Page 7 of A Haddington Manifestation

  Chapter 7

  By late afternoon the rain had returned and forced everyone inside. Garth was checking one of his trees in the pouring rain.

  “What’s this?” He looked down carefully at the muddy ground, a freshly made boot print stood out clearly. Garth took up his net and looked about nervously.

  The only sound was the pounding rain, he pulled his hat low about his face.

  “Where did he go, Henry? This way?” He asked one of his trees as he stepped out into the rain, he moved carefully across the clearing and into the protection of the overhanging branches of the next tree.

  Garth was shaking, he wasn’t sure whether it was the cold or fear. He took out his handkerchief to mop his brow.

  He looked at the tree at his elbow.

  “Where?” He looked toward a tree further on, “there?” Nervously he stepped out into the rain and with slow steps made his way across the clearing, then he stopped. “Alright, I’m going.” He said between clenched teeth. But he made no effort to move. He was literally frozen to the spot.

  He thought he saw some movement near the tree, he dropped the net and stood with bulging eyes, his mouth open ready to scream. There was movement!

  “Help.” He said in a hoarse whisper. He could see something but he didn’t know what. Suddenly from under the tree it sprang out at him. “Mother of God.” He said as he dropped to his knees. Miss Blackie came loping past him and ran toward the house. “You little…..” He said as he jumped to his feet. “What are you all laughing at?” He asked angrily as he spun in a circle. “You lot were shaking more that I was, you craven cowards.”

  He reached down to pick up his net, that’s when a black shape stepped from behind a tree to tower over him. Garth remained bent down to pick up the net, his eyes threatened to pop from his head as he stared at the pair of muddy boots.

  Then the whites of his eyes appeared as his eyeballs went up. “Blimey.” Was all he said as he pitched forward in a dead faint.

  When he came to a short time later, Cloud was leaning over him as the rain came pouring down.

  “I saw him, sir, I saw the stranger, he tried to kill me, sir, he went for my throat I fought him off but he knocked me unconscious.”

  “You fainted.” Said Cloud calmly.

  “I fainted from loss of blood, sir.”

  “Yeah, the blood did rush from your face.”

  “You may laugh, sir, but I fought……how do you know the blood rushed from my face?”

  “Because it was me, you fainted when you saw me.”

  “Are you trying to be funny? Do you realise you could have killed me? Now, I see everything.”

  Cloud helped him to his feet and he stepped away to hold the net above his head. “You thought you’d kill me with fright, is that it? That way you’d get my trees.”

  “I don’t want your trees, Mr Garth.”

  “Keep your distance. Of course you don’t want my trees, because they spurned you, didn’t they, you damn Yankee.”

  “No….”

  “Don’t come any nearer, what did you intend doing with them, turn ‘em into furniture? It’s alright lads, I’ve saved you.” He called to the trees.

  “I don’t want your trees, Mr Garth, for furniture or for anything else.”

  “Ha!” The eyes were narrow with suspicion.

  “I mean it.”

  “Only a crazy idiot would be out in weather like this.”

  “That’s right.” Cloud looked at him levelly.

  “You admit it, do you?” Asked Garth with an angry face as he held the net ready to bring it down on Cloud’s head if he were foolish enough to get too close.

  “I have reason to be here.”

  “A likely story.”

  “I saw a strange looking character from the house, he wore a dark cloak and a weird looking hat, and I came out to investigate. I saw him just about here……” Cloud hadn’t even blinked but Garth was by his side looking at the surrounding trees with suspicion.

  “Here, sir?”

  “I followed him near that tree when you suddenly appeared and I lost him.”

  “That tree there, sir?” Garth pointed.

  “Yes.”

  Garth walked over to it.

  “Did you see him, William? William?” Garth looked at the tree and then at Cloud. “He’s fainted, sir.”

  “Who’s fainted?”

  “William, sir.”

  “The tree’s fainted?”

  “One of my best lads, it shows, sir, just how evil this fellow is. I’ll just stroke his wrist.” Garth began to pat one of the low hanging branches.

  “Maybe I should get him a glass of water?”

  “Would you, sir?”

  Cloud grinned mirthlessly at Garth then he turned to trudge through the rain. Suddenly there was the splash of running feet and Garth was by his side.

  “You’re not leaving me alone, sir?”

  “I must get back to the house.”

  “I’ll go with you, sir, to protect you, like.”

  “What about William?”

  “William can protect himself, it will soon be dark, sir, and the stranger will return.” He walked through the rain with Cloud back to the house. He took up a position on one of the chairs at the back of the house out of the rain.

  Cloud stood smoking a cigarette at one of the windows to watch him for a few moments and then shrugged his shoulders.

  Dickie sat at the far end of the table, a sea of plates filled with food at his elbow, Grace was just placing another plate near him.

  “Is this all I get, missus?”

  “You’re in disgrace.” Said George up at the other end of the table.

  “In disgrace? Me? Why?” He began to eat.

  “You put us behind building the first wall and you cost us money,” George ticked the list off on his fingers. “You start a fight and have our wall torn down. We start on the second wall, without your help, rain delays us. When we are about to start on it we have to go and pay another fine for you, and it rains again.”

  “You mean to say I’m in disgrace because of a few silly little things like that? Brothers are hard, heartless creatures.”

  “Especially if they eat you out of house and home.” Said Grace icily.

  “That’s right, missus, especially if they eat….what have I done to you that you should treat me so cruelly?”

  “Do you have all night for me to tell you?”

  “Be quiet, woman.” Ordered George. “Dickie, will you tell me, what were you doing with that barrow?”

  “I decided it was time to go into business for myself.” Said Dickie grandly helping himself to one of the plates of food. Grace just snorted.

  “With old Willow’s barrow?”

  “It was a fine piece of workmanship.”

  “I know it was, about fifty years ago. Do you know he’s been trying to sell that mess for years, everyone in the village said only a fool would buy it.”

  “Wait till he tries to use the money I paid him.” Smiled Dickie filling his mouth to capacity.

  “You gave him some coins from Hong Kong?”

  “Junk, that’s not a bad play on words.” He smiled at his own cleverness. “Hong Kong, Orientals, junk, you get that, Charlie?” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, mate, I got it.”

  “Worthless pieces of metal, I’ve been carrying them for years, best deal I ever made.”

  “Old Willow made a better one,” said George pouring himself a cup of tea, “he sold a pile of junk for some pieces of metal, then he sold the metal to a coin collector in the next village and got five pounds for them.”

  “Why did you have to tell me that while I’m eating, you want to ruin my appetite?”

  “Each!”

  Dickie sat in a trance, his eyes diluted as he stared off into space.

  “Each?”

  “Each.” George took a drink of his tea, Grace just snorted. “What did you pay him for the fish?”

  “Nothi
ng.”

  “The Malayan stuff?”

  “Only a couple, little ones, not worth a farthing.”

  “He got ten pounds for them.” Said George.

  “Ten pounds?”

  “Each.” Said George.

  “I feel ill.” Dickie filled his mouth with food.

  “He’s going into business for himself.” Cackled Grace.

  “I’ve been done. That thieving, old…..” He munched grimly on his food. “What kind of world is this, old men robbing innocent, young lads like myself of their family heirlooms?”

  “Family heirlooms? You’re joking?” Said Charlie.

  “Let that be a lesson to you.” Said George. “If you try to cheat people you deserve to be cheated.”

  “Cheat people? Me?”

  “You thought you’d be clever, didn’t you? You thought you could trick Lord Clumsy into paying for damaging some worthless rubbish.”

  “Lord Clumsy? Never heard of him.” He began to fill his mouth again.

  “Tripped and fell in the muck, didn’t you? Ran into Clumsy when he wasn’t clumsy.”

  “I couldn’t understand that, George, the other day he nearly killed me and I was nowhere near him, today I’m practically standing on his head and nothing happens.”

  “That’s because he was drunk.”

  “He was drunk?” Asked Dickie in surprise.

  “When he’s drunk he’s perfectly normal, as far as clumsiness goes.”

  “You mean when he’s drunk, he’s not clumsy?”

  “That’s it, mate.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Come along, missus, these plates are almost empty. I won’t be in disgrace for much longer, you’ll see.” He smiled as he refilled his mouth.

  Lee found that the nights were becoming monotonously dull at the Haddington mansion. It seemed that apart from a rare visit from some neighbours the only night-time occupation was bridge.

