk I like to hear;" and he told the official the whole story. The inspector nodded. "Next platform," he said shortly and ran for the signal box.As they reached the platform the green light that gave "road clear" to the Continental swung up to red."Here's all the money I have," said Hank quickly: he emptied his pockets into the Duke's hands. "I'll get the Dover 'phone busy, charter a tug—you'll have to take your chance about the boat. She'll pull up if you signal her. I'll send you some money by wireless—here she comes."She came—the noisy Continental reluctantly slowing down, steaming and snorting and whistling at the indignity.The Duke bustled in, the starting signal fell...."Look after the house!" shouted the Duke from the window. The train was on the move, when a man came flying down the steps."Stopyou!" yelled Hank."Bang! bang! bang!..."A group of porters surrounded the recumbent figure of Mr. Bill Slewer of Four Ways, who lay with a bullet in his leg cursing in a strange language.Bill's revolver had fallen on to the metals, but Hank's slim Smith-Wesson hung in his hand still smoking."You must do the 'phoning," he said to the white-faced girl. "I shall have to stay and explain away William."In the meantime the tail-lights of the Continental had disappeared round the curve.Part IIITHE DUKE RETURNSISir Harry Tanneur stood with his back to the library fire, in a disconsolate mood.An industrious authority on heraldry had that morning rendered the report of a great discovery which at any other time would have filled the heart of the knight with joy, namely the connexion of the house of Tanneur with the Kings of France through Louis de Tendour and the Auvegian Capels.There was little consolation in the Lilies of France, and meagre satisfaction to be derived from the "bloody hand en fesse on a field fretty." Sir Harry's mind was occupied with the contents of a letter which had arrived by the same post as the herald's report. It was brief and to the point.DEAR SIR,—We have to inform you that the court has upheld the Duke of Montvillier's title to the ownership of the Silver Streak Mine, and we are instructed that an appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States would in the light of recent happenings be unadvisable. The Duke who unexpectedly arrived at New York on board theKron Prinz Olaf, is returning to Europe immediately.Awaiting your favour,We are, etc.He read the letter again and was extremely vexed.In contrast to his own cloudy visage, the face of Mr. Hal Tanneur who burst in upon him was radiant."We've got it, governor," he chuckled and waved a paper. "Saw old Middleton——""What, what, what?" snapped his parent."64—all that desirable property," quoted the young man. "Old Middleton was a bit shy of parting. Said the Duke promised to be a useful tenant. I offered £800, wouldn't take it, offered £900, wouldn't look at it, got it for £1,050.""Good boy," commended his father, and grew more cheerful. "At any rate," he said, "we can clear this bounder out of the neighbourhood: what about Alicia?"Hal frowned terribly."I've done my best to show her what a silly step she's taking. Had a little talk with her——""Tact—I hope you used tact. Tact is everything in business," warned Sir Harry."Rather!" said the other complacently, "I think I know a little about handling women. I got her on her tenderest side. I pointed out people would say she was marrying for a title, showed her how these mixed marriages never turned out well. As I said, 'My dear Alicia, you know nothing absolutely about this chap except what he tells you himself, the chances are that he's married already.'""That was right," approved his father."I said, 'You don't even know that he's a Duke—his name's in De Gotha, I grant you, but how do you know he's the man?'""What did she say?" demanded Sir Harry.Hal shrugged his shoulders despairingly."She talked—like a woman," he said, with the air of one given to the coining of epigrams. "In so many words told me to mind my own business—in fact, governor, told me to go to the devil.""Good heavens!" said the scandalized knight."Well," modified his son, "she didn't exactly say so, but that was the impression she gave me."Sir Harry clicked his lips impatiently."This is gratitude!" he said bitterly. "After what I've done——" He paused to recollect his acts of beneficence, failed to recall any remarkable feat of generosity on his part, coughed, frowned, and repeated with increased bitterness—"Gratitude, bah!" He relapsed into gloomy silence, then reached out his hand for the document Hal had flourished."But this shall end," he said with splendid calmness; "we will bundle out this dam—confounded American Duke and his cowboy friend, bag and baggage. Smith shall serve him with a notice—has he paid his rent?""No," shouted Hal gleefully, "it was due the day he left for America and the Yankee person has overlooked it apparently."Sir Harry nodded."Hal, my boy," he said lowering his voice, "how much money in solid cash do you think this wretched man has cost me?" The importance in his father's tone impressed the young man."A million?" he hazarded.Sir Harry was annoyed, with the annoyance of a bargain hunter whose purchase is undervalued by an appraising friend."Don't be a fool!" he begged, "a million! Do you think I could sit down and tamely submit to the loss of a million? No——"Hal made another guess."A thousand?""Sixty thousand," said his father impressively, "sixty thousand pounds or three hundred thousand dollars!"Hal whistled."Absolutely taken out of my pocket, just as though the scoundrel had broken in to 'Hydeholme' and stolen it!" Sir Harry did not think it necessary to explain that the sum in question was the Duke's lawful property, and that his crime had consisted in establishing his legal claim to it."I need hardly say," Sir Harry went on "that if Alicia marries this person, it will be without my approval. Indeed I must seriously consider the question of altering the terms of my will." He said this very gravely."Were you leaving her much, governor?"Sir Harry coughed."It is not so much a question of actual value as the thought behind the legacy," he explained; "one should not measure love by the standard of value received, but by the sentiment which inspires the gift—I have often regretted," he added thoughtfully, "that the practise of bequeathing mourning rings has gone out of fashion—they were inexpensive but effective."Hal yawned."What about this Duke feller?" he demanded.Sir Harry pursed his lips."He is on his way back—arrives at Liverpool to-morrow. Out first business is to clear him out of Brockley. To make the place too hot to hold him. He has chosen to match his wits against mine, to range himself with my—er—opponents. He shall discover that I am not to be despised."There was something very complacent in Sir Harry's review of the situation that aroused the admiration of his son."He'll find you're a bit of a nut to crack, governor," he said.Sir Harry smiled not ill-pleased with the implied compliment."If you will sit down, Hal, I will outline my plan of campaign."Hal sat down.IIThe Lewisham and Lee Mail with which is incorporated the Catford Advertiser—to give the newspaper its fullest title—is a journal well worthy of perusal. You may think, you superior folk who are connected with Fleet Street journalism, that outside of high politics, wars and sensational divorce cases, nothing interests the general reader—but you are mistaken.There is a column in theLewisham and Lee Mailsapiently headed "On Dit" and wittily signed "I Noe" (which really is a subtle play on the words "I know" and as such, distinctly clever).I give you a clipping and reproduce it as nearly as possible in facsimile.ON DIT.That Miss Cecilia Downs took the first prize at St. John's Chrysanthemum Show. We heartily congratulate the young lady.