James Hinton, who had left his seat and was arranging the back part of his car for the reception of ladies, understood the situation, or thought he did. In fact he understood it too well, believing it to be rather more awkward than it actually was. It was perfectly plain to him that the two girls did not belong to theclass which habitually visits the houses of our higher aristocracy. Since, in spite of that, they spoke to Lord Colavon as "Jimmy, dear," he assumed that they belonged to another class which could not be introduced to Jimmy's aunts, or even to his uncle without some explanation.
"If I might be allowed to make a suggestion, my lord," he said, "why not permit me to tow your car into Morriton St. James and then your lordship could accompany the ladies to the Manor House."
Jimmy looked at the derelict Pallas Athene. She was a long, low car, and her body sloped back in lines rather like the rake of the masts of a pirate schooner in a novel. Her delicate pale blue paint still shone, though covered with the dust of the long journey. Her aluminium bonnet glistened in the rays of the setting sun. Her great balloon tyres lay like coiled monsters under her wide black wings. He looked at Hinton's Ford, squat, dumpy, perched absurdly above her little wheels. He noted the battered mud guards, the chipped paint, the tattered hood strapped into an untidy bundle at theback. A pang of acute humiliation gripped him hard.
"Can you do it?" he asked with a sigh.
"On low gear," said Hinton. "There is no doubt that we can do it on low gear. Your lordship has not perhaps had much experience of Fords."
"None," said Jimmy bitterly.
"Then perhaps your lordship will excuse my saying that a Ford will do anything in low gear."
"If so," said Jimmy, with a burst of real magnanimity, "a Ford is a damned sight better car than a Pallas Athene eight cylinder sports model. It won't do anything on any gear."
A really good servant, accustomed to the best houses, is never found wanting, or unable to meet any demand made on him. Asked suddenly in the middle of the afternoon for tripe and onions he displays no astonishment; but in a short time brings tripe and onions into the drawing-room, in a nice dish on a silver salver. Told, at luncheon, that a complete outfit for water polo is required immediately afterwards for a party of eight, he produces, withoutfuss or protest, bathing suits, balloons and everything else required. James Hinton had been a thoroughly good servant, one of the very best in England, a country which produces the best servants in the world.
From the locker under the back seat of his car he took a long and reliable rope. It was as if he had fully expected to come upon a derelict Pallas Athene when he left home in the afternoon.
The two girls were packed into the back seat of the Ford with many polite apologies. James Hinton took his seat, rigidly upright in front. Jimmy, crushed with shame, crouched over the steering wheel of the Pallas Athene.
The drive began with a gallant effort of Hinton's to be better than his word. He tried the Ford on her top gear. She clanged, snorted, missed fire on one plug after another, made spasmodic jumps and finally stopped, her engine stalled. James Hinton got out, worked hard at the handle for a while and started again. This time he made no attempt to get out of low gear. The progress was slow. On the slightest incline it dropped to about four miles an hour.On a serious hill it became a crawl. Steam rose from the Ford's radiator like smoke from the funnel of a locomotive. The water inside could be heard boiling furiously. Oily smoke rose occasionally between the floor boards at Hinton's feet. The noise was terrific. The heat, even in the back part of the car where the two girls sat, was great. For Hinton it was blasting. But he stuck to his post and the car stuck to its work. She had emerged, a giddy young thing from the works in Detroit eleven years before. Time had sobered her, but had not broken that determination to get somewhere, somehow, which is the characteristic of all Fords of all ages.
The eight miles to Morriton St. James were accomplished in something a little over an hour. The procession stopped at the door of the principal garage in the town and a crowd quickly gathered round.
"That car," said Jimmy to the proprietor of the garage, "cost me twelve hundred pounds this morning. I'll swap it for one like James Hinton's if you happen to have such a thing in stock."
The garage owner refused to make the exchange. He was an honest man and would not take advantage of a stranger whose nervous system was wrecked. Besides, it would have been very difficult to dispose of the Pallas Athene sports model at any price in Morriton St. James, a town inhabited by sober and cautious people.
James Hinton stood respectfully aside while Jimmy made his offer to the proprietor of the garage. When he got his chance to speak, his voice, like that of every good servant, was emotionless and soothing.
"Excuse my asking you the question, my lord, but will the ladies be spending the night at the Manor House?"
"They didn't intend to," said Jimmy. "Nor did I. But we'll all have to now, unless you feel inclined to run us up to town after dinner in your Ford."
Hinton smiled an entirely respectful appreciation of this pleasantry.
"I merely asked the question, my lord," he said, "because I thought it might be well to make arrangements for bringing up the luggage."
It was perfectly apparent that there was no luggage to bring. The Pallas Athene was not even fitted with a luggage grid and there were no bags or suit cases in the car. But Hinton would have considered it a breach of good manners to appear to think that two ladies, companions of Lord Colavon and guests of Sir Evelyn Dent, could possibly be travelling without luggage.
"Great Scott!" said Jimmy, "I never thought of that. Of course they haven't got a blessed thing for the night. Nor have I. It doesn't matter about me. Uncle Evie can lend me a razor and a comb. But—I say, Hinton, you know all about these things. Do you think Uncle Evie's housemaid could lend the ladies what they want?"
"I've no doubt that the female members of the Manor House staff," said Hinton, "will be able to supply all that is absolutely necessary. But that is a course which I would hardly recommend. The garments usually worn byyoung persons of that class, my lord, are not what the ladies are accustomed to."
"Housemaids don't run to silk nighties, Hinton?"
"I fear not, my lord."
"Then what on earth had we better do? The shops in this place are sure to be shut by this time."
"If your lordship is willing to leave the matter in my hands—— As it happens Mr. Linker, the principal ladies' outfitter in Morriton St. James, is a friend of mine. I intended, if your lordship will pardon my mentioning my own affairs—I intended paying him a visit this evening. A little matter of business, my lord. Indeed that was the original purpose of my visit to Morriton St. James. I feel quite certain that Mr. Linker will be ready to let the ladies have what they require."
"I suppose that you and Linker between you will know what they do require."
"I venture to hope so, my lord, and I may add, that although Mr. Linker's establishment is not quite on a level with the best of the London houses, he stocks some very high-classgoods. I feel convinced that if the matter is left in our hands the young ladies will have no reason to complain."
"All right," said Jimmy, "and if your friend Linker happens to have a suit of pyjamas that will fit me, and a clean collar, and a brush and comb——. But I expect it's too much to expect him to have brushes and combs."
"I think, my lord, that through Mr. Linker's influence in the town all your lordship requires will be obtainable. May I ask"—Hinton took out a slip of paper to make a note of the important answer to this question, "which shaving soap your lordship prefers and which tooth powder?"