  Occasionally he would attempt to see Cynthia alone, but Winterhaiming was constantly by her side. Haddington and even Cloud would give him discrete help but then Clarence would step in and keep her company.

  If Cynthia saw any of this she made no sign of it.

  “Go after her, boy, go after her.” Haddington mumbled half to himself as he watched Winterhaiming escape the company of Cloud and take Clarence’s place by Cynthia’s side. Lee sat sipping a glass of wine as he exchanged a few words with Lady Marlebone who was fanning herself with a self-satisfied smile on her face. Sir Rupert had retired early as he had exhausted himself having one-way conversations with various inanimate objects.

  “Does your boy always give up so easily?” Asked Haddington grumpily of Cloud who was pouring himself a drink.

  “You say something, Clem?”

  “I said does your boy always give up so easily? It’s a wonder to me he’s won any fights at all.”

  “Give up?” Cloud took up his glass to look at Lee and then across to Cynthia who was smiling and nodding her head slightly as Winterhaiming said something to her. “Oh, I see what you mean.” Cloud took a long drink.

  “Well, does he?”

  “Ain’t it the poets who talk about the course of true love not being smooth?”

  “True love?” Haddington looked at Cloud as if he’d just said something disgusting. “Who’s talking about true love? I was talking about two people who couldn’t possibly be more suited to each other.”

  “You ain’t referring to Reggie and Cynthia?”

  “No, Mr Cloud, I ain’t referring to Reggie and Cynthia.” He said sarcastically.

  “I’ll tell you something, Clem,” he drained his glass, “My boy can take a lot of battering, he can fight his way through a lot of rounds, and in the end he can finish off his opponent and still be able to dance around the ring. I’ve seen him do it.”

  “Yes, and I’ve seen him flat on his back after a few minutes with a certain opponent. A certain opponent, I might add, who looks like taking the prize without a whimper from your boy.”

  They both watched in silence as Winterhaiming and Cynthia strolled from the room arm in arm. Lee sat talking quietly to Lady Marlebone, he cast a quick glance at the departing pair but his face was blank.

  Cloud returned to the table to refill his glass, Haddington looked over at Clarence who was sitting holding an empty glass. He looked smug, Haddington thought, he looked intolerably smug.

  “Refill mine, if you please, Cloud.” He handed his glass to Cloud who nodded. “Are you telling me that you’re not aware how a certain struggle is going against your boy?” Asked Haddington when Cloud handed him his refilled glass.

  “It looks bad, I know.”

  “It looks positively abominable.”

  “You could say that.”

  “I do say it.”

  “I’ve seen it too often, Clem, a fighter punchy and hanging on the ropes, his opponent ploughing in with punch after punch. The crowds telling themselves he’s done, ain’t nothing can save him, he hangs by the strength he’s got in his arms on the ropes, and they’re the only things keeping him up. Suddenly, he’ll lift his head, he’ll come alive, he’ll hit back and his opponent will finish up unconscious.”

  “I don’t see that working in the situation under discussion.”

  “Of course it does, I’ve seen it there too. It’s just like boxing, it’s the same scientific battle, the only difference is there ain’t no referees and there ain’t no time limit.”

  “I find that a quaint description of the relationship between men and women.”

  “Believe me, Clem, when it comes to men and women and what they do to each other, you’re talking to the professor.”

  “Well, professor, how is this particular struggle going to turn out?”

  “See that boy over there?” He pointed to Lee and Haddington nodded.“That’s the winner, it’ll be a knock-out in the last round.”

  “Professor, I’ve always had the highest admiration for supreme optimism.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Lady Marlebone decided it was time for her to retire. She got to her feet and went over to Lord Haddington.

  “Good-night, dear lady.”

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Your Lordship?”

  “Yes, dear lady, it is.” He divined what she was talking about.

  “It warms an old woman’s heart to think how well her daughter has chosen for a companion in life.”

  “Your daughter has made a very wise choice, Lady Marlebone, I’m sure Two-Refs will make her very happy.” Haddington was a little drunk, he knew who Lady Marlebone was talking about, but the nasty side of him was coming to the fore.

  “Oh, I wasn’t referring to that horrid American, I meant young Reggie.”

  “Of course, I should have known.”

  “Goodnight, Your Lordship.”

  “Goodnight.” Haddington sat down heavily in a chair as she breezed out. Cloud and Lee soon followed Lady Marlebone, Haddington sat facing Clarence across the room. He drained his glass and refilled it.

  “Why don’t you join me, Clarence?”

  The solicitor got up and came to take a seat beside the old man. Haddington had taken a cigar from his pocket and had snipped the end off. Clarence leaned forward to light it for him.

  “A drink?” Asked Haddington.

  “No, thank you, Your Lordship, it’s a bit too late for me.”

  “As you wish.” He took a long drink as Clarence watched him carefully.

  “They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”

  Haddington nodded silently, then took a puff on his cigar. “By the way how is Sir Joseph’s state at present?”

  “The same as it’s ever been.” Replied Clarence.

  “Up to his neck in debt?”

  “If it’s possible, even further.”

  “Then, that young lady had better be careful in her choice of a husband.”

  “I think she’s made her choice, and a damned good one. I don’t think there’s a be
tter man than young Reggie Winterhaiming.”

  “Yes.” Said Haddington flatly as he took another drink.

  “I rather flatter myself, Your Lordship, that you value and heed my advice and suggestions.”

  “And so I do, Clarence.”

  “May I make a suggestion, now, Your Lordship?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think young Reggie is about to ask Cynthia to marry him, what a wonderful wedding present it would be if you were to publicly declare him to be your grandson.”

  Haddington seemed to be mulling that over as he sat smoking his cigar. Clarence waited in silence for some time before he spoke.

  “I thought Saturday afternoon would be a good time.”

  “When the house is full of guests.” Said Haddington calmly.

  “That’s right, Your Lordship, if I could drop a hint to Reggie I’m sure he could be induced to keep Cynthia’s answer secret until then. We could make it a double announcement.”

  “You seem pretty certain she’ll accept his proposal.”

  “There’s no doubt about it, Your Lordship, the girl is obviously head over heels in love with him. You’ve only got to see them together, they’re so charming, so…..”

  “Stop being so revolting.” Haddington got to his feet and put his empty glass on the table to refill it, he stood smoking his cigar.

  “If for some insane reason the young woman took it into her head to change her mind, it would be a tragedy, it would break her parent’s hearts.” Said Clarence.

  “Sir Joseph is a tough…..”

  “Sir Joseph is like you, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence firmly. “I know he may be a spendthrift and a fool with money, but he has a passion for his estate, his greatest wish is to leave his estate entirely intact for his beloved daughter.”

  “I could lend the fellow any amount……”

  “He would look upon it as charity, you know how impossibly proud he is.” Haddington stood in silence then drained his glass in a swift movement, then said: “You know, of course, that should she change her mind, her alternative is not completely without means.”

  “Boxing? Last Sunday we watched two gentlemen trying to bash each other’s brains out, one of those chaps has been in the boxing business for ten years, he had to borrow his train fare home.”

  “And if that alternative happens to be my grandson?”

  “Your Lordship could not make a more fatal error.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “All these two chaps are interested in is money, they’ll get every penny they can from you, once the estate passes into their hands, they’ll sell it for all they can get and go back to America.”

  “And Winterhaiming?”

  “He is your rightful heir, he feels a sense of obligation to the estate, he told me so himself, he will not under any circumstances divide it or sell it. He believes he is justified in feeling that obligation, and I completely agree with him.”

  “You can agree with whatever you like and he can feel whatever he likes.” Haddington refilled his glass, he ground his cigar in an ashtray on his right and took a long drink.

  “With all due respect to you, Your Lordship, you’re allowing sentiment to blind you.”

  “You’ve told me that before, Clarence.”

  “And I’ll keep on telling you. These two men are criminals, confidence tricksters.”

  “Where’s your proof?” Snapped Haddington.

  “Proof?”

  “Proof,” Haddington snapped his fingers impatiently, “evidence, you know what evidence is?”

  “At present I only have my instinct.”

  “Your instinct says they’re criminals, my instinct tells me they’re two fine fellows.”

  “There is a difference, Your Lordship, if I’m wrong then my instinct is at fault, but if you’re wrong….”