* * *That there was a scene at the Borough Council Meeting when Councillor Hogg demanded particulars about the paving contract. Why wash dirty linen in public?* * *Go to Storey's for your boots: a grand new stock.* * *That our distinguished neighbour the Duc de Montvillier is returning from America next week. What an acquisition he would be to the Borough Council!!* * *When is the Council going to take up the question of the lighting of Tabar Street?At present the road is a positive disgrace to civilization.* * *Compare Storey's prices with elsewhere!Boys' School Boots a speciality—never wear out!* * *Mr. Roderick Nape read a paper before the Broadway Literary Society on Saturday entitled "Criminals I have Met." It was enthusiastically received.* * *James Toms, described as a labourer, was charged at Greenwich with stealing an overcoat, the property of Mr. J. B. Sands, of Tressillian Crescent—three months.* * *Dancing shoes from 2s. 11d. Goloshes for the wet weather from 1s. 11d. Storey's for fair prices and civility.This is the briefest extract, the merest glimpse of the moving pageant that fills the suburban stage. It leaves much to the imagination—the elation of Mr. Nape, the enthusiasm of his audience, the tragedy of James Toms, described as a labourer, and his downfall.If the truth be told, the minor happenings of life are of infinite interest to the people who are responsible for the happenings. Councillor A. Smith who makes a speech on the new drainage system, is considerably more interested in his brief quarter of a column than would be Mr. A. J. Balfour under similar circumstances.If I have a fault to find with local journalism, it is that it is far too reticent regarding the personal side of its news. For instance "I Noe" duly reported that Sir Henry Tanneur, "our respected prospective member," had acquired large freehold interests in the neighbourhood, but he failed most ignobly to record the fact that No. 64 Kymott Crescent and all that messuage, had been bought by Sir Harry in the Duke's absence, and that Sir Harry's agent had served Hank with a notice to quit.Hank, occupying the garden step ladder in the unavoidable absence of the Duke, found a sympathetic audience in the girl next door."I think uncle has behaved disgracefully!" she said shortly, "I have never heard of anything so paltry, so intensely and disagreeably mean, it is petty——"Hank was very solemn and very cautious."It's a mighty serious business ejecting a duke," he said. "I sent Cole down to the free library to get a book on the feudal customs, and I've just read that old book from startin' gate to judges' wire, and there's nothin' doin' about firin' dukes—or duchesses," he added.Alicia changed the subject with incoherent rapidity."What will you do?" she asked hastily."Do?" Hank's eyebrows rose at the preposterous question. "Do? Why I guess we'll just stay on.""But my uncle will serve you with a writ of ejectment," she persisted.Hank shook his head."I don't know her," he confessed, "but she must be geared up to shift the Duke. She must be well oiled an' run on ball bearin's, an' be triple expansion 'fore an' aft to make him budge. And if she misses fire once, it's down and out for hers. I don't know any writ of ejectment that was ever cast, that could lift the Duke when he was once planted."Hank shook his head with an air of finality."Our new landlord ought to be warned," he said. "Some one ought to tell him. It ain't fair—he doesn't know Dukey."A bright thought struck him."I'll warn him," he said and grew cheerful at the prospect.III"D'ye see, Hal?"It was in the middle of the fourth conference between father and son, and Sir Harry had triumphantly rounded off his plan when Hank was announced.The two men exchanged glances."Surrendered without firing a shot," murmured Sir Harry. "Show the gentleman in, William."Hank came into the library and found two grave gentlemen bent over a gorgeously illuminated coat of arms.Sir Harry looked up with a start when Hank was ushered in, and offered him his hand with a smile of patient weariness."Won't you sit down!" he said politely. "I'm afraid our task is an unfamiliar one to you, an American. There is some dispute as to whether the Tanneurs of the fourteenth century are related through a cadet branch of the Howards—but heraldry would bore you?"Hank's face was impassive."No,sir," he replied calmly. "I knew a feller down in Montana, a fat little fellow named Sank, that made a pile out of sheer carefulness—he never came in under a pair an' never bet under a straight flush—who gotthatbug in his sombrero. Paid a man down in New York 5,000 dollars to worry out a choice assortment of ancestors. Got way back to William the Conqueror an' might easily have fetched up at Noah, only one night he knocked up against little Si Morris sittin' pat with four aces. Si drew one an' Sank put him with two pairs—that's where Sanky went into liquidation."Sir Harry bristled."You wish to see me about something?" he said coldly.Hank nodded."This notice to quit," he said; "what's the idea?""That is a matter that I cannot discuss." Sir Harry had an admirable manner for this sort of contest. It was an adaptation of his board-room method, "Gentlemen, if you please we will proceed with the agenda;" an icy interposition that had so often chilled the inquisitive shareholder."Of course," Hank went on, "I don't exactly know what the Duke will say—but I can guess.""What the Duke says," said Sir Harry loftily, "will not affect my plans.""I should imagine, though," said Hank thoughtfully, "that he won't take much notice of your notice.""What!" said Sir Harry, "take no notice—good heavens, sir, are you aware that there's a law in this country?""There is a rumour to that effect," said the American cautiously, "but I reckon that a little thing like that won't worry him—you see he's a Duke."The awe in his voice impressed even Sir Harry."Duke? Duke! Rubbish! Bosh! Nonsense! Duke?" snapped Sir Harry. "We don't share your worship of