"Hinton," said Jimmy, "you're invaluable. Dolly regarded you as a jewel, but he little knew what you could do. Spotting winners is nothing to providing three complete trousseaux at an hour's notice in a small country town. I don't believe there's another man in England could do it." He took out his pocket-book. "Will a ten pound note cover the damage? If so, keep the change. You deserve it and more."
"Mr. Linker will no doubt furnish his account in due course, my lord," said Hinton.
He pocketed the note as he spoke. It is by such actions that men become rich enough to buy country inns, refurnish them, and give fifty pound guarantees to pageants.
Jimmy took his seat beside Hinton in the front of the Ford. The car was now able to run on high gear, but even so the noise of their progress was considerable. Quite enough to render it safe for the passengers in front to talk without any risk of being overheard by those behind.
Jimmy took advantage of his opportunity.
"I say, Hinton, you know Uncle Evie pretty well, don't you?"
"I had the honour of valetting him more than once when I was first footman in the service of your lordship's father, the late earl."
"Then you must know all there is to know about his little tempers and fads and so forth. Just tell me this, speaking quite confidentially—how do you think he'll take it when I tell him that I and the two ladies have come to stay? He's expecting us to dinner but not forthe night. Now what about it, Hinton? Will there be any unpleasantness? To be quite candid, I expect we'll be there for the best part of a week. It will take all that to get whatever spare parts are wanted for the Pallas Athene."
"I don't happen to know exactly how Sir Evelyn Dent is situated at the moment, my lord, but if there is any difficulty with the domestic staff I shall be only too pleased to offer my services."
"That's kind of you, Hinton, but it's not exactly what I meant. I was thinking more——"
"Quite so, my lord," said Hinton, interrupting him, but very respectfully. "You're thinking of the young ladies. So far as waiting at table is concerned I am quite prepared to relieve the staff of any extra work. But what your lordship has in mind is the maiding of the young ladies. That, I fear, I am not competent to undertake. But I happen to be aware that the head of the dressmaking department in Mr. Linker's establishment was formerly ladies' maid in some quite good houses. I haveno doubt that in order to oblige she would be willing to look after the young ladies during their stay."
"Secure her, Hinton, if you think it will make matters any easier with the Manor House staff. But it wasn't so much the servants that I was thinking about. How will Uncle Evie himself take it? That's the real question."
"I've never known Sir Evelyn behave otherwise than as a perfect gentleman, my lord."
"That's all right as far as it goes, and it's nice to know that he won't throw stones at them. But a gentleman, even a perfect gentleman, can make things damned uncomfortable for other people when he chooses. Now, will he? That's the point."
"That, my lord," said Hinton, "will depend a good deal on the young ladies themselves. I've always understood that Sir Evelyn, when a young man, was very fond of the society of ladies, agreeable ladies, if you understand me, my lord."
Hinton's way of saying "agreeable ladies" left no doubt in Jimmy's mind what kind ofladies he meant. He turned on him rather angrily.
"Don't get it into your head, Hinton, that I'm travelling about the country with women of that sort, or that I'd try to foist them on Uncle Evie if I was."
"I beg pardon, my lord," said Hinton in a tone of great humility. "Nothing was further from my mind than to suggest anything of that sort. When I said agreeable I meant nothing more than sprightly, if I may use the word."
He had meant a great deal more; but Jimmy accepted the denial.
"Any breach of decorum would, I feel sure, be most objectionable to Sir Evelyn Dent. But I'm quite sure that there's not the slightest reason to anticipate such a thing."
Jimmy was a quicktempered but easily-pacified young man. The idea of Beth Appleby and Mary Lambert earning their board and lodging by sprightliness tempered with decorum amused him. He turned round in his seat and addressed the two girls.
"Just listen to this," he said. "We've gotto cadge on Uncle Evie for beds to-night. Must sleep somewhere, you know, and there isn't anywhere else. Hinton, who knows all about everything, says that if you two behave properly Uncle Evie will be quite kind, so what you've got to be is—— What was the word you used, Hinton? I know it was a good one."
"Sprightly, my lord," said Hinton, "but I'm not sure whether it would be advisable to repeat it to the young ladies."
"What you've got to be," said Jimmy, turning to the girls again, "is sprightly."
"I'm there all the time in sprightliness," said Beth. "That's how I earn my daily bread. If Lilith didn't lisp with unfailing sprightliness I'd lose my job."
"But at the same time," said Jimmy, "there mustn't be the slightest breach of decorum. Hinton says Uncle Evie is a perfect dragon on decorum."
"That's where you'll have to be careful, Mary, my dear," said Beth.
"Me!" said Mary. "I shall be a petrified icicle with sheer terror. But, I say, Jimmy does that mean no cigarettes?"
"What do you say about that, Hinton?" said Jimmy. "Is Uncle Evie down on women smoking?"
"Many ladies of good position smoke nowadays, my lord," said Hinton. "I should imagine that Sir Evelyn Dent is quite accustomed to it!"
"One cigarette after each meal, Mary," said Jimmy. "Certainly not more."
The warnings turned out to be unnecessary. Sir Evelyn received the girls with dignified, though slightly pompous, kindness. When he heard of the failure of the Pallas Athene he at once offered to put up the whole party for the night.
"My head housemaid seems to be a very competent young woman," he said to Beth; "if you'll be so good as to tell her what you want. This is a bachelor household, I'm afraid, but the head housemaid is really very resourceful. You may not be quite as comfortable as if you'd brought your own luggage——"
"Oh, that's all right," said Jimmy. "Hinton happens to know a man who supplies outfits complete from the cradle to the coffin at tenminutes' notice. A capital fellow. Baby clothes and shrouds are all the same to him and of course anything in between."
"How thrilling!" said Beth. "Do you mean to say that you were arranging all that while we thought you were swapping your motor for a Ford? But do you think Hinton will remember everything? I'd like a toothbrush, I must say."
"Hinton," said Jimmy, "is to be relied on absolutely."
"Hinton?" said Sir Evelyn. "Is that the man who keeps an inn in a village called Hailey Compton? If so, I know him, and I really think, Miss Appleby, that you may rely on him. He has a knack of getting exactly what he wants. I've seen a good deal of him during the last fortnight. He keeps coming here about a pageant they're getting up. I wonder what he's doing in Morriton St. James this evening. Surely he can't be coming to see me again?"
Sir Evelyn had in fact received seven or eight visits from Hinton, who often brought Mrs. Eames with him and never came withouta request of some kind. Sir Evelyn, persuaded by Hinton and talked down by Mrs. Eames, had already asked some of the most eminent people in the kingdom to be patrons of the pageant. He had written several articles on English smuggling with special allusions to the pageant—and persuaded the editors of some of our leading daily papers to publish them. He dreaded being asked to do anything more, and the news that Hinton was in Morriton St. James made him uneasy. Jimmy reassured him.