  Haddington drained his glass and stomped to the door as he spoke.

  “Goodnight, Clarence, I’m tired of discussing this matter with you, my blood pressure always rises when I do so.”

  “If you keep drinking like that, I’m not surprised.”

  Haddington reached the door and stood with it open, he looked back with a blank expression on his face so that Clarence couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Goodnight, Clarence,” he stepped out and suddenly caught the whiff of a familiar aroma, he stopped just outside the open door. “On second thought,” he called back into the room, “I might just carry out your suggestion.” He began to walk over to the stairs. Clarence appeared at the open doorway with a puzzled frown.

  “Your Lordship?”

  Haddington reached the stairs and stopped to look back.

  “I think I’ll announce on Saturday afternoon that Jerome Lee is my grandson. Something wrong?”

  Clarence was peering off to his right. “I thought I heard something.”

  “Probably just a mind being changed. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Your Lordship.” Clarence watched him ascend the stairs, he couldn’t decide if Haddington was joking.

  Lady Marlebone lay slumped on the floor in an alcove just off the main hallway, a half-burnt cigarette lay at her feet. She had heard everything.

  Clarence finished his cigar and was just going to his room when he saw Gilmore carrying a tray on which perched a bottle of whisky.

  “Goodnight, sir.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Garth had sat there for hours staring out into the silent forest. It had been raining all night, now, for the first time it stopped.

  The silence after the rain was unnerving and he found himself turning his head slowly from as far as he could see one side to as far as he could see the other. The house was in complete darkness but as he swung his head to the left he saw the door suddenly swing open out of the corner of his eye. He turned in his chair to look.

  His eyes widened with shock, his mouth fell open and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He tried opening and closing his mouth a couple of times but nothing would come out.

  In the darkness a form was slowly advancing on him, an axe was raised over its head, as it got closer he saw that it was Lord Haddington, he had a wild look in his eyes.

  Garth sprang from the seat just as Haddington shattered it with the axe.

  “Good evening, Your Lordship.” Garth stood facing him and bowed, believing he knew something of the eccentric behaviour of his master and that somehow this would pacify him. Garth was wrong.

  Haddington advanced on him and swung the axe but it sliced through thin air because Garth had wisely taken to his heels. He ran to one tree and stood there panting and shaking.

  “Do something…….do something……” He gasped at the tree. “What do you mean what? You’re a tree aren’t you?” Suddenly Haddington jumped in front of him with the raised axe.“I’m your ……” the axe came down within inches of him to land in the trunk of the tree. “….gardener.”

  “You stupid lunatic,” raved Haddington, “now you’ve got my brother talking to your ridiculous trees.”

  “I’ll tell him to stop, Your Lordship.”

  The axe was raised again but by the time it fell, Garth was running, as he ran he realised someone was running beside him, he turned his head to see the corpse-like stranger, with the cloak and deerstalker hat. His mouth was wide open and his eyes threatened to pop from his head

  As he ran Garth copied him, behind him he could hear one of his trees being chopped to pieces.

  “There he is.” Said Cloud.

  “You stay here, Smoke, I’ll fix him.” Lee crept up on the occupied Haddington and tapped him on the shoulder, as the old man spun to look, Lee caught him with a right to the chin. “Smoke?” Whispered Lee as he propped the unconscious Haddington against the tree.

  “Right here, you got him?” Cloud came walking over.

  It took some time, but Garth’s conscience had got the better of him and he came creeping back with a branch in his hand, looking about carefully for the
stranger.

  He saw a shape standing near one of his beloved trees, apparently resting before striking again, thought Garth, who sprang at it from behind and felled it with a clout to the head. He turned away well pleased with himself, suddenly someone stood in front of him.

  He recognised the cloak and deerstalker hat, his mouth fell open, the whites of his eyes appeared and he fell forward in a swoon.

  “What is it, Smoke?” Lee had Haddington over his shoulder and was walking back to the house with Cloud when the latter suddenly stopped.

  “I thought I heard something.”

  “While I was tracking His Lordship, I kept hearing things, this forest would give anyone the creeps at this time of night.”

  “That’s funny.” Said Cloud

  “What is?”

  “Where’s Clarence?”

  “He must have gone back to the house.”

  “He may be old, but he can sure move.”

  The next morning it was a pale-faced, grumpy Lord Haddington nursing a sore head who sat in silence across from a pale-faced, grumpy Clarence who was also nursing a sore head.

  Gilmore came in silently to put a fresh pot of tea on the table.

  “Stop making so much confounded noise!” Roared Haddington who put his hands over his eyes and joined Clarence in a groan at his own noise.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “A tongue, sir…..”

  “Oh, no.” Groaned Haddington and Clarence together.

  Later in the morning Cloud found Lee sitting playing a friendly game of cards with Lady Marlebone.

  “Two-Refs, pst.” He said discretely from behind a marble column near the two. Lady Marlebone looked up to see Cloud smiling at her, she pointed to Lee and Cloud nodded, she put her hand on Lee’s arm and he looked up, Cloud beckoned to him in silence.

  Lee excused himself and followed Cloud from the room.

  “I wanted to speak to you, Two-Refs.” He whispered.

  “Go ahead.” Answered Lee also in a whisper.

  “Do you know where Miss Marlebone is?”

  “No.”

  “She’s gone into the village.”

  “Good for her.” He was about to return to the room when Cloud grabbed his arm.

  “She’s gone with Winterhaiming.” He was still whispering.

  “I’m glad she’s got an escort.”

  “They’re going to the church.”

  “Why are you whispering, Smoke?”

  “Because…..” He still held Lee by the arm, “never mind,” he said in a normal voice. “Did you hear what I said about the church?”

  “Yes, I heard.” He was very calm.

  “They’re going to see the vicar. You know, the preacher? He performs things, funerals, christenings and ……….”

  “And weddings. So what?”

  “You better shake a leg, boy, or….or…..”

  “Or what?” He faced Cloud calmly, his manager stood before him and scratched his head.

  “I had a fair idea you were dense, boy.”

  “You interrupted my card game, Smoke.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.”

  Lee returned calmly to the room while Cloud took out a cigarette, he walked away mumbling to himself and shaking his head.

  “Ah, how pleasant.” Smiled Lady Marlebone as Gilmore brought in a tray of tea and placed it on a table near an open window. “Shall I pour?” She asked as Gilmore discretely withdrew.

  “I’d appreciate that.” Said Lee relaxed and calm as he sat on the window sill.

  “You must tell me about America sometime, Mr Lee.” She poured a cup, “it sounds such a fascinating place, so uncouth and unciv….” She turned to find an empty window sill. “Mr Lee?” She asked in amazement as she looked about the room. “Mr Lee?”

  He was running even before his feet touched the ground, he ran to the front of the house to see Clarence and Haddington just climbing into a carriage. He jumped in knocking Clarence to the floor.

  “Rogers, go straight to the village, hurry.” He ordered.

  The carriage lurched off and Clarence slid across the floor to thump against the seat.

  “Oh, my head.”

  “We’re not going to the damned village,” said Haddington grumpily, “that nitwit of a brother of mine has gone there, we’re going in the opposite direction.”

  “I should say we are.” Panted Clarence as Lee helped him into a seat.

  “I would appreciate it, Your Lordship, if you would let me off at the village and then you could go on to where-ever you please.”

  “No, my boy, you’re asking far too much of me, I have had ten minutes of his company today and that is surely too long for one day.”

  “Your Lordship is absolutely right.” Said Clarence holding his head.

  “What is so important that you must go straight to the village anyway?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Oh, very well, very well. Rogers!” He turned in his seat to speak to the driver as the carriage sped along.

  “Yes, Your Lordship?”

  “Go straight to the village.”

  “To the church.” Put in Lee.

  “To the church.” Amended Haddington. “And if you should happen to see Sir Rupert along the way I want you to try very hard to run him down.”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.”

  “That has cheered me up.” Said Haddington with what looked like a smile on his lips.

  The morning was cold with gusts of wind now and again. The sky was covered with dark clouds but it had stopped raining the night before and it was a dry day.

  Dickie stood stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together. He stood in a small, side street with another barrow piled high with clothing. He glanced at it just as another gust of wind blew in his face. He closed his eyes as he caught the smell of the clothes and quickly walked to the other corner.