titles, sir. What is a title? A mere handle, a useless appendage, a——"Then he recollected."Of course," he qualified, "there are titles—er—to which respect is due; titles—er—bestowed by a grateful country upon its—um—public men, philanthropists, et cetera; upon citizens who have identified themselves with—er—national movements——""Such as Jubilee almshouses," said the approving Hank.Sir Harry turned very red."Exactly," he agreed with some embarrassment, "I—er—myself have had such a mark of the sovereign's favour. But as to the Duke—well the Duke you know—in fact I'm no believer in hereditary titles. Our family have never countenanced them, never desired them, claimed no relation——""The cadet branch of the Howards," murmured Hank."That is a different matter," spluttered Sir Harry; "we have had no ancestors of recent years—I mean we do not—in fact—" he blazed wrathfully, "you've got to get out of No. 64, whether you like it or not!" Hal had been an interested listener. Somewhat unwisely he now took a hand."The fact of it is, my friend——" he began, Hank turned on him with extravagant dignity."Say," he said in an injured tone, "there's no necessity for you to butt in: I don't mind Sir Harry readin' the Riot Act, I do object to him callin' out the militia."Hal's reply was arrested by the arrival of a servant bearing a telegram.Without any apology to his visitor Sir Harry opened and read it. He read it twice like a man in a dream, and handed it to Hal who read it aloud."To TANNEUR, Hydeholme."Just got your notice to quit: most interesting document: am framing it.—DE MONTVILLIER.""The Duke's home," commented Hank, and his brows knit in a troubled frown. "I wonder whether I ordered enough sausages?"IV"I have asked you to come to see me, Mr. Nape," said the Duke, "because I feel I owe you an apology."The criminologist nodded stiffly.He thought that under the circumstances the Duke might have very well come to him, but he was not prepared to labour the point."We all make mistakes," said the Duke generously, "I for instance have been mistaken in you."Mr. Nape made another stern acknowledgment."I thought your methods were unconventional; I mistrusted the new type of detective; I have been trained in the old school where the man who murders the banker is never the burglar who robs the safe, but the good bishop who calls for the missionary subscription; where the villain who steals the Crown jewels is not the impecunious soldier of fortune, but the heir apparent."Mr. Nape stood rigidly at attention and waited. It pleased him to see evidence of a great remorse upon the tanned young face before him, to observe deep shadows under his eyes, and—he had not noticed them before—a sprinkling of grey hairs at his temple. Mr. Nape drew his own conclusions."Now," said the Duke with a self-depreciating wave of his hand, "I know that the old method is obsolete, that from the first the guilty party is the obvious—""Obvious to all who employ the process of elimination," corrected Mr. Nape severely."Exactly," agreed the Duke. "I now know, that if you catch a man with his hand in your pocket, you eliminate everybody whose hands do not happen to be in your pocket, and by this process arrive at the culprit."Mr. Nape looked a little dubious."My confidence in your ability being established," the Duke went on, "I wish you to accept a commission from me."Mr. Nape regarded him with cold suspicion."It isn't by any chance connected with electric bells?" he asked sarcastically."Not at all.""Or digging holes in a garden?"The Duke shot a reproachful glance at him."As to that unfortunate incident," he said, "you have yourself to blame. But for the completeness of your disguise——""Which you penetrated," said Roderick gloomily."I confess," said the Duke, with pleasing frankness, "that I spotted the false whiskers—or was it a moustache? I said to Hank, 'Who on earth can it be?' and Hank couldn't think of anybody. 'It's a detective,' said Hank, 'but what detective?' We thought of everybody till Hank—you know what a penetrating devil he is—said 'By Jove! It must be Jacko—I mean Nape!'"Mr. Nape looked important."And the commission you wish me to accept?" he asked."It will be necessary," said the Duke slowly, "to take you into my confidence. I am in a deuce of a mess: I have incurred the enmity of a great and powerful man, who has invoked the machinery of the law and threatened me with its instrument—in fact," he said in an outburst of candour, "brokers." Mr. Nape who had visions of something a trifle more heroic, said "Oh.""Not only this," the Duke went on, "but he has unscrupulously, pertinaciously and several other words which I cannot at the moment recall, brought to his aid the most powerful factor of all—the Press."The Duke picked up a long newspaper cutting that lay at his side."Read that," he said.Mr. Nape obeyed.It was headed "The Duke in the Suburbs," "meaning me," said the Duke complacently, "read on."Mr. Nape skimmed the leading article—for such it was—rapidly:"Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than any or all epithets.""He boned that out of a book of familiar quotations," explained the Duke admiringly, "go on.""It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration....""Title worship is unworthy of a great people.... Especially foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and decencies of social intercourse.""I can't quite place that last bit," said the Duke, "it is probably employed to round off the sentence—proceed, Mr. Nape.""With every desire to preserve intact the admirable relationships that existat the present momentbetween ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land.""That's rather involved," commented the Duke, "but I gather the sense of the stricture—pardon me."Mr. Nape continued."The English laws are just and equitable; they are the admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on one famous occasion said——""Skip that bit," interrupted the Duke."The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the dictum——""And that bit too," said the Duke; "go on to the part that deals with the lawless alien.""Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord's position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited instruments."Hank, a silent and interested listener, moved uneasily in the depths of his big chair.He removed his cigar to ask a question."Is she the writ of ejection or the notice to quit?" he asked soberly."I gather that she's the court bailiff," said the Duke reverently."We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are addressed,—in the friendliest spirit—that there is a power behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the might of armed force.""That's the militia," said the Duke, "Captain Hal Tanneur of the North Kent Fencibles! Hank, we're up against the army. We're an international problem: you heard the reference to the friendly relations? We're the fly in the Entente Cordiale ointment.""And a possiblecausus belli," murmured Hank."And acausus belli," repeated the Duke impressively.There was a silence as Mr. Nape carefully folded the cutting and placed it on the table. A continued silence when he leant back in his chair, with his finger-tips touching and his eyes absently fixed on the ceiling."Well?" said the Duke.Mr. Nape smiled.The solution of the problem was simple."You want me to find the man who wrote that article?" he said languidly. "It will not be particularly difficult. There are certain features about this case which are, I admit, puzzling. The reference to Baron Pollock and the Lord Chief Justice show me that the writer was a lawyer, the——""Oh, I know who wrote the article," said the Duke cheerfully, and Mr. Nape was disconcerted and annoyed.Then an idea struck him and he brightened."I see," he said, "you want me to discover the circumstances under which they were written. You have a secret enemy who——""On the contrary," said the Duke, "I know all the circumstances and I know the name, address, age and hobbies of the enemy."Mr. Nape's exasperation was justified under the circumstances."May I ask," he demanded coldly, "why I have been called in?""That seems fair?" The Duke appealed to Hank, and Hank nodded. "It seems a deucedly fair question."He turned to the young man—"Mr. Nape," he said solemnly, "we want an editor for theBrockley Aristocrat."Mr. Nape saw light."I of course know the paper," he said—there was little that Mr. Nape didnotknow—"but I have only seen it once—or twice," he corrected carefully."It doesn't exist yet," said his serene grace, "it's a new paper that Hank and I are going to run, and we need an editor.""I see," said Mr. Nape, industriously blowing his nose to hide his confusion...."We want an editor of fearless independent character, who will do as he's told, and ask no questions.""Yes, yes," approved the detective."A man of judgment, of keen discernment and possessed, moreover, of a knowledge of men and things."Mr. Nape nodded thoughtfully."Some one we can depend upon to carry out a policy without striking out on some silly idea of his own—there's the job, will you take it?""I have had some experience," began Mr. Nape, but the Duke interrupted—"Pardon me," he said, "but it is not experience that's required. An experienced editor would not do the things we shall expect our editor to do. We shall expect him to—er—rush in where theTimeswould fear to tread."Mr. Nape had a dim idea that the turn the Duke gave to this requirement was not as complimentary as it might have been."I have a feeling," the Duke continued, "that in Nape we have discovered a local Delane."He spoke ostensibly to Hank, as though oblivious of the new Editor's presence. Mr. Nape rather enjoyed the experience than otherwise."Or a Horace Greely," suggested the patriotic American.The Duke assented gravely."There are certain conditions of service to be laid down," the Duke went on, "a definite policy to be followed, a——""I am a conservative." Mr. Nape paused to observe the effect of his declaration. In the absence of an outburst of wild enthusiasm Mr. Nape hedged his bet, "but" he went on carelessly, "I am open to conviction."The Duke nodded."We shall expect you to uphold the best traditions of current journalism," he said, "and I do not doubt but that you will succeed. You must be prepared to jump with the cat—you follow me?""Yes," said Mr. Nape, who had not the least idea what cat was referred to."You must be careful not to give offence to the friendly nations. I will supply you with a revised list of them from week to week—and deal lightly with the Borough Council. You may have a whack at the Czar now and again, but whatever you do, be careful that you do not annoy the advertisers. Keep an eye upon the Balkans, the shipbuilding programme of Germany, and the London County Council.""And Sir Harry Tanneur," added Hank."Sir Harry Tanneur!"Mr. Nape was surprised."You know him?"The detective became instantly his mysterious self."He was a client of mine," he said briefly.Having so brusquely dismissed the subject in a manner that arrested all further investigation he regretted the fact. For he would have liked to explain the reading of the cutting at the concert, would have been delighted to accept recognition as the Duke's good fairy.But the Duke did not pursue the subject.He rose from his chair and held out his hand."Can you see me to-morrow?" he asked, "I have to arrange an office and a printer."Mr. Nape bowed."In the meantime," said his grace, "you had better think out some leaders."I have already thought of one," said the resourceful editor. "It is entitledNoblesse Oblige."A most excellent title," said the Duke admiringly, "I'll write the article myself."Mr. Nape went home deep in thought.The adoring little maid of all work, who met him at the door ventured to report."I've done up the laboratory, sir; them bloodstains have come from the butcher's, and the plumber's fixed up the microscope all right."Mr. Nape stared at her vacantly."Remove the rubbish," he said shortly.Emma gasped."Beg pardon, sir?" she stammered."The rubbish!" cried Roderick impatiently stamping his foot, "microscope and bloodstains and human hair—take them away."A thought struck him."Run down to the stationers and get that bookHow to Correct Printers' Proofs—it's sixpence."The dazed girl accepted the coin."Shall I bring it to your laboratory?" she asked feebly.Roderick turned a stern face upon her."Sanctum," he thundered, "there is no more laboratory,sanctum sanctorum—did they teach you Latin at school, Emma?""No, sir," she confessed, "that's the thing you do with compasses, ain't it?"Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the greenhouse.
XII
Outside in the vestibule the Duke looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past nine.
The girl by his side was quiet, but her eyes never left his face.
"I'm going to do it," he said grimly. He looked at her and of a sudden took her face between his hands and kissed her.
"You're worth it," he said simply.
St. John's station was ten minutes walk from the hall.
The three (for Hank led the way) reached there in five. The station inspector was on the platform, a courteous man with a cheerful eye and a short grey beard. Hank was to the point.
"I want you to flag the Continental," he said.
"That's an Americanism, isn't it," smiled the inspector. "You want me to put the signal against the Continental Mail." Hank nodded.
"I won't say it cannot be done," said the inspector, "but there will have to be a very urgent reason."
"That," said the admiring Hank, "is the kind of talk I like to hear;" and he told the official the whole story. The inspector nodded. "Next platform," he said shortly and ran for the signal box.
As they reached the platform the green light that gave "road clear" to the Continental swung up to red.
