CHAPTER 8.
The following day was a Thursday and on Thursdays, as has beenstated, Belpher Castle was thrown open to the general public betweenthe hours of two and four. It was a tradition of long standing, thisperiodical lowering of the barriers, and had always been faithfullyobserved by Lord Marshmoreton ever since his accession to the title.By the permanent occupants of the castle the day was regarded withmixed feelings. Lord Belpher, while approving of it in theory, as hedid of all the family traditions--for he was a great supporter ofall things feudal, and took his position as one of the hereditaryaristocracy of Great Britain extremely seriously--heartily dislikedit in practice. More than once he had been obliged to exit hastilyby a further door in order to keep from being discovered by a droveof tourists intent on inspecting the library or the greatdrawing-room; and now it was his custom to retire to his bedroomimmediately after lunch and not to emerge until the tide of invasionhad ebbed away.
Keggs, the butler, always looked forward to Thursdays withpleasurable anticipation. He enjoyed the sense of authority whichit gave him to herd these poor outcasts to and fro among thesurroundings which were an everyday commonplace to himself. Alsohe liked hearing the sound of his own voice as it lectured inrolling periods on the objects of interest by the way-side. Buteven to Keggs there was a bitter mixed with the sweet. No one wasbetter aware than himself that the nobility of his manner,excellent as a means of impressing the mob, worked against him whenit came to a question of tips. Again and again had he been harrowedby the spectacle of tourists, huddled together like sheep, debatingamong themselves in nervous whispers as to whether they could offerthis personage anything so contemptible as half a crown for himselfand deciding that such an insult was out of the question. It washis endeavour, especially towards the end of the proceedings, tocultivate a manner blending a dignity fitting his position with asunny geniality which would allay the timid doubts of the touristand indicate to him that, bizarre as the idea might seem, there wasnothing to prevent him placing his poor silver in more worthyhands.
Possibly the only member of the castle community who was absolutelyindifferent to these public visits was Lord Marshmoreton. He madeno difference between Thursday and any other day. Precisely asusual he donned his stained corduroys and pottered about hisbeloved garden; and when, as happened on an average once a quarter,some visitor, strayed from the main herd, came upon him as heworked and mistook him for one of the gardeners, he accepted theerror without any attempt at explanation, sometimes going so far asto encourage it by adopting a rustic accent in keeping with hisappearance. This sort thing tickled the simple-minded peer.
George joined the procession punctually at two o'clock, just asKeggs was clearing his throat preparatory to saying, "We are now inthe main 'all, and before going any further I would like to callyour attention to Sir Peter Lely's portrait of--" It was his customto begin his Thursday lectures with this remark, but today it waspostponed; for, no sooner had George appeared, than a breezy voiceon the outskirts of the throng spoke in a tone that madecompetition impossible.
"For goodness' sake, George."
And Billie Dore detached herself from the group, a trim vision inblue. She wore a dust-coat and a motor veil, and her eyes andcheeks were glowing from the fresh air.
"For goodness' sake, George, what are you doing here?"
"I was just going to ask you the same thing."
"Oh, I motored down with a boy I know. We had a breakdown justoutside the gates. We were on our way to Brighton for lunch. Hesuggested I should pass the time seeing the sights while he fixedup the sprockets or the differential gear or whatever it was. He'scoming to pick me up when he's through. But, on the level, George,how do you get this way? You sneak out of town and leave the showflat, and nobody has a notion where you are. Why, we were thinkingof advertising for you, or going to the police or something. Forall anybody knew, you might have been sandbagged or dropped in theriver."
This aspect of the matter had not occurred to George till now. Hissudden descent on Belpher had seemed to him the only natural courseto pursue. He had not realized that he would be missed, and thathis absence might have caused grave inconvenience to a large numberof people.
"I never thought of that. I--well, I just happened to come here."
"You aren't living in this old castle?"
"Not quite. I've a cottage down the road. I wanted a few days inthe country so I rented it."
