CHAPTER XXXI
In spite of the Spartan transformation which Sir Justin's bedroom hadundergone, our adventurer enjoyed an excellent night's rest. So fastasleep was he at the hour of eight next morning that it took him a fewseconds to awake to the full possession of his faculties, even whendisturbed by a loud exclamation at his bedside. He then became aware ofthe presence of an entire stranger in his room--a tall and elderly man,with a long nose and a grizzled beard. This intruder had apparently justdrawn up the blind, and was now looking about him with an expression ofthe greatest concern.
"Mackenzie!" he cried, in the voice of one accustomed to be heard withsubmission, "What have you been doing to my room?"
The butler, too confused for coherent speech, was in the act of bringingin a small portmanteau.
"I--I mentioned, Sir Justin, your room was hardly ready for ye, sir.Perhaps, sir, if ye'd come into the pink room----"
"What the deuce, there's hardly a stick of furniture left! And whoseclothes are these?"
"Mine," answered the Count suavely.
The stranger started violently, and turned upon the bed an eye at firstalarmed, then rapidly becoming lit with indignation.
"Who--who is this?" he shouted.
"That, sir--that----" stammered Mackenzie.
"Is Count Bunker," said the Count, who remained entirely courteous inspite of the inconvenience of this intrusion. "Have I the pleasure ofaddressing Sir Justin Wallingford?"
"You have, sir."
"In that case, Mackenzie will be able to give you a satisfactory accountof my presence; and in half an hour or so I shall have the pleasure ofjoining you downstairs."
The Count, with a polite smile, turned over in bed, as though toindicate that the interview was now at an end. But his visitorapparently had other views.
"I should be obliged by some explanation from yourself of your entryinto my house," said he, steadily keeping his eye upon the Count.
"Now how the deuce shall I get out of this hole without letting Juliainto another?" wondered Bunker; but before he could speak, Mackenzie hadblurted out--
"Miss Wallingford, sir--the gentleman is a friend of hers, sir."
"What!" thundered Sir Justin.
"I assure you that Miss Wallingford was actuated by the highest motivesin honoring me with an invitation to The Lash," said Bunker earnestly.
He had already dismissed an ingenious account of himself as a belatedwanderer, detained by stress of weather, as certain to be contradictedby Julia herself, and decided instead on risking all upon his supposeduncle's saintly reputation.
"How came she to invite you, sir?" demanded Sir Justin.
"As my uncle's nephew, merely."
Sir Justin stared at him in silence, while he brought the full force ofhis capacious mind to bear upon the situation.
"Your name, you say, is Bunker?" he observed at length.
"Count Bunker," corrected that nobleman.
"Ah! Doubtless, then, you are the same gentleman who has been residingwith Lord Tulliwuddle?"
"I am unaware of a duplicate."
"And the uncle you allude to----?"
By a wave of his hand the Count referred him to the portrait upon thewall. Sir Justin now stared at it.
"Bunker--Count Bunker," he repeated in a musing tone, and then turnedto the present holder of that dignity with a look in his eye which theadventurer disliked exceedingly.
"I will confer with you later," he observed. "Mackenzie, remove myportmanteau."
In a voice inaudible to the Count he gave another order, which wasfollowed by Mackenzie also removing the Count's clothes from theirchair.
"I say, Mackenzie!" expostulated Bunker, now beginning to feel seriouslyuneasy; but heedless of his protest the butler hastened with them fromthe room.
Then, with a grim smile and a surprising alacrity of movement, SirJustin changed the key into the outside of the lock, passed through thedoor, and shut and locked it behind him.
"The devil!" ejaculated Count Bunker.
Here was a pretty predicament! And the most ominous feature about itappeared to him to be the deliberation with which his captor had acted.It seemed that he had got himself into a worse scrape than he couldestimate.
He wasted no time in examining his prison with an eye to the possibilityof an escape, but it became very quickly evident that he was securelytrapped. From the windows he could not see even a water-pipe withinhail, and the door was unburstably ponderous. Besides, a gentlemanattired either in pajamas or evening dress will naturally shrink fromflight across country at nine o'clock in the morning. It seemed to theCount that he was as well in bed as anywhere else, and upon this opinionhe acted.
