Tony stopped and chatted amiably for a few minutes until he could manage to extract Bugg from the centre of his admirers. When at last they succeeded in getting away they slipped out quietly by the side door of the Club in order to avoid the crowd who were still hanging about the front, and with a breath of relief found themselves in the cool night air of Long Acre.
Tony lit a cigarette and offered one to his companion.
"You positively surpassed yourself to-night, Bugg," he said. "The worst of it is that if you go on improving in this way, I shall have to find a new profession. No one will dare to bet against you."
"I 'ope I didn't shove it across 'im too sudden, sir?" inquired Bugg anxiously. "You said you was in a hurry."
"It was perfect," said Tony. "The only person who had any complaint to make was King Pedro."
Bugg sniffed contemptuously. "'E ain't much of a king, sir. I don't wonder they give 'im the chuck. A real king wouldn't taike on abaht droppin' a few quids."
"I daresay you're right," said Tony. "A certain recklessness in finance——"
He suddenly pulled up and for a moment remained where he was, staring across the street. On the opposite pavement, in the bright circle of light thrown by one of the big electric standards, he had caught sight of the figure of a girl, who at that distance reminded him curiously of Molly Monk. She had apparently just come out of the entrance to some flats above, and with a bag in her hand she was standing there in an uncertain, indefinite sort of way, as though she scarcely knew what to do next.
Realizing that it couldn't be Molly, who was of course at the theatre, Tony was just about to move on again, when something checked him.
Two well-dressed men in dark overcoats and soft hats had suddenly appeared out of the shadow ahead and advanced quickly to where the girl was standing. For an instant they all three remained facing each other under the light, and then taking off his hat, one of them addressed her.
With a little frightened gesture the girl shrank back against the wall, where she glanced wildly round as though seeking for some means of escape. The man who had spoken followed her forward, his hat still in his hand, apparently making an effort to reassure her.
Tony turned to Bugg. "We really can't allow this sort of thing in Long Acre," he observed. "It has always been a most respectable street."
He threw away his cigarette, and followed by the future champion of England started off briskly across the road.
On hearing their footsteps the two men spun round with some abruptness. They were both obviously foreigners, and the sight of their sallow faces and black moustaches filled Tony with a pleasant sense of patriotic morality.
Without paying any attention to either of them he walked straight up to the girl, and taking off his hat made her a slight bow.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but from the other side of the road it looked as if these gentlemen were annoying you. Can I be of any assistance?"
She gazed up at him with grateful eyes. At close quarters her resemblance to Molly, though still remarkable, was not quite so convincing. She was a little younger and slighter, and there was a delicate air of distinction about her that was entirely her own.
"Oh, if you would be so kind," she said in a delightfully soft voice. "I do not wish to speak with these men. If you could send them away—right away——"
"Why, of course," replied Tony with his most cheerful smile, "please don't distress yourself."
He turned to the two sallow-faced strangers who seemed to have been utterly disconcerted by his sudden appearance on the scene.
"Go away," he said, "and hurry up about it."
There was a short pause, and then the shorter of the two men stepped forward. He was an aggressive looking person with a cast in his eye, and he spoke with a slight foreign accent.
"Sir," he said, "you are making a mistake. We do not intend any insult to this lady. We are indeed her best friends. If you will be good enough to withdraw——"
With the gleam of battle in his eye, Bugg ranged up alongside the speaker, and tapped him on the elbow.
"'Ere!" he observed. "You 'eard wot the guv'nor said, didn't you?" He jerked his thumb over his left shoulder. "'Op it before you get 'urt."
Tony turned to the girl. "You mustn't be mixed up in a street fight," he said. "If you will allow me to see you to a taxi, my friend here will prevent these unpleasant looking people from following us."
He offered her his arm, and after a second's hesitation she laid a small gloved hand upon his sleeve.
"It is very kind of you," she faltered. "I fear I am going to give you a great deal of trouble."
"Not a bit," replied Tony. "I love interfering in other people's affairs."
With a swift stride the cross-eyed gentleman thrust himself across their path.
"No, no!" he exclaimed vehemently. "You must not listen to this man. You——"
With a powerful thrust of his disengaged arm Tony sent him staggering back to the edge of the pavement, where he stumbled over the curb and sat down heavily in the gutter.
His companion, seeing his fall, gave a guttural cry of anger and lifting the light stick that he was carrying lashed out savagely at Bugg. As coolly as if he were in the ring the latter ducked under the blow, and coming up with a beautiful straight left knocked his assailant spinning against the lamp-post.
Tony sent the fellow staggering back to the edge of the pavement. His companion lashed out savagely at Bugg. The latter ducked under the blow, and coming up with a beautiful straight left, knocked his assailant spinning. Tony turned again to the girl. "I am afraid we must tear ourselves away," he remarked. "We shall have half London here in a moment."Tony sent the fellow staggering back to the edge of the pavement. His companion lashed out savagely at Bugg. The latter ducked under the blow, and coming up with a beautiful straight left, knocked his assailant spinning. Tony turned again to the girl. "I am afraid we must tear ourselves away," he remarked. "We shall have half London here in a moment."
Tony turned again to the girl at his side. "I am afraid we must tear ourselves away," he remarked. "We shall have half London here in a moment."
Already from down the street came the shrill blast of a whistle, followed a moment later by the sound of running footsteps. Heedless of these warnings the two strangers, now apparently reckless with fury, were collecting themselves for a fresh attack.
"Keep them busy, Bugg," said Tony quietly; and the next instant he and the girl were hurrying along the pavement in the direction of Martin's Lane. That fairly prosperous thoroughfare was only a few yards' distant, but before they could reach it the sounds of a magnificent tumult broke out again behind them. The girl glanced nervously over her shoulder, and her grip on Tony's arm tightened.
"Oh!" she gasped, "oughtn't we to go back? Your friend will be hurt!"
Tony laughed reassuringly. "If any one's hurt," he observed, "it's much more likely to be one of the other gentlemen."
They rounded the corner, and as they did so a disengaged taxi came bowling opportunely up the street. Tony signalled to the driver to stop.
"Here we are!" he said.
A look of frightened dismay leaped suddenly into his companion's pretty face.
"What's the matter?" asked Tony.
"I—I forgot," she stammered. "I can't take a taxi. I—I haven't any money with me."
There was a moment's pause, while the driver bent forward from his box listening with interest to the spirited echoes from Long Acre.
"That's all right," remarked Tony. "We will talk about it in the cab." He turned to the driver. "Take us to Verrier's," he said. It was the first place that happened to come into his head.
The man jerked his head in the direction of the noise. "Bit of a scrap on from the sound of it, sir!" he observed.
Tony nodded. "Yes," he said regretfully, "it's a quarrelsome world."