"Here's all the money I have," said Hank quickly: he emptied his pockets into the Duke's hands. "I'll get the Dover 'phone busy, charter a tug—you'll have to take your chance about the boat. She'll pull up if you signal her. I'll send you some money by wireless—here she comes."
She came—the noisy Continental reluctantly slowing down, steaming and snorting and whistling at the indignity.
The Duke bustled in, the starting signal fell....
"Look after the house!" shouted the Duke from the window. The train was on the move, when a man came flying down the steps.
"Stopyou!" yelled Hank.
"Bang! bang! bang!..."
A group of porters surrounded the recumbent figure of Mr. Bill Slewer of Four Ways, who lay with a bullet in his leg cursing in a strange language.
Bill's revolver had fallen on to the metals, but Hank's slim Smith-Wesson hung in his hand still smoking.
"You must do the 'phoning," he said to the white-faced girl. "I shall have to stay and explain away William."
In the meantime the tail-lights of the Continental had disappeared round the curve.
Part III
THE DUKE RETURNS
I
Sir Harry Tanneur stood with his back to the library fire, in a disconsolate mood.
An industrious authority on heraldry had that morning rendered the report of a great discovery which at any other time would have filled the heart of the knight with joy, namely the connexion of the house of Tanneur with the Kings of France through Louis de Tendour and the Auvegian Capels.
There was little consolation in the Lilies of France, and meagre satisfaction to be derived from the "bloody hand en fesse on a field fretty." Sir Harry's mind was occupied with the contents of a letter which had arrived by the same post as the herald's report. It was brief and to the point.
DEAR SIR,—
We have to inform you that the court has upheld the Duke of Montvillier's title to the ownership of the Silver Streak Mine, and we are instructed that an appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States would in the light of recent happenings be unadvisable. The Duke who unexpectedly arrived at New York on board theKron Prinz Olaf, is returning to Europe immediately.
We are, etc.
He read the letter again and was extremely vexed.
In contrast to his own cloudy visage, the face of Mr. Hal Tanneur who burst in upon him was radiant.
"We've got it, governor," he chuckled and waved a paper. "Saw old Middleton——"
"What, what, what?" snapped his parent.
"64—all that desirable property," quoted the young man. "Old Middleton was a bit shy of parting. Said the Duke promised to be a useful tenant. I offered £800, wouldn't take it, offered £900, wouldn't look at it, got it for £1,050."
"Good boy," commended his father, and grew more cheerful. "At any rate," he said, "we can clear this bounder out of the neighbourhood: what about Alicia?"
Hal frowned terribly.
"I've done my best to show her what a silly step she's taking. Had a little talk with her——"
"Tact—I hope you used tact. Tact is everything in business," warned Sir Harry.
"Rather!" said the other complacently, "I think I know a little about handling women. I got her on her tenderest side. I pointed out people would say she was marrying for a title, showed her how these mixed marriages never turned out well. As I said, 'My dear Alicia, you know nothing absolutely about this chap except what he tells you himself, the chances are that he's married already.'"
"That was right," approved his father.
"I said, 'You don't even know that he's a Duke—his name's in De Gotha, I grant you, but how do you know he's the man?'"
"What did she say?" demanded Sir Harry.
Hal shrugged his shoulders despairingly.
"She talked—like a woman," he said, with the air of one given to the coining of epigrams. "In so many words told me to mind my own business—in fact, governor, told me to go to the devil."
"Good heavens!" said the scandalized knight.
"Well," modified his son, "she didn't exactly say so, but that was the impression she gave me."
Sir Harry clicked his lips impatiently.
"This is gratitude!" he said bitterly. "After what I've done——" He paused to recollect his acts of beneficence, failed to recall any remarkable feat of generosity on his part, coughed, frowned, and repeated with increased bitterness—"Gratitude, bah!" He relapsed into gloomy silence, then reached out his hand for the document Hal had flourished.
"But this shall end," he said with splendid calmness; "we will bundle out this dam—confounded American Duke and his cowboy friend, bag and baggage. Smith shall serve him with a notice—has he paid his rent?"
"No," shouted Hal gleefully, "it was due the day he left for America and the Yankee person has overlooked it apparently."
Sir Harry nodded.
"Hal, my boy," he said lowering his voice, "how much money in solid cash do you think this wretched man has cost me?" The importance in his father's tone impressed the young man.
"A million?" he hazarded.
Sir Harry was annoyed, with the annoyance of a bargain hunter whose purchase is undervalued by an appraising friend.
"Don't be a fool!" he begged, "a million! Do you think I could sit down and tamely submit to the loss of a million? No——"
Hal made another guess.
"A thousand?"
"Sixty thousand," said his father impressively, "sixty thousand pounds or three hundred thousand dollars!"
Hal whistled.
"Absolutely taken out of my pocket, just as though the scoundrel had broken in to 'Hydeholme' and stolen it!" Sir Harry did not think it necessary to explain that the sum in question was the Duke's lawful property, and that his crime had consisted in establishing his legal claim to it.
"I need hardly say," Sir Harry went on "that if Alicia marries this person, it will be without my approval. Indeed I must seriously consider the question of altering the terms of my will." He said this very gravely.
"Were you leaving her much, governor?"
Sir Harry coughed.
"It is not so much a question of actual value as the thought behind the legacy," he explained; "one should not measure love by the standard of value received, but by the sentiment which inspires the gift—I have often regretted," he added thoughtfully, "that the practise of bequeathing mourning rings has gone out of fashion—they were inexpensive but effective."
Hal yawned.
"What about this Duke feller?" he demanded.
Sir Harry pursed his lips.
"He is on his way back—arrives at Liverpool to-morrow. Out first business is to clear him out of Brockley. To make the place too hot to hold him. He has chosen to match his wits against mine, to range himself with my—er—opponents. He shall discover that I am not to be despised."
There was something very complacent in Sir Harry's review of the situation that aroused the admiration of his son.
"He'll find you're a bit of a nut to crack, governor," he said.
Sir Harry smiled not ill-pleased with the implied compliment.
"If you will sit down, Hal, I will outline my plan of campaign."