  He stood mumbling to himself about that last old fool who seemed determined to make a pest of himself, continually repeating everything just as he’d done when he’d ordered Dickie and his brothers off the Haddington estate.

  “What have you got here, what have you got here?”

  Dickie was mumbling, ‘clothes.’ I said. ‘What have you got here, hey, what have you got here?’ ‘Clothes,’ I said. Wasted me bleedin’ breath. ‘I can see they’re clothes, young man, but what is a lowly character like yourself doing with such high class material?’ A real bleedin’ comedian. He even had me repeatin’ meself, he even had me repeatin’.’

  Dickie walked up and down a few times and then stood with a puzzled frown.

  “I think he was jokin’.” He said. “I think he was jokin’.” He was looking back at the clothes as a carriage clattered by. He went to the edge of the corner and peeked around; it was Haddington’s carriage alright.

  He was about to walk down the main street when he realised someone might pinch his barrow, he went over to a small boy standing at a shop window.

  “You want a penny, son?”

  “Yeah, mister.”

  “See that barrow over there, you watch if for me, make sure no-one pinches anything and I’ll give you a penny.”

  “No-one will touch that, mister, its old Olsen’s junk, he’s been trying to pay people to take it. You would have to be a mug to want it.” He smiled knowingly.

  “Why, you cheeky little…..” He had his clenched fist held just above the boy’s head when he spotted what looked like the boy’s mother standing in a doorway with her arms folded on her chest watching him.

  “He’s a fine lad, missus,” he patted the boy on the head, “a fine lad.”

  “With a father who doesn’t take kindly to some overgrown lout hitting him over the head.”

  “Nor would I, missus, nor would I.” Dickie ambled away down the street. “He probably wants to keep that pleasure for himself.” He mumbled. He reached the end of the street to lean against a corner shop wall and look across at the carriage outside the front of the church. r />
  “Where is the confounded boy?” Snapped Haddington.

  “We’ve delivered him to the church, Your Lordship, perhaps we can be on our way.” Said Clarence.

  “There’s no need to rush off, surely, I expect he shouldn’t be that much longer.”

  “Sir Rupert…..” Began Clarence.

  “Sir Rupert! Rogers, drive on, drive on.”

  “I was about to say, Sir Rupert could be nearby.”

  “YOUR LORDSHIP!” Came a roar.

  “The vicar. Hold up, Rogers.”

  The vicar came from the side of the church to get up on the step of the carriage.

  “GOOD MORNING, YOUR LORDSHIP, MR CLARENCE.” He roared. Clarence held his head and Haddington closed his eyes as he put two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

  “Perhaps we could walk a little.” Said Haddington in an effort to distance the bellow from his ear.

  “Capital idea, capital.” Said Clarence.

  The three got down from the carriage to walk across the square toward where Dickie stood with his arms folded on his chest.

  “It was a lovely surprise to see Your Lordship, I had intended to visit you later today.”

  “With regard to what, vicar?”

  “Oh, it was not important.” He smiled.

  “We’ve just dropped Mr Lee off at the church, did you happen to see him, vicar?” Asked Clarence.

  A man came out of a side door carrying a tray of pies in his hands and headed toward the three figures, Dickie watched with interest.

  “No, I didn’t. But I did see Miss Marlebone and Mr Winterhaiming. Such a charming couple.”

  “Did you?” Asked Haddington, as he walked on with bowed head. A carriage came thundering by, just missing the man with the tray, who continued on as he looked after it, shaking his fist, he was walking toward Lord Haddington.

  All three had their heads down, Dickie put a hand over his eyes. The man with the tray drew closer, Haddington continued staring at the ground as he walked on. Then at the last moment the old man ducked his head and the tray passed safely over as the pieman was still angrily shaking a fist.

  Clarence was just lighting a cigar as the vicar caught sight of the pieman who threatened to walk into Haddington’s carriage.

  “YOU SIR!” He bellowed in warning and startled Clarence who dropped his cigar.

  Dickie waited with bated breath as Clarence groped on the ground for his cigar, Haddington was continuing on, two more steps and he would step on Clarence’s hand. Dickie brought his hand up to cover his eyes again, but Haddington simply stepped over Clarence’s hand without missing a beat.

  “That settles it,” thought Dickie, “today he ain’t Lord Clumsy.” He decided to go back for his barrow, he even had time to drop in at the pub with such a good name, for a drink or two. “There’s always tomorrow.” He thought as he smiled to himself.

  “Why were they here, vicar?” Asked Clarence as he lit his cigar.

  “Oh, it wasn’t anything important.”

  “Your day seems to be just full of things that are not important, vicar.” Snapped Haddington testily.

  “So a great many people believe, Your Lordship.” He answered with a smile. He accompanied them back to the carriage.

  The carriage rumbled down the main street and as it passed Dickie he raised his hat, Haddington acknowledged it absently. Dickie was smiling and as he pushed the barrow along he hummed to himself.

  “Vicar.” Lee found the vicar on the front step.

  “Hello, Mr Lee.”

  “I was just looking for you, sir.”

  “Were you indeed?” Smiled the vicar.

  “Where is Miss Marlebone?”

  “She’s gone. She was here with her gentleman friend, such a lovely chap,”

  “They discussed something with you?”

  “They did, and I think it’s wonderful.”

  “What date did they set?”

  “Well, they haven’t exactly set a time, but I believe they’ll be making an announcement in a couple of days.

  “Saturday.” Mumbled Lee to himself.

  “That would be so.”

  “Where did they go, vicar?”

  “I believe they were on their way to the next village, in that direction.” He pointed up the main street in the direction Haddington’s carriage was travelling. Lee ran down the steps. “I say, you’re not the best man they were talking about, are you?” Called the vicar.

  “No, I am not.” Called Lee over his shoulder as he ran as quickly as he could, he had to catch up with that carriage.

  Dickie did a little dance of joy as he reached the pub. He turned the barrow with difficulty to face the street side on, and prepared to push it over to the pub itself.

  “Get out of my way!”

  Dickie looked up and the smile disappeared from his lips. “Oh oh.” His mouth fell open. He pulled the barrow one way and found Lee changing course to head for him, he pushed it forward only to find Lee changing his course again to head for him.

  Dickie pulled back with all his might, but he pulled too hard, he backed across the small footpath and as Lee shot past he fell backwards through the display window of the shoe shop, the barrow came halfway into the shop with him.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Asked the owner as he stood over Dickie who lay on his back.

  “What’s the idea of puttin’ that window in people’s way?” Demanded Dickie.

  “What is that dreadful smell?” The owner took out his handkerchief to cover his nose.

  “That’s good honest sweat, mate, try working for a living and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “It smells like rubbish.”

  “Rubbish?” Dickie struggled to his feet. “Rubbish? You poor, deluded fool, it’s just as well your trade is shoes, mate, you’d be lost in the clothing trade.”

  “It smells like that revolting stuff of Olsen’s.”

  “It’s from the city, mate, best quality stuff.”

  “What’s this?” Someone stood outside at the barrow holding up a filthy shirt. “Is someone selling this rubbish?”

  “Get your hands off that, mate, that’s good quality stuff, straight from the city. Too expensive for the likes of you, only a toff would want this stuff.”

  “I’d say only a mug would want it.”

  “This is old man Olsen’s rubbish.” Said another man stopping at the barrow.

  “Quality is something beyond poor twits like you, if you can’t see good stuff when it’s right in front of your eyes, you shouldn’t……” Dickie pulled the shirt away. “Oh, good morning, constable.”

  “For Heaven’s sake,” said the owner, “get this horrible muck out of here, the smell is starting to curl my shoes.”

  “Maybe you should change your socks.” Said Dickie.

  “Come along, Mr Dobkins.”

  “I can explain all this, constable.

  “I’m sure you can, sir.”

  “That’s absolutely amazing, Sir Rupert, how can so much adventure and excitement be compressed into one life?”

  “My friends say it’s a wonder my hair hasn’t turned white, they do, my friends, they say it’s a wonder my hair hasn’t turned white.”

  “You haven’t got any hair, Sir Rupert.”

  “Not now, no, I’ve lost it all, it’s all fallen out, fallen out.”

  “Because of loose living.” Called Dickie from the dock.

  “That’s right, because of loose living……no, that’s not right, no, not loose living. I’ve never lived loose in my life.”