"But what made you choose this place?"
Keggs, who had been regarding these disturbers of the peace withdignified disapproval, coughed.
"If you would not mind, madam. We are waiting."
"Eh? How's that?" Miss Dore looked up with a bright smile. "I'msorry. Come along, George. Get in the game." She nodded cheerfullyto the butler. "All right. All set now. You may fire when ready,Gridley."
Keggs bowed austerely, and cleared his throat again.
"We are now in the main 'all, and before going any further I wouldlike to call your attention to Sir Peter Lely's portrait of thefifth countess. Said by experts to be in his best manner."
There was an almost soundless murmur from the mob, expressive ofwonder and awe, like a gentle breeze rustling leaves. Billie Doreresumed her conversation in a whisper.
"Yes, there was an awful lot of excitement when they found that youhad disappeared. They were phoning the Carlton every ten minutestrying to get you. You see, the summertime number flopped on thesecond night, and they hadn't anything to put in its place. Butit's all right. They took it out and sewed up the wound, and nowyou'd never know there had been anything wrong. The show was tenminutes too long, anyway."
"How's the show going?"
"It's a riot. They think it will run two years in London. As faras I can make it out you don't call it a success in London unlessyou can take your grandchildren to see the thousandth night."
"That's splendid. And how is everybody? All right?"
"Fine. That fellow Gray is still hanging round Babe. It beats mewhat she sees in him. Anybody but an infant could see the manwasn't on the level. Well, I don't blame you for quitting London,George. This sort of thing is worth fifty Londons."
The procession had reached one of the upper rooms, and they werelooking down from a window that commanded a sweep of miles of thecountryside, rolling and green and wooded. Far away beyond the lastcovert Belpher Bay gleamed like a streak of silver. Billie Doregave a little sigh.
"There's nothing like this in the world. I'd like to stand here forthe rest of my life, just lapping it up."
"I will call your attention," boomed Keggs at their elbow, "to thiswindow, known in the fem'ly tredition as Leonard's Leap. It was inthe year seventeen 'undred and eighty-seven that Lord LeonardForth, eldest son of 'Is Grace the Dook of Lochlane, 'urled 'imselfout of this window in order to avoid compromising the beautifulCountess of Marshmoreton, with oom 'e is related to 'ave 'ad aninnocent romance. Surprised at an advanced hour by 'is lordshipthe earl in 'er ladyship's boudoir, as this room then was, 'eleaped through the open window into the boughs of the cedar treewhich stands below, and was fortunate enough to escape with a few'armless contusions."
A murmur of admiration greeted the recital of the ready tact ofthis eighteenth-century Steve Brodie.
"There," said Billie enthusiastically, "that's exactly what I meanabout this country. It's just a mass of Leonard's Leaps and things.I'd like to settle down in this sort of place and spend the rest ofmy life milking cows and taking forkfuls of soup to the deservingvillagers."
"We will now," said Keggs, herding the mob with a gesture, "proceedto the Amber Drawing-Room, containing some Gobelin Tapestries'ighly spoken of by connoozers."
The obedient mob began to drift out in his wake.
"What do you say, George," asked Billie in an undertone, "if weside-step the Amber Drawing-Room? I'm wild to get into that garden.There's a man working among those roses. Maybe he would show usround."
George followed her pointing finger. Just below them a sturdy,brown-faced
man in corduroys was pausing to light a stubby pipe.
"Just as you like."
They made their way down the great staircase. The voice of Keggs,saying complimentary things about the Gobelin Tapestry, came totheir ears like the roll of distant drums. They wandered outtowards the rose-garden. The man in corduroys had lit his pipe andwas bending once more to his task.
"Well, dadda," said Billie amiably, "how are the crops?"
The man straightened himself. He was a nice-looking man of middleage, with the kind eyes of a friendly dog. He smiled genially, andstarted to put his pipe away.
Billie stopped him.