Hal sat down.
II
The Lewisham and Lee Mail with which is incorporated the Catford Advertiser—to give the newspaper its fullest title—is a journal well worthy of perusal. You may think, you superior folk who are connected with Fleet Street journalism, that outside of high politics, wars and sensational divorce cases, nothing interests the general reader—but you are mistaken.
There is a column in theLewisham and Lee Mailsapiently headed "On Dit" and wittily signed "I Noe" (which really is a subtle play on the words "I know" and as such, distinctly clever).
I give you a clipping and reproduce it as nearly as possible in facsimile.
ON DIT.
That Miss Cecilia Downs took the first prize at St. John's Chrysanthemum Show. We heartily congratulate the young lady.
* * *
That there was a scene at the Borough Council Meeting when Councillor Hogg demanded particulars about the paving contract. Why wash dirty linen in public?
* * *
Go to Storey's for your boots: a grand new stock.
* * *
That our distinguished neighbour the Duc de Montvillier is returning from America next week. What an acquisition he would be to the Borough Council!!
* * *
When is the Council going to take up the question of the lighting of Tabar Street?
At present the road is a positive disgrace to civilization.
* * *
Compare Storey's prices with elsewhere!
Boys' School Boots a speciality—never wear out!
* * *
Mr. Roderick Nape read a paper before the Broadway Literary Society on Saturday entitled "Criminals I have Met." It was enthusiastically received.
* * *
James Toms, described as a labourer, was charged at Greenwich with stealing an overcoat, the property of Mr. J. B. Sands, of Tressillian Crescent—three months.
* * *
Dancing shoes from 2s. 11d. Goloshes for the wet weather from 1s. 11d. Storey's for fair prices and civility.
This is the briefest extract, the merest glimpse of the moving pageant that fills the suburban stage. It leaves much to the imagination—the elation of Mr. Nape, the enthusiasm of his audience, the tragedy of James Toms, described as a labourer, and his downfall.
If the truth be told, the minor happenings of life are of infinite interest to the people who are responsible for the happenings. Councillor A. Smith who makes a speech on the new drainage system, is considerably more interested in his brief quarter of a column than would be Mr. A. J. Balfour under similar circumstances.
If I have a fault to find with local journalism, it is that it is far too reticent regarding the personal side of its news. For instance "I Noe" duly reported that Sir Henry Tanneur, "our respected prospective member," had acquired large freehold interests in the neighbourhood, but he failed most ignobly to record the fact that No. 64 Kymott Crescent and all that messuage, had been bought by Sir Harry in the Duke's absence, and that Sir Harry's agent had served Hank with a notice to quit.
Hank, occupying the garden step ladder in the unavoidable absence of the Duke, found a sympathetic audience in the girl next door.
"I think uncle has behaved disgracefully!" she said shortly, "I have never heard of anything so paltry, so intensely and disagreeably mean, it is petty——"
Hank was very solemn and very cautious.
"It's a mighty serious business ejecting a duke," he said. "I sent Cole down to the free library to get a book on the feudal customs, and I've just read that old book from startin' gate to judges' wire, and there's nothin' doin' about firin' dukes—or duchesses," he added.
Alicia changed the subject with incoherent rapidity.
"What will you do?" she asked hastily.
"Do?" Hank's eyebrows rose at the preposterous question. "Do? Why I guess we'll just stay on."
"But my uncle will serve you with a writ of ejectment," she persisted.
Hank shook his head.
"I don't know her," he confessed, "but she must be geared up to shift the Duke. She must be well oiled an' run on ball bearin's, an' be triple expansion 'fore an' aft to make him budge. And if she misses fire once, it's down and out for hers. I don't know any writ of ejectment that was ever cast, that could lift the Duke when he was once planted."
Hank shook his head with an air of finality.
"Our new landlord ought to be warned," he said. "Some one ought to tell him. It ain't fair—he doesn't know Dukey."
A bright thought struck him.
"I'll warn him," he said and grew cheerful at the prospect.
III
"D'ye see, Hal?"
It was in the middle of the fourth conference between father and son, and Sir Harry had triumphantly rounded off his plan when Hank was announced.
The two men exchanged glances.
"Surrendered without firing a shot," murmured Sir Harry. "Show the gentleman in, William."
Hank came into the library and found two grave gentlemen bent over a gorgeously illuminated coat of arms.
Sir Harry looked up with a start when Hank was ushered in, and offered him his hand with a smile of patient weariness.
"Won't you sit down!" he said politely. "I'm afraid our task is an unfamiliar one to you, an American. There is some dispute as to whether the Tanneurs of the fourteenth century are related through a cadet branch of the Howards—but heraldry would bore you?"
Hank's face was impassive.
"No,sir," he replied calmly. "I knew a feller down in Montana, a fat little fellow named Sank, that made a pile out of sheer carefulness—he never came in under a pair an' never bet under a straight flush—who gotthatbug in his sombrero. Paid a man down in New York 5,000 dollars to worry out a choice assortment of ancestors. Got way back to William the Conqueror an' might easily have fetched up at Noah, only one night he knocked up against little Si Morris sittin' pat with four aces. Si drew one an' Sank put him with two pairs—that's where Sanky went into liquidation."
Sir Harry bristled.
"You wish to see me about something?" he said coldly.
Hank nodded.
"This notice to quit," he said; "what's the idea?"
"That is a matter that I cannot discuss." Sir Harry had an admirable manner for this sort of contest. It was an adaptation of his board-room method, "Gentlemen, if you please we will proceed with the agenda;" an icy interposition that had so often chilled the inquisitive shareholder.
"Of course," Hank went on, "I don't exactly know what the Duke will say—but I can guess."
"What the Duke says," said Sir Harry loftily, "will not affect my plans."
"I should imagine, though," said Hank thoughtfully, "that he won't take much notice of your notice."
"What!" said Sir Harry, "take no notice—good heavens, sir, are you aware that there's a law in this country?"