He helped his companion into the taxi, and then following himself, shut the door. The vehicle started off with a jerk, and as it swung round the corner into Coventry Street, its occupants were able to catch a momentary glimpse of the spot they had so recently quitted. It appeared to be filled by a small but animated crowd, in the centre of which a cluster of whirling figures was distinctly visible. Tony heard the girl beside him give a faint gasp of dismay.
"It's all right," he said. "Bugg's used to fighting. He likes it."
She looked up at him anxiously. "He is a soldier?" she asked, in that soft attractive voice of hers.
Tony suppressed a laugh just in time. "Something of the sort," he answered. Then with a pleasant feeling that the whole adventure was becoming rather interesting he added: "I say, I have told the man to drive us to Verrier's. I hope if you aren't in a hurry you will be charitable and join me in a little supper—will you? I'm simply starving."
By the light of a passing street lamp he suddenly caught sight of the troubled expression that had come into her eyes.
"Do just what you like, of course," he added quickly. "If you would rather I drove you straight home——"
"As a matter of fact," said the girl with a sort of desperate calmness. "I haven't a home to go to."
There was another brief pause. "Well, in that case," remarked Tony cheerfully, "there is no possible objection to our having a little supper—is there?"
For a moment she stared out of the window without replying. It was plain that she was the prey of several contradictory emotions, of which a vague restless fear seemed to be the most prominent.
"I don't know what to do," she said unhappily. "You are very kind, but——"
"There is only one possible thing to do," interrupted Tony firmly, "and that is to come to Verrier's. We can discuss the next step when we get there."
Even as he spoke the taxi swerved across the road, and drew up in front of the famous underground restaurant.
Before getting out the girl threw a quick hunted glance from side to side of the street. "Do you think either of those men have followed us?" she whispered.
Tony shook his head comfortingly. "From what I know of Bugg," he said, "I should regard it as highly improbable."
He settled up with the driver, and then strolling across the pavement, rejoined the girl, who was waiting for him just outside the entrance. She had evidently made a great effort to recover her self-composure, for she looked up at him with a brave if slightly forced smile.
"I must make myself tidy," she said, "if you won't mind waiting a minute. I am simply not fit to be seen."
The statement appeared to be exaggerated to Tony, but he allowed it to pass unchallenged.
"Please don't hurry," he said. "I want to use the telephone, and if I finish first I can brood over what we'll have for supper."
She smiled again—this time more naturally, and taking the dressing-bag that he had been carrying for her, disappeared into the cloak-room. Tony abandoned his hat and coat to a waiter, and then sauntering forward, entered the restaurant.
The moment he appeared the manager, who was standing on the other side of the room, hastened across to greet him.
"Bon soir, Sir Antony," he observed with that dazzling smile of welcome that managers only produce for their most wealthy customers. "May I 'ave ze pleasiare of finding you a table."
Tony nodded indulgently. "You may, Gustave," he said: "A table for two with flowers on it, and as far away from the band as possible." He paused. "Also," he added, "I want a really nice little supper. Something with imagination about it. The sort of supper that you would offer to an angel if you unexpectedly found one with an appetite."
The manager bowed with a gesture of perfect comprehension.
"And while you are wrestling with the problem," said Tony, "I should like to use the telephone if I may."
He was shown into the private office, where, in response to polite and repeated requests, a lady at the Exchange eventually found leisure to connect him with Shepherd's Oyster Bar.
"Is Mr. 'Tiger' Bugg there?" he inquired.
The man who had answered the call departed to have a look round, and then returned with the information that so far Mr. Bugg had not put in an appearance.
"Well, if he does come," said Tony, "will you tell him for me—Sir Antony Conway—that I shall not be able to join him. He can pick up the car at the R.A.C."
The man promised to deliver the message, and ringing off, Tony strolled back through the restaurant to the place where he had parted from his charming if slightly mysterious companion. He met her just coming out of the cloak-room.
"Oh, I hope I haven't kept you very long," she said penitently.
Tony looked down into the clear amber eyes that were turned up to his own, and thought that she was even prettier than he had at first imagined.
"I have only just this moment finished telephoning," he said. "The Central Exchange are like the gods. They never hurry."
She laughed softly, and then, as the waiter on duty opened the door with a low bow, they walked forward into the restaurant.
M. Gustave, more affable than ever, came up to conduct them to their table.
At the sight of the charming arrangement in maidenhair and narcissi which decorated the centre, the girl gave a little exclamation of pleasure.
"But how beautiful!" she said. "I never knew English restaurants——"
She stopped short as though she suddenly thought the remark were better unfinished.
Tony took no notice of her slight embarrassment. "I am glad you like flowers," he said. "It's such a nice primitive, healthy taste. Since Mr. Chamberlain died I believe I am the only person in London who still wears a button-hole."
They sat down on opposite sides of the table, and for the first time he was able to enjoy a complete and leisurely survey of his companion.
She was younger than he had thought at first—a mere girl of seventeen or eighteen—with the complexion of a wild rose, and the lithe, slender figure of a forest dryad. It was her red hair and the little firm, delicately moulded chin which gave her that curious superficial resemblance to Molly which had originally attracted his attention. He saw now that there were several differences between them—one of the most noticeable being the colour of their eyes. Molly's were blue—blue as the sky, while this girl's were of clear deep amber, like the water of some still pool in the middle of a moorland stream.
What charmed him most of all, however, was the faint air of sensitive pride that hung about her like some fragrant perfume. Although obviously frightened and apparently in a very awkward predicament, she was yet facing the situation with nervous thoroughbred courage that filled Tony with admiration.
One thing struck him as rather incongruous. She had said she had no money, and yet even to his masculine eyes it was quite clear that the clothes she was wearing, though simple in appearance, could have been made by a most expensive dressmaker. On the little finger of her left hand he also noticed a sapphire and diamond ring which if real must be of considerable value. All this combined to fill him with an agreeable and stimulating curiosity.
"I hope you are feeling none the worse for our wild adventures," he said, as the waiter withdrew, after handing them the first course.
She shook her head. "You have been extraordinarily kind," she said in a low voice. "I have a great deal to thank you for. I—I hardly know how to begin."
"Well, suppose we begin by introducing ourselves," he suggested cheerfully. "My name is Conway—Sir Antony Conway. My more intimate friends are occasionally permitted to call me Tony."
She hesitated a second before replying. "My name is Isabel," she said. "Isabel Francis," she added a little lamely.
"I shall call you 'Isabel' if I may," said Tony. "'Miss Francis' sounds so unromantic after the thrilling way in which we became friends."
He paused until the waiter, who had bustled up again with a bottle of champagne had filled their respective glasses and retired.
"And as we have become friends," he continued, "don't you think you can tell me how you have managed to get yourself into this—what shall we call it—scrape? I am not asking just out of mere curiosity. I should like to help you if I can. You see I am always in scrapes myself, so I might be able to give you some good advice."
