III
IN ACCOUNT WITH DOLLY ST. JOHN
My old father used to say that "woman's looks were his only books andfolly was all they taught him," which shows, I suppose, that what heknew about the sex he learned from a circulating library.
Anyway, he never drove a motor-car, or he would have written in anotherstrain. Sometimes I pick up a piece in the newspapers about women andthen I laugh to myself, thinking how many mugs there are in the worldand how they were born for the other sex to make game of. Let 'em geton the driver's seat and take madam round an afternoon or two. Therewon't be much talk about gentle shepherdesses after that, I'llwager--though if a crook or two don't get into the story I'm Dutchman.
Well, you must know that this is about Dolly St. John--a littleAmerican girl, who hired a car from the Empire Company when I was oneof its drivers, and had a pretty little game with us. I used to go forher every afternoon to some hotel or the other, and always a differentone, she not being domesticated, so to speak, and never caring tooverstay her welcome.
A daintier little body was never fitted upon a chassis. There are somewho like them fair, and some who like them dark--but Dolly St. John wasbetwixt and between, neither the one nor the other, but a type thatgets there every time, and turns twenty heads when a policeman stopsyou at a crossing.
It's very natural that young women should like to talk to theirdrivers; and, if the truth were told, some of them will tell us thingsthey would never speak of, no, not to their own husbands, if they'vegot any. Dolly was one of these, and a more talkative little bodynever existed. I knew her history the very first afternoon I took herround; and by the third, I could have told you that she had met theHon. John Sarand, and meant to marry him, even if his old father, LordBadington, had to go on the halls in consequence.
I had driven Dolly about three weeks, if I remember rightly, when ourpeople first began to get uneasy. It was all very well for her to talkabout her uncle, Nathaniel St. John, of New York City, who made ahundred thousand dollars a day by blowing bubbles through a telephone;but her bill for seventy-five sixteen and four remained unpaid, andwhen Hook-Nosed Moss, our manager, asked her for it, all he got was acigarette out of a bon-bon box, and an intimation that if he came on asimilar errand again, she'd write to the papers about it. Had she notbeen a born little actress, who could have earned twenty a week on anystage in London, the man would have closed the deal on the spot, andleft it to the lawyers. But she just tickled him like a carburettor,and he went home to say that the money was better than Consols, and thefirm making a fool of itself.
I drove her for another week after this, chiefly to the theatre withthe Honorary John, and to supper afterwards. She had a wonderful maniafor shopping, and used to spend hours in Regent Street, while I readthe _Auto-Car_ outside, and fell to asking myself how long it wouldlast. You don't deceive the man who drives the car--be sure of it.Either she led the Honorary John to the financial altar, or her pooruncle would be on the Rocky Mountains--I hadn't a doubt of it.
I liked her, that goes without saying. A man's a fool who tells youthat a pretty woman's charm is less because her bankers are wonderinghow they shall get the cheque-book back, and the tradesman round thecorner is blotting his ledger with tears. In a way I was in love withMiss Dolly, and would have married her myself upon any provocation; butbefore I could make up my mind to it either way, she'd gone like aflash, and half the bill collectors in London after her. This Ilearned during the week following the disappearance. She sent for meone day to pick her up at Joran's Hotel, and when I got there, and thehotel porter had handed out two rugs and a Pomeranian, down comes thechambermaid to say madam had not returned since eleven o'clock. Andthen I knew by some good instinct that the game was up--and, handingthe Pomeranian back, I said, "Be good to him, for he's an orphan."
This was a surmise--a surmise and nothing more; and yet how true itproved! I had a 'tec with me on the following afternoon, and a prettytale he had to tell. Not, mind you, as he himself declared, that Dollywas really dishonest. She had left a few bills behind her; but whereis the woman who does not do that, and who would think the better ofher if she didn't? Dolly wasn't a thief by a long way--but hershopping mania was wild enough to be written about, and she boughtthousands of pounds' worth of goods in London, just for the merepleasure of ordering them and nothing more.
I often laugh when I think how she fooled the tradesmen in Bond Streetand the West End. Just imagine them bowing and scraping when she told'em to send home a thousand-pound tiara, or a two-hundred-guinea whitefox, and promised they should be paid on delivery. Why, they strewedher path with bows and smiles--and when they sent home the goods to aflat by Regent's Park--an address she always gave--they found it emptyand no one there to take delivery. No more bows and smiles after that;but what could they do, and what offence had she committed? That wasjust what the 'tec asked me, and I could not answer.