"He's not after you this time, Uncle Evie. He's come to see the local underclothes man on a matter of business. He told me so himself. I didn't ask what the business was, but I should say it had something to do with backing horses. Dolly—that's Lord Dollman, you know—always said that Hinton was A1 for spotting winners. If it wasn't that it was making money some other way. Hinton's always there when it comes to gathering in the cash."
"He got five shillings out of me for a glass of beer the other day," said Sir Evelyn.
"That's nothing," said Jimmy. "He hada tenner from me over this outfitting business."
"Good gracious, Jimmy!" said Beth. "You don't mean to say you spent ten pounds on nighties for me and Mary?"
"I meant to," said Jimmy, "but I didn't. Hinton collared the money and the other fellow's to send in a bill afterwards."
Thus, thanks mainly to the sprightliness of Lord Colavon, pleasant relations were established at once, and Sir Evelyn began to enjoy the society of his guests. He became actually cordial during dinner when he discovered that Beth was the author of Lilith's weekly Lispings.
"I am entertaining angels unawares. I have to thank you, my dear young lady, for the pleasure your delightful causerie has given me since I first began to read it."
In this Sir Evelyn was perfectly sincere. Beth, at the instigation of Mrs. Eames, had written a number of very nice paragraphs about him. Since his retirement from public life, after the fall of the Government, his name had dropped out of the newspapers. He missed,more than he would have cared to confess, the daily bundle of press cuttings which used to come to him from an industrious agent in London. Beth's flattering Lispings were "good news from a far country," which, as Solomon says with all his usual wisdom, is like "cold water to a thirsty soul."
"And how is your aunt?" said Sir Evelyn. "But I dare say I can give you the latest news of her. She lunched with me three days ago. We were discussing the details of her very interesting scheme for a local pageant. Her idea—it is entirely hers. I do no more than help her with such crumbs of historical knowledge as I possess. Her idea—but I'm sure you've heard about it."
"Oh, rather," said Beth. "I've heard of nothing else for weeks. Almost daily letters from Aunt Agatha. I'm working hard at the publicity side of the affair. Mary has just agreed to be a patron as representative of the dramatic world."
"Miss Lambert's name," said Sir Evelyn with a courteous bow, "will go far to secure success."
"I'm in it too," said Jimmy. "Beth roped me in as a patron this morning."
"Jimmy represents the world of sport," said Beth.
"I'm delighted to hear," said Sir Evelyn, "that Jimmy is going to do something useful at last. Your good influence, no doubt, Miss Appleby."
"Hang it all, Uncle Evie!" said Jimmy. "I'm not such a rotter as all that. Look at the way I've been supporting home industry, knocking out unemployment and all that sort of rot by buying cars like the Pallas Athene. Very few fellows would do it."
"You may perhaps be able to help us," said Sir Evelyn, "in the matter of securing a suitable lugger. The luggers used in the contraband trade during the latter part of the eighteenth century were of the type known aschasse-marée, designed originally in France. But I fear that these details will not interest you young ladies."
"They thrill us," said Beth. "Don't they Mary?"
"Of course," said Mary.
She had been stifling yawns with difficulty for some time past and feared that a talk about eighteenth century French boats was not likely to keep her awake. She just managed to say her "of course" in tones of conviction.
Sir Evelyn suggested that the party should go to his study, where he could exhibit pictures ofchasse-marées, some of them actually engaged in smuggling. He had also—Mary struggled desperately against overwhelming sleepiness—books with diagrams, showing the lines on which the boats were built.
A couple of hours later, when Beth and Mary had gone to bed, Sir Evelyn had a conversation with his nephew on a very different subject.
The Earl of Colavon ought to marry. This, in the opinion of the family, was a matter of duty, and the family had no hesitation about speaking its mind. Sir Evelyn and four aunts all spoke their minds plainly and often. Jimmy was becoming heartily sick of the subject. Sir Evelyn talked about "the family," which for the good of society, of England, even of mankind in general, ought not to be allowed to die out. That was not how he put it, but it wasexactly what he meant. The aunts went further. After expressing opinions about the value of "the family" very like those of Sir Evelyn, they used to produce suitable ladies, no doubt with the kindly intention of saving their nephew the trouble of looking out for a wife for himself. The ladies were not marshalled in a bevy but thrust on Jimmy's attention one by one, a second taking the place of the first when it became clear that the first was not approved, a third succeeding the second and so on, until the supply of suitable ladies was exhausted. This was not so long a business as might have been expected. There are never at one time very many ladies suitable for the position of Countess—at least, not very many suitable in the opinion of the aunts of the Earl of Colavon.
When there were no more suitable ladies the aunts fell back on a hope that Jimmy would marry someone not entirely unsuitable. They could not produce anyone of this kind because they only associated with people whose daughters were suitable. But they continued to press this view of his duty on their nephew.So did Sir Evelyn. He displayed a great broad-mindedness, going so far as to say that he would be quite ready to welcome even an actress as a niece—an actress of good character and suitable age. The aunts would not, perhaps, have been quite so liberal.
The arrival of Beth Appleby and Mary Lambert in Jimmy's company cheered Sir Evelyn. The girls, if not precisely "suitable" in the full sense of the word, had nice manners, pleasant tempers and good looks. They were plainly on very intimate terms with Lord Colavon, addressing him as Jimmy. Sir Evelyn felt hopeful; but he was puzzled and a little annoyed by the fact that there were two girls and that he was unable to discover that one was preferred to the other.
For some time he skirted round the subject and Jimmy, who guessed what was coming, skilfully slipped away from it. At last Sir Evelyn was reduced to the crude bluntness of approach which all his political training taught him to dislike.
"I can't help wondering——" he said, "I'm sure, my dear boy, that you'll excuse myspeaking plainly. I have been wondering all the evening whether you find yourself seriously attracted by either of the charming young ladies who came here with you to-day?"
Jimmy, cornered at last, replied with equal plainness:
"I'm seriously attracted," he said, "by both of them."
"I take it," said Sir Evelyn, "that the idea of marriage with one of them has been present to your mind."
"Never absent from it, Uncle Evie."
"My dear boy, I'm delighted to hear it. Delighted. Now which is it?"
"That," said Jimmy, "is precisely my difficulty. If there was only Mary Lambert and Beth Appleby did not exist, it would be perfectly simple. I'd do my best to marry her; though mind this, Uncle Evie, she might not be willing to marry me. On the other hand, if there was no such person as Mary Lambert I'd make a pretty hard push at marrying Beth Appleby. I'd call myself a jolly lucky fellow to get her, or Mary. That's the situation, and I think you'll agree with me that it's anuncommonly difficult one. I don't see any way out, do you?"
