“Mr. Lomax, my lord, has already caught sight of your lordship when driving up the drive.”
Lord Caterham sighed deeply.
“He would. Very well, Tredwell, I am coming.”
In a manner highly characteristic, Lord Caterham was always most genial when his feelings were in reality the reverse. He greeted George now with a heartiness quite unparalleled.
“My dear fellow, my dear fellow. Delighted to see you. Absolutely delighted. Sit down. Have a drink. Well, well, this is splendid!”
And having pushed George into a large armchair, he sat down opposite him and blinked nervously.
“I wanted to see you very particularly,” said George.
“Oh!” said Lord Caterham faintly, and his heart sank, whilst his mind raced actively over all the dread possibilities that might lie behind that simple phrase.
“Very particularly,” said George with heavy emphasis.
Lord Caterham’s heart sank lower than ever. He felt that something was coming worse than anything he had yet thought of.
“Yes?” he said, with a courageous attempt at nonchalance.
“Is Eileen at home?”
Lord Caterham felt reprieved, but slightly surprised.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Bundle’s here. Got that friend of hers with her—the little Wade girl. Very nice girl—very nice girl. Going to be quite a good golfer one day. Nice easy swing—”
He was chatting garrulously on when George interrupted with ruthlessness:
“I am glad that Eileen is at home. Perhaps I might have an interview with her presently?”
“Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly.” Lord Caterham still felt very surprised, but was still enjoying the sensation of reprieve. “If it doesn’t bore you.”
“Nothing could bore me less,” said George. “I think, Caterham, if I may say so, that you hardly appreciate the fact that Eileen is grown up. She is no longer a child. She is a woman, and, if I may say so, a very charming and talented woman. The man who succeeds in winning her love will be extremely lucky. I repeat it—extremely lucky.”
“Oh, I daresay,” said Lord Caterham. “But she’s very restless, you know. Never content to be in one place for more than two minutes together. However, I daresay young fellows don’t mind that nowadays.”
“You mean that she is not content to stagnate. Eileen has brains, Caterham; she is ambitious. She interests herself in the questions of the day, and brings her fresh and vivid young intellect to bear upon them.”
Lord Caterham stared at him. It occurred to him that what was so often referred to as “the strain of modern life” had begun to tell upon George. Certainly his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham ludicrously unlike.
“Are you sure you are feeling quite well?” he asked anxiously.
George waved the inquiry aside impatiently.
“Perhaps, Caterham, you begin to have some inkling of my purpose in visiting you this morning. I am not a man to undertake fresh responsibilities lightly. I have a proper sense, I hope, of what is due to the position I hold. I have given this matter my deep and earnest consideration. Marriage, especially at my age, is not to be undertaken without full—er—consideration. Equality of birth, similarity of tastes, general suitability, and the same religious creed—all these things are necessary and the pros and cons have to be weighed and considered. I can, I think, offer my wife a position in society that is not to be despised. Eileen will grace that position admirably. By birth and breeding she is fitted for it, and her brains and her acute political sense cannot but further my career to our mutual advantage. I am aware, Caterham, that there is—er—some disparity in years. But I can assure you that I feel full of vigour—in my prime. The balance of years should be on the husband’s side. And Eileen has serious tastes—an older man will suit her better than some young jackanapes without either experience or savoir faire. I can assure you, my dear Caterham, that I will cherish her—er—exquisite youth; I will cherish it—er—it will be appreciated. To watch the exquisite flower of her mind unfolding—what a privilege! And to think that I never realized—”
He shook his head deprecatingly and Lord Caterham, finding his voice with difficulty, said blankly:
“Do I understand you to mean—ah, my dear fellow, you can’t want to marry Bundle?”
“You are surprised. I suppose to you it seems sudden. I have your permission, then, to speak to her?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lord Caterham. “If it’s permission you want—of course you can. But you know, Lomax, I really shouldn’t if I were you. Just go home and think it over like a good fellow. Count twenty. All that sort of thing. Always a pity to propose and make a fool of yourself.”
“I daresay you mean your advice kindly, Caterham, though I must confess that you put it somewhat strangely. But I have made up my mind to put my fortune to the test. I may see Eileen?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Caterham hastily; “Eileen settles her own affairs. If she came to me tomorrow and said she was going to marry the chauffeur, I shouldn’t make any objections. It’s the only way nowadays. Your children can make life damned unpleasant if you don’t give in to them in every way. I say to Bundle, ‘Do as you like, but don’t worry me,’ and really, on the whole, she is amazingly good about it.”
George stood up intent upon his purpose.
“Where shall I find her?”
“Well, really, I don’t know,” said Lord Caterham vaguely. “She might be anywhere. As I told you just now, she’s never in the same place for two minutes together. No repose.”
“And I suppose Miss Wade will be with her? It seems to me, Caterham, that the best plan would be for you to ring the bell and ask your butler to find her, saying that I wish to speak to her for a few minutes.”
Lord Caterham pressed the bell obediently.
