CHAPTER III
BORROWED PLUMAGE
The word _phew_ may have a somewhat indefinite position in the Englishlanguage, but there was no mistaking the tone in which Mr. Edward Poveysaid it as he sank wearily into the depths of one of the handsome greenleather chairs that stood on either side of the fireplace in thedining-room at Adderbury Cottage, Bushey Heath. The tone of theejaculation plainly indicated escape, or at any rate temporary relieffrom a severe nerve-racking strain.
At the further side of the table beneath the great crimson shaded lampsat Charlotte, her fingers drumming a nervous tattoo upon the polishedblack oak beneath them. She, too, like her husband showed signs ofsevere nervous prostration. She raised her head as though about toanswer Edward's ejaculation but sighed instead and fell again to herincessant tapping.
"Do stop that infernal row, Charlotte; you sit there and tap, tap, tap,as though--as though--well, give it a rest, it's getting nervy," thenafter a pause, "where have you put them?"
"Them?"
"Yes,--our honoured guests--making themselves at home, aren't they?Have you noticed, Charlotte, that there's been no mention of how longthey're going to stay?"
"I've put them in the room above this. I expect it's old Kyser's roomwhen he's at home here, all chintz and Sheraton."
Edward Povey sat silent for a few moments, gazing stolidly into thefire that was burning brightly in the old-fashioned fire-place. Thenhe got up and with hands thrust deep in his pockets strode up and downthe room, his steps making no sound on the rich turkey carpet.
"It's going to be rather a harder job than I thought, Charlotte," hesaid at length, pausing in his walk and staring gloomily down at hiswife, "so many things have turned out differently to what we thought.Why couldn't the old fool have said he was bringing Aunt Eliza? she'snever come before when he's paid us a visit. I thought I should havefainted dead off just now when the old fellow asked me to show himwhich was the bath-room--he takes a cold tub every morning. Fancy notknowing where the bath-room is in one's own house. I had to open everydoor I came to and call out 'puss'--said I was looking for a kittenwe'd lost--until I came to the right one, the fifth door I opened Ithink it was."
Edward passed his handkerchief over his forehead, then resumed.
"I blame you, Charlotte, for the unfortunate affair of the photo album.You should have put the book out of sight like you did the framedphotos. I can't understand old Kyser keeping such a book full ofcrocks anyway, I'd be frightened to death of blackmail. You ought tohave known that albums are Aunt Eliza's special weakness. She got holdof it at once and made me go through all the lot and tell her who theywere and all about them." Edward grew hot at the remembrance. "Itisn't easy to invent names and plausible histories for an assorted lotlike that at a moment's notice--ugly lot of devils, too."
"The whole idea is yours remember, Edward."
"I know that, woman. Do you think it makes it any easier for me?--youshouldn't have let me--you----"
"You forget, Edward, you said that you were to be master in your ownhouse."
"This _isn't_ my own house, is it? But look here, Charlotte, it's notthe least bit of good our arguing how we came to be here. We are here,and here we've got to stay and make the best of a bad job. All we needis a little bit of coaching in some of the minor details. Come overhere."
Edward took up a richly chased candelabra and led the way to thefire-place. He removed the little paper shades and let the light fallfull upon the portrait of an aged and benevolent-looking gentleman in asplendid old English gilt frame.
"See him, Charlotte; I thought all dinner time your uncle was going toask who he was. He's sure to ask to-morrow, inquisitive old idiot, andwe've got to be prepared. Listen. This old chap here is a Mr. TobiasKenwick--that doesn't sound faked, does it?--not like Brown or Smith.If uncle asks what he was, say he was an engineer and that he's nowretired and living in Peru. This old lady over the sideboard," went onEdward, crossing the room, "can be a friend of my mother's; say she'sbeen dead some years now and that you forget her name but think it wasJane something. Any other portraits he asks about say we picked themup at a sale. By the bye, I must congratulate you on your excuse forthe absence of the servant--the dying sister in the North of Scotlandwas an inspiration. I'd trot off to bed now, Charlotte my dear, if Iwere you. I'll be up presently. I've got a bit of hard thinking toget through here before _I_ think of sleep."
Left to himself Edward ruminated deeply on the situation in which hehad placed himself. Things had not turned out at all as he hadexpected and dilemmas had crowded thickly and fast upon him. Theadvent of Aunt Eliza had entirely unnerved him, and the amount ofluggage which he had helped to take up to the bedroom seemed to him tobe quite unnecessary for a short visit such as he had anticipated.Hitherto the visits of Uncle Jasper had been always the same, a nightor two at the most and the days spent in business in London. Hisluggage had been invariably one suit case and a hatbox. But thepresent visit pointed more to a prolonged holiday than to a businesstrip. Edward tried to tell himself that there was nothing to fear,that Kyser would not return for a month, and that the secluded positionof Adderbury Cottage was all in favour of the scheme; detection fromthe outside was a very remote chance.
Edward Povey, however, had not reckoned upon keeping the deception upfor more than a few days at the most, neither had he reckoned upon thenerve strain. Tradesmen would be calling for orders--visitors, too,might reasonably be expected. A host of new possibilities arose beforethe perplexed vision of Edward Povey.
He could, of course, tell all comers that Mr. Kyser had lent him thehouse furnished. It was merely a small place used at intervals only byits wealthy owner. What more reasonable than that he should place itat the disposal of a friend? If he were alone, the guarding of thesecret would be a simple matter, but there was Charlotte to complicatematters--Charlotte, who would innocently enough, by a chance word,upset his most carefully constructed fabrications.
From the hall came, the rich muffled chimes of a steel-faced Sheratonclock. It was midnight, and Edward rose, and crossing to the massivesideboard poured himself out a liberal allowance of brandy, splashinginto the glass a little soda-water from a wired seltzogene. Then heproceeded to lock up.
Before barring the front door, he passed out on to the verandah-likeporch and running his fingers through his thinning hair let the coolwinds of the autumn night play upon the furnace of his forehead. Itwas very dark and the scene was desolate in the extreme. A solitarylight twinkled out here and there from some window in the littlevillage that lay beneath him in the valley, and farther off the paleradiance in the sky denoted the position of the town of Watford. Therewas a thick shrubbery encircling the house, and the masses of foliagetook weird shapes in the darkness, and from a clump of gaunt fir-treescame the dismal note of an owl.
Edward Povey shivered a little, and, quietly closing the door, crept tohis bed.
The Princess Galva: A Romance Page 3