"That," said Sir Evelyn, "is an absurd, even an immoral, way to talk, and I should be seriously angry with you if I thought you meant it. You must be able to make up your mind which of the two you prefer."
"But that's just it," said Jimmy. "I can't. My only hope is that some other fellow will come along and marry one of them. That's what I'm waiting for, and it's bound to happen sooner or later, I should think. Then I'll be all there. If the other fellow marries Beth, I'll have a try at Mary next day. If, on the other hand, he marries Mary——"
"This incurable habit of flippancy," said Sir Evelyn irritably, "appears to be growing on you."
"My dear Uncle Evie, I'm as serious as a judge with a black cap on, and if you like I'll prove that I mean what I say. Suppose you chip in and marry one of them—she might have you if you asked her nicely—I'll give you my word of honour to do my best to marry the other. I call that a fair offer, and you can count on therebeing no ill feeling afterwards, whichever you take. I shall be perfectly content with the other, always supposing that she will marry me. If she won't, then my part of the business is off. Now what about it?"
Sir Evelyn held out his hand with a gesture of dignified sorrow.
"I think perhaps I'd better say good night to you. There is nothing to be gained by further discussion along these lines."
"Sorry, Uncle Evie, I apologise, grovel, and all that. But hang it all, you know, you ought to be fair. You're everlastingly ragging me about not marrying, and I put up with it like a lamb. But the very minute I so much as hint that you might do it yourself—— After all, you're just as unmarried as I am and have been for double as long; which makes it far worse. You must be able to see that."
In this way Jimmy concealed from an inquisitive uncle the fact that for some months he had been trying to persuade Beth Appleby to marry him and that she had been steadily but quite good-humouredly refusing to do so.
Jimmy growled a sleepy "Come in" in reply to a tap at his bedroom door. Having thus accomplished all that could be expected of him for some time he relapsed into deep slumber again. There was nothing to disturb him in the familiar performance of the servant who called him. A tea tray was laid down noiselessly on the table beside his bed. Curtains were drawn back as nearly noiselessly as curtains could be drawn. There was the usual folding of shirts and socks, laying out of shoes, arrangement of other clothes in due order, the depositing in appropriate places of collar, tie and handkerchief. The same things were done for Jimmy every morning of his life and had been done for him in much the same way ever since he had left school. There was nothing to disturb him and he was too sleepy to realise that he was in a strange room.
"Your lordship's bath," said the servant, "will be prepared. I shall return and tell your lordship when it is ready. In aboutten minutes if that is convenient to your lordship."
The voice was unfamiliar. Jimmy opened his eyes sufficiently to recognise that the servant who was leaving the room was not his own man. He saw at the same time that he was in an unfamiliar room. The recollection of the adventures of the day before came to him and he knew that he had slept in his uncle's house. He poured out his tea and as he drank it composed a biting and insulting telegram to be sent, regardless of expense, to the makers of the Pallas Athene sports model car. He lit a cigarette to stimulate the workings of his brain.
The servant came into the room again, as he promised, in ten minutes. Jimmy recognised Hinton.
"Hallo!" he said. "How do you come to be here?"
"Your lordship will recollect that I ventured to suggest last night that it might be convenient if I were to wait upon your lordship."
"Of course. Yes. Now you mention it, I remember. You said you'd come in to helpUncle Evie's butler in case the poor fellow felt overworked. Uncommonly kind of you to do it, Hinton, and I'm sure we're all greatly obliged to you. You were to have got tooth-brushes and things for the two young ladies. I hope you did."
"I left that matter in Mr. Linker's hands, my lord, with every confidence that satisfaction would be given. Mr. Linker's establishment is not actually first class. That could hardly be expected in Morriton St. James, but I think everything required will be provided. The young person of whom I spoke to you last night——"
He went on to say at some length, that the head of the dressmaking department in Mr. Linker's shop had consented to return, temporarily, to her original trade, and was at that moment acting as lady's maid to Beth and Mary. Jimmy suspected that neither of the girls was accustomed to such ministrations, but had no doubt they would enjoy them. Mr. Linker, it appeared, had been quite willing to give his dressmaker a holiday; such was his respect for Sir Evelyn and his desire to beobliging. Hinton said nothing about the feelings of Mr. Linker's customers, the young ladies of Morriton St. James, several of whom were waiting impatiently, even clamorously, for new dresses.
"It's uncommonly civil of your friend Linker," said Jimmy. "You might thank him from me, will you?"
"I have reason to believe, my lord, that Mr. Linker proposes to call on you himself this morning."
"With the bill for the night dresses and things, I suppose?"
Hinton was profoundly shocked by the suggestion.
"Certainly not, my lord. Mr. Linker understands your lordship's position in society too well to send in an account in anything less than three months. I should certainly not have recommended Mr. Linker to your lordship's notice if there had been the least risk of his being guilty of such an act of indecorum. The fact is, my lord"—here Hinton's tone became confidential—"Mr. Linker wishes to ask a favour, and I may add that if your lordshipsees your way to consider Mr. Linker's proposal favourably, I shall regard it as a favour to myself."
"What does he want, Hinton? If I can do anything in the way of recommending him to Uncle Evie—— Contract for the supply of caps and aprons for the housemaids here, or anything of that sort, I shall be delighted. A man who can provide trousseaux complete with lady's maid at ten minutes' notice after the shops are shut deserves any recommendation I can give."
"I gather, my lord, that Mr. Linker's request is not connected with the ladies' outfitting business."
"If he wants to buy what's left of the Pallas Athene," said Jimmy, "he can have it cheap."
Hinton allowed himself a respectful smile.
"I gathered from what Mr. Linker said to me that he wishes to see your lordship with reference to the coming pageant at Hailey Compton."
"Oh, that's it, is it? Now how the devil does a shopkeeper in Morriton St. James come to be mixed up in a pageant at Hailey Compton? What business is it of his?"
Hinton produced a long, plausible and quite unconvincing explanation of Linker's interest in the pageant. He was, it appears, an active politician, a supporter of the party to which Sir Evelyn belonged. He took the chair at political meetings. He was president of a club by means of which it was hoped that working men might be attached to the party. He was very anxious to secure Sir Evelyn's return at the next election.
"I know that kind of fellow," said Jimmy. "Invaluable, of course, but boring. I quite see that Uncle Evie has to put up with him. 'How to be civil though yawning. A Tract for Parliamentary Candidates.' But I'm not in that line myself and I don't see why I should be worried by your friend Linker. And anyhow, what has all that got to do with the pageant?"
