*III*
Next morning Templeton, after breakfast, went to the workshop as usual,leaving Eves to his own devices until lunch-time. Eves spent an hourpottering about in the shed, and was particularly interested in the fireextinguishing composition.
"Rummy old sport!" he thought. "I suppose he will strike somethingreally good one of these days, and be a bloated millionaire while I'mpinching on a miserable pension. Wonder what temperature this stuffmelts at, by the way."
He found, standing against the wall, a metal tray pierced with holeswhich had been plugged with the composition. A thermometer hung on anail.
"Hanged if I don't experiment on my own account!" he thought.
He filled the tray with water from the pump in Mrs. Pouncey's garden,laid it on an iron tripod which he found in the shed, and obtaining somefirewood and coke from Mrs. Pouncey, kindled a small fire in an ironbrazier. This he put underneath the tray, hanging the thermometer fromthe tripod. In a few minutes a sizzling informed him that water wastrickling through the holes, and lifting the thermometer, he discoveredthat it registered 76 deg..
"By George! What a rag!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if it can be done!Mustn't tell Bob, though!"
He put out the fire, emptied the brazier and the tray, replugged theholes and removed all traces of his experiment. Then he walked into thetown, and made his way to the Literary Institute.
"Good morning, Mr. Johnson," he said to the builder, whom he foundreading a newspaper in the large hall, and smiling broadly. "You've gotall ready for to-night, I see. How many will the place hold?"
"Two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts," said the builder.
"That's about the whole able-bodied population of Pudlington, isn't it?"
"Why no, sir, not with the women folk. They've got votes now-a-days, andthere be more women voters than men, seemingly. Have 'ee seen the_Echo_, sir?"
"Your local rag? Anything in it?"
"A rare bit o' news that you won't see every week. Look 'ee here."
He handed the _Pudlington Echo_ to Eves, pointing to a paragraph headedwith large type.
"MISTAKEN FOR A BURGLAR
"AMAZING EXPERIENCE OF THE MAYOR
"Our worthy mayor was involved in an awkward predicament last night. Inpursuance of an appointment with Mr. Wilkins, of the British MotorGarage, he arrived at the workshop between eight and nine o'clock, andwas awaiting the proprietor, when he was suddenly seized and thrown downby a young man in the uniform of a second lieutenant, who had come up incompany with Mr. Wilkins's assistant, and, not familiar with the mayor'slineaments, had mistaken him for a burglar. The police were telephonedfor, and Constable Brown, on reaching the scene, found himself in anunenviable position, between cross-charges of burglary and commonassault. The tension was relieved by the arrival of Mr. Wilkins, whosaw at once that a pardonable mistake had been made by his assistant andthe young officer, and by the exercise of his accustomed tact succeededin bringing both parties to an amicable understanding. We haveunfortunately to record that in the regrettable fracas our mayorsustained an ocular abrasion, the consequences of which, whiletemporarily disfiguring, will, we trust, be otherwise negligible. As acomparative newcomer Mr. Noakes may not be aware that he is in goodcompany. Those familiar with the chronicles of our ancient borough willremember the historic bout between Ted Sloggins and Jemmy Wild, theprizefighter once Mayor of Pudlington, when the latter was knocked outin the tenth round with two broken ribs and a black eye."
"That's a nasty one!" said Eves, returning the paper.
"That last bit, sir? True, I feel it so--very nasty indeed. Thatfeller have got his knife into the mayor, in a sly sort of way."
"Mr. Noakes isn't very popular, then? The local paper would hardly givea dig at a popular mayor."
"Well, sir, to tell 'ee the truth, there's two parties, one for and oneagainst. Mr. Noakes is almost a newcomer, and some folks don't takekindly to his pushing ways. I don't myself, I own it. He's near drivenme off my head over this meeting, and though I'd do anything in the wayof business, I don't hold with his views. He was one of they 'Stop theWar' kidney, and though goodness knows I'd 'a stopped the war, having ason over in France, I wouldn't stop it a moment afore we'd done what weset out to do, and thankful I am our lads have done it. That thereyoung officer last night"--he smiled--"was you, I take it, sir."
"The curtain's dropped over that, Mr. Johnson," said Eves. "By the way,you were going to try Mr. Templeton's new fire extinguisher. Have yourigged up the apparatus?"
"Ay, sure, 'tis all ready. Come up along, and I'll show 'ee. I'll tryit next week, just afore I plaster the ceiling."
He took Eves to the floor above, and showed him, between the workmen'splanks and the matchboard, a large shallow tank of sheet iron resting onthe rafters. It was filled with water, and the builder explained thatthe holes in the bottom had been plugged with the composition a weekbefore.
"Most ingenious," said Eves, making a mental note of the position of thetank. "If it answers, I suppose you will make a tank to cover the wholeof the ceiling."
"Surely, and put it into every house, hall or church I build."
"Johnson, where are you?" came a call from below.
"'Tis Mr. Noakes himself, come to bother me again!" said Johnson in anundertone. Aloud he cried: "Coming, Mr. Noakes, coming! ... Belikeyou'll bide here a bit," he added with a smile.
"I'm not keen on meeting your worthy mayor," replied Eves. "I'll comedown when he's gone."