The gleam of fun in his eyes, and the friendly way in which he spoke, seemed to take away much of his companion's nervousness. She sipped her champagne, looking at him over the top of the glass with a simple, almost childish gratitude.
"You have been kind and nice," she said frankly. "I don't know what I should have done if you hadn't been there." She put down her glass. "You see," she went on in a slower and more hesitating way, "I—I came up to London this evening to stay with an old governess of mine who has a flat in Long Acre. When I got there I found she had gone away, and then I didn't know what to do, because I hadn't brought any money with me."
"Wasn't she expecting you?" asked Tony.
Miss "Isabel Francis" shook her head. "No-o," she admitted. "You see I hadn't time to write and tell her I was coming." She paused. "I—I left home rather in a hurry," she added naïvely.
Tony leaned back in his chair and looked at her with a smile. He was enjoying himself immensely.
"And our two yellow-faced friends in evening-dress," he asked. "Were they really old acquaintances of yours?"
The frightened, hunted look flashed back into her eyes. "No, no," she said quickly. "I had never seen them before in my life. I had just left the flats when they came up and spoke to me. They were both strangers—quite absolutely strangers."
She spoke eagerly, as though specially anxious that her words should carry conviction, but somehow or other Tony felt a little sceptical. He couldn't forget the fierce persistence of the two men, which seemed quite out of keeping with the idea that they had been interrupted in a mere piece of wanton impertinence. Besides, if what she said about them were true it would hardly account for her unreasoning terror that they might have followed her to the restaurant. Being polite by nature, however, he was careful to show no sign of doubting her statement.
He allowed the waiter to help them both to some attractive looking mystery in aspic, and then, when they were again alone, he leaned forward and observed with sympathy:
"Well, I'm glad we happened to roll up at the right time. It's always jolly to give that sort of gentlemen a lesson in manners." He paused. "Have you made any kind of plans about what you are going to do next?"
She shook her head. "I—I haven't quite decided," she said. "I suppose I must find some place to stay at until Miss Watson comes back."
"How long will that be?"
"I don't know. You see she has just gone away and shut up the flat, and left no address."
"Haven't you any other friends in London?"
She shook her head again. "Nobody," she said, "at least nobody who could help me." Then she hesitated. "I have lived in Paris nearly all my life," she added by way of explanation.
There was a brief silence.
"If you will forgive my mentioning such a sordid topic," remarked Tony pleasantly, "what do you propose to do about money?"
"I can get some money to-morrow," she answered. "I can sell some jewellery—this ring for instance—and there are other things in my bag."
"And to-night?"
She glanced round rather desperately. "I don't know. I must go somewhere. I was thinking that perhaps I could sit in one of the churches—or there might be a convent—" She broke off with a little glance, as if appealing to Tony for his advice.
"Why not go to a hotel?" he suggested. "If you will allow me, I will lend you some money, and you can pay me back when it's convenient."
She flushed slightly. "Oh!" she stammered, "you are so kind. Perhaps if I could find some quite quiet place—" She stopped again, but looking at her, Tony could see the old hunted expression still lurking in her eyes. Somehow he felt certain that she was thinking about the two strangers.
A sudden brilliant idea suggested itself to him. "Look here!" he exclaimed. "How would this do? My butler's wife—Mrs. Spalding—has got a small house just off Heath Street, Hampstead. I know she lets rooms and I am pretty nearly sure that just at present there is no one there. Why shouldn't we run up in the car and have a look at the place? She could fix you up for the night anyway, and if you find you like it you can stay on there till your Miss—Miss Thingumbob comes back."
A naturally distrustful nature was evidently not one of Isabel's characteristics, for she received the proposal with the most frank and genuine gratitude.
"Oh!" she cried, "that would be nice! But won't she be asleep by now?"
"It doesn't matter if she is," said Tony tranquilly. "We will pick up Spalding on the way and take him round with us to rout her out. If she feels peevish at being waked up, she can let the steam off on him first."
He beckoned to the waiter and asked that accomplished henchman to ring up the R.A.C. and instruct Jennings to bring the car round to Verrier's.
"And find out," he added, "whether 'Tiger' Bugg has turned up there or not."
The waiter departed on his mission, coming back in a few minutes with the information that the car would be round at once, and that so far Mr. 'Tiger' Bugg had neither been seen nor heard of.
"I wonder where he can be," said Tony to his companion. "He can't possibly have taken all this time to slaughter a couple of dagoes. I am afraid the police must have interfered."
The suggestion seemed to fill Isabel with a certain amount of dismay.
"The police!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Oh, but I hope not. He is so brave he would have fought with them, and perhaps they may have killed him."
The picture of a desperately resisting Bugg being hacked to pieces on the pavement by infuriated bobbies appealed hugely to Tony's sense of humour.
"I don't think it's likely," he said in a reassuring tone. "The English police as a whole are very good-natured. They seldom take life except in self-defence."
He added one or two other items of information with regard to Bugg's hardihood and fertility of resource, which seemed to comfort Isabel, and then, with the latter's permission, he lighted a cigarette and called for his bill.
He was just settling it when news came that the car had arrived. He instructed the waiter to place Isabel's bag inside, and then bidding good-night to the bowing and valedictory M. Gustave, they walked upstairs to the entrance.
They found the big gleaming Rolls-Royce drawn up by the curb with Jennings standing in a joyless attitude at the door. When his glance fell on Isabel he looked more pessimistic than ever.
"Any news of Bugg?" inquired Tony.
The chauffeur shook his head. "Not a word, sir."
"I left a message at Shepherd's that he was to come and pick you up at the Club. I wonder what's happened to him."
For a moment Jennings brooded darkly over the problem. "Perhaps he got some internal injury in the fight and was took sudden with it in the street," he suggested. "I could run round the 'orspitals and make inquiries if you wished, sir?"
"Thank you, Jennings," said Tony. "You are very helpful; but I think I should prefer to go back to Hampstead."
"Just as you please, sir," observed Jennings indifferently.
He closed the door after them, and then mounting the driving-seat, started off along Piccadilly.
Isabel, who had again cast a quick glance out of each window, turned to Tony with a smile.
"He doesn't seem a very cheerful man, your chauffeur," she said. "He has got such a sad voice."
Tony nodded. "That's the reason I originally engaged him. I like to have a few miserable people about the place: they help me to realize how happy I am myself."
Isabel laughed merrily. The solution of her difficulties in the way of a lodging seemed to have taken an immense weight off her spirits, and in the agreeably shaded light of the big limousine she looked younger and prettier than ever. So far his new adventure struck Tony as being quite the most interesting and promising he had ever embarked on.
As the car glided on through the depressing architecture of Camden Town he began to tell her in a cheerful inconsequent sort of fashion something about his house and general surroundings. She listened with the utmost interest, the whole thing evidently striking her as being highly novel and entertaining.
"And do you live quite by yourself?" she asked.