Hinton's explanation went on. Mr. Linker had conceived the idea that the position of the party in the constituency would be improved if the pageant, with which Sir Evelyn was intimately connected, were a real success.
"I don't see that in the least," said Jimmy. "As a matter of fact, there are two or three otherthings about that pageant that I don't quite see. But I'm always stupid till I have had my bath. Can't understand how any fellow is expected to be at his brightest and best till he's wallowed about in cold water a bit. Suppose you drop in here while I'm dressing, Hinton, and we'll have a chat."
"I shall be quite at your lordship's service at any time," said Hinton.
Jimmy returned from his bath thoroughly awake and as fit as he ever would be to deal with the puzzling problem of Linker's interest in the pageant. He had indeed, while drying himself, hit on a new question to which he wanted to find an answer. Why was Hinton himself so eager about the pageant? Sir Evelyn had mentioned the guarantee fund and Hinton's fifty pound promise. There must, Jimmy supposed, be some reason for such generosity. He wanted to find out what it was.
"Now, Hinton," he said, "just tell me all over again why your friend Linker thinks that this pageant will win the election for Uncle Evie."
Hinton was apparently not pleased with thisinquiry. His reply was a perfectly courteous and respectful rebuke of Lord Colavon's curiosity.
"That, my lord, is a point on which I am unable to give you any information. But Mr. Linker is very experienced in elections and thoroughly understands the sort of appeal which impresses the voter. I think perhaps we may safely leave the matter in his hands."
Jimmy rubbed shaving soap on his face thoughtfully for a minute. Then he asked Hinton another question.
"I understand that you're in this pageant up to your neck, Hinton. Now why?"
Hinton glanced sharply at Lord Colavon's face reflected in the mirror. It was covered with a foam of white soap and no face in that state looks intelligent. Hinton decided that nothing more than an evasive answer was necessary.
"I am certainly interested, my lord."
Jimmy laid down his shaving brush and took up his razor. After giving his chin a scrape he turned to Hinton again.
"As an historical archæologist," he said,"you are, of course, interested in any effort to re-create the past."
Hinton was a little puzzled. His safest plan seemed to be to say nothing.
"And the artistic side of the thing appeals to you strongly," said Jimmy.
Hinton, still puzzled, and becoming uneasy, bowed gravely.
"Remarkable man you are, Hinton," said Jimmy. "And your friend Linker, the shopkeeper, is a remarkable man, too. Suppose now you tell me all about this pageant, just who else is in it besides you and Uncle Evie and what's going on and how far you've got."
Hinton was perfectly willing to tell a good deal, if not actually all there was to tell, about the pageant.
He gave a list of the patrons so far. He described Mrs. Eames at some length. He described the vicar, who continued to live a secluded life, chiefly in the church, taking no part in the village activities. He described the rehearsals, held daily at high tide. Bales of goods and small casks, lent by Hinton himself, were landed at every high tide out of one ofBunce's boats. Songs, which Mrs. Eames called chanties, were sung as the work went on. Sometimes the cargo, when landed, was stored in the cave. Sometimes it was carried across the beach, with the accompaniment of other chanties, and loaded on the back of the only horse which Mrs. Eames had been able to borrow. Unfortunately, the first enthusiasm of the village was dying away. The daily rehearsals were felt to be tiresome. It required all the influence of Hinton himself, Bunce and some of the older men, to keep the people at work.
Costumes, designed by Sir Evelyn, were being made in Morriton St. James under the supervision of Mr. Linker, who had undertaken that part of the work.
"Sees his way to making a bit, I suppose," said Jimmy acutely. "I thought there must be money in it for him somewhere."
"No doubt, my lord, there will be the usual profit on the sale of the costumes."
"But not much," said Jimmy, "hardly enough to make it worth his while to plunge into the thing and go pursuing people like me and Uncle Evie. And where do you come in,Hinton? I mean to say, apart from your interest in English history and village art, what made you guarantee fifty pounds?"
James Hinton smiled but gave no answer to this question. He offered instead a description of a picture of a smuggling lugger which hung in the tap-room of the Anchor Inn, ready to be inspected by anyone interested in the pageant. It had been painted by a young man, a nephew of Mr. Linker's, who had won several prizes for art given by the County Education Committee. The details of the hull and rigging had been worked out under the direction of Sir Evelyn. The sea which surrounded the lugger, the work of the young man himself, was highly spirited and very blue.
Jimmy listened to all this without comment. The picture of the lugger did not interest him. He had finished shaving and was washing his face. Hinton went on to explain at some length why he and Linker were anxious to secure Lord Colavon's support for the pageant. They had got a bishop, a couple of leading politicians, a judge and a doctor with a title. They now wanted to reach another section of the public,sporting people and theatrical people. They hoped that Lord Colavon, if he supported the pageant, would interest his friends in it.
"I see," said Jimmy, drying his face. "But what I want to know is, what do I get out of it? Uncle Evie wins an election. Your friend Linker scoops in a profit for costumes. You gratify your passion for archæology. But where do I come in?"
"I was in hopes," said Hinton, rather feebly, "that your lordship might find it amusing. Mrs. Eames is a very remarkable lady. I feel convinced that you will enjoy meeting Mrs. Eames."
"Hardly good enough, Hinton. I'm sure Mrs. Eames is all you say. But I have some respect for the Church, even if you haven't, and I never flirt with parsons' wives."
Having finished washing he began to dress. Hinton offered him all kinds of unnecessary assistance and for a while nothing more was said. At last, fully clothed, except for his coat and waistcoat, Jimmy sat down and lit a cigarette.
"Now, Hinton," he said, "you've told me alot about this pageant, and it's only fair that I should tell you something. Sit down and listen to me for a minute. Smoke if you like."
Hinton preferred to stand—or said he did—and refused the offer of a cigarette. Jimmy began:
"My idea of the day of your pageant is something like this. Crowds on the shore. Village people dressed up as assistant smugglers waiting for the arrival of the lugger. Everybody anxiously peering out to sea. Distinguished visitors in the reserved seats scanning the horizon with telescopes. Uncle Evie with a telescope. The bishop with binoculars. Other eminent men with field glasses. Women asking stupid questions in order to keep conversation going. Everybody jumping with excitement and expectation till the lugger comes in sight. Then cheers. Loud cheers. That's about the programme so far, isn't it, Hinton?"
"That, my lord, is very much what we hope to accomplish."
"Exactly. But before your lugger comes in sight she must have been somewhere out of sight. That's only common sense. You follow me so far."
"Certainly, my lord, out of sight. Certainly."
"Very well. Where was she before she came into sight? Tell me that?"