“Oh, Tredwell,” he said, when the bell was answered. “Just find her ladyship, will you. Tell her Mr. Lomax is anxious to speak to her in the drawing room.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Tredwell withdrew. George seized Lord Caterham’s hand and wrung it warmly, much to the latter’s discomfort.
“A thousand thanks,” he said. “I hope soon to bring you good news.”
He hastened from the room.
“Well,” said Lord Caterham. “Well!”
And after a long pause:
“What has Bundle been up to?”
The door opened again.
“Mr. Eversleigh, my lord.”
As Bill hastened in, Lord Caterham caught his hand and spoke earnestly.
“Hullo, Bill. You’re looking for Lomax, I suppose? Look here, if you want to do a good turn, hurry to the drawing room and tell him the Cabinet have called an immediate meeting, or get him away somehow. It’s really not fair to let the poor devil make an ass of himself all for some silly girl’s prank.”
“I’ve not come for Codders,” said Bill. “Didn’t know he was here. It’s Bundle I want to see. Is she anywhere about?”
“You can’t see her,” said Lord Caterham. “Not just now, at any rate. George is with her.”
“Well—what does it matter?”
“I think it does rather,” said Lord Caterham. “He’s probably spluttering horribly at this minute, and we mustn’t do anything to make it worse for him.”
“But what is he saying?”
“Heaven knows,” said Lord Caterham. “A lot of damned nonsense, anyway. Never say too much, that was always my motto. Grab the girl’s hand and let events take their course.”
Bill stared at him.
“But look here, sir, I’m in a hurry. I must talk to Bundle—”
“Well, I don’t suppose you’ll have to wait long. I must confess I’m rather glad to have you here with me—I suppose Lomax will insist on coming back and talking to me when it’s all over.”
“When what’s all over? What is Lomax supposed to be doing?”
“Hush,” said Lord Caterham. “He’s
proposing.”
“Proposing? Proposing what?”
“Marriage. To Bundle. Don’t ask me why. I suppose he’s come to what they call the dangerous age. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“Proposing to Bundle? The dirty swine. At his age.”
Bill’s face grew crimson.
“He says he’s in the prime of life,” said Lord Caterham cautiously.
“He? Why, he’s decrepit—senile! I—” Bill positively choked.
“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham coldly. “He’s five years younger than I am.”
“Of all the damned cheek! Codders and Bundle! A girl like Bundle! You oughtn’t to have allowed it.”
“I never interfere,” said Lord Caterham.
“You ought to have told him what you thought of him.”
“Unfortunately modern civilization rules that out,” said Lord Caterham regretfully. “In the Stone Age now—but, dear me, I suppose even then I shouldn’t be able to do it—being a small man.”
“Bundle! Bundle! Why, I’ve never dared to ask Bundle to marry me because I knew she’d only laugh. And George—a disgusting windbag, an unscrupulous hypocritical old hot air merchant—a foul, poisonous self-advertiser—”
“Go on,” said Lord Caterham. “I am enjoying this.”
“My God!” said Bill simply and with feeling. “Look here, I must be off.”
“No, no, don’t go. I’d much rather you stayed. Besides, you want to see Bundle.”
“Not now. This has driven everything else out of my head. You don’t know where Jimmy Thesiger is by any chance? I believe he was staying with the Cootes. Is he there still?”
“I think he went back to town yesterday. Bundle and Loraine were over there on Saturday. If you’ll only wait—”
But Bill shook his head energetically and rushed from the room. Lord Caterham tiptoed out into the hall, seized a hat and made a hurried exit by the side door. In the distance he observed Bill streaking down the drive in his car.
“That young man will have an accident,” he thought.
Bill, however, reached London without any mischance, and proceeded to park his car in St. James’s Square. Then he sought out Jimmy Thesiger’s rooms. Jimmy was at home.
“Hullo, Bill. I say, what’s the matter? You don’t look your usual bright little self.”
“I’m worried,” said Bill. “I was worried anyway, and then something else turned up and gave me a jolt.”
“Oh!” said Jimmy. “How lucid! What’s it all about? Can I do anything?”
Bill did not reply. He sat staring at the carpet and looking so puzzled and uncomfortable that Jimmy felt his curiosity aroused.
“Has anything very extraordinary occurred, William?” he asked gently.
“Something damned odd. I can’t make head or tail of it.”
“The Seven Dials business?”
“Yes—the Seven Dials business. I got a letter this morning.”
“A letter? What sort of letter?”
“A letter from Ronny Devereux’s executors.”
“Good lord! After all this time!”
“It seems he left instructions. If he was to die suddenly, a certain sealed envelope was to be sent to me exactly a fortnight after his death.”
“And they’ve sent it to you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Well—what did it say?”
Bill turned a glance upon him, such a strange and uncertain one that Jimmy was startled.
“Look here,” he said. “Pull yourself together, old man. It seems to have knocked the wind out of you, whatever it is. Have a drink.”
He poured out a stiff whisky and soda and brought it over to Bill, who took it obediently. His face still bore the same dazed expression.
“It’s what’s in the letter,” he said. “I simply can’t believe it, that’s all.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Jimmy. “You must get into the habit of believing six impossible things before breakfast. I do it regularly. Now then, let’s hear all about it. Wait a minute.”