"Quite," said Tony. "Except for Spalding and Jennings and Bugg and a cook and two or three maid-servants and dear old Guy!"
"Who's Guy?" she demanded.
"Guy," he said, "can be best described as being Guy. In addition to that he is also my cousin and my secretary."
"Your secretary?" she repeated. "Why, what does he do?"
"His chief occupation is doing my tenants," said Tony. "In his spare time he gives me good advice which I never follow. You must come to breakfast to-morrow and make his acquaintance."
The car turned in at the drive gates of "Goodman's Rest," which was the felicitous name that Tony had selected for his house, and drew up outside the front entrance.
"I will just see if Spalding has gone to bed," he said to Isabel. "If not it's hardly worth while your getting out."
He opened the door with his key and entering the hall, which was lighted softly by concealed electric lamps, pressed a bell alongside the fireplace. Almost immediately a door swung open at the back and Spalding appeared on the threshold.
"Good," said Tony, "I thought you might have turned in."
"I was about to do so, Sir Antony," replied Spalding impassively. "May I mention how pleased we all were at the news of Bugg's success."
"Oh, you have heard about it!" remarked Tony. "Is Bugg back then?"
"No, sir. I took the liberty of ringing up the Cosmopolitan. The Cook had a half-crown on, sir, and she was almost painfully anxious to ascertain the result."
Tony nodded his approval. "After the way she grilled that sole to-night," he said, "I would deny her nothing." He paused. "Spalding," he added: "are you frightened of your wife?"
"No, sir," replied Spalding. "At least not more than most husbands, sir."
"Well, I want you to come and act as my ambassador. There is a young lady in the motor outside who is in need of somewhere to sleep and some kind and sensible person to look after her. I know Mrs. Spalding lets rooms, and although it's rather a queer time of night to receive a new lodger, I thought that if you came and put the case to her tactfully, she might stretch a point to oblige me."
Spalding's face remained beautifully expressionless. "I am sure my wife would do anything to oblige you, sir," he observed. "If you will excuse my saying so, you stand very high in her good opinion, sir."
"Indeed!" said Tony. "I am afraid you must be an extraordinarily deceitful husband, Spalding."
The butler bowed. "I make a point, sir, of only repeating incidents which seem to me likely to appeal to her."
"A very excellent habit," said Tony gravely. "Get on your hat and coat, and we will see how it works out in practice."
A few minutes later, with Spalding sitting on the front seat alongside of Jennings, they were retracing their way across the Heath. On reaching the main thoroughfare they turned up one of the little steep streets that run off to the right, and came to a halt in front of an old-fashioned row of small white houses, standing back behind narrow slips of garden.
Spalding opened the gate for them, and then leading the way up the path, let them in at the front door with a latch-key. A feeble flicker of gas was burning in the hall.
"If you will wait in here, sir," he observed, opening a door on the right, "I will go upstairs and acquaint my wife with your arrival."
The room he showed them into, though small in size and simply furnished, was a remarkably pleasant little apartment. In the first place, everything was scrupulously clean, and the general impression of cheerful freshness was heightened by a couple of bowls of hyacinths in full bloom which stood on a table in the window.
"How does this appeal to the taste of Isabel?" inquired Tony, lighting himself another cigarette.
"Why it's charming!" she exclaimed. "I shall be so happy if I can stay here. It all seems so free and lovely after—" she checked herself—"after where I have been living," she finished.
"Well, I hope it will all be up to sample," said Tony, "I can't imagine Spalding being content with anything second rate—at least judging by his taste in wine and cigars." He paused. "What time would you like breakfast in the morning?"
"Breakfast?" she repeated.
"I always call it breakfast," explained Tony. "It is such a much healthier sounding word than lunch. Suppose I send the car round for you about eleven? Would that be too early?"
She shook her head, smiling. "I expect I could manage it," she said. "You see I generally get up at eight o'clock."
"We could have it a little earlier if you like," remarked Tony unselfishly.
"Oh, no," she answered. "I shall probably enjoy lying in bed to-morrow." Then with a little laugh she added: "But surely I can walk round. It's quite a short distance isn't it, and all across the nice Heath?"
"Just as you like," said Tony. "I shall send the car any way. The morning air is so good for Jennings."
As he spoke there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Spalding re-entered the room.
"My wife asks me to say, sir, that she will be very pleased to make the young lady as comfortable as possible. She is coming downstairs herself as soon as we have withdrawn. Owing to the lateness of the hour she is slightly—h'm—en déshabillé."
"We will retire in good order," said Tony gravely. Then as Spalding tactfully left the room he turned to Isabel.
"Good-night, Isabel," he said. "Sleep peacefully, and don't dream that you are being chased by yellow-faced strangers."
She gave him her little slim cool hand, and he raised it lightly to his lips.
"Good-night," she answered, "and thank you, thank you again so much." Then she paused. "It's just like a fairy story, isn't it?" she added.
"Just," said Tony with enthusiasm.
As the clock above the mantelpiece struck eleven, Guy Oliver wiped his pen and laid it carefully down in front of him. He was sitting at a roll-top desk in his office—a room of severely business-like aspect, chiefly furnished with maps and filing cabinets.
With that systematic deliberation that marked all his movements he extracted a document from the pigeon-hole in front of him and rising to his feet walked across to the door. In the passage outside a neatly dressed housemaid was engaged in the task of polishing the banisters.
"Do you know if Sir Antony is up yet, Mary?" he inquired.
"He has been up some little time, sir," answered the girl. "I believe you will find him in the study. I heard him telling Mr. Spalding to lay breakfast in there, instead of in the dining-room."
With a look of mild surprise upon his face, Guy pursued his way downstairs. He crossed the hall, and opening the door of the study remained for a moment on the threshold, contemplating the scene in front of him.
A black oak gate-legged table, gleaming with flowers, fruit, and silver, stood out attractively in the centre of the room, while the spring sunshine, streaming in through the open French window, bathed everything in its warm, inspiriting rays. Tony himself looking delightfully cool and serene in a perfectly cut grey morning suit, was lounging on the broad window-seat gazing out into the garden.
He turned round at Guy's entrance.
"Hullo, old chap!" he observed pleasantly: "just out of bed?"
Guy took no notice of this irreverent question. He advanced to the table, and adjusting his pince-nez, carefully inspected its contents.
"If you will forgive my saying so, Tony," he remarked, "you are becoming shamelessly greedy. Where on earth did you get these peaches and hothouse grapes from?"
"I sent Jennings into Harrod's for them," answered Tony. "A little morning exercise is good for him, and I have a friend coming to breakfast."
"Oh!" said Guy. "Any one I know?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't think so. In fact we only became acquainted ourselves last night."
"One of your curious sporting acquaintances, I suppose?" observed Guy with a faint touch of disapproval.
