CHAPTER X
TROUBLE AT WINDLES
Sec. 1
Mr. Rufus Bennett stood at the window of the drawing-room of Windles,looking out. From where he stood he could see all those natural andartificial charms which had made the place so desirable to him when hefirst beheld them. Immediately below, flower beds, bright with assortedblooms, pressed against the ivied stone wall of the house. Beyond,separated from these by a gravel pathway, a smooth lawn, whose green andsilky turf rivalled the lawns of Oxford colleges, stretched to apicturesque shrubbery, not so dense as to withhold altogether from theeye of the observer an occasional silvery glimpse of the lake that laybehind it. To the left, through noble trees, appeared a white suggestionof old stable yards; while to the right, bordering on the drive as itswept round to a distant gate, nothing less than a fragment of a ruinedcastle reared itself against a background of firs.
It had been this sensational fragment of Old England which haddefinitely captured Mr. Bennett on his first visit to the place. Hecould not have believed that the time would ever come when he could gazeon it without any lightening of the spirits.
The explanation of his gloom was simple. In addition to looking at theflower beds, the lawn, the shrubbery, the stable yard, and the castle,Mr. Bennett was also looking at the fifth heavy shower that had fallensince breakfast. This was the third afternoon of his tenancy. The firstday it had rained all the time. The second day it had rained from eighttill twelve-fifteen, from twelve-thirty till four, and from five tilleleven. And on this, the third day, there had been no intermissionlonger than ten minutes. It was a trying Summer. Even the writers in thedaily papers seemed mildly surprised, and claimed that England had seenfiner Julys. Mr. Bennett, who had lived his life in a country of warmthand sunshine, the thing affected in much the same way as the early daysof the Flood must have affected Noah. A first startled resentment hadgiven place to a despair too militant to be called resignation. And withthe despair had come a strong distaste for his fellow human beings,notably and in particular his old friend Mr. Mortimer, who at thismoment broke impatiently in on his meditations.
"Come along, Bennett. It's your deal. It's no good looking at the rain.Looking at it won't stop it."
Mr. Mortimer's nerves also had become a little frayed by the weather.
Mr. Bennett returned heavily to the table, where, with Mr. Mortimer aspartner he was playing one more interminable rubber of bridge againstBream and Billie. He was sick of bridge, but there was nothing else todo.
Mr. Bennett sat down with a grunt, and started to deal. Half-way throughthe operation the sound of rather stertorous breathing began to proceedfrom beneath the table. Mr. Bennett glanced agitatedly down, and curledhis legs round his chair.
"I have fourteen cards," said Mr. Mortimer. "That's the third timeyou've mis-dealt."
"I don't care how many cards you've got!" said Mr. Bennett with heat."That dog of yours is sniffing at my ankles!"
He looked malignantly at a fine bulldog which now emerged from its coverand, sitting down, beamed at the company. He was a sweet-tempered dog,handicapped by the outward appearance of a canine plug-ugly. Murderseemed the mildest of the desires that lay behind that ruggedcountenance. As a matter of fact, what he wanted was cake. His name wasSmith, and Mr. Mortimer had bought him just before leaving London toserve the establishment as a watch-dog.
"He won't hurt you," said Mr. Mortimer carelessly.
"You keep saying that!" replied Mr. Bennett pettishly. "How do youknow? He's a dangerous beast, and if I had had any notion that you werebuying him, I would have had something to say about it!"
"Whatever you might have said would have made no difference. I am withinmy legal rights in purchasing a dog. You have a dog. At least,Wilhelmina has."
"Yes, and Pinky-Boodles gets on splendidly with Smith," said Billie."I've seen them playing together."
Mr. Bennett subsided. He was feeling thoroughly misanthropic. Hedisliked everybody, with perhaps the exception of Billie, for whom afaint paternal fondness still lingered. He disliked Mr. Mortimer. Hedisliked Bream, and regretted that Billie had become engaged to him,though for years such an engagement had been his dearest desire. Hedisliked Jane Hubbard, now out walking in the rain with Eustace Hignett.And he disliked Eustace.