"I'm not quite sure that I catch your lordship's meaning."
"I'll try and make it plainer for you if you like. The lugger was out of sight at one time. Very well. A little later she comes into sight. I know there's a school of philosophers which says that a thing simply doesn't exist unless somebody's looking at it. And of course if that's true there's no use asking questions about where the lugger was before the bishop and Uncle Evie saw it through their glasses. It just wasn't anywhere. In fact there wasn't a lugger. But you and I don't believe that, do we? We can't, you know, because we both intend to be on board that lugger, and we'd hate to pass out of existence till Uncle Evie and the bishop chose to see us. We may take it then, that the lugger was somewhere before she came in sight. But where? That's what I want to get at."
"I don't think that point's been considered, my lord."
"Well, it ought to be and I'm going to consider it now. The lugger might have been at St. Malo, or Granville, or Cherbourg, or any port along that bit of coast. Or she might have been in St. Helier, or Peter's Port, or some little bay in one of the Channel Islands. And if she was—mind I'm only saying if—I suppose you might make a nice little sum over a few dozen cases of French brandy that didn't pay duty. And your friend Linker could do with a consignment of French silk, duty free. I could manage along with a case or two of champagne and a few silk stockings for these young ladies. You see how the thing works out, Hinton. Immense crowds on shore. All the most eminent and respectable people looking on. Lugger comes in. Motor engine on board, not a Pallas Athene sports model engine, but one something more on the lines of your Ford. Flag flies at truck, skull and crossbones and all that. Thrills. Cheers. Newspaper men writing like fury. Photographers snapping their camera shutters. Publicity. Widest possible publicity. Dummy cargo landed. Pack horses loaded. Bales carried into cave. Cheers die down. Show over.Crowds disperse to eat and drink. Then you and I and Linker land another little cargo."
"That, my lord, would, I fear, be smuggling."
"You might call it that."
"The penalties for smuggling are very severe, my lord."
"I'm disappointed in you, Hinton. I thought you were a sportsman. Lord Dollman said you were a sportsman, and I believed him. But here you are funking a little flutter, when it's odds on, positively odds on. I should say nine to one on."
"The custom house officers are very alert, my lord, very alert indeed, and they're sure to be particularly suspicious of a pageant like this. The very word smuggling, advertised as we hope to advertise it, is enough to make them watch us."
"That's just where you're wrong," said Jimmy. "It's our advertising which will put them off. Nobody who wanted to smuggle would put a paragraph to say so in every paper in England. Nobody who meant to smuggle would invite Uncle Evie and the bishop and all the other political and legal swells to be directorsin the company. Don't you see, Hinton, that's just the sort of thing that puts the intelligent custom house officer off the scent, and the more intelligent he is the certainer he's bound to be that there's nothing in it."
The reasoning was perfectly sound and ought to have convinced Hinton. Perhaps it did. Perhaps he had thought it all out himself before. But there was another difficulty which seemed less easy to deal with.
"You'll excuse me, my lord, but neither Mr. Linker nor I would care to take part in a scheme for defrauding the Revenue."
"Rot!" said Jimmy. "You really can't expect me to believe that, Hinton. Nobody could take that line. Just think how the good old Revenue defrauds us. It was only the other day I caught it at it. At least another fellow to whom I gave over the job caught it for me. And the thing had been going on for years. Income Tax. Hundreds of pounds that I oughtn't to have paid. I expect it's been doing the same thing to you and to Linker and Uncle Evie and everyone. So far as I can make out it defrauds everyone it can, and when it's caughtdoesn't even apologise. Now what's wrong about getting a bit of our own back? That's all we intend to do."
But Hinton remained obstinately unconvinced even by this argument. He shook his head gravely and sadly, adding a few words about Mr. Linker's integrity and his own high principles.
Jimmy threw away the end of his cigarette. Then he slipped on his waistcoat and coat.
"Very well, Hinton," he said, "I'll have nothing whatever to do with your measly pageant, and what's more I'll crab it in every way I possibly can. I'll take care, so far as my friends are concerned, that it's a complete washout. I know perfectly well that you and Linker, and I expect half the fishermen in the village, are going to do exactly what I've said. Why the devil else should you be going into the thing at all, spending money and so on? If you won't let me chip in along with the rest of you, I'll do you all the harm I can, and you can tell your friend Linker what I say. If he calls here this morning I simply won't see him. You can tell him that, too."
Mr. Linker presented himself—the phrase is a most unpleasant one. No self-respecting writer would use it if he could find any other to express his meaning. He would prefer to say "Mr. Linker arrived" or "Mr. Linker came." Or perhaps "Mr. Linker turned up," or "blew in." Unfortunately "presented himself" is the only way of describing the unctuous politeness, the self-satisfied smugness, the deprecating humility and the formal correctness with which Mr. Linker, at the Manor House door, asked for Lord Colavon. It is therefore necessary to use the words.
Mr. Linker presented himself, early, while Sir Evelyn and his guests were still lingering over breakfast. He was shown into the library and his presence announced by Hinton.
"Mr. Linker," he said to Jimmy, "wishes to speak to your lordship when convenient."
"Tell the blighter," said Jimmy, "to call again this day fortnight and say that I won't be here then."
He looked Hinton straight in the face as he spoke. His meaning was perfectly clear. He was fulfilling the threat that he had made an hour before in his bedroom.
Sir Evelyn, who was enjoying the society of the two girls, did not want to be disturbed. But he was aware of Linker's political importance and was most unwilling to offend him.
"Perhaps," he said, "I'd better see him."
"Don't do anything of the sort, Uncle Evie," said Jimmy. "I know that kind of rotter and, if he once gets talking you'll not stop him under an hour and a half. Just let Hinton take my message."
Sir Evelyn hesitated. He knew that, once caught by Linker, his morning would be gone, and he had been looking forward to taking Beth Appleby and Mary Lambert round his rock garden. They were very agreeable and well-mannered young women. Jimmy might have had his way and the message might have been sent—though perhaps not delivered—by Hinton, if Beth had not recognised the name of Linker. She had heard a good deal about him from the dressmaker maid and knew that he was the man who had supplied her and Mary with clothes.
"Let me go and see him," she said. "I want to thank him for the lovely things he sent, and so does Mary. We'll both go. If I could afford it I'd order half a dozen nighties of the same pattern. I never had anything so deliciously frivolous before."
"Offer him a free advertisement in Lilith's Lispings," said Jimmy, "and perhaps he'll give you a few."