"Don't stop smoking on my account," she said. "I like it. Well,you've got the right sort of a job, haven't you! If I was a man,there's nothing I'd like better than to put in my eight hours in arose-garden." She looked about her. "And this," she said withapproval, "is just what a rose-garden ought to be."
"Are you fond of roses--missy?"
"You bet I am! You must have every kind here that was everinvented. All the fifty-seven varieties."
"There are nearly three thousand varieties," said the man incorduroys tolerantly.
"I was speaking colloquially, dadda. You can't teach me anythingabout roses. I'm the guy that invented them. Got any Ayrshires?"
The man in corduroys seemed to have come to the conclusion thatBillie was the only thing on earth that mattered. This revelationof a kindred spirit had captured him completely. George was merelyamong those present.
"Those--them--over there are Ayrshires, missy."
"We don't get Ayrshires in America. At least, I never ran acrossthem. I suppose they do have them."
"You want the right soil."
"Clay and lots of rain."
"You're right."
There was an earnest expression on Billie Dore's face that Georgehad never seen there before.
"Say, listen, dadda, in this matter of rose-beetles, what would youdo if--"
George moved away. The conversation was becoming too technical forhim, and he had an idea that he would not be missed. There had cometo him, moreover, in a flash one of those sudden inspirations whichgreat generals get. He had visited the castle this afternoonwithout any settled plan other than a vague hope that he mightsomehow see Maud. He now perceived that there was no chance ofdoing this. Evidently, on Thursdays, the family went to earth andremained hidden until the sightseers had gone. But there wasanother avenue of communication open to him. This gardener seemedan exceptionally intelligent man. He could be trusted to deliver anote to Maud.
In his late rambles about Belpher Castle in the company of Keggsand his followers, George had been privileged to inspect thelibrary. It was an easily accessible room, opening off the mainhall. He left Billie and her new friend deep in a discussion ofslugs and plant-lice, and walked quickly back to the house. Thelibrary was unoccupied.
George was a thorough young man. He believed in leaving nothing tochance. The gardener had seemed a trustworthy soul, but you neverknew. It was possible that he drank. He might forget or lose theprecious note. So, with a wary eye on the door, George hastilyscribbled it in duplicate. This took him but a few minutes. He wentout into the garden again to find Billie Dore on the point ofstepping into a blue automobile.
"Oh, there you are, George. I wondered where you had got to. Say, Imade quite a hit with dadda. I've given him my address, and he'spromised to send me a whole lot of roses. By the way, shake handswith Mr. Forsyth. This is George Bevan, Freddie, who wrote themusic of our show."
The solemn youth at the wheel extended a hand.
"Topping show. Topping music. Topping all round."
"Well, good-bye, George. See you soon, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes. Give my love to everybody."
"All right. Let her rip, Freddie. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
The blue car gathered speed and vanished down the drive. Georgereturned to the man in corduroys, who had bent himself double inpursuit of a slug.
"Just a minute," said George hurriedly. He pulled out the first ofthe notes. "Give this to Lady Maud the first chance you get. It'simportant. Here's a sovereign for your trouble."
He hastened away. He noticed that gratification had turned theother nearly purple in the face, and was anxious to leave him. Hewas a modest young man, and effusive thanks always embarrassed him.
There now remained the disposal of the duplicate note. It washardly worth while, perhaps, taking such a precaution, but Georgeknew that victories are won by those who take no chances. He hadwandered perhaps a hundred yards from the rose-garden when heencountered a small boy in the many-buttoned uniform of a page. Theboy had appeared from behind a big cedar, where, as a matter offact, he had been smoking a stolen cigarette.
"Do you want to earn half a crown?" asked George.
The market value of messengers had slumped.
The stripling held his hand out.
"Give this note to Lady Maud."
"Right ho!"
"See that it reaches her at once."
George walked off with the consciousness of a good day's work done.Albert the page, having bitten his half-crown, placed it in hispocket. Then he hurried away, a look of excitement and gratificationin his deep blue eyes.
A Damsel in Distress Page 8