Through the matchboard Eves clearly heard the conversation between thetwo men.
"Look 'ee here, Johnson," began Noakes, irritably, "this won't do. Theplace is as cold as an ice-house, and my orders was to heat en well.Folks won't be no good listening to speeches if they're all of ashiver."
"Why, bless 'ee, Mr. Noakes, 'tis only ten o'clock. There's plenty oftime to get the room comfortable warm by seven. The furnace is going,and you don't want the place like a greenhouse, do 'ee? Folks 'ud alldrop asleep."
"There's a medium, Johnson. I count on you to regulate the furnace so'swe're cosy-like. 'Tis a raw morning, and 'twill be worse to-night.Keep the furnace going steady, and come four o'clock shet all thewinders to keep out the night air."
"But what about ventilation? If so be there's a good audience you'llhave women fainting, and I don't know what all."
"There'll be plenty of ventilation through the matchboard," said Noakes,looking upward. "Besides, we've always the winders to cool the air ifneed be, but if you ain't got a good fire--why there you are! See thatmy orders are carried out, Johnson."
"Very good. You shall have it like an oven if you like: 'tis not for meto say."
Noakes, whose face suggested the recent application of a beefsteak,inspected the rows of chairs, mounted the platform and re-arranged thetable, scolded the charwoman who had left her dust-pan on the chairman'sseat, and finally departed. Then Eves rejoined the builder.
"They'll be warm afore they gets to work," said the latter, smiling,"And if so be there's any opposition, I won't say but what tempers 'llrise to biling point. However!"
"A queer man, your mayor!" said Eves. "By the way, I'd like to have alook at your furnace."
"Surely, sir. Come wi' me."
He led Eves into the basement, where a young man in shirt-sleeves wasstoking the fire.
"I'll have to keep 'ee to-night, Fred," said the builder, "and sorry Ibe to say it, but the mayor's just been talking to me, and wants theplace hotted up. You must stay till eight, my lad, and leave a goodfire when you go: there's no telling how long the speechifying willlast; these 'lection meetings are that uncertain."
The stoker brushed his arm across his damp brow, and muttered somethinguncomplimentary of the mayor. Johnson expounded to Eves the merits ofhis heating system, and followed him up the stairs again.
"The mayor's a busy man just now," said Eves. "Isn't there some sort ofa ceremony
coming on?"
"Ay, so 'tis, a ceremony that's come down from very ancient days, veryancient indeed, when we was all heathens, so it seems. 'Tis theanointing of the British Stone, they do call it, a rare old block ofgranite all by itself in a field some way north o' the town. Nobodyknows how it come there, but 'tis said there was a battle on the spot, Idon't know how many hundred years ago, and a whole cemetery of bonesdown below. Whatever the truth is, the mayor and corporation marchesout in full rig once a year, and the mayor breaks a bottle o' cider, thewine o' the country, atop of the stone. I say 'tis just an excuse for arandy, for they make a sort of fair o't, wi' stalls and merry-go-rounds,and I don't know what all. There won't be so much fun as usual thisyear, though, owing to shortage of sugar for sweets and cakes and such.Still, maybe 'twill be worth your seeing, being so ancient."
"Rather! I'm tremendously keen on rags, ancient or modern. I'll bethere!"
Eves bade the builder good-bye at the door of the hall, and the latterwent up the street to his office. As soon as his back was turned, Eveshastened below to the furnace room.
"Pretty thirsty work, isn't it?" he said to the man. "I don't wonderyou're not keen to be kept so long at it."
"'Tisn't that, sir," said the stoker. "The truth o't is I was going totake my girl to the cinema to-night. It begins at seven, and she'll bein a taking, 'cos they're showing some war pictures, and I'm in one of'em, and she's mad on seeing me, though I tell her I ain't doingnothing, only looking down my nose at a blooming Hun prisoner."
"Naturally she wants to see you, and squeeze your hand, and--you know.I should myself. Well, I'll tell you what. I'll come about 6.45 andrelease you."
The man stared.
"I mean it, no kid," Eves went on. "I intended coming to the meeting,but there'll be nothing very interesting until half time, and thestoking will be finished by then."
"But you'll mess your clothes, sir, not to speak of your hands."
"Oh, no! I'll see to that. Besides, you know, we didn't fret ourselvesabout dirt in the trenches. That's all right, then, and look here--getyour young woman a box of chocolates, a pound box--all one price, fourshillings. She'll like your picture all the more."
He handed the man a couple of half-crowns, cut short his effusivethanks, and made his way back to the cottage.
"Bob come home, Mrs. Pouncey?" he asked the old dame.
"Not yet, sir, and I do hope he won't be late, for I've got as tender aloin of young pig as ever I've roasted."
"Capital! I'm ravenous, I always am. It's a disease, Mrs. Pouncey.Don't I show it in my face?"
"Bless your heart, sir, your face does me good: it do look so happy!"
"Happy thoughts, old dear. I've had a particularly happy thought allthe morning, and it shines out on my ingenuous countenance. Some folksnever show anything, you know. My friend Templeton, now--ah! here heis! Roast pork, Bob--hurry up!"