Eustace, he told himself, he disliked rather more than any of theothers. He resented the young man's presence in the house; and heresented the fact that, being in the house, he should go about, pale andhaggard, as though he were sickening for something. Mr. Bennett had themost violent objection to associating with people who looked as thoughthey were sickening for something.
He got up and went to the window. The rain leaped at the glass like afrolicking puppy. It seemed to want to get inside and play with Mr.Bennett.
Sec. 2
Mr. Bennett slept late on the following morning. He looked at his watchon the dressing table when he got up, and found that it was past ten.Taking a second look to assure himself that he had really slumbered tothis unusual hour, he suddenly became aware of something bright andyellow resting beside the watch, and paused, transfixed, like RobinsonCrusoe staring at the footprint in the sand. If he had not been inEngland, he would have said that it was a patch of sunshine.
Mr. Bennett stared at the yellow blob with the wistful mistrust of atraveller in a desert who has been taken in once or twice by mirages. Itwas not till he had pulled up the blind and was looking out on a gardenfull of brightness and warmth and singing birds that he definitelypermitted himself to accept the situation.
It was a superb morning. It was as if some giant had uncorked a greatbottle full of the distilled scent of grass, trees, flowers, and hay.Mr. Bennett rang the bell joyfully, and presently there entered a grave,thin, intellectual-looking man who looked like a duke, only morerespectable. This was Webster, Mr. Bennett's valet. He carried in onehand a small mug of hot water, reverently, as if it were a present ofjewellery.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning, Webster," said Mr. Bennett. "Rather late, eh?"
"It is" replied Webster precisely, "a little late, sir. I would haveawakened you at the customary hour, but it was Miss Bennett's opinionthat a rest would do you good."
Mr. Bennett's sense of well-being deepened. What more could a man wantin this world than fine weather and a dutiful daughter?
"She did, eh?"
"Yes, sir. She desired me to inform you that, having alreadybreakfasted, she proposed to drive Mr. Mortimer and Mr. Bream Mortimerinto Southampton in the car. Mr. Mortimer senior wished to buy a panamahat."
"A panama hat!" exclaimed Mr. Bennett.
"A panama hat, sir."
Mr. Bennett's feeling of satisfaction grew still greater. It was a fineday; he had a dutiful daughter; and he was going to see Henry Mortimerin a panama hat. Providence was spoiling him.
The valet withdrew like a duke leaving the Royal Presence, not actuallywalking backwards but giving the impression of doing so; and Mr.Bennett, having decanted the mug of water into the basin, began to shavehimself.
Having finished shaving, he opened the drawer in the bureau where layhis white flannel trousers. Here at last was a day worthy of them. Hedrew them out, and as he did so, something gleamed pinkly up at himfrom a corner of the drawer. His salmon-coloured bathing-suit.
Mr. Bennett started. He had not contemplated such a thing, but, afterall, why not? There was the lake, shining through the trees, a merefifty yards away. What could be more refreshing? He shed his pyjamas,and climbed into the bathing-suit. And presently, looking like the sunon a foggy day, he emerged from the house and picked his way withgingerly steps across the smooth surface of the lawn.
At this moment, from behind a bush where he had been thriftily burying ayesterday's bone, Smith the bulldog waddled out on to the lawn. He drankin the exhilarating air through an upturned nose which his recentexcavations had rendered somewhat muddy. Then he observed Mr. Bennett,and moved gladly towards him. He did not recognise Mr. Bennett, for heremembered his fri
ends principally by their respective bouquets, so hecantered silently across the turf to take a sniff at him. He washalf-way across the lawn when some of the mud which he had inhaled whenburying the bone tickled his lungs and he paused to cough.