"We know most of 'em," he said, "but she's a right-down finger-printfrom the backwoods. Nathaniel St. John cables from New York that hedoesn't know her, but will be pleased to make her acquaintance, ifwe'll frank her over. I tell these people they can sue her--but, man,you might as well sue the statue of Oliver Cromwell----"
"He being stony-broke likewise," said I. "Well, she had a run for hermoney, and here's good luck to her. I hope that I haven't seen her forthe last time."
"If you have," says he, "put me in Madame Tussaud's. When next youhear of Dolly St. John it will be in something big. Remember that whenthe day comes."
I told him I would not forget it, and we parted upon it. Dolly was apretty bit of goods for a tea-party, but a driver sees too many facesto keep one over-long in his memory, and I will say straight out, thatI had forgotten her very name when next I saw her, and was just aboutthe most astonished man inside the four-mile radius when I picked herup one fine afternoon at a West End hotel, and she told me we weregoing to drive into the country together.
"But," says I, "this car has been hired by Miss Phyllis More----"
"Oh, you stupid man!" cried she. "Don't you see that I am Miss PhyllisMore? I thought you were clever enough to understand that ladieschange their names sometimes, Britten. Now, why shouldn't I be PhyllisMore if I wish to? Are you going to be unkind enough to tell peopleabout it? I'm sure you are not, for you were so very good to me whenlast I was in England."
Now all this took place in her private room, to which I had been sentup by the porter. Three months had passed since I drove Dolly and theHonorary John, but not a whit had she changed; and I found her just thesame seductive little witch with the dimples and the curly brown hair,who had played the deuce with the West End tradesmen lastChristmas-time. Beautifully dressed in green, with a pretty motorveil, she was a picture I must say; and when I looked at her andremembered Hook-Nosed Moss, our traffic manager at the Empire Company,and how he docked me four and nine last Saturday, I swore I'd take her;yes, if she ordered me to drive through to San Francisco.
"I don't suppose I ought to do it, miss," I said, "unless your uncle inNew York has left you anything----"
"Oh," she burst out, laughing as she said it, "he's dead, Britten;besides, I don't want any uncles now, for I shall marry Mr. Saranddirectly Lord Badington gives his consent--and that won't be long, forwe are going down to his house to-night to get it."
I told her frankly that I was glad to hear it, and that I thought Mr.Sarand a very lucky gentleman. What's more, I believed her story, andI knew that if this marriage came off, there would not be much troubleabout my firm's seventy-five, and that half the tradesmen in Londonwould be running after Dolly again inside a week. So I made up my mindto do it, and, sending a wire back to the yard, telling them that thelady wanted the car for two or three days, and explaining to her that Imust buy myself some luggage as she went--for I do like a clean collarof evenings--I was ready for Miss Phyllis More, and not at alldispleased with the venture.
"She'd been hard put to it to keep going in London, whil
e John did thecourting," said I to myself, "and that's what caused her to change hername. If she doesn't catch him, we're another twenty-five down, andMoss will have to turn Jew. Well, I can get plenty of jobs as good ashis, and there aren't many Dolly St. Johns in the world, all said anddone. I'll risk it, and take my gruelling afterwards. What's more, ifMr. John's papa don't come up to the scratch, I'll put a word in formyself. It would make a line in the newspapers anyway, and who knowsbut what we mightn't both get engaged at the halls?"
Of course, this was only my way of putting it; but I really was pleasedto be driving such a pretty girl again; and when her old cane trunkcame down, and we fixed it on to the grid behind, and half a dozenhat-boxes littered up the back seats, I felt that old times had comeagain, and that I was one of the luckiest drivers in the country.
"How far are we going, miss?" I asked her when all was ready.
"To Lord Badington's house--near Sandwich in Kent."
"It's a longish run, and we shan't get there before dark."
"Oh," says she, "they don't expect me until quite late; indeed, I don'tthink Lord Badington himself returns before the last train from town."