"I might do that," said Beth. "It would be a paragraph practically ready-made for next week, and that's something, even if I don't get as much as a pocket handkerchief out of him. And I ought to. 'Lilith lisps that Mr. Linker, the well-known lingerie expert of Morriton St. James, who is perhaps England's greatest artist in nightdresses, is about to startle the world with an original design in—whisper, belovedest, if there are any men in the room—cami-knickers. Anyone with a real regard for undies—and which of us has not?—will at once write to——' I must ask him his address when I see him. Come on, Mary, and let's try. An ad. like that ought to be worth something."
"Suppose we all go," said Sir Evelyn,still anxious to be polite to the influential Linker.
"I shan't stir a step," said Jimmy. "I hate that kind of oily beggar."
Hinton held the door open for the two ladies and Sir Evelyn. When they had left the room he turned to Jimmy.
"Beg pardon, my lord," he said, "I took the opportunity of speaking a few words to Mr. Linker before announcing him."
"Oh, you did, did you? I hope you told him not to allow anyone to tempt him into trying to defraud the revenue."
Hinton smiled feebly.
"I understood from Mr. Linker," he said, "that he was inclined to consider your lordship's proposal sympathetically."
"He'll have to do a great deal more than consider it. However, if he's got that far I may as well see him."
Linker was a disagreeable little man with a pallid face, almost colourless shifty eyes and damp hands. He received Beth's thanks with many bows, but did not seem much excited by her offer of an advertisement in Lilith's Lispings.
"Very much obliged to your ladyship, I'm sure," was all he said.
He addressed Mary Lambert as "your ladyship" too, being perhaps under the impression that any ladies who associated on good terms with an earl must have titles of their own. He got away from the subject of his own business as soon as Jimmy entered the room, and made his appeal on behalf of the pageant.
He said very much what Hinton had said in the morning, dwelling on the political advantage to Sir Evelyn of being associated with a popular and successful pageant—an advantage not at all obvious to anyone else—and the value to the pageant of Lord Colavon's help, which was, if possible, less obvious still.
"I told Hinton to tell you," said Jimmy, "that I'm not going to touch your pageant. I'm not going to have anything to do with it. I'm not even going to see it."
"Oh, Jimmy," said Mary, "it might be rather fun."
"Aunt Agatha's pageant!" said Beth. "You must help if you can, though I don't seewhat good you can do except being a patron, and you're that already."
"Now, I might be useful," said Mary—"really useful. I'm an actress, Mr. Linker."
"Indeed, your ladyship?" said Linker.
He did not seem impressed by this announcement. He perhaps thought that Mrs. Eames was capable of managing the acting part of it by herself.
"I've always longed to produce a play," said Mary, "and a pageant would be nearly as good."
"I'm sorry your mind is so definitely made up," said Sir Evelyn to Jimmy. "Mr. Linker seems to think—— The prospects of the Party in Morriton St. James—my own position as prospective candidate——"
"If it's going to help you, Uncle Evie—but I'm blest if I see how it can."
"Mr. Linker," said Sir Evelyn, "attaches great importance to the success of the pageant. I think perhaps that you ought——"
"I need scarcely say, my lord," said Linker, "that in the management of the pageant we should be prepared to meet your lordship's wishes in every way."
"In every way?"
Jimmy looked Linker straight in the face and then turned his eyes on Hinton, who was standing near the door.
"Ineveryway," said Linker, nervously but with the needed emphasis.
"Certainly, my lord," said Hinton, "in every way."
"Very well," said Jimmy. "As you all want me I'll do my best; but what exactly is it that you expect me to do?"
"Get me a job with a good advertisement attached to it," said Mary.
"Help Aunt Agatha," said Beth.
Linker explained his wishes at greater length. Lord Colavon might undertake the purchase of the lugger and allow that fact to be advertised. He might superintend the rigging under the direction of Sir Evelyn. He might interest his friends in the pageant.
"And steer the lugger when the great day comes," said Jimmy.
"Certainly, if your lordship wishes."
The assurance was definite enough and entirely satisfactory to Jimmy. The conversationpassed on to the subject of patrons of the pageant. Linker pressed on Sir Evelyn, who had already done a great deal, the necessity of securing as many influential names as possible.
"Another bishop would be very desirable, sir," he said.
"But why do you want so many bishops?" said Mary. "Aren't they very liable to make objections? My Nautch Girl dance is perfectly all right, but——"
"Although a Nonconformist myself," said Linker, "I cannot but be aware of the social position of the dignitaries of the Established Church. They would certainly be of great value to the pageant."
He mentioned in a reverential whisper the name of a popular ecclesiastic, one of the few who are thoroughly well known to the public outside church circles.
"If a few actresses would be of any use," said Mary, "I might get them."
"As skittish as possible," said Jimmy. "Some ladies of the gayer kind will be wanted to balance all the bishops."
"And if," Linker addressed Sir Evelyn again, "you could see your way to inviting——"
He named a very great statesman, a man with a European reputation for the astute manipulation of international Congresses, Assemblies of the League of Nations and such things.
"Not necessarily to be present at the pageant," said Linker apologetically. "That would be asking too much. But if we might make use of his name."
"Do get him, Sir Evelyn," said Beth. "He'd be worth pounds to me in paragraphs. He and the bishops and Mary's actresses all together."
Linker went on doggedly and shamelessly with his suggestions. There was scarcely anyone of eminence whom he did not suggest, except members of the Royal Family, and Sir Evelyn fully expected him to ask for a prince or two soon. He seemed to be working up in that direction, and at last, when he was plainly getting to the end of his list, he hesitated and apologised over a final name. It would scarcely have surprised anyone if he had mentioned the King himself.
"And perhaps," he said, "we might secure the name of——"
He looked round among his listeners as if uncertain to whom he ought to appeal for the man he wanted.
"The name of Mr. East," he said at last, "would be of the greatest value to us."
"Mr. East?" said Sir Evelyn vaguely.
He had never heard of Mr. East.
"Mr. E. P. East," said Linker, as if that explained the thing.
"Who is he?" said Sir Evelyn.
"Mr. E. P. East," said Linker, "is the Head Surveyor of Customs and Excise in this district."
Beth and Mary were totally uninterested in this suggestion. The name of Mr. E. P. East would be useless for a paragraph and promised no desirable publicity. Sir Evelyn was still as much puzzled as when he first heard the name. He failed to see the value of Mr. East as a patron.
"Of course," he said, "if you really want him I might be able to secure him."
Jimmy, after looking hard at Linker's totallyexpressionless face, turned away and whistled softly.
The interview with Linker dragged itself to an end at last and the man bowed himself out of the room. Sir Evelyn took the two girls out to his rock garden and enjoyed himself. He had long been cut off from the society of cheerful and pretty young women who wanted to be agreeable to him and were clever enough to show an interest, which no one under fifty can really feel, in the names and nature of unattractive plants. Sir Evelyn, though old enough to enjoy rock plants, was not too old to enjoy pretty girls. A happy position and rare, for as a rule rock plants only become interesting after pretty girls have ceased to attract.