Mr. Bennett whirled round; and then with a sharp exclamation picked uphis pink feet from the velvet turf and began to run. Smith, after amomentary pause of surprise, lumbered after him, wheezing contentedly.This man, he felt, was evidently one of the right sort, a merryplayfellow.
Mr. Bennett continued to run; but already he had begun to pant andfalter, when he perceived looming upon his left the ruins of thatancient castle which had so attracted him on his first visit. On thatoccasion, it had made merely an aesthetic appeal to Mr. Bennett; now hesaw in a flash that its practical merits also were of a sterling order.He swerved sharply, took the base of the edifice in his stride, clutchedat a jutting stone, flung his foot at another, and, just as his pursuerarrived and sat panting below, pulled himself on to a ledge, where hesat with his feet hanging well out of reach. The bulldog Smith, gazed upat him expectantly. The game was a new one to Smith, but it seemed tohave possibilities. He was a dog who was always perfectly willing to tryanything once.
Mr. Bennett now began to address himself in earnest to the task ofcalling for assistance. His physical discomfort was acute. Insects, somewinged, some without wings but--through Nature's wonderful law ofcompensation--equipped with a number of extra pairs of legs, had begunto fit out exploring expeditions over his body. They roamed about him asif he were some newly opened recreation ground, strolled in couples downhis neck, and made up jolly family parties on his bare feet. And then,first dropping like the gentle dew upon the place beneath, then swishingdown in a steady flood, it began to rain again.
It was at this point that Mr. Bennett's manly spirit broke and timeceased to exist for him.
Aeons later, a voice spoke from below.
"Hullo!" said the voice.
Mr. Bennett looked down. The stalwart form of Jane Hubbard was standingbeneath him, gazing up from under a tam o'shanter cap. Smith, thebulldog, gambolled about her shapely feet.
"Whatever are you doing up there?" said Jane. "I say, do you know if thecar has come back?"
"No. It has not."
"I've got to go to the doctor's. Poor little Mr. Hignett is ill. Oh,well, I'll have to walk. Come along, Smith!" She turned towards thedrive, Smith caracoling at her side.
Mr. Bennett, though free now to move, remained where he was, transfixed.That sinister word "ill" held him like a spell. Eustace Hignett was ill!He had thought all along that the fellow was sickening for something,confound him!
"What's the matter with him?" bellowed Mr. Bennett after Jane Hubbard'sretreating back.
"Eh?" queried Jane, stopping.
"What's the matter with Hignett?"
"I don't know."
"Is it infectious?"
"I expect so."
"Great Heavens!" cried Mr. Bennett, and, lowering himself cautiously tothe ground, squelched across the dripping grass.
In the hall, Webster the valet, dry and dignified, was tapping thebarometer with the wrist action of an ambassador knocking on the door ofa friendly monarch.
"A sharp downpour, sir," he remarked.
"Have you been in the house all the time?" demanded Mr. Bennett.
"Yes, sir."
"Didn't you hear me shouting?"
"I did fancy I heard something, sir."
"Then why the devil didn't you come to me?"
"I supposed it to be the owls, sir, a bird very frequent in thislocality. They make a sort of harsh, hooting howl, sir. I have sometimeswondered," said Webster, pursuing a not uninteresting train of thought,"whether that might be the reason of the name."
Before Mr. Bennett could join him in the region of speculation intowhich he had penetrated, there was a grinding of brakes on the graveloutside, and the wettest motor car in England drew up at the front door.
Sec. 3
From Windles to Southampton is a distance of about twenty miles; and therain had started to fall when the car, an open one lacking even the poorprotection of a cape hood, had accomplished half the homeward journey.For the last ten miles Mr. Mortimer had been nursing a sullen hatred forall created things; and, when entering the house, he came upon Mr.Bennett hopping about in the hall, endeavouring to detain him and tellhim some long and uninteresting story, his venom concentrated itselfupon his erstwhile friend.