In about an hour's time the door was cautiously unlocked, and a tray,containing some breakfast, laid upon the floor; but at the same time hewas permitted to see that a cordon of grooms and keepers guardedagainst his flight. He showed a wonderful appetite, all circumstancesconsidered, smoked a couple of cigars, and at last decided upon gettingup and donning his evening clothes. Thereafter nothing occurred, beyondthe arrival of a luncheon tray, till the afternoon was well advanced;by which time even his good spirits had become a trifle damped, and hisapprehensions considerably increased.
At last his prison door was again thrown open, this time by Sir Justinhimself.
"Come in, my dear," he said in a grave voice; and with a downcast eyeand scarlet cheek the fair Julia met her guest again.
Her father closed the door, and they seated themselves before theirprisoner, who, after a profound obeisance to the lady, faced them fromthe edge of his bed with an air of more composure than he felt.
"I await your explanation, Sir Justin," he began, striking at once thenote which seemed to him (so far as he could guess) most likely to becharacteristic of an innocent and much-injured man.
"You shall have it," said Sir Justin grimly. "Julia, you asked thisperson to my house under the impression that he was the nephew of thatparticularly obnoxious fanatic, Count Herbrand Bunker, and stillengaged upon furthering his relative's philanthropic and other visionaryschemes."
"But isn't he----" began Julia with startled eyes.
"I am Count Bunker," said our hero firmly.
"The nephew in question?" inquired Sir Justin.
"Certainly, sir."
Again Sir Justin turned to his daughter.
"I have already told you what I think of your conduct under anycircumstances. What your feelings will be I can only surmise when Iinform you that I have detained this adventurer here until I had time todespatch a wire and receive an answer from Scotland Yard."
Both Count and Julia started.
"What, sir!" exclaimed Bunker.
Quite unmoved by his protest, his captor continued, this time addressinghim--
"My memory, fortunately, is unusually excellent, and when you told methis morning who you were related to, I recalled at once something I hadheard of your past career. It is now confirmed by the reply I receivedto my telegram."
"And what, Sir Justin, does Scotland Yard have to say about me?"
"Julia," said her parent, "this unhappy young man did indeed professfor some time a regard for his uncle's teachings, and even, I believe,advocated them in writing. In this way he obtained the disposal ofconsiderable funds contributed by unsuspicious persons for ostensiblyphilanthropic purposes. About two years ago these funds and Count Bunkersimultaneously disappeared, and your estimable guest was last heard ofunder an assumed name in the republic of Uruguay."
Uncomfortable as his predicament was, this picture of himself as thefraudulent philanthropist was too much for Bunker's sense of humor, andto the extreme astonishment of his visitors he went off into a fitof laughter so hearty and prolonged that it was some time before herecovered his gravity.
"My dear friends," he exclaimed at last, "I am not that Bunker at all!In fact I was only created a few weeks ago. Bring me back my clothes,and in return I'll tell you a deuced sight funnier story even thanthat."
&nb
sp; Sir Justin rose and led his daughter to the door.
"You will have an opportunity to-morrow," he replied stiffly. "In themeantime I shall leave you to the enjoyment of the joke."
"But, my dear sir----"
Sir Justin turned his back, and the door closed upon him again.
Count Bunker's position was now less supportable than ever.
"Escape I must," he thought.
And hardly had he breathed the word when a gleam of his old luck seemedto return. He was standing by the window, and presently he observed agroom ride up on a bicycle, dismount, and push it through an outhousedoor. Then the man strolled off, and he said to himself, with anuprising of his spirits--
"There's my steed--if I could once get to it!"
Then again he thought the situation over, and gradually the prospectof a midnight ride on a bicycle over a road he had only once traversed,clad in his emblazoned socks and blue-lapelled coat, appeared ratherless entertaining than another night's confinement. So he lit hislast cigar, threw himself on the bed, and resigned himself to theconsolations of an innocent heart and a practical philosophy.
Count Bunker Page 31