Tony smiled pensively. "Yes," he said, "on the whole I think we may pass the description. If you will wait and have breakfast with us I shall be charmed to introduce you."
"Thanks very much," said Guy, "but I had my breakfast a couple of hours ago. Besides I am rather busy this morning." He produced the paper which he had brought down from the office. "I wanted to catch you before you went out, to get you to sign this. It's the agreement with Marshall I spoke to you about on Thursday. You had better look it through."
Tony pulled a fountain pen out of his inside pocket. "My dear Guy!" he said. "I should never dream of reading a document that you had passed as accurate. It would be a reflection on your sobriety."
He scribbled his name in the appointed place and handed the paper back to his cousin.
"I see in theDaily Mailthis morning that Bugg won his fight all right," remarked the latter. "What time did you get back?"
"Igot back at a most respectable hour," said Tony. "I am sorry to say I managed to lose Bugg."
"Lose him!" echoed Guy.
"Yes," said Tony. "You know how careless I am. I——"
He was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," he called out.
The door opened and Spalding advanced with dignity across the threshold.
"Miss Francis," he announced.
There was a moment's pause and then, looking slightly embarrassed but most refreshingly beautiful, Isabel appeared in the doorway.
Tony who had jumped to his feet came forward and took her hand.
"Good-morning, Isabel," he said. "How wonderfully punctual you are! You must have been very well brought up."
She shook her head, smiling shyly. "I am afraid it is only because I am hungry," she said. "As a rule I am late for everything."
"We ought to get along together famously," replied Tony. "Let's see, you don't know Guy yet, do you? Guy, let me introduce you to Isabel. I have already acquainted her with some of your better and brighter qualities."
Guy, whose face was an interesting study in blended emotions, made a little stiff bow.
"I have been trying to persuade him to stay and have breakfast with us," proceeded Tony mischievously, "but he says he doesn't care about my curious sporting friends."
With a spasmodic gesture Guy took a step forward. "Really I—I protest," he stammered. "You mustn't listen to him, Miss Francis. It is a gross misrepresentation."
"I am quite sure you wouldn't say anything disagreeable, Mr.—Mr. Guy," replied Isabel consolingly. "You have much too kind a face."
Guy crimsoned vividly, and with a gentle chuckle Tony relieved Isabel of her coat.
"Don't you be deceived," he said. "You should hear the brutal way he addresses my tenants when they want something done to their houses."
"Oh, do shut up, Tony," remonstrated Guy.
"Aren't you really going to stay to breakfast?" asked Isabel, inspecting the table. "There seems to be such a lot for two."
"I—I am afraid I can't," said Guy with some embarrassment. "I should be delighted to, but—I have some work I must get done." He turned to Tony. "By the way, there was a note from Henry this morning saying that if you were going to be at home to-night he would like to come to dinner. He wants me to ring him up and let him know."
"I suppose we may as well get it over," said Tony sadly. "If I say no he will only want me to dine at Rutland Gate, and that would be worse still. The last time I went I was put next to a woman who ate nothing but beans and drank hot water and lemon. It made me feel quite faint."
"Very well," said Guy. "I will tell him to come along at eight. Don't go out and forget all about it."
He made another stiff little bow to Isabel, and walking across to the door, took his departure.
"That's Guy," said Tony. "What do you think of him?"
"I think he's rather nice," said Isabel thoughtfully. "He is just a wee bit serious, of course, but then you want that in a secretary, don't you?"
Tony nodded. "Guy is wonderful," he began. "Since he came to live with me——"
He was interrupted by the reappearance of Spalding, who entered the room carrying a tray full of silver dishes which sent up various appetizing odours into the morning air.
Isabel contemplated the feast with frank interest.
"What a good breakfast!" she observed. "Do you always have a breakfast like this?"
"Always," replied Tony firmly. "I find my constitution requires it."
He walked across to the sideboard, where Spalding had set out the dishes, and lifting up their covers in turn announced the results to Isabel.
She selected mushroom omelette as a starting point, and after helping himself lightly to the same delicacy, Tony sat down alongside of her at the gate-legged table.
"Well," he said, "and what's the report? Has Mrs. Spalding made you comfortable?"
Isabel nodded gratefully. "Yes," she said; "she has been so pleasant and kind. She didn't seem to mind in the least my coming in like that in the middle of the night, and this morning she had a cup of tea and a lovely hot bath all ready for me when I woke up." She paused. "I don't know what I should have done last night if it hadn't been for you," she added with a sudden slight return to her former shyness.
"Oh, you would have been all right," said Tony cheerfully. "Somebody else would have come along and knocked those interfering gentlemen down for you. London is full of obliging strangers. We just had the good luck to be the first—that was all."
"It was not all," returned Isabel with spirit. "There was the supper, and finding me somewhere to go to, and asking me to breakfast this morning, and—and—oh, being so nice about everything." She hesitated. "Your friend—the one who fought for us so bravely—I hope he was not hurt?"
Tony shook his head. "You couldn't hurt Bugg," he said, "except with a pickaxe."
"I hope you told him how grateful I was to him," she added.
"I haven't had the chance yet," replied Tony. "He hasn't come home."
A sudden look of concern flashed into Isabel's amber eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "perhaps he is hurt after all. Perhaps he is in a hospital!"
"I should think it much more likely that he's in a police station," observed Tony. "I can't think why he hasn't rung up though, unless it's because he is anxious to keep my name out of it. For a prize-fighter Bugg has the most wonderfully delicate feelings."
"A prize-fighter!" echoed Isabel. "Is he a prize-fighter like—like—like Carpentier?"
"Something like him," said Tony; "especially the way he covers up." He paused. "Bugg is really quite a famous person in his way you know. He is practically the welter-weight champion of England. He only stays on here and works for me because it amuses him. I meant to explain last night, but there were so many other things to talk about."
"I see," said Isabel slowly. "And you were just walking together?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Bugg had been boxing at the Cosmopolitan Club. It was over rather earlier than we expected, and I was taking him along to give him some supper. That's how we happened to be in Long Acre."
Isabel nodded. "I understand. It is all plain now. Last night I was frightened and everything seemed so confused."
"I don't wonder at it," said Tony sympathetically. "Unless one's led a very strenuous life it must be horribly confusing to be suddenly held up by a couple of dagoes in Long Acre, and then rescued by a future champion of England."
There was a long pause.
"I—I feel somehow that I ought to explain," began Isabel uncomfortably. "You have been so nice about not asking any questions, but of course you must be wondering who I am, and—and how things came to be like this."
"Only mildly and pleasantly," said Tony. "I never allow my curiosity to get painful."
Isabel set down her cup. "I would tell you if I could," she said rather desperately, "but there are reasons why I mustn't."
Tony's face brightened at once. "How nice!" he observed. "I love mystery, and so few people have any of it about them nowadays—especially in Hampstead."