Jimmy settled down for an hour's serious work in the butler's pantry where the Manor House telephone was kept. He began with the proprietor of the garage in Morriton St. James, went into all the symptoms of thePallas Athene's breakdown, found that a diagnosis had been made and that a major operation would be required. There was little hope of the car running again for a week. After that he tried a trunk call to the office of the makers of the car. This was a difficult thing to procure but he did it in the end and had the satisfaction of telling a gentleman, described to him as "the boss" exactly what sort of car the Pallas Athene was. "The boss" retaliated by describing in vivid terms the kind of man who was fool enough to drive a perfectly new car, which had never been run in, at the rate of sixty miles an hour for several hundred miles.
He had no direct evidence that the Pallas Athene had been driven in this way, but he knew something of Jimmy's reputation as a motorist, and he felt quite safe in making the accusation.
It is creditable to Jimmy that he kept his temper during both conversations. The garage proprietor kept his and the "boss" only pretended to be angry as a means of self-defence against any claim which might be made on himunder the terms of his guarantee. Considering how trying motor cars can be when they choose to behave badly this general self-restraint goes far to show that we are really becoming a civilised people, a thing which observers of our habit of going on strike might be inclined to doubt.
When Sir Evelyn and the two girls returned from the rock garden Jimmy told them the news that there was no chance of getting away in the Pallas Athene. He spoke indecisively about trains and still more doubtfully about hiring another car. Sir Evelyn cut him short with a hospitable invitation to the whole party to stay with him for a week or a fortnight, until the Pallas Athene was repaired, or perhaps until the Hailey Compton pageant was over.
Beth murmured a polite refusal which it was quite clear she did not really mean. Pressed by Sir Evelyn she confessed that gossip about London society can be invented anywhere and that the Lispings of Lilith could be just as well written in the Manor House at Morriton St. James as in the flat in Battersea. She also said something about an opportunity for visitingher aunt at Hailey Compton. Sir Evelyn cut her short.
"You will be doing me a favour," he said, "by staying on till the pageant is over. I want someone to help me through with that affair."
Mary Lambert was franker. She had no work to do in London. There was a possibility of her getting a job, in connection with the pageant, which, even if unpaid would bring her name before the public. She was also, though she only hinted at this, much more comfortable in the Manor House than she had ever been anywhere in her life before, and—this consideration weighs a little with all of us—it is very convenient to be housed and fed free, especially when earning no salary. A few clothes—she and Beth said this simultaneously—could be sent for from London.
Jimmy had no hesitation about accepting the invitation. He, perhaps he alone, took his uncle's polite assurance at its face value.
"You do want someone to look after you, Uncle Evie," he said, "and that's a fact. I'm not saying anything against Hinton or Linker,not a word. Both excellent fellows, no doubt. But they give me the impression of being pretty sharp men of business. When I think of that tenner of mine which Hinton trousered yesterday afternoon, and of what Linker's little bill will probably be I tremble to think of the extent to which the two of them will probably stick you."
Sir Evelyn smiled amiably at the suggestion that he needed a protector and made a mild joke about his nephew's fitness for the part of tutor to innocent old age.
"Besides," Jimmy went on, "I'm getting quite keen on this pageant of yours and rather see myself in the part of captain of the lugger."
When it was settled that the whole party would remain at the Manor House Jimmy suggested a drive over to Hailey Compton as a suitable amusement for the day. Like most men over fifty Sir Evelyn dreaded picnics and suggested that they should lunch comfortably at home before starting. He was strongly opposed to Beth's suggestion that they should ask Mrs. Eames for luncheon. But neither Beth nor Mary wanted to spend the rest of themorning in the rock garden, and a compromise was arranged. The party would take its own food, but eat it, along with anything Mrs. Eames provided, in the vicarage. This, like most compromises, combined the most objectionable features of both plans. The food would be picnic food, cold, sandwichy and scrappy, which was exactly what Sir Evelyn disliked. The company would be that of Mrs. Eames, which he dreaded.
An hour and a half later Sir Evelyn's little car, this time driven in masterful fashion by Jimmy, reached the long stretch of bare, undulating land above Hailey Compton. The road, a narrow white belt, stretched straight until it seemed to end abruptly on the very edge of the cliff. The car sped on faster than that car had ever gone before. Jimmy eyed the road in front of him suspiciously.
"Is there a way down," he said, "or do we stop here and take to parachutes?"
"It's very steep," said Sir Evelyn. "Do be careful."
"Brakes all right?" said Jimmy without slowing down.
"I hope so. I trust so," said his uncle.
Jimmy, though daring, was not reckless. With rapid motion of hand and foot he changed gear. The car sped forward with a shrill cry. Jimmy changed gear again, and took the first of the sharp bends at a little over twenty-five miles an hour. His passengers clung tightly to the sides of the car. The brakes stuttered. The low gear cried more shrilly. Another corner was safely passed.
"Nasty place on a foggy night," said Jimmy, "if you happened to be trying it for the first time."
He went boldly on, for it was neither night nor foggy. The sun glittered on a calm sea far below them. The steep, thatched roofs of the fishermen's cottages were seen, as roofs seldom are except by those who go about in aeroplanes. The little boat haven, in reality a slimy pool, looked like a glowing gem. The vicarage, somewhat apart from the village, was modestly picturesque like a shy girl in light summer clothes. The church, its squat, grey tower bathed in sunlight, stood on guard above the village, perched on the little plateau,the sea and the cliffs below it, a tall, rugged cliff rising high behind and above it.
"Isn't it perfectly lovely?" said Mary, who had never seen Hailey Compton before.
She had got over her first fear of the steepness of the descent. Sir Evelyn, sitting beside her in the back of the car, was still too nervous to join in admiration of the scenery.
"I do wish he'd be more cautious," was all he could say.
Jimmy, guided by Beth, swept along the village street, charged the short hill to the vicarage gate and pulled up before the door.
Mrs. Eames rushed out to welcome them. She kissed Beth vehemently, grasped Sir Evelyn's hand and shook it with affectionate violence, was introduced to Mary, and kissed her, was introduced to Jimmy and looked for a moment as if she meant to kiss him.
"You'll lunch with us, of course," she said. "I'm so sorry Timothy isn't here, Sir Evelyn, and he won't be back for lunch I'm afraid, unless I send for him. But I will send for him. Gladys shall go. He's up in the church."
"Still?" said Sir Evelyn.
He was a little surprised. Mr. Eames had retired to the church three weeks before. It seemed scarcely possible that he had been there ever since.