  “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.” Said a bored Dickie half to himself.

  The magistrate had invited Sir Rupert to be a guest on the bench, but every time Sir Rupert spoke he and the magistrate would have a half an hour of conversation, mostly about Sir Rupert’s crowded life. Dickie would lean down with his chin on the railing of the dock.

  “Ah, yes, Mr Dobkins,” smiled the magistrate, “you’ll find Mr Do
bkins a very interesting fellow, Sir Rupert.”

  “Dobkins, Dobkins, who is Mr Dobkins, who is this fellow, Dobkins, hey, who is he?”

  “I’m Mr Dobkins.” Called Dickie impatiently.

  “He’s not violent is he, I say, I hope he’s not the violent type, terrible people they are, violent people, terrible.”

  “I’m not violent.” Called Dickie. “At least I wasn’t before I came in here.”

  “Now, now, Mr Dobkins, Sir Rupert was merely making an observation.”

  “Your honour, couldn’t you just fine me and send me on my way, then Sir Rupert can make all the observations he wants, all the observations….what am I saying?”

  “We haven’t ascertained whether you’re guilty or not, Mr Dobkins.”

  “I’m guilty, your honour.”

  “Guilty? Of everything?”

  “Yes.” Dickie bowed his head.

  “You broke Mr Chandler’s window?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why did you do that, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I took a dislike to it, I thought it was ugly, misshapen.”

  “Oh, dear me.” The magistrate shook his head.

  “May I make an observation?” Asked Sir Rupert, who carried on without waiting for a reply. “Mr Dobkins, you said the window was ugly and misshapen?”

  “Yes, Sir Rupert.”

  “You took a dislike to it and felt it had to be destroyed, you said?”

  “Yes.” Dickie bowed his head again.

  “It’s just a thought, but I wonder if you reacted the way you did because you saw a reflection of yourself in the window?”

  “Charming, oh, that’s charming.” Dickie was nodding his head with suppressed anger.

  “Are you agreeing with Sir Rupert’s observation, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I’d have to be a marvel if I did, I backed into the window, I must have eyes in the back of me bleedin’ head.”

  “He’s using bad language,” gasped Sir Rupert, “he’s using bad language.”

  “You keep irritating me, old man, and you’ll hear bad language.”

  “I say, I say.” Said a startled Sir Rupert.

  “Mr Dobkins,” the magistrate was shaking his head, “Mr Dobkins, I am very disappointed in you, and you a Buddhist, too.”

  “I’m sorry, your honour,” Dickie hung his head as a suitable display of contrition, “I lost control of myself.”

  “I should say you did. It won’t happen again, will it?”

  “No, your honour,”

  “A vicious animal,” Sir Rupert was saying, “a violent man who uses filthy language, look at him ready to spring across the room at us.” Dickie raised his eyebrows then looked over one shoulder and then the other, “shouldn’t he be manacled to that railing?”

  “There’s no need to fear, Sir Rupert, Mr Dobkins may be many things but he’s not violent.”

  “Thank you, your honour,” beamed Dickie, then he thought it over, “I think.”

  “Mr Dobkins, are you saying that you backed into Mr Chandler’s window by accident?”

  “Yes, your honour.”

  “Why did you say you were guilty?”

  Dickie thought that over for a few seconds. “Because I didn’t understand the question, your honour.”

  “You must tell me when you don’t understand a question, Mr Dobkins, if you don’t understand the question, you must not answer it.”

  “Yes, your honour.”

  “A fool,” said Sir Rupert, “the man’s a complete fool.”

  “He’s certainly enlivening the proceedings isn’t he?” Asked Dickie half to himself.

  “Now, Mr Dobkins, you accidentally damaged Mr Chandler’s window?”

  “Yes, your honour.”

  “And naturally, you’ll make full restitution for all the damages?”

  “Absolutely, your honour,”

  “Good, good, well, we’ve got that settled.”

  “I’ll say good day to you, sir.” Dickie gave his blessing and turned to go.

  “Mr Dobkins?”

  “Your honour?”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I thought I’d drop over to the pub…..I must go out to visit the trees and animals, your honour, my religion, you know.”

  “We’re not finished yet, Mr Dobkins.”

  “There’s more?” Grimaced Dickie.

  “Oh, dear me, yes, lots more.” The magistrate turned to Sir Rupert, “I said he’d be a very interesting chap, didn’t I?”

  “A fool, the fellow’s a complete and utter fool.”

  “We’ve got to find out why you had a barrow of foul-smelling rags, Mr Dobkins.”

  “They weren’t what you’d call foul –smelling nor rags, your honour.” Said Dickie proudly.“Good quality stuff, your honour, fit for a king.”

  “Constable?”

  “Your honour.” The constable stood to attention.

  “What was on Mr Dobkin’s barrow?”

  “I wouldn’t call it foul-smelling rags, your honour.”

  “There you are.” Smiled Dickie.

  “I’d call it a load of filthy muck, the smell is still there now, your honour, when Mr Chandler and his assistant tried to enter the shop they both passed out and had to be dragged to safety, all of Mr Chandler’s stock was ruined, the signs and a calendar on his walls all curled up and turned a strange green colour.”

  “The constable may have gotten my barrow mixed up with someone else’s barrow, your honour.”

  “The load seems to have belonged to a farmer Olsen, he was warned some time ago to remove it from his land, Mr Dobkins here appears to have purchased it from him.”

  “You don’t mean to say you paid money for that load?” Asked the magistrate.

  “He wouldn’t take sea shells.” Said Dickie. ‘Only a couple of useless coins from Singapore.’ He thought and chuckled silently.

  “Oh, dear me, Mr Dobkins, dear me.” The magistrate shook his head and had a chuckle, the recorder joined in, then most of those present in the courtroom, except Sir Rupert.

  “The man’s a fool, a complete and utter fool.”

  “You not only had this load of rags, Mr Dobkins,” said the magistrate wiping tears of laughter from the eyes, “you were selling it without a permit.”

  “Well, yes and no, Your honour.”

  “I’ve told you to tell me if you don’t understand a question, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, your honour.”

  “I hope you’ll let me tell you if I don’t happen to understand an answer?”

  “You go right ahead, your honour. “

  “I don’t understand your answer, Mr Dobkins.”

  “There should be no difficulty, your honour.”

  “Perhaps, I’m just a little dense.”

  “Quite alright, your honour, you wouldn’t be a magistrate if you weren’t.” Dickie leaned forward to carry on quickly. “You see I have a permit and I wasn’t selling anything.”

  “You have a permit?”

  “I do your honour.”

  “Where is it, sir, I have your permit to sell fish but not your permit to sell clothes.”

  “Permit to sell clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need a permit to sell clothes.”

  “Yes.”

  “A permit to sell fish doesn’t cover that?”

  “No.”

  Dickie thought that over. “Well, I didn’t get a permit to sell clothes, because I didn’t sell clothes.”

  The magistrate turned to Sir Rupert. “You’ll find this very interesting, Sir Rupert.”

  “I doubt it, I doubt it very much.”

  “Well, Mr Dobkins?”

  “It’s my religion, your honour.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “Yes.” Dickie did his blessing act. “You see, today is a special day.”

  “Another special day?”

  “We call it the giving forth of clothing to our brothers.”


  “And this entailed what exactly?”

  “To show our nobility and generosity of soul it is required that we give all the clothing we possess to anyone we happen to meet.”

  “And you just happened to meet Mr Chandler?”

  “Yes, your honour, that’s right.” Beamed Dickie.

  ‘And what if your brother doesn’t want the clothing?”

  “Ah, well, now that’s his problem, if he were a Buddhist he’d give it to his brother.”

  “Quite a picturesque little religion, isn’t it?”

  “I think so, your honour.”

  “Reminds me of an encounter I had in Singapore some time ago,” said Sir Rupert, “In Singapore it was. A couple of rough characters took it into their heads to rob me, must have taken me for some simpleton.”

  ‘Can’t blame them there.’ Thought Dickie.“Your honour?” He said.

  “Two of them, Sir Rupert?” Asked the magistrate turning his head to listen with interest.

  “Yes, only two, made it equal,” smiled Sir Rupert, “made it equal, you see.”

  “Two of them against one of you?” Asked the magistrate.

  “Your honour?” Dickie stifled a yawn.