"Oh, get out of the way!" he snapped, shaking off the other's hand."Can't you see I'm wet?"
"Wet! Wet!" Mr. Bennett's voice quivered with self-pity. "So am I wet!"
"Father dear," said Billie reprovingly, "you really oughtn't to havecome into the house after bathing without drying yourself. You'll spoilthe carpet."
"I've _not_ been bathing! I'm trying to tell you...."
"Hullo!" said Bream, with amiable innocence, coming in at the tail-endof the party. "Been having a jolly bathe?"
Mr. Bennett danced with silent irritation, and, striking a bare toeagainst the leg of a chair, seized his left foot and staggered into thearms of Webster, who had been preparing to drift off to the servants'hall. Linked together, the two proceeded across the carpet in a movementwhich suggested in equal parts the careless vigour of the cake-walk andthe grace of the old-fashioned mazurka.
"What the devil are you doing, you fool?" cried Mr. Bennett.
"Nothing, sir. And I should be glad if you would accept my week'snotice," replied Webster calmly.
"What's that?"
"My notice sir, to take effect at the expiration of the current week. Icannot acquiesce in being cursed and sworn at."
"Oh, go to blazes!"
"Very good, sir." Webster withdrew like a plenipotentiary who has beenhanded his papers on the declaration of war, and Mr. Bennett, sprang tointercept Mr. Mortimer, who had slipped by and was making for thestairs.
"Mortimer!"
"Oh, what _is_ it?"
"That infernal dog of yours. I insist on your destroying it."
"What's it been doing?"
"The savage brute chased me all over the garden and kept me sitting upon that damned castle the whole of the morning!"
"Father darling," interposed Billie, pausing on her way up the stairs,"you mustn't get excited. You know it's bad for you. I don't expect poorold Smith meant any harm," she added pacifically, as she disappeared inthe direction of the landing.
"Of course he didn't," snapped Mr. Mortimer. "He's as quiet as a lamb."
"I tell you he chased me from one end of the garden to the other! I hadto run like a hare!"
The unfortunate Bream, whose sense of the humorous was simple andchildlike, was not proof against the picture thus conjured up.
"C'k!" giggled Bream helplessly. "C'k, c'k, c'k!"
Mr. Bennett turned on him. "Oh, it strikes you as funny, does it? Well,let me tell you that if you think you can laugh at mewith--with--er--with one hand and--and--marry my daughter with theother, you're wrong! You can consider your engagement at an end."
"Oh, I say!" ejaculated Bream, abruptly sobered.
"Mortimer!" bawled Mr. Bennett, once more arresting the other as he wasabout to mount the stairs. "Do you or do you not intend to destroy thatdog?"
"I do not."
"I insist on your doing so. He is a menace."
"He is nothing of the kind. On your own showing he didn't even bite youonce. And every dog is allowed one bite by law. The case of Wilberforce_v._ Bayliss covers that point thoroughly."
"I don't care about the case of Wilberforce and Bayliss...."
"You will find that you have to. It is a legal precedent."
There is something about a legal precedent which gives pause to theangriest man. Mr. Bennett felt, as every layman feels when arguing witha lawyer, as if he were in the coils of a python.
"Say, Mr. Bennett...." began Bream at his elbow.
"Get out!" snarled Mr. Bennett.
"Yes, but, say...!"
The green baize door at the end of the hall opened, and Websterappeared.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Webster, "but luncheon will be servedwithin the next few minutes. Possibly you may wish to make some changeof costume."
"Bring me my lunch on a tray in my room," said Mr. Bennett. "I am goingto bed."
"Very good, sir."
"But, say, Mr. Bennett...." resumed Bream.
"Grrh!" replied his ex-prospective-father-in-law, and bounded up thestairs like a portion of the sunset which had become detached from themain body.