"I hate it," exclaimed Isabel with what seemed unnecessary bitterness: "I have had nothing else but mystery and secrets all my life. Oh, if you only knew how lovely it was just to be oneself for once—to be able to do and say exactly what one likes—" She paused and took a long, deep breath. "I can't go back again," she added. "I—I believe I should kill myself if I did."
"Of course you can't go back," said Tony. "We settled all that last night. You are going to stay on with Mrs. Spalding and adopt me and Guy as cousins. I don't think there is any need to let Henry in just at present. One would want a bit of practice before adopting Henry."
Isabel looked across at him with that frank, almost childish smile of hers, which contrasted so delightfully with the little touch of dignity in her manner.
"I should love to have some nice relations," she said. "All mine are perfectly horrid."
"And all mine," observed Tony, "are horribly perfect. I don't know which is the more trying of the two."
There was a moment's pause, and then, as if a sudden thought had struck her, Isabel reached across to the adjoining chair, and unhooked the little silver chain-bag which she had brought in with her.
"Oh," she said, "before I forget I wanted to ask you if you would be so kind as to do something for me. I hate bothering you, but you see I don't know any one else, and I'm so ignorant about this kind of thing." She took out a couple of rings and a brooch and pushed them across the table. "It's to sell them," she added. "I—I think they ought to be worth something."
Tony picked up the brooch. It was a beautiful piece of work—a large single and absolutely flawless emerald, delicately set in gold. Without being an expert in such matters he knew enough of precious stones to realize that it was of considerable value.
"I should think this would do to begin with," he said, "unless you are going to be very extravagant. It ought to bring in bread and butter for the rest of your life-time."
Isabel's face lighted up. "Will it really!" she exclaimed. "How lovely. I never thought it would be worth as much as that!"
Tony turned his attention to the rings, which in their way were every bit as good as the brooch. One was the half-hoop of sapphires and diamonds which he had noticed on the previous evening, the other consisted of three very fine rubies, mounted in a curious, old-fashioned setting that seemed to be of Eastern origin.
He examined them both with much interest and then handed them back to Isabel.
"You must keep them," he said. "They are much too beautiful to sell, and besides, there is no need to sell them. The brooch will bring you in quite a lot of money, and you can always get credit from the milkman as long as you wear rubies and diamonds."
Isabel smiled, and slipping on the two rings held them out for Tony's inspection.
"I am so glad," she said happily. "I should hate to have sold them really. You see they belonged—" She again came to an abrupt and rather confused halt. "They belonged to my great-grandmother," she finished weakly.
"Indeed," said Tony in a perfectly grave voice. "She must have had charming hands."
There was a light tap at the door, and after a moment's delay the discreet figure of Spalding again appeared on the threshold.
"I beg pardon, Sir Antony," he observed, "but Bugg has just returned. I thought you might wish to be informed."
Tony pushed back his chair. "What has he been doing with himself?" he asked.
"I fancy, sir," returned Spalding impassively, "that he has been spending the night in the Bow Street police station."
"Oh!" exclaimed Isabel in a horrified voice.
"Really!" said Tony. "How exciting!" He turned to Isabel. "Shall we have him up?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Send him along, Spalding," continued Tony. "He needn't trouble about making himself beautiful. Tell him I should like to see him at once."
The butler withdrew, and a few moments later Bugg appeared in the doorway. He saluted Tony with a cheerful grin, and then, as he caught sight of Isabel, a sudden embarrassment seemed to descend upon his spirit. He coughed apologetically, lowered his eyes, and shuffled slightly with one foot.
"Good-morning, Bugg," said Tony. "Come and sit down."
Bugg advanced cautiously to the nearest chair and seated himself on the extreme edge.
"Mornin', sir," he observed. Then, throwing a nervous glance at Isabel, he added hoarsely, "Pleased to see yer, Miss."
"I am very pleased to see you," said Isabel a little shyly. "I want to thank you for what you did last night. I am so sorry they took you to prison."
Bugg stared hard at the carpet. "That's all right, Miss," he muttered. "Don't you worry abaht that, Miss."
Tony offered Isabel a cigarette, and then lit one himself.
"You were magnificent, Bugg," he said. "Tell us what happened after we left."
Bugg coughed again. "Well, sir, 'twas this wy, sir. Seein' as you and the young laidy was best aht of it, I jest keeps them two Daigoes busy like withaht puttin' 'em through it. It didn't seem to me as no one was goin' to taike the trouble to foller you when 'e could be standin' there watchin' a scrap fur nothin'."
"I hope you didn't get hurt," said Isabel, who, with a slightly bewildered expression, had been trying to follow this narrative.
Bugg shook his head. "Not me, Miss. It was jest a 'alf 'oliday fur me till they starts usin' their feet, and then I 'anded 'em a couple of flaps in the jaw quick, an' that steadied 'em. Not as I think they meant no 'arm, Miss. There's parts o' the world where they don't know no better.
"Yours is a generous heart, Bugg," said Tony. "What happened next?"
"The rozzers come then, sir—a pair of 'em, sir. They busts in through the crowd like tigers, and afore ye could wink, one of 'em grabs onter me, and the other cops 'old of the tall Daigo."
"And the second man—the one with the crooked eyes?" asked Isabel quickly. "What happened to him?"
"Well, I don't rightly know, Miss," said Bugg apologetically. "Yer see, 'e weren't there in a manner o' speakin'. 'E'd gorn across the street when I give 'im that shove in the jaw, an 'e 'adn't 'ad time to come back. I think the coppers missed 'im."
"But they stuck to you two all right?" said Tony.
Bugg nodded his head. "Yus, sir, we all goes orf to the staition together—me an' the cops an' the Daigo an' the 'ole bloomin' street arter us. It weren't 'alf a picnic, sir, I can tell yer. Well, w'en we gets to the staition, I sees the inspector—'im wot taikes the charge—lookin' partikler 'ard at me, but 'e don't say nothin', 'cept to ask me my naime and address.
"''Erbert Johnson of 'Igh Street, Keington,' says I. It was the fust thing as comes into my 'ead.
"'An' you?' says 'e, turnin' to the Daigo.
"'My naime is Smith,' says the Daigo in 'is funny foreign wy o' speakin'.
"'It's a good naime,' says the inspector, writin' it dahn. 'Wot's all this trouble abaht?'
"'It was a misunderstandin',' says the Daigo very 'aughty like. 'I declines to answer any further questions.'
"'You got anything to sy, 'Erbert Johnson,' says 'e to me.
"'I agree with the gen'leman wot's just spoke, sir,' says I.
"'Very well,' says 'e. 'This is a matter fur 'is Honour, this is. You'll 'ave to stop 'ere the night, the pair of ye, unless ye've got some kind friends as'll come along an' bail yer aht.'