I noticed that she laid a lot of stress upon the words, "LordBadington," for the benefit of the hotel porters, no doubt; but Iwasn't angry with her for that, remembering that she was a singlewoman, and perhaps unprotected; and without any more words we set outacross Westminster Bridge, and were very soon picking our way down theOld Kent Road. A couple of hours later we came to Maidstone, where wehad tea; it was a quarter past five precisely when we made a new startfor Canterbury, and a good hour and a half later when we entered thatmusty old town.
I shall never forget that journey, the country just showing the buds ofspring, the roads white and beautiful, the twenty Renault running assmooth as a beautiful clock. Three months had passed since I haddriven Miss Dolly, and this was the month of May. Yet here she was,just the same wicked little witch as ever, trotting round on a wilderrand, and about to come out best, I could swear. As for me, I hadthe sack before me for a certainty; but little I cared for that. Whowould have done, with Dolly St. John for his passenger?
We drove through Canterbury, I say, and set the car going her best onthe fair road after Sturry is passed. I know the country hereaboutspretty well, being accustomed to visit fashionable watering-places fromtime to time, and well acquainted with Ramsgate and Margate, to saynothing of Deal and Dover. My road lay by Monkton, down toward PegwellBay, and it was just at the entrance to Minster that Dolly made me stopwithout much warning, and took me into her confidence for the firsttime.
"Britten," says she, "there is something I didn't tell you, but which Ithink I ought to tell you now. I'm not asked to Lord Badington's houseat all."
"Not asked," said I, with a mouth wide enough open to swallow a pint ofgear-box "B." "Then what's the good of going there, if you're notinvited?"
"Oh," says she, more sweetly than ever, "I think they'll be glad tohave me if I do get inside, Britten; but we shall have to act our partsvery well."
I laughed at this.
"Seeing that neither of us is in the theatrical line, I don't supposethat anybody is going to take me for Sir Beerbohm Tree, or you for theMerry Widow," says I, "but, anyway, I'll do my best."
This pleased her, and she looked at me out of her pretty eyes, justsweet enough to make a man think himself a beauty.
"You see, Britten," says she, "if the car broke down just outside LordBadington's house, perhaps they would give me shelter for the night; atleast, I hope they would, and if they would not, well, it doesn'treally matter, and we can go and stop at the hotel at Sandwich. Itwould have to be a real breakdown, for Lord Badington keeps motor-carsof his own, and his drivers would be sure to be clever at puttinganything right----"
"Oh," says I, quickly enough, "if they can get this car right when Ihave done with it, I'll put up statues to 'em in the British Museum.You say no more, miss. We'll break down right enough, and if you arenot breakfasting with his lordship to-morrow morning, don't blame me."
She nodded her head; and I could swear the excitement of it set hereyes on fire. Lord Badington's house, you must know, standsoverlooking Pegwell Bay, not very far from the golf links, while theRamsgate Road runs right before its doors. There is nothing but a bitof an inn near by, and not a cottage in sight. I saw that the placecould not have been better chosen, and fifty yards from the big irongates I got off my seat and prepared for business.
"You're really sure that you mean this, miss?" I asked her, knowingwhat women are. "You won't change your mind afterwards, and blame mebecause the car isn't going?"
"How can you ask such a thing?" was her answer. "Doesn't my wholefuture depend on our success, Britten?"
"Then you won't have long to wait," I rejoined, and, opening thebonnet, I set to work upon the magneto, and in twenty minutes had donethe job as surely as it could have been done by the makers themselves.
"If this car is going on to-night," said I, "some one will have to pushit. Now will you please tell me what is the next move, miss, for I'mbeginning to think I should like my supper?"
She was down on the road herself by this time, and pretty enough shelooked in her motor veil, and the beautiful sables which Mr. Sarand hadgiven her last winter. When she told me to go on to the house, and tosay that a lady's motor-car had broken down at the gates, I would havelaid twenty to one on the success of her scheme, always provided thatwe weren't left to the menials who bark incivilities at a nobleman'sdoor. Here luck stood by Miss Dolly, for hardly had I pulled the greatbell at Lord Badington's gate when his own car came flying up thedrive, with his lordship himself sitting in the back of it.
"What do you want, my man?" he asked, in a quick, sharp tone--he's awonder for fifty-two, and there has been no smarter man in the Guardssince he left them. "Where do you come from?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," said I, for I didn't want to pretend that Iknew him for a lord, "but my mistress's car has come by a bit oftrouble, and she sent me to ask if any one could help her."