Sec. 4
Even into the blackest days there generally creeps an occasional ray ofsunshine, and there are few crises of human gloom which are notlightened by a bit of luck. It was so with Mr. Bennett in his hour oftravail. There were lobsters for lunch, and his passion for lobsters hadmade him the talk of three New York clubs. He was feeling a littlehappier when Billie came in to see how he was getting on.
"Hullo, father. Had a nice lunch?"
"Yes," said Mr. Bennett, cheering up a little at the recollection."There was nothing wrong with the lunch."
How little we fallible mortals know! Even as he spoke, a tiny fragmentof lobster shell, which had been working its way silently into the tipof his tongue, was settling down under the skin and getting ready tocause him the most acute mental distress which he had ever known.
"The lunch," said Mr. Bennett, "was excellent. Lobsters!" He licked hislips appreciatively.
"And, talking of lobsters," he went on, "I suppose that boy Bream hastold you that I have broken off your engagement?"
"Yes."
"You don't seem very upset," said Mr. Bennett, who was in the mood for adramatic scene and felt a little disappointed.
"Oh, I've become a fatalist on the subject of my engagements."
"I don't understand you."
"Well, I mean, they never seem to come to anything." Billie gazedwistfully at the counterpane. "Do you know, father, I'm beginning tothink that I'm rather impulsive. I wish I didn't do silly things in sucha hurry."
"I don't see where the hurry comes in as regards that Mortimer boy. Youtook ten years to make up your mind."
"I was not thinking of Bream. Another man."
"Great Heavens! Are you still imagining yourself in love with youngHignett?"
"Oh, no! I can see now that I was never in love with poor Eustace. I wasthinking of a man I got engaged to on the boat!"
Mr. Bennett sat bolt upright in bed, and stared incredulously at hissurprising daughter. His head was beginning to swim.
"Of course I've misunderstood you," he said. "There's a catch somewhereand I haven't seen it. But for a moment you gave me the impression thatyou had promised to marry some man on the boat!"
"I did!"
"But...!" Mr. Bennett was doing sums on his fingers. "Do you mean totell me," he demanded, having brought out the answer to hissatisfaction, "do you mean to tell me that you have been engaged tothree men in three weeks?"
"Yes," said Billie in a small voice.
"Great Godfrey! Er----?"
"No, only three."
Mr. Bennett sank back on to his pillow with a snort.
"The trouble is," continued Billie, "one does things and doesn't knowhow one is going to feel about it afterwards. You can do an awful lot ofthinking afterwards, father."
"I'm doing a lot of thinking now," said Mr. Bennett with austerity. "Yououghtn't to be allowed to go around loose!"
"Well, it doesn't matter. I shall never get engaged again. I shall neverlove anyone again."
"Don't tell me you are still in love with this boat man?"
Billie nodded miserably. "I didn't realise it till we came down here.But, as I sat and watched the rain, it suddenly came over me that I hadthrown away my life's happiness. It was as if I had been offered awonderful jewel and had refused it. I seemed to hear a voice reproachingme and saying, 'You have had your chance. It will never come again!'"
"Don't talk nonsense!" said Mr. Bennett.
Billie stiffened. She had thought she had been talking rather well.
Mr. Bennett was silent for a moment. Then he started up with anexclamation. The mention of Eustace Hignett had stirred his memory."What's young Hignett got wrong with him?" he asked.
"Mumps."
"Mumps! Good God! Not mumps!" Mr. Bennett quailed. "I've never hadmumps! One of the most infectious ... this is awful!... Oh, heavens! Whydid I ever come to this lazar-house!" cried Mr. Bennett, shaken to hisdepths.
"There isn't the slightest danger, father, dear. Don't be silly. If Iwere you, I should try to get a good sleep. You must be tired after thismorning."
"Sleep! If I only could!" said Mr. Bennett, and did so five minutesafter the door had closed.