  “They overlooked the fact that I happened to be carrying my cane.”

  “It must have been a terrible experience for you, Sir Rupert.”

  “It was, old boy, it was, I can tell you.”

  “Your honour, couldn’t you just fine me and I’ll be on my way?” Called a bored Dickie.

  “Ten pounds, Mr Dobkins.” He said looking at Dickie and then back to Sir Rupert. “And you managed to fight them off?”

  “Thank you, your honour,” smiled Dickie with a wave of his hand he turned to go. “Ten….ten……”

  “Bashed their brains out, bash, bash. Made a horrible mess on my cane.”

  “Something wrong, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I was talking about a fine, your honour, not bankruptcy.”

  “You damaged Mr Chandler’s window, Mr Dobkins, and a great deal of his stock.”

  “What kind of stock was it, gold?”

  “With your honour’s permission?” Chandler stood up in the well of the court.

  “Yes, Mr Chandler?” Sir Rupert had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

  “It’s obvious to me that Mr Dobkins is some poor half-wit with very little money.”

  “Mr Chandler seems to have excellent vision, absolutely excellent.” Said Sir Rupert coming awake suddenly.

  “The court won’t argue with Mr Chandler.”

  “Thank you, your honour,” Chandler bowed, “so, the way I see it, I’ll have to pay for all the damage myself.”

  “The court won’t argue with that.” Said Dickie as he bowed in imitation of Mr Chandler.

  “Mr Dobkins,” said the magistrate calmly, “I do hope you’re not treating this business with levity?”

  “Absolutely not, your honour.”

  “It’s a very serious matter, this destruction of private property at your hands, which you seem unable to control.” Dickie gave his blessing and bowed his head in shame. “You were saying, Mr Chandler?”

  “With the court’s permission I believe Mr Dobkins could give me so many hours a day to work in my shop to allay some of the costs.”

  “That seems to be an excellent idea, how does that suit you, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I must apologise to the court, I am pressed for time. I shall only be here a short time, then I must return to London, I have a very heavy season ahead of me.”

  “Mr Dobkins, it seems to me you have three choices. Pay the damages, comply with Mr Chandler’s scheme or…..”

  “Or, your honour?”

  “Go to jail.”

  Dickie thought that over for a short time then smiled at Mr Chandler. “Would three hours a day be sufficient, Mr Chandler?”

  “I’d be satisfied with that…..”

  “So would I.” Dickie was starting his blessing.

  “For the next three months.”

  “It’s the window and stock I ruined,” called Dickie, “I didn’t tear down the whole building.”

  “Mr Dobkins…..” Said the magistrate.

  “It was only a small window at that, and only a couple of pairs of shoes.”

  “Mr Dobkins, would six months in jail be more suitable?”

  “Your honour does have a sense of humour.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Dickie was smiling crookedly. “Three months, you said Mr Chandler?” He asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I think I can do that.”

  “That is nice, Mr Dobkins,” smiled the magistrate.

  “Well, I’ll be off then.” He waved and turned to go.

  “Mr Dobkins?”

  “Mr Chandler is waiting for me, your honour.”

  “We’ve not finished here.”

  “We’re not?”

  “There’s this little matter of a public nuisance.”

  “He seems to be asleep, your honour.” Murmured Dickie.

  “Pardon, Mr Dobkins?”

  “I was just asking the court’s forgiveness, your honour.”

  “And this court willingly gives it to you.”

  “Thank you, Your Honour,” he bowed, gave his blessing and turned to go.

  “Mr Dobkins?”

  “Something else, Your Honour?” Dickie returned to the dock.

  “The court thinks that you are aware of the seriousness of your position.”

  “I am, Your Honour, I am.”

  “It believes you’re making a sincere effort to restore the damage you’ve done. That you’ll not appear in this court ever again on charges of being a public nuisance, or trading without a permit.”

  “The court need have no fear of that, Your Honour.” Dickie gave his blessing.

  “That’s why I’ve decided to be lenient with you.”

  “Is it absolutely necessary for the court to be lenient with me?” Dickie leaned on the dock with a bored expression.

  “Would two pounds be lenient enough for you, Mr Dobkins?”

  “Two pounds is just about all the leniency I can afford for today, Your Honour.”

  “I am pleased.”

  “Thank you, Your Honour.”

  The constable was leading him from the dock.

  “That man! That man there, I know him!” Roared Sir Rupert suddenly and everyone in the court froze. Sir Rupert pointed at Dickie. “The fellow’s a ruffian, an overgrown bully, he wouldn’t let me examine his wares this morning, he threatened me with bodily violence. Arrest that fellow.”

  “Sir Rupert, we’ve already dealt with Mr Dobkins.” Soothed the magistrate.

  “I hope you threw the book at him, that’s what I hope, you threw the book at him.”

  “Constable,” murmured Dickie softly, “is murder a serious crime in this area?”

  “It is, sir.”

  “More serious than what I was charged with this morning?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then, constable, get me out of this court before I do something more serious than what I was charged with this morning.”

  “This way, if you please, sir.”

  A plan was worked out with Chandler between him and Dickie’s brothers. Dickie would go to his shop every day after dinner.

  Three very grim brothers came walking back home in the afternoon.

  “Two pounds ain’t bad.” Said Dickie suddenly. George stopped and stood looking at him. “Is it?” Then George sprung at his throat.

  “George!” Charlie grappled with him as Dickie’s face turned purple.

  “Tomorrow, at first light,” gasped George, “we are going to start on the wall, we will finish it before dinner time.”

  “Keep this up,” panted Dickie, “and the only thing you’ll be doing at first light is burying me.”

  “Don’t think that hasn’t crossed my mind.” Said George as Charlie dragged him away. “I warn you Richard.”

&n
bsp; “Do you, George?” Dickie was rubbing his throat.

  “One more interruption or one more unnecessary expense because of you, and you will be buried at first light, alive.”

  “While you’re shovelling dirt on me, I’ll be shovelling dirt on that American.” Dickie narrowed his eyes as he visualised the pleasure he’d feel.

  “You’ve been warned, Richard.”

  “Yes, George.”

  “Next time Charlie won’t stop me.”

  “No, George.”

  They continued on their way.

  Haddington was at a loss. He sat stroking Miss Blackie as she sat at his side purring. He was watching Lady Marlebone playing bridge with Lee, Cloud and Clarence. Cynthia and Winterhaiming had gone off to stroll arm in arm. They were up to something, he thought grimly, they had done a lot of mysterious whispering and laughing.

  He had caught sight of Lee watching them, his face blank and to all appearances uninterested. Haddington couldn’t understand it, had his plan gone astray so badly? Lady Marlebone should have been doting over Lee, she wasn’t. Cynthia, under orders from her mother, should have been hanging on every word Lee spoke, yet she had become inseparable from that tiresome, Haddington winced as he thought of the word, Winterhaiming.

  There was something else he had noticed, it was Cynthia, she was different, stronger more her own boss, quite attractive really.

  Haddington had no idea of the scene between mother and daughter early that morning where Lady Marlebone had indeed laid down the law with her new instructions.

  She faced another Cynthia, a Cynthia that left her mother speechless with amazement.

  “What did you say, my girl?” She demanded as soon as she got her voice back.

  “I said that you should mind your own business, mother, I know what I’m doing.”

  The night passed as monotonously as the others. Haddington did not suffer any indisposition.

  Friday morning dawned bright and sunny but cold. A bleary-eyed Dickie hung between his two brothers who were supporting him.

  “We’ve got a busy day before us.” Said George grimly as they dragged Dickie out to the half-finished wall.

  “You said at first bleedin’ light, it’s still dark.” Muttered Dickie.

  “Open your eyes.” Ordered George.

  “Alright they’re open, it’s still dark.”

  “It’s light enough to work by.” Said Charlie.

  Lee was on his morning run when he spotted Marlowe, he was sitting under a tree smoking his pipe as he wrote in a small notebook.

  “Morning.” Said Lee as he sat down beside him.

  “Good morning, Lee, it looks like being a beautiful day.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like a drink? Only water I’m afraid.” He held up a flask.

  “Thanks, I’m surprised to see you here today, I thought you only came here on the week-ends.”

  “Annual holidays, old boy.”

  Lee took the flask and had a drink. “Did you find your net?”