"What, you're broken down----"
"It's just that, sir; magneto gone absolutely wrong. I shall have tobe towed if I go any further to-night."
He stood on the steps beside me, and seemed to hesitate an instant. Aword and he would have told his own chauffeur to drive us on toSandwich; but it was never spoken, and I'll tell you why. Miss Dollyherself had followed me up the drive, and she arrived upon the scene atthat very instant.
"Oh, I am so sorry to trouble you," she cried in her sweetest voice,"but my car's gone all wrong, and I'm so tired and hungry, I don't knowwhat to do. Will you let me rest here just a little while?"
Talk about actresses; there isn't one of 'em in the West End would havedone half so well. There she was, looking the picture of distress, andthere was his lordship, twisting his moustache, and eyeing her as onewho was at his wits' end to know what to do. If he didn't take long tocome to a resolution, put it down to Dolly's blue eyes--he couldn't seethe colour of them at that time of night, but he could feel them, I'llbe bound; and, jumping, as it were, to a conclusion he turned to hisman and gave him an order.
"This lady will stay here to-night," he said. "Go and help her driverto get the car in, and see that he is looked after," and withoutanother word he waited for Miss Dolly to enter the house. Believe me,I never thought Mr. John's stock stood higher--and "Britten, my boy,"says I to myself, "if this isn't worth a cool fifty when the right timecomes, don't you never drive a pretty girl no more."
I had a rare lark that night, partly with Biggs, his lordship'schauffeur, and partly with a motor expert who came along on a bicycle,and said he'd have my Renault going in twenty minutes. I'm not onethat can stand a billet in servants' quarters, and I chose rather toput up at the little inn down by the bay and take my luck there. Itwas here that Biggs came after supper, and he and the motor expert gotgoing on my high-tension magneto.
Bless the pair of them, they might h
ave been a month there, and nobetter off--for, you must know that I had taken out the armature, andif you take out an armature and don't slip a bit of soft iron in afterit, your magnets are done for, and will never be worth anything againuntil they are re-magnetised. This baffled the pair of them, and theywere there until after eleven o'clock, drinking enough beer to float abarge, and confessing that it was a mystery.
"Never see such a thing in ten years' experience," said the motorexpert.
"I'm blowed if I don't think the devil has got inside the magneto,"said Biggs; and there I agreed with him. For wasn't it Miss Dolly whohad done it, and isn't she--but there, that wouldn't be polite to thesex, so I won't write it down.
I learned from Biggs that Lord Badington's daughter and stepson werestaying in the house with him, and a couple of old gentlemen, who, whenthey weren't making laws at Westminster, were making fools ofthemselves on the links at Sandwich. It was a golfing party, in fact,and next morning early, Biggs took them on to Prince's--and, will youbelieve me?--the car came back for the ladies by-and-by, and off wentMiss Dolly, as calmly as though she had known them all her life. Not aword to me, not a word about going on, or getting the car ready, butjust a nod and a laugh as she went by, and a something in her eyeswhich seemed to say, "Britten, I'm doing famously, and I haven'tforgotten you."
The same afternoon about tea-time she sent for me, and had a word withme in the hall. I learned then that she had promised to stop until thefollowing morning, and she asked, in a voice which nobody couldmistake, if the car would be ready. When I told her that I was waitingfor a new magneto from London I thought she would kiss me on the spot.
"Oh, Britten," she said in a whisper, "suppose we couldn't get on forthree or four days."
"In that case," said I, "I should consider that we were reallyunfortunate, miss, but I'll do my best."
"Are you comfortable at the inn, Britten?"
"Putting on flesh rapidly, miss. I never knew there were so many redherrings in the world."
"And your room?"
"They built it when they thought the King was coming to Sandwich."
She laughed and looked at me, and, just as I was leaving, shewhispered, "Do make it three or four days, Britten," and I promised herwith a glance she could not mistake. And why not? What was againstus? Was it not all plain sailing? Truly so, but for one little fact.I'll tell you in a word--Hook-Nosed Moss and the old bill he carriedabout like a love-letter--a bill against Dolly St. John forseventy-five pounds sixteen shillings and fourpence.