He awoke half an hour later with a confused sense that something waswrong. He had been dreaming that he was walking down Fifth Avenue at thehead of a military brass band, clad only in a bathing suit. As he sat upin bed, blinking in the dazed fashion of the half-awakened, the bandseemed to be playing still. There was undeniably music in the air. Theroom was full of it. It seemed to be coming up through the floor androlling about in chunks all round his bed.
Mr. Bennett blinked the last fragments of sleep out of his system, andbecame filled with a restless irritability. There was only oneinstrument in the house which could create this infernal din--theorchestrion in the drawing-room, immediately above which, he recalled,his room was situated.
He rang the bell for Webster.
"Is Mr. Mortimer playing that--that damned gas-engine in thedrawing-room?"
"Yes, sir. Tosti's 'Good-bye.' A charming air, sir."
"Go and tell him to stop it!"
"Very good, sir."
Mr. Bennett lay in bed and fumed. Presently the valet returned. Themusic still continued to roll about the room.
"I am sorry to have to inform you, sir," said Webster, "that Mr.Mortimer declines to accede to your request."
"Oh, he said that, did he?"
"That is the gist of his remarks, sir."
"Very good! Then give me my dressing-gown!"
Webster swathed his employer in the garment indicated, and returned tothe kitchen, where he informed the cook that, in his opinion, theguv'nor was not a force, and that, if he were a betting man, he wouldput his money in the forthcoming struggle on Consul, theAlmost-Human--by which affectionate nickname Mr. Mortimer senior wasgenerally alluded to in the servants' hall.
Mr. Bennett, meanwhile, had reached the drawing-room, and found hisformer friend lying at full length on a sofa, smoking a cigar, a fulldozen feet away from the orchestrion, which continued to thunder out itsdirge on the passing of Summer.
"Will you turn that infernal thing off!" said Mr. Bennett.
"No!" said Mr. Mortimer.
"Now, now, now!" said a voice.
Jane Hubbard was standing in the doorway with a look of calm reproof onher face.
"We can't have this, you know!" said Jane Hubbard. "You're disturbing mypatient."
She strode without hesitation to the instrument, explored its ribs witha firm finger, pushed something, and the orchestrion broke off in themiddle of a bar. Then, walking serenely to the door, she passed out andclosed it behind her.
The baser side of his nature urged Mr. Bennett to triumph over thevanquished.
"Now, what about it!" he said, ungenerously.
"Interfering girl!" mumbled Mr. Mortimer, chafing beneath defeat. "I'vea good mind to start it again."
"I dare you!" whooped Mr. Bennett, reverting to the phraseology of hisvanished childhood. "Go on! I dare you!"
"I've a perfect legal right.... Oh well," he said, "there are lots ofother things I can do!"
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mr. Bennett, alarmed.
"Never mind!" said Mr. Mortimer, taking up a book.
Mr. Bennett went back to bed in an uneasy frame of mind.
He brooded for half an hour, and, at the expiration of that period, rangfor Webster and requested that Billie sho
uld be sent to him.
"I want you to go to London," he said, when she appeared. "I must havelegal advice. I want you to go and see Sir Mallaby Marlowe. Tell himthat Henry Mortimer is annoying me in every possible way and shelteringhimself behind his knowledge of the law, so that I can't get at him. AskSir Mallaby to come down here. And, if he can't come himself, tell himto send someone who can advise me. His son would do, if he knowsanything about the business."
"Oh, I'm sure he does!"
"Eh? How do you know?"
"Well, I mean, he looks as if he does!" said Billie hastily. "He looksso clever!"
"I didn't notice it myself. Well, he'll do, if Sir Mallaby's too busy tocome himself. I want you to go up to-night, so that you can see himfirst thing to-morrow morning. You can stop the night at the Savoy. I'vesent Webster to look out a train."
"There's a splendid train in about an hour. I'll take that."
"It's giving you a lot of trouble," said Mr. Bennett, with belatedconsideration.
"Oh, _no_!" said Billie. "I'm only too glad to be able to do this foryou, father dear!"
The Girl on the Boat Page 11