"There is a rumour to that effect," said the American cautiously, "but I reckon that a little thing like that won't worry him—you see he's a Duke."
The awe in his voice impressed even Sir Harry.
"Duke? Duke! Rubbish! Bosh! Nonsense! Duke?" snapped Sir Harry. "We don't share your worship of titles, sir. What is a title? A mere handle, a useless appendage, a——"
Then he recollected.
"Of course," he qualified, "there are titles—er—to which respect is due; titles—er—bestowed by a grateful country upon its—um—public men, philanthropists, et cetera; upon citizens who have identified themselves with—er—national movements——"
"Such as Jubilee almshouses," said the approving Hank.
Sir Harry turned very red.
"Exactly," he agreed with some embarrassment, "I—er—myself have had such a mark of the sovereign's favour. But as to the Duke—well the Duke you know—in fact I'm no believer in hereditary titles. Our family have never countenanced them, never desired them, claimed no relation——"
"The cadet branch of the Howards," murmured Hank.
"That is a different matter," spluttered Sir Harry; "we have had no ancestors of recent years—I mean we do not—in fact—" he blazed wrathfully, "you've got to get out of No. 64, whether you like it or not!" Hal had been an interested listener. Somewhat unwisely he now took a hand.
"The fact of it is, my friend——" he began, Hank turned on him with extravagant dignity.
"Say," he said in an injured tone, "there's no necessity for you to butt in: I don't mind Sir Harry readin' the Riot Act, I do object to him callin' out the militia."
Hal's reply was arrested by the arrival of a servant bearing a telegram.
Without any apology to his visitor Sir Harry opened and read it. He read it twice like a man in a dream, and handed it to Hal who read it aloud.
"To TANNEUR, Hydeholme.
"Just got your notice to quit: most interesting document: am framing it.—DE MONTVILLIER."
"The Duke's home," commented Hank, and his brows knit in a troubled frown. "I wonder whether I ordered enough sausages?"
IV
"I have asked you to come to see me, Mr. Nape," said the Duke, "because I feel I owe you an apology."
The criminologist nodded stiffly.
He thought that under the circumstances the Duke might have very well come to him, but he was not prepared to labour the point.
"We all make mistakes," said the Duke generously, "I for instance have been mistaken in you."
Mr. Nape made another stern acknowledgment.
"I thought your methods were unconventional; I mistrusted the new type of detective; I have been trained in the old school where the man who murders the banker is never the burglar who robs the safe, but the good bishop who calls for the missionary subscription; where the villain who steals the Crown jewels is not the impecunious soldier of fortune, but the heir apparent."
Mr. Nape stood rigidly at attention and waited. It pleased him to see evidence of a great remorse upon the tanned young face before him, to observe deep shadows under his eyes, and—he had not noticed them before—a sprinkling of grey hairs at his temple. Mr. Nape drew his own conclusions.
"Now," said the Duke with a self-depreciating wave of his hand, "I know that the old method is obsolete, that from the first the guilty party is the obvious—"
"Obvious to all who employ the process of elimination," corrected Mr. Nape severely.
"Exactly," agreed the Duke. "I now know, that if you catch a man with his hand in your pocket, you eliminate everybody whose hands do not happen to be in your pocket, and by this process arrive at the culprit."
Mr. Nape looked a little dubious.
"My confidence in your ability being established," the Duke went on, "I wish you to accept a commission from me."
Mr. Nape regarded him with cold suspicion.
"It isn't by any chance connected with electric bells?" he asked sarcastically.
"Not at all."
"Or digging holes in a garden?"
The Duke shot a reproachful glance at him.
"As to that unfortunate incident," he said, "you have yourself to blame. But for the completeness of your disguise——"
"Which you penetrated," said Roderick gloomily.
"I confess," said the Duke, with pleasing frankness, "that I spotted the false whiskers—or was it a moustache? I said to Hank, 'Who on earth can it be?' and Hank couldn't think of anybody. 'It's a detective,' said Hank, 'but what detective?' We thought of everybody till Hank—you know what a penetrating devil he is—said 'By Jove! It must be Jacko—I mean Nape!'"
Mr. Nape looked important.
"And the commission you wish me to accept?" he asked.
"It will be necessary," said the Duke slowly, "to take you into my confidence. I am in a deuce of a mess: I have incurred the enmity of a great and powerful man, who has invoked the machinery of the law and threatened me with its instrument—in fact," he said in an outburst of candour, "brokers." Mr. Nape who had visions of something a trifle more heroic, said "Oh."
"Not only this," the Duke went on, "but he has unscrupulously, pertinaciously and several other words which I cannot at the moment recall, brought to his aid the most powerful factor of all—the Press."
The Duke picked up a long newspaper cutting that lay at his side.
"Read that," he said.
Mr. Nape obeyed.
It was headed "The Duke in the Suburbs," "meaning me," said the Duke complacently, "read on."
Mr. Nape skimmed the leading article—for such it was—rapidly:
"Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than any or all epithets."
"Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than any or all epithets."
"He boned that out of a book of familiar quotations," explained the Duke admiringly, "go on."
"It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration....""Title worship is unworthy of a great people.... Especially foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and decencies of social intercourse."
"It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration...."
"Title worship is unworthy of a great people.... Especially foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and decencies of social intercourse."
"I can't quite place that last bit," said the Duke, "it is probably employed to round off the sentence—proceed, Mr. Nape."
"With every desire to preserve intact the admirable relationships that existat the present momentbetween ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land."
"With every desire to preserve intact the admirable relationships that existat the present momentbetween ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land."
"That's rather involved," commented the Duke, "but I gather the sense of the stricture—pardon me."
Mr. Nape continued.
"The English laws are just and equitable; they are the admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on one famous occasion said——"
"The English laws are just and equitable; they are the admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on one famous occasion said——"
"Skip that bit," interrupted the Duke.
"The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the dictum——"
"The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the dictum——"
"And that bit too," said the Duke; "go on to the part that deals with the lawless alien."
"Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord's position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited instruments."
"Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord's position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited instruments."
Hank, a silent and interested listener, moved uneasily in the depths of his big chair.
He removed his cigar to ask a question.
"Is she the writ of ejection or the notice to quit?" he asked soberly.
"I gather that she's the court bailiff," said the Duke reverently.
"We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are addressed,—in the friendliest spirit—that there is a power behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the might of armed force."
"We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are addressed,—in the friendliest spirit—that there is a power behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the might of armed force."
"That's the militia," said the Duke, "Captain Hal Tanneur of the North Kent Fencibles! Hank, we're up against the army. We're an international problem: you heard the reference to the friendly relations? We're the fly in the Entente Cordiale ointment."
"And a possiblecausus belli," murmured Hank.
"And acausus belli," repeated the Duke impressively.
There was a silence as Mr. Nape carefully folded the cutting and placed it on the table. A continued silence when he leant back in his chair, with his finger-tips touching and his eyes absently fixed on the ceiling.
"Well?" said the Duke.
Mr. Nape smiled.
The solution of the problem was simple.
"You want me to find the man who wrote that article?" he said languidly. "It will not be particularly difficult. There are certain features about this case which are, I admit, puzzling. The reference to Baron Pollock and the Lord Chief Justice show me that the writer was a lawyer, the——"
"Oh, I know who wrote the article," said the Duke cheerfully, and Mr. Nape was disconcerted and annoyed.
Then an idea struck him and he brightened.
"I see," he said, "you want me to discover the circumstances under which they were written. You have a secret enemy who——"
"On the contrary," said the Duke, "I know all the circumstances and I know the name, address, age and hobbies of the enemy."
Mr. Nape's exasperation was justified under the circumstances.
"May I ask," he demanded coldly, "why I have been called in?"
"That seems fair?" The Duke appealed to Hank, and Hank nodded. "It seems a deucedly fair question."
He turned to the young man—
"Mr. Nape," he said solemnly, "we want an editor for theBrockley Aristocrat."
Mr. Nape saw light.
"I of course know the paper," he said—there was little that Mr. Nape didnotknow—"but I have only seen it once—or twice," he corrected carefully.
"It doesn't exist yet," said his serene grace, "it's a new paper that Hank and I are going to run, and we need an editor."
"I see," said Mr. Nape, industriously blowing his nose to hide his confusion....
"We want an editor of fearless independent character, who will do as he's told, and ask no questions."
"Yes, yes," approved the detective.
"A man of judgment, of keen discernment and possessed, moreover, of a knowledge of men and things."
Mr. Nape nodded thoughtfully.
"Some one we can depend upon to carry out a policy without striking out on some silly idea of his own—there's the job, will you take it?"
"I have had some experience," began Mr. Nape, but the Duke interrupted—
"Pardon me," he said, "but it is not experience that's required. An experienced editor would not do the things we shall expect our editor to do. We shall expect him to—er—rush in where theTimeswould fear to tread."
Mr. Nape had a dim idea that the turn the Duke gave to this requirement was not as complimentary as it might have been.
"I have a feeling," the Duke continued, "that in Nape we have discovered a local Delane."
He spoke ostensibly to Hank, as though oblivious of the new Editor's presence. Mr. Nape rather enjoyed the experience than otherwise.
"Or a Horace Greely," suggested the patriotic American.
The Duke assented gravely.
"There are certain conditions of service to be laid down," the Duke went on, "a definite policy to be followed, a——"
"I am a conservative." Mr. Nape paused to observe the effect of his declaration. In the absence of an outburst of wild enthusiasm Mr. Nape hedged his bet, "but" he went on carelessly, "I am open to conviction."
The Duke nodded.
"We shall expect you to uphold the best traditions of current journalism," he said, "and I do not doubt but that you will succeed. You must be prepared to jump with the cat—you follow me?"
"Yes," said Mr. Nape, who had not the least idea what cat was referred to.
"You must be careful not to give offence to the friendly nations. I will supply you with a revised list of them from week to week—and deal lightly with the Borough Council. You may have a whack at the Czar now and again, but whatever you do, be careful that you do not annoy the advertisers. Keep an eye upon the Balkans, the shipbuilding programme of Germany, and the London County Council."
"And Sir Harry Tanneur," added Hank.
"Sir Harry Tanneur!"
Mr. Nape was surprised.
"You know him?"
The detective became instantly his mysterious self.
"He was a client of mine," he said briefly.
Having so brusquely dismissed the subject in a manner that arrested all further investigation he regretted the fact. For he would have liked to explain the reading of the cutting at the concert, would have been delighted to accept recognition as the Duke's good fairy.
But the Duke did not pursue the subject.
He rose from his chair and held out his hand.
"Can you see me to-morrow?" he asked, "I have to arrange an office and a printer."
Mr. Nape bowed.
"In the meantime," said his grace, "you had better think out some leaders.
"I have already thought of one," said the resourceful editor. "It is entitledNoblesse Oblige.
"A most excellent title," said the Duke admiringly, "I'll write the article myself."
Mr. Nape went home deep in thought.
The adoring little maid of all work, who met him at the door ventured to report.
"I've done up the laboratory, sir; them bloodstains have come from the butcher's, and the plumber's fixed up the microscope all right."
Mr. Nape stared at her vacantly.
"Remove the rubbish," he said shortly.
Emma gasped.
"Beg pardon, sir?" she stammered.
"The rubbish!" cried Roderick impatiently stamping his foot, "microscope and bloodstains and human hair—take them away."
A thought struck him.
"Run down to the stationers and get that bookHow to Correct Printers' Proofs—it's sixpence."
The dazed girl accepted the coin.
"Shall I bring it to your laboratory?" she asked feebly.
Roderick turned a stern face upon her.
"Sanctum," he thundered, "there is no more laboratory,sanctum sanctorum—did they teach you Latin at school, Emma?"
"No, sir," she confessed, "that's the thing you do with compasses, ain't it?"
Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the greenhouse.