Well, Moss came down from town suddenly on the second afternoon, andwhile he carried a new magneto under his arm, the bill was in hispocket right enough. I was standing at the inn door as he drove up ina fly, and when I recognised the face, you might have knocked me downwith a cotton umbrella. Not, mind you, that I lost my presence ofmind, or said anything foolish, but just that I felt sorry enough forDolly St. John to risk all I'd got in the world to save her from thisland shark. That Moss had found her out, I did not doubt for aninstant, and his first words told me I was right.
"Do you know who you've been trotting about the country?" he asked, ashe stepped down. I replied that I did not, but that I believed thelady to be a relative of Lord Badington's. Then he was fair angry.
"Lord Badington be d----d," he said, speaking through his nose as healways did, "her dabe's Dolly Sid John, and she's the sabe who did usid de winter. I wonder you were such a precious fool as not torecognise her. Do you mean to dell me you didn't dow her?"
"What!" I cried, opening my eyes wide, "she Dolly St. John! Well, youdo surprise me; and she gone to Dover this very afternoon--leastwise,if it isn't to Dover, it's to Folkestone--but Biggs would tell us. Areyou quite sure about it, sir?"
He swore he was sure, and went on to tell me that if I hadn't been thegreatest chump in Europe I would have known it from the start.
"Where are your eyes?" he kept asking me; "do you mean to say you candrive a woman for ted days in London and not dow her again three monthsafterwards? A fine sort of chap you are. You deserve a statue in theFools' Museum, upod my word you do. Now take me to the car, and let'ssee what's the matter. I'll have more to say to you whed we're inLondon, you mark that, my man."
I didn't give him any cheek, much as I would have liked to. My gamewas to protect Miss Dolly as far as I was able, and to hold my tonguefor her sake.
Clearly her position was perilous. If this dun of a Jew went up to thehouse, and told them her name was not More, but St. John, the fat wouldbe in the fire with a vengeance, and her chance of marrying John Sarandabout equal to mine of mating with the crowned heads of Europe. Whatto do I knew no more than the dead. I had no messenger to send up tothe house; I dare not leave Moss to get talking to the people of theinn; and there I was, helping him to fit and time the new magneto, andjust feeling I'd pay ten pounds for the privilege of knocking him downwith his own spanner.
We finished the job in about half an hour, and the Renault started upat once. Moss hadn't spoken of Miss Dolly while we were at work; butdirectly the engine started he remembered his business, and turned onme like a fury.
"Whed did you say she started off?" he asked.
"About two this afternoon, I think."
"In whose car?"
"Why, his lordship's, of course."
"She seems pretty thick with the dobility. Perhaps I'd better give hera chadce of paying?"
I smiled.
"There's boats to France at Dover," said I. "What if she's going overby the night mail?"
He looked at me most shrewdly.
"I can't make you out, Britten," says he; "either you are the greatestfool or the greatest rogue id my ebployment. Subtimes you seeb cleverenough, too. Suppose we rud the car over to Dover and see what's doingthere."
"Yes," said I, "and you can telephone to the pier at Folkestone to haveher stopped if she's sailing from there."
He snapped his fingers and smiled all over his face.
"That's it!" he cried. "If she's leaving the coudtry I'll arrest her.I wish you'd been half as sharp when you picked her up id London."
"It's these motor veils," said I. "You can't expect a man to seethrough three thicknesses of shuffon--now can you, Mr. Moss?"
It was a lucky shot, and, upon my word, I really do believe that Ibegan to wheedle him, Whether I did, or whether I did not, we had thecar upon the road in ten minutes, and were off for Dover before aquarter of an hour had passed. Previous to that I had slipped into theinn on the pretence of leaving my coat, and had left a letter for MissDolly to be taken up by Biggs, when he came there to meet me for ourevening walk. "Moss is here," I wrote, "look out for yourself."
I laugh now when I think of that journey to Dover, and old Shekels Mosssitting like a hawk on the seat beside me. What lies I had to tellhim--what starts I gave him, when I pointed out that she might havegone by the afternoon boat, or perhaps motored right on to Southampton.My own idea was to stop the night at Dover, whatever happened, and nosooner had we drawn up at the "Lord Warden," than I had a penknife intothe off front tyre, and turned my back when the wind fizzed out. Thisstopped the run to Folkestone straight away, and, by the time I'd donethe job, Moss said he thought he would telephone the police, as Isuggested, describing Miss Dolly, but saying nothing about his lordship.
"He might do pusiness with us, Britten," he remarked. "I won't havehis dabe in it--but I'll tell him about her directly I get the chadce,and she won't be long in his house, dow will she?"