"'E looks at us both, but the Daigo don't sy nothin' and I thinks to meself the more privit we keeps this 'ere little mixup the better fur all parties concerned. So I lays low too, an' orf we goes to the cells, saime as a couple o' ord'nary drunks and disorderlies."
Bugg paused for a moment, and a reminiscent grin spread slowly across his face.
"It's a good story," said Tony encouragingly. "Go on with it."
"Well, sir, I 'adn't bin in the cell very long w'en the door opens and who should come in but the inspector 'isself. 'E looks me up an' dahn with a kinder twinkle in 'is eye, an' then 'e says, ''Erbert Johnson,' 'e says, 'w'y the 'ell didn't yer dot 'im one o' them left 'ooks o' yours, and then we shouldn't 'ave 'ad all this trouble?' Well, that done it, sir! I twigs at once 'e'd spotted who I was, and seein' 'e meant ter be friendly like I ups and tells 'im just exactly 'ow it 'ad all come abaht. 'Don't worry,' says 'e ter me; 'your blue-chinned pal don't want a fuss no more'n you do. 'E's jest bin bribin' and corruptin' o' me to run the caise through as a ord'nary street quarrel, an' seein' as we're told ter be kind to straingers, per'aps I might see my wy ter do it.' Then 'e puts 'is 'and on my shoulder. 'As fur you, 'Erbert Johnson,' 'e says, 'you gotter come along with me an' be introjooced to some o' the boys. We does a bit o' scrappin' 'ere in our spare time, an' 'tain't often we 'as the honour of entertaining a future champion of England.'
"With that, sir, 'e taikes me upstairs to the inspector's room, where there was 'alf a dozen cops sittin' arahnd smokin' and drinkin' saime as if it was a pub or a privit drorin' room. Talk o' sports, sir—w'y Gawd love us I might a bin the King of England the wy they treated me. 'Tell us abaht the fight, Tiger,' they says, and if you'd seen me sittin' there, sir, with a large Bass in one 'and and a four-penny stinker in the other and all them cops 'angin' on my words, ye'd 'ave laughed fit ter bust yerself, sir."
Tony nodded his head. "I have always suspected that the police led a double life," he said.
"They're all right, sir," explained Bugg earnestly, "on'y they got their livin' to get, saime as other folks. They treated me proper, they did. Gimme a 'addick fur breakfast next mornin', and w'en the caise comes on they 'as it all arrainged fur us right an' simple as anything. The copper as took us 'e tells 'is little bit, saime as wot 'e'd fixed up with the inspector, an' then the Beak—'ole Sir 'Orace Samuel it was—'e puts on 'is glasses and blinks rahnd at the pair of us. 'Either o' the prisoners any observations to hoffer?' 'e says. 'E waits 'alf a tick, an' then as neither of us says nothin', 'e scratches 'is 'ead and grunts aht, 'seven-and-sixpence an' costs, an' 'urry up with the nex' caise.'"
Bugg stopped, and wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve looked from Tony to Isabel and then back again at his patron.
"An' that's abaht all, sir," he added. "We forks out the rhino, and then I gets a taxi-cab and tells the bloke to bung along 'ere as quick as 'e can shift." He hesitated for a moment. "I 'ope I done the right thing, sir?" he finished anxiously.
There was a long pause.
"You always do the right thing, Bugg," said Tony, at last. "It's almost a disease with you."
He pushed back his chair and for a little while remained gazing thoughtfully at the marmalade pot.
"Bugg," he said; "have you any special engagements the next few days?"
"Not as I knows on, sir," replied Tiger, innocently.
Tony nodded his head. "Good," he observed, and without further comment he renewed his contemplation of the breakfast table.
"There's the matter o' the stakes, sir," Bugg ventured to remind him. "'Alf-past twelve, sir, was the time Dr. Donaldson said they'd be payin' over."
Tony again nodded. "That will be all right, Bugg," he said. "I will go down to the Club myself and collect the royal booty. I only hope Da Freitas will turn up personally. It would give me great pleasure to watch him writing out the cheque."
He looked across smilingly towards Isabel, and saw to his amazement that she had suddenly gone as white as a sheet.
Tony was so surprised that for a moment he remained just as he was. Then suddenly recovering himself he turned back to Bugg.
"You had better go along and find yourself something to eat, 'Tiger,'" he said. "That haddock must be getting a little historical by now."
Bugg rose to his feet with a grin. "I could shift a bit, sir," he observed, "an' that ain't 'alf a fact."
"Tell the cook what you'd like," said Tony. "After last night she will do anything for you." He paused. "I want to see you again before I go out," he added.
Bugg touched his forehead, and after making a respectful obeisance to Isabel withdrew from the room. Tony followed him to the door, and then closing it after him, turned back leisurely towards the table. Though she still looked a little pale and upset, the interval had obviously done Isabel good.
"Is there anything the matter?" asked Tony kindly.
She shook her head, with a plucky if rather unsuccessful attempt at a smile. "No," she said, "I—I didn't feel very well for a moment. It's nothing—absolutely nothing." She paused, her lower lip caught nervously between her small white teeth. "I don't think I ought to bother you any more," she added with a kind of forced calmness. "I think perhaps it would be best after all if I—if I found somewhere else to go to."
Tony made a gesture of dissent. "It can't be done," he said gravely. "You see you are my lodger now, and you have got to give me a full week's notice." Then with a sudden change he went on: "You mustn't be selfish you know, Isabel. You can't float into people's lives out of Long Acre with all sorts of delightful suggestions of romance and mystery about you, and then simply disappear again the next morning. It's not playing the game. I should feel like a man who had been turned out of a theatre at the end of the first act."
"You don't understand," said Isabel almost in a whisper.
"I know I don't," said Tony cheerfully. "That's what's so charming about it." He paused. "Suppose we have a week's trial at all events?" he suggested. "If it turns out a failure it will be just as easy for you to disappear then. You know both Guy and I improve on acquaintance—really. You mustn't judge us by what we are like at breakfast. We get much more bright and pleasant as the day wears on."
In spite of herself Isabel laughed. "It isn't that I don't want to stay," she said. "I—I like you both very much." She hesitated and looked nervously round the room as if seeking for inspiration. "It's what might happen," she added. "I can't explain, but I might be the cause of getting you into trouble or—or even danger."
"That's all right," said Tony. "I like danger, and Guy simply adores trouble. He takes it with everything."
Isabel made a faint gesture of helplessness. "Oh," she said. "I can't go on arguing. You are so obstinate. But I have warned you, haven't I?"
Tony nodded. "If you like to call it a warning," he said. "I look on it more as a promise. If you knew how dull Hampstead was you would understand our morbid thirst for a little unhealthy excitement."
"I don't think I should find Hampstead dull," remarked Isabel a shade wistfully. "It seems to me just beautifully peaceful. I think I should like to live here for ever, and do exactly what I want to, and not be bothered about anything."
"But that's precisely what I am suggesting," observed Tony.