  “I did as a matter of fact,” he held up the pole with pieces of netting hanging from the end, “a bit of a mess, I’m afraid, it looks as if something got caught in it and clawed its way free.”

  “Yes.” Lee looked at it.

  “Lord Haddington has a new guest?”

  “Has he?”

  “I’ve seen his boot prints in the trees, usually close to the house.”

  “I wonder who he is.” Mused Lee.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “No, some of our people thought they saw someone at the windows, it must be him.”

  “How strange.” Murmured Marlowe.

  “I thought you said there were no secrets in the area?”

  “It may have no connection, but there has been a stranger in the village asking questions about you and your friend, Cloud.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know and nor does anyone in the village, a queer looking chap by all accounts, a dark cloak and a deerstalker cap.”

  “What sort of questions did he ask?”

  “I have no idea, I’ve not seen him, I’ve only heard it at second hand.”

  “If it’s the same fellow, he gave the people at the house quite a fright when they saw him.”

  “According to the villagers who’ve seen him, he is a bit of a frightful sight.”

  “My lads have seen him, he’s like a walking corpse.”

  Lee and Marlowe looked at each other and then looked up. Garth was laying flat on a branch looking down at them.

  “Good morning, Mr Garth.” Said Marlowe.

  “Morning.” He swung down to pick up the flask and held it up to Marlowe, “do you mind?”

  “Help yourself.”

  In quick gulps Garth emptied the flask.

  “Did you say your lads have seen him?” Asked Lee.

  “Yeah.” He spotted Marlowe’s sandwiches.

  “Would you like…..a sandwich?” Asked Marlowe as Garth reached down to take a bite from one.

  “No thanks.” He munched on it merrily until he spotted the net. “Useless,” he kicked at it, “those ruddy things are useless.”

  “What did your….” Lee gave a lopsided grin to Marlowe, “lads say about this fellow?”

  “They don’t like him, he frightens ‘em,” he finished the sandwich and picked up another, “now, Wobert, he’s terrified of him, can’t sleep at night sometimes.”

  “Wobert?” Asked Marlowe.

  Garth stopped munching on his sandwich and cocked his head to one side as he looked at Marlowe. “Something wrong with your mouth?”

  “You said Wobert.”

  “I didn’t say Wobert, I said Wobert.”

  “Oh.”

  “Twit.” Muttered Garth as he returned to his sandwich. “Poor Woger,” he shook his head, “now he’s very scared of this chap.”

  “Who is he?” Asked Lee.

  “He’s one of my oldest lads, he’s a big fella, just up that way….”

  “Not Woger.”

  “Woger?” Asked Garth.

  “I mean Roger, who is this stranger?”

  “How should I know.” Garth finished the sandwich, he looked down and pointed to the last sandwich left. “You want that?” He asked Marlowe.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Thanks.” He picked it up to munch on it.

  “Mr Garth, you mean to say this stranger has been terrifying your…..lads and they don’t know who he is?” Asked Lee.

  “No, they don’t. Probably a ghost, come back to haunt the forest, a long dead woodchopper or something.”

  “I don’t think it’s a ghost,” said Marlowe, “this fellow leaves footprints and questions people in the village.”

  “Ghosts are funny things, I know, they appear in cafes, they look like you and me, order food, eat it and disappear without paying.” Said Garth.

  “I’ve met ghosts like that, in fact a few of my friends are ghosts.” Said Lee.

  “Told you.” Said Garth as he finished off the sandwich.

  “I’d appreciate it, Mr Garth, if your lads learn anything you’d let me know.” Said Lee.

  “You think you could take your arm off Eddy’s leg?” Lee looked where his arm was resting on the root of a tree, he shifted it, “good lad, he suffers cramp in that leg. It doesn’t help some ruddy lump putting his muscle-bound limb on him.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Cucumber.” Garth shook his head at Marlowe, “nasty stuff, next time make it something different, I’ll have indigestion all day now.”

  “Really?” Said Marlowe haughtily.

  “It’s too late to say you’re sorry, you should have told me before I ate ‘em.”

  “Before you made a pig of yourself.”

  “That’s right.” Garth was walking away then stopped. “I’ll tell you one thing my lads told me. You mark my words, there’s going to be a wedding at the old Lord’s house before too long.”

  “A we
dding?” Asked Marlowe.

  “Whose wedding?” Asked Lee.

  “I don’t know any ruddy names, my lads don’t pry into things that don’t concern ‘em, all Jack would say was, tiresome, tiresome, then he laughed, silly lump. Good day, gentlemen.” He strode off.

  “What on earth does he mean?” Asked Marlowe.

  “Beats me,” he got to his feet, “thanks for the drink.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Lee took off to run back to the house.

  “The man is a greedy pig, an uncouth greedy pig,” snapped Marlowe, suddenly a branch fell from above to land on him, “what the……”

  Then there was a shower of branches that left him buried.

  Dickie leaned up against the house, he was half asleep.

  “It’s hard to believe,” Charlie was saying, “the bleedin’ thing’s finished.”

  “Keep Dickie away from it.” Said George.

  “Are you satisfied now?” Demanded Dickie as they came up to him, “maybe you’d like it painted.”

  “Now, there’s a good idea.” Smiled Charlie as he looked at George. Dickie looked at him with narrowed bleary eyes.

  “Mr Chandler’s waiting for you, you better be on your way.” Ordered George.

  “What about dinner?’

  “Oh, yeah, here.” He handed Dickie a piece of bread from his pocket.

  “What’s this supposed to be?”

  “Your dinner.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “There’s no need to be so harsh, George.” Said Grace coming out of the house, “Richard has worked very hard he deserves a good dinner.”

  “Thanks, missus.” Smiled Dickie.

  “Here you are.” She handed him a second piece of bread.

  “Missus,” said a shattered Dickie, “all the affection and all the respect I’ve showered on you, and you do this to me.” He looked glumly at the bread then ate it quickly with his feet shuffling the dust as he shambled off.

  “Come back here,” ordered Grace, “despite all this affection and respect you’ve showered on me, your dinner is inside.”

  “Missus,” Dickie raced back to grab her hand to kiss it.

  “I can always change my mind.” She said sternly, Dickie dropped her hand and stepped back hurriedly.

  “Come on.” George slapped him on the shoulder and with a smile led him into the house. Charlie looked at the wall, sighed with satisfaction and followed them.

  Dickie wore a satisfied grin on his face as he walked into the village whistling merrily after a hearty lunch with plenty of liquid refreshment.

  He came down a side street and his smile slipped a little as he passed the figure of a man laying unconscious on the ground receiving aid from a few of his friends. He reached the corner and found the scene repeated.

  “The winds’ shifted.” Came a call from the main street, Dickie reached the edge of the footpath and looked up the street as a crowd of men came running down.

  “You’d best get out of here, mate.” Said one of them to Dickie as he was taken up in the throng.

  “Why is that, mate?” Smiled Dickie.

  “The stink from Chandler’s shop is blowing this way now.”

  “Drove us away from the pub.” Said another one angrily. “I reckon the bloke that did that should be strung up by his thumbs.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Agreed those around him grimly.

  “Yeah.” Said Dickie with a worried grin.

  “Just the man I’ve been looking for.” A strong hand grabbed Dickie about the shoulders and dragged him from the crowd.

  “Good afternoon, constable.” He smiled and saw Chandler standing there also. “Mr Chandler.”

  “Will you look at what you’ve done?” Chandler pointed up the street at the disappearing crowd. “You put that mess in my shop, now you can clear it out. No one can get near it.”

  “Supposing I can’t get near it, what if I pass out?”

  “You won’t pass out, sir.” Said the constable.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “If you did you’d have to face the magistrate again, Sir Rupert is still with him.”

  “Just a moment, Dobkins.” Called Chandler as Dickie set off toward the shop.

  “Yes?”

  “How did you propose to shift the stuff?”

  “Me barrow’s still there.”

  “You have to clear out all the stock as well.” Chandler signalled down the street and a horse-drawn cart rumbled up. “This is Mr Mason’s cart,” an old man smoking a pipe got down to hand the reins to Dickie, “I’ve hired it for the day, I want you to put everything in it and take it out to Clarke’s farm, he has an incinerator and will burn the lot.”

  “Right.” Dickie got up as old Mason strode ahead and turned to smoke on his pipe as he watched in silence.