"Perhaps not," said I; "but if she marries his lordship's son, the bootwill be on the other leg. You'd better think of that, Mr. Moss."
"What I want is my modey," he rejoined. "If she don't pay, she goes toprison--I dow too much about the peerage to be stuffed with promises.Either the modey or the writ. I'll feed here, Britten, and go back toSadwich, if she's not on the boats. Perhaps we were a couple of foolsto come at all."
I said nothing, but was pretty sure that one fool had come along
in thecar, anyway. My business was to keep Moss at Dover as long as mightbe, and in that I succeeded well enough. Nothing could save Miss Dollyif he went blundering up to Lord Badington's house with his story ofwhat she'd done in London, and how fond certain West End tradesmen hadbecome of her. Given time enough, I believed the pretty little ladywould wheedle his lordship to consent to her marriage with Mr. Sarand.But time she must have, and if she did not get it, well, then, time ofanother kind might await her. It would have broken my heart to seemisfortune overtake pretty Dolly St. John, and I swore that it shouldnot, if any wit of mine could prevent it.
Moss took about an hour and a half over his dinner, and when he cameout he was picking his teeth with a great steel prong, and looking aspleased as though he had done the hotel waiters out of fourpence. Isaw that he had come to some resolution, and that it was a satisfactoryone. There was a twinkle in his little eyes you could not mistake, andhe shook his head while he talked to me, just as though I were buyingold clothes of him at twice their value.
"Britten," he asked, "are you all ready?"
"Quite ready, sir," said I--for I'd just that minute shoved my knifeinto another tyre. "Are you going back to Sandwich?"
"I'm going to Lord Badington's," says he, with a roar of laughter, "whynot? I'm going to ask for Miss Phyllis More, and say she's an ode fredof the family. Ha, ha! what do you think of that, Britten? Will I getthe modey or won't I? Well, we'll see, my boy--so start her up, and bequick about it."
I said "Yes, sir," and went round to the front of the car. My cry ofastonishment when I saw the burst tyre would have done credit to Mr.Henry Irving himself. Perhaps I said some things I shouldn't havesaid--Moss did, anyway, and he raved so loud that the ostler had totell him his wife and children were upstairs.
"Another tyre gone--what do I pay you wages for? Adser me that! Whothe ---- is going to pay the bill? Don't you see I must get to Sadwichto-night? A pretty sort of a dam fool you must be. Now you get thatcar going in twedy minutes, or I'll leave you in the street--so help meheaven I will----" And so on and so on, until I could have dropped forlaughing where I stood.
It was touching to hear him, upon my word it was; but I held my tonguefor Miss Dolly's sake, and went to work quietly to take off the coverand examine the tube for the cut I didn't mean to find. When I toldhim presently that this was the last tube we had, and he'd better giveme two pound eight to go and buy a new one, I thought his languagewould blow the ships out of the harbour; but he never gave me themoney, and then I knew that he meant to stay at Dover all night, andthat Miss Dolly had until the morning, anyway. "And by that time,"said I to myself, "she'll be off to London if she's clever enough, andperhaps find Mr. Sarand at the station to meet her."
I slept upon this--for you will understand that Moss had no realintention of going on that night, after he heard about the tubes--andat nine o'clock next morning I had my car ready, and drove her round tothe "Lord Warden." The run to Sandwich is not over-exciting in anordinary way, but I found it quite lively enough on that particularoccasion, when there were all sorts of doubts and fears in my headabout Miss Dolly, and the sure and certain knowledge that I should getthe sack whatever happened. Indeed, I might properly have been moreanxious about myself than the lady, for I never doubted that she wouldhave made a bolt for London by the time we arrived, and there was nomore disappointed man in Thanet when, on reaching the inn, Biggs toldme that she was still at the house. An inquiry whether he haddelivered my letter met with the amazing response that they had givenhim no letter, and when I rushed into the house to ask what had becomeof it, there it was, on the mantelshelf of the bar-parlour, just whereI had left it. Never did a man meet with a worse blow. I knew thenthat Miss Dolly was done for, and I did not believe that the day couldpass and keep the police from Lord Badington's doorstep.