He went outside.
“Stevens!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Just go out and get me some cigarettes, will you? I’ve run out.”
“Very good, sir.”
Jimmy waited till he heard the front door close. Then he came back into the sitting room. Bill was just in the act of setting down his empty glass. He looked better, more purposeful and more master of himself.
“Now then,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sent Stevens out so that we can’t be overheard. Are you going to tell me all about it?”
“It’s so incredible.”
“Then it’s sure to be true. Come on, out with it.”
Bill drew a deep breath.
“I will. I’ll tell you everything.”
Thirty
AN URGENT SUMMONS
Loraine, playing with a small and delectable puppy, was somewhat surprised when Bundle rejoined her after an absence of twenty minutes, in a breathless state and with an indescribable expression on her face.
“Whoof,” said Bundle, sinking on to a garden seat. “Whoof.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Loraine, looking at her curiously.
“George is the matter—George Lomax.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“Proposing to me. It was awful. He spluttered and he stuttered, but he would go through with it—he must have learnt it out of a book, I think. There was no stopping him. Oh, how I hate men who splutter! And, unfortunately, I didn’t know the reply.”
“You must have known what you wanted to do.”
“Naturally I’m not going to marry an apologetic idiot like George. What I mean is, I didn’t know the correct reply from the book of etiquette. I could only just say flatly: ‘No, I won’t.’ What I ought to have said was something about being very sensible of the honour he had done me and so on and so on. But I got so rattled that in the end I jumped out of the window and bolted.”
“Really, Bundle, that’s not like you.”
“Well, I never dreamt of such a thing happening. George—who I always thought hated me—and he did too. What a fatal thing it is to pretend to take an interest in a man’s pet subject. You should have heard the drivel George talked about my girlish mind and the pleasure it would be to form it. My mind! If George knew one quarter of what was going on in my mind, he’d faint with horror!”
Loraine laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Oh, I know it’s my own fault. I let myself in for this. There’s Father dodging round that rhododendron. Hallo, Father.”
Lord Caterham approached with a hangdog expression.
“Lomax gone, eh?” he remarked with somewhat forced geniality.
“A nice business you let me in for,” said Bundle. “George told me he had your full approval and sanction.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what did you expect me to say? As a matter of fact, I didn’t say that at all, or anything like it.”
“I didn’t really think so,” said Bundle. “I assumed that George had talked you into a corner and reduced you to such a state that you could only nod your head feebly.”
“That’s very much what happened. How did he take it? Badly?”
“I didn’t wait to see,” said Bundle. “I’m afraid I was rather abrupt.”
“Oh well,” said Lord Caterham. “Perhaps that was the best way. Thank goodness in the future Lomax won’t always be running over as he has been in the habit of doing, worrying me about things. Everything is for the best they say. Have you seen my jigger anywhere?”
“A mashie shot or two would steady my nerves, I think,” said Bundle. “I’ll take you on for sixpence, Loraine.”
An hour passed very peacefully. The three returned to the house in a harmonious spirit. A note lay on the hall table.
“Mr. Lomax left that for you, my lord,” explained Tredwell. “He was much disappo
inted to find that you had gone out.”
Lord Caterham tore it open. He uttered a pained ejaculation and turned upon his daughter. Tredwell had retired.
“Really, Bundle, you might have made yourself clear, I think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, read this.”
Bundle took it and read:
“My dear Caterham,—I am sorry not to have had a word with you. I thought I made it clear that I wanted to see you again after my interview with Eileen. She, dear child, was evidently quite unaware of the feelings I entertained towards her. She was, I am afraid, much startled. I have no wish to hurry her in any way. Her girlish confusion was very charming, and I entertain an even higher regard for her, as I much appreciate her maidenly reserve. I must give her time to become accustomed to the idea. Her very confusion shows that she is not wholly indifferent to me and I have no doubts of my ultimate success.
Believe me, dear Caterham,
Your sincere friend,
George Lomax.”
“Well,” said Bundle. “Well, I’m damned!”
Words failed her.
“The man must be mad,” said Lord Caterham. “No one could write those things about you, Bundle, unless they were slightly touched in the head. Poor chap, poor chap. But what persistence! I don’t wonder he got into the Cabinet. It would serve him right if you did marry him, Bundle.”
The telephone rang and Bundle moved forward to answer it. In another minute George and his proposal were forgotten, and she was beckoning eagerly to Loraine. Lord Caterham went off to his own sanctum.
“It’s Jimmy,” said Bundle. “And he’s tremendously excited about something.”
“Thank goodness I’ve caught you,” said Jimmy’s voice. “There’s no time to be lost. Loraine’s there, too?”
“Yes, she’s here.”
“Well, look here, I haven’t got time to explain everything—in fact, I can’t through the telephone. But Bill has been round to see me with the most amazing story you ever heard. If it’s true—well, if it’s true, it’s the biggest scoop of the century. Now, look here, this is what you’ve got to do. Come up to town at once, both of you. Garage the car somewhere and go straight to the Seven Dials Club. Do you think that when you get there you can get rid of that footman fellow?”