Isabel smiled again. She seemed to be recovering her spirits. "I should have to get some clothes first," she said. "I couldn't live here for ever on the contents of one small dressing-bag."
"It sounds inadequate," agreed Tony, "but I think that's a difficulty we might get over. I was just going to propose that you should take the car and Mrs. Spalding this afternoon, and go and do some shopping."
Isabel's eyes sparkled. "How lovely!" she exclaimed. Then a sudden cloud came over her face. "But I forgot," she added, "I haven't any money—not until you have sold the brooch for me."
"That doesn't matter," said Tony. "If you will let me, I will advance you fifty pounds, and you can pay me to-morrow when we settle up."
Isabel took a deep breath. "Oh, you are kind," she said. Then for a moment she paused, her forehead knitted as though some unpleasant thought had suddenly come into her mind.
"Anything wrong?" inquired Tony.
She looked round again with the same half-nervous, half-hunted expression he had seen before.
"I was thinking," she faltered. "Those two men. I wonder if there is any chance that I might meet them again. I—I know it's silly to be frightened, but somehow or other—" She broke off as if hardly knowing how to finish the sentence.
Tony leaned across the table and took her hand in his.
"Look here, Isabel," he said, "you have got to forget those ridiculous people. Whoever they are it is quite impossible for them to interfere with you again. We don't allow our adopted cousin to be frightened by anybody, let alone a couple of freaks out of a comic opera. I would have come shopping with you myself this afternoon if I hadn't promised to try out a new car at Brooklands. As it is I am going to send Bugg. He will sit in front with Jennings, and if you want any one knocked down you have only to mention the fact and he will do it for you at once."
Isabel looked across at him gratefully. "It's just like having a private army of one's own," she said.
Tony nodded approvingly. "That's the idea exactly. We'll call ourselves the Isabel Defence Force, and we'll make this our headquarters. You are really quite safe, you know, with Mrs. Spalding, but you can always retreat here when you feel specially nervous." He patted her hand encouragingly, and sat back in his chair. "Why not stay here now," he suggested, "until you go shopping? No one will bother you. You can sit in the garden and read a book, or else go to sleep in the hammock. Spalding will get you some lunch when you feel like it."
"Lunch!" echoed Isabel, opening her eyes. "What, after this?" She made an eloquent little gesture towards the sideboard.
"Certainly," said Tony. "The Hampstead climate is very deceptive. One requires a great deal of nourishment."
"Is the nourishment compulsory?" asked Isabel. "If not I think I should like to stay."
"You shall do exactly what you please about everything," said Tony. "I believe in complete freedom—at all events for the upper classes."
He got up, and crossing the room to an old oak bureau in the corner, took out a cheque book from the drawer and filled in a cheque for fifty pounds. This he blotted and handed to Isabel.
"Here's a piece of the brooch for you to go on with," he said. "Jennings will drive you to the bank first, and after that he will take you wherever you want to go. Don't worry about keeping him waiting or anything of that sort. He is quite used to it, and he always looks unhappy in any case."
Isabel daintily folded up the cheque and put it away in her bag. Underneath her obvious gratitude there was a certain air of naturalness about the way she accepted Tony's help that the latter found immensely fascinating. It reminded him somehow of a child or a princess in a fairy story.
"I shall love going shopping again," she began frankly. "It will seem like—" Once more she paused, and then as if she had suddenly changed her mind about what she intended to say, she added a little confusedly: "Oughtn't I to let Mrs. Spalding know that I want her to come with me this afternoon?"
Tony shook his head. "I think we can manage that for you," he said. "The house is full of strong, idle men." He got up from the desk. "Come along and let me introduce you to the library, and then you can find yourself something to read."
He led the way across the hall, and as he opened the door of the apartment in question Isabel gave a little exclamation of surprise and pleasure.
"Oh, but what a lovely lot of books!" she said. "I should never have guessed you were so fond of reading."
"I'm not," said Tony. "I never read anything except Swinburne andThe Autocar. Most of these belonged to my grandfather. Books were a kind of secret vice with him. He collected them all his life and left them to me in his will because he was quite sure they would never get any thumb-marks on them."
Isabel laughed softly, and advancing to the nearest case began to examine the titles. Tony watched her for a moment, and then strolling out into the hall, made his way back to the morning-room, where he pressed the electric bell.
"Spalding," he said, when that incomparable retainer answered his summons, "I have invited Miss Francis to make use of the house and garden as much as she pleases. When I am not in I shall be obliged if you will see that she has everything she wants."
Spalding's face remained superbly impassive. "Certainly, Sir Antony," he replied, with a slight bow.
"And send Bugg here," added Tony. "I want to speak to him before I go out."
Spalding withdrew, and after a moment or two had elapsed, "Tiger" appeared on the threshold hastily swallowing a portion of his interrupted lunch.
"Sorry to disturb you, Bugg," said Tony, "but I want you to do something for me, if you will."
"You on'y got to give it a naime, sir," observed the Tiger with a final and successful gulp.
"I want you to go out in the car this afternoon, as well as Jennings. Miss Francis is going to do some shopping, and it's just possible that the two gentlemen who were annoying her last night might try the same thing again."
Bugg's grey-green eyes opened in honest amazement. "Wot!" he exclaimed. "Ain't they 'ad enough yet? W'y if I'd knowed that I'd 'ave laid fur the tall one and give 'im another shove in the jaw w'en 'e come outer Court this mornin'." He paused and took an indignant breath. "Wot's their gaime any way, sir—chaisin' a young lidy like that?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't know exactly, Bugg," he said, "but whatever it is I mean to put a stop to it. It is our duty to encourage a high moral standard amongst the inferior races."
"Cert'nly, sir," observed Bugg approvingly. "I always says with a German or a Daigo it's a caise of 'it 'im fust an' argue with 'im arterwards. You can't maike no mistake then, sir."
"It seems a good working principle," admitted Tony. "Still there are occasions in life when strategy—you know what strategy is, Bugg?——"
The other scratched his head. "Somethin' like gettin' a bloke to lead w'en 'e don't want to, sir," he hazarded.
"You have the idea," said Tony. "Well, as I was about to observe, there are occasions in life when strategy is invaluable. I am inclined to think that this is one of them."
Bugg eyed him with questioning interest. "Meanin' to sye, sir?"
"Meaning to say," added Tony, "that I should rather like to find out who these gentlemen are who are worrying Miss Francis. If we knew their names we might be able to bring a little moral pressure to bear on them. Knocking people down in the street is such an unchristian remedy—besides it gets one into trouble with the police."
"Then I ain't to shove it across 'em?" remarked Bugg in a slightly disappointed voice.
Tony shook his head. "Not unless they insist on it," he said. "As a matter of fact I don't think there is really much chance of your meeting them: it's only that I shall feel more comfortable if I know you are in the car."