I should tell you that Moss had called at the police station atSandwich as we drove through, and that a sergeant and a constable cameover to the inn on bicycles about midday. Their questioning me helpedthem a mighty lot, for I contrived to look as foolish as a yokel whenyou ask him the way to Nowhere; and all I could tell them was that thelady had come down upon Lord Badington's invitation, and, when she wastired of it, I supposed she would go away again. All of which theytook down in pocket-books about as large as a family Bible, and thenset out for the house, while I watched them with my heart in my veryboots, and the sort of feeling that might overtake a man if the policeset out to arrest his own sweetheart.
Biggs, I should tell you, was with me when this happened, and mightycurious he was about it all. Of course, I told him that Moss wasmaking a fool of himself, and that there would be a pretty actionafterwards if he didn't behave properly to Miss Dolly. None the less,he was just as curious as I was, and directly the other party had left,we followed on their heels, and were through the lodge gates almost assoon as they were. As for Lal Britten, his heart went pat-a-pat, likea girl's at a wedding. I could have knocked Moss down cheerful, andpaid forty bob for doing it with the greatest pleasure in my life. Butthat wouldn't have helped Miss Dolly, you see, so I just trudged up thedrive after Moss, and said nothing whatever to anybody.
Bless us all--how the chap did walk. There he was, head bent down,shoulders sagging, his step shuffling as though he wore slippers, andin his eyes that money fever which, to me, is one of the most awfulthings in all the world. Even the police were rather disgusted withhim, I think, and the sergeant told me afterwards that he would havepaid fifty pounds to have got out of the job. For that matter, neitherhe nor his underling said a word to Moss when they rang at the frontdoor bell, and they didn't seem to think it at all wonderful that Biggsand I should be upon the doorstep with them. So all together we waitedquite a long time before old Hill, the butler, came jauntily along thegreat corridor, and opened to us very deliberately. And now for it, Ithought--and oh, my poor Dolly, whatever is going to happen to you!
"Party of the dabe of Miss More--is she sdaying in this house?" asksMoss, half pushing his way in, and trying to look impudent. You shouldhave seen the butler's face when he answered him.
"Who the devil are you?" he asked, "and what do you mean by coming herelike this? Outside, my man, or I'll put you there pretty quick."
He took Moss by the collar, and, turning him about as though he were ababe, shoved him on the wrong side of the door before you could havesaid "knife." Then he turned to the sergeant.
"What's all this, Sergeant Joyce?" he asked. "Why do you bring thisperson here?"
"Oh," stammered the sergeant, "he says that a certain Miss More----"
"I beg you pardon," cried the butler quickly, "I think you should speakof Lady Badington--my master left for Paris at eight o'clock thismorning."
"What!" roared Moss--and you could have heard him on the GoodwinSands--"Lord Badington's married her?"
"I believe those are the facts," says Hill, very quietly--andthen--well, and then I sat down on the doorstep and I laughed until thetears ran down my face. Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!--and Moss's face! But youwill understand all that, and how the sergeant looked, and the smile onthe butler's face, without me saying a single word about it.
"Take a week's notice, and be d----d to you!" cried I, turning upon mymaster all of a sudden. "Do you think I'll serve with a man who sentpolicemen after his best customers? You go to hell, Moss--where youought to have been long ago," and with that I just walked off down thedrive, and Biggs with me. Lord, what an afternoon we had! And thenight we spent afterwards in Ramsgate!
For, you see, it was quite true. Old Lord Badington, who never couldlook at a pretty woman twice without falling in love with her, foundhimself mostly alone with Mistress Dolly at Sandwich, and, by all thatis true and wonderful, he married her.
Not that she was Dolly St. John at all, you must know, but DollyHamilton in reality; and connected, I am told, with the old Americanfamily, the Hamiltons of Philadelphia. What she did in London wasdone, I do believe, for the sheer excitement of do
ing it. And if folkshave called her an adventuress, set that down to the rogues oftrustees, who played ducks and drakes with her fortune, and left her inEurope to shift as best she might.
I got a hundred pounds for that job, sent by Miss Dolly herself fromVenice. Moss got his car back, and three or four punctured tubes.Some day, I suppose, they'll pay him that seventy-five pounds sixteenshillings and four-pence. But I hope it won't be yet.
The Honorary John, they tell me, is very angry with his papa. But I'llback an old boy every time--notwithstanding what is written in thepapers.
The Man Who Drove the Car Page 3