  “Don’t be all day about it.”

  “Right.” Dickie flicked the horse with the reins, it whinnied, reared up and sped off, the front of the cart came loose and left Dickie sitting in surprise as the reins slipped through his hands. Mason calmly caught the horse and walked it back.

  “You have to watch the pin, it’s a bit loose.” Said Mason working the horse back in and handing Dickie the reins.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Why don’t you fix it?”

  “I know it’s loose, why should I bother to fix it?”

  “I had to ask didn’t I?” Said Dickie impatiently as he gently tapped the horse and it ambled off.

  “Good luck, mate.” Called a man standing in one of the side streets.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Nodded Dickie.

  “Goodbye.” Called another.

  “When I come back, mate, I’ll be looking for you.”

  “I’m safe then.” He smiled.

  As he got closer Dickie began to get a whiff of the smell, he felt dizzy, he began to nod in the seat.

  “Sir Rupert, Sir Rupert.” He said to wake himself up and his head began to clear instantly, he took out his handkerchief and tied it around his mouth so that he looked like a bandit.

  He pulled up outside the shop, his barrow still stuck out with the pile of rags, here and there a bird or a butterfly lay on their backs, their wings stuck out flat.

  “That’ll teach you lot,” he went around to the front of the horse, “why hasn’t it affected you? I said, why…….” The horse stood with its eyes closed, “never mind.”

  He went into the shop and came upon a man laying unconscious on his back. Dickie went over to prod him in the stomach with the toe of his boot.

  “Hey, mate,” he called, but the figure didn’t stir, “a looter, hey? You’ve certainly learnt a lesson, the constable will be very interested in you.”

  He left the man and went over to look at the pile of rags. “Blimey.” He said as he caught the full smell. He took up the rags by the armful and carried them out to the cart. Once he’d done that he looked at the stock, most of the shoes were twisted all out of shape, except one or two pair, he sat on a chair and tried some on.

  “He’ll never miss ‘em.” Smiled Dickie. Suddenly the shoes that seemed to be untouched on the shelves sprang into the air and fell to pieces, he looked down at the shoes on his feet and they did the same, so that a few strips of leather were all that remained. He felt the chair under him wobble but he wasn’t quick enough and it too fell to pieces dropping him to the ground.

  Dickie got up and put his own shoes back on and tried to clear up the mess as best he could. He carried out the bits and pieces to put on the cart.

  The store had been cleaned out of just about everything and Dickie stood at the front of the cart with his hands on his hips. He heard a groan from the shop and he looked over. The figure sat up with his back to Dickie.

  “Where am I? Where in the name of Heaven am I,” he looked up at a shadow on the wall, “well, speak up, sir, haven’t you got a tongue?”

  “Oh, no
.” Groaned Dickie and spun around quickly to pick up the reins, “giddup, giddup.” He called as he lashed the horse, it whinnied, reared up, and took off, leaving Dickie standing there at the front of the cart.

  “Come back here, you stupid, old…..”

  “Who’s that?” Sir Rupert got to his feet and came out of the shop, Dickie stood motionless, frozen to the spot, “who’s that, I say. Who is it?” He put his walking stick under his arm and searched his pockets for his glasses until he found them, he looked up at Dickie.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” Said Dickie.

  “A ruddy bandit,” Sir Rupert grabbed his cane, “a damn bandit,” he jabbed Dickie in the stomach and as he bent over double Sir Rupert hit him over the head, Dickie fell backwards on the pile of rags and stared up at the cloudy sky. “Damn bandit, filthy creatures,” Sir Rupert muttered to himself as he strode away, “can’t have ever heard of such a thing as a bath,” Sir Rupert held up his handkerchief to his nose, “filthy swine.”

  “This must be the end of a perfect day.” Said Dickie as he got to his feet and winced as he felt his sore head.

  “Ruddy filthy bandit back there, a bandit, a filthy fellow, back there.” Said Sir Rupert to the constable as he reached the small knot of people.

  “We have the matter under control, Sir Rupert.”

  “Don’t try and catch him, high, the fellow’s high, chase him out with a bucket of water, or soap, show him soap and you’ll not stop him.” Continued Sir Rupert as he went on his way.

  “Go back,” Mason was telling the horse, “go back.”

  Dickie sat morosely on the seat of the cart with his chin in his hands, he heard the twitter of birds as they regained their senses and flew away to be followed by the butterflies.

  “Cowards.” He mumbled. The horse came trotting back. “I thought you would. Sir Rupert was up there wasn’t he?” The horse whinnied and reared.“Alright, it was just a joke.” Dickie soothed him and got him back onto the front of the cart.

  He gave a light tap to the horse’s rump and it set off up the street. He passed people who cheered and clapped him, he stood up, took off his hat, and bowed.

  “It’s safe now, lads. Sir Richard has rescued you.” He called and smiled.

  Lee had seen neither of them all morning, he asked Cloud, Clarence, Haddington and Lady Marlebone, but they had no idea where the two ‘young people’ had gone to, finally he met Gilmore in the corridor.

  “I believe they were going into the village, sir, I was under the impression they were going to see the vicar, Mr Winterhaiming said something…” Gilmore saw a speck of dust on a side table and turned his head slightly as he reached down with the point of his finger to pick it up, he made a mental note that he must speak to the maid whose task it was to take care of such things, Heaven knew a great deal wasn’t asked of them, servants, he thought primly…… “about making the final arrangements….” The corridor was empty. “Sir?” He did a slow turn but there was no-one there beside himself. “Yanks.” He muttered as he went looking for that maid.

  Lee ran for all he was worth, he crossed the path in front of the house in quick, easy strides and cut through the forest. He ran as if all the happiness in the world depended on it, which to him, did just that.

  He knocked a low hanging branch out of his way and it fell to the ground with a loud snap.

  “What was that?” Garth was sitting on one of Henry’s feet smoking a cigarette, he got slowly to his feet and turned around to see Lee bearing down on him, he jumped back as Lee shot past and allowed his cigarette to come into contact with Henry’s trunk. “You crazy fool!” He called after Lee as he shook his fist. A branch came from the sky to land on his head, “Henry.” He said, his eyes rolled up and he fell unconscious to the ground.

  Dickie’s cart came rumbling up the road, he passed George’s house on his right just down a small slope. He waved to George, Charlie and Grace who all waved back, he was whistling merrily to himself, then as the horse began to climb the incline of the road, he saw Lee.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Get out of my way.” Panted Lee as he came running down toward him.

  “I’m not in your way, mate.”

  “Get out of my way!” He shouted as he shot past, the horse whinnied, reared up and ran for its life. Naturally it took only the reins and the shafts with it.

  Dickie stood up with his hands on his hips. He jumped down on the road. “Come back here, you stupid….” Behind him the wagon gave a strange groan, Dickie stood looking up the road, the groans continued at regular intervals, but growing fainter and fainter.

  “Please,” Dickie raised his eyes to the sky, “make it that the wagon has fallen to pieces, please don’t make it roll back and……..”

  There was a loud crash and an all too familiar rumble.

  “What’s happened? What’s happened?” Dickie heard the hysterical voice of Grace, he didn’t dare turn around to look. “What’s that terrible smell? Charlie, stop George, he’ll kill Dickie with that!”

  Dickie was running. “Did I ask for something all that difficult?” He said to the sky. “Next Sunday, nothing in the plate, I’ll teach you.”

  He passed the horse and was a cloud of dust up the road, he ran until he couldn’t run another step, he lurched off the road to fall flat on his face in the forest, he rolled over on his back and lay gasping for breath, it took some time, but finally his heart stopped pounding and his chest stopped heaving as he got his breath. He turned on his side to contemplate his future, if George or Charlie got their hands on him he’d have no future. He glanced up glumly.

  “My God, what an ugly tree,” he muttered, “that must be the ugliest tree I’ve ever seen.” And he chuckled, he was reaching in his pockets to see if he had any food when a branch came plummeting from above, then another and finally a third, to bury the unconscious Dickie.

  “Oh, yes, they were here.” Smiled the vicar. “A lovely couple, a really lovely couple.”

  “This morning?” Asked Lee.

  “Yes, that’s right, just before lunch. A lovely……”

  “They made the final arrangements?”

  The vicar looked at him suspiciously. “What passed between us, I’m afraid, Mr Lee, must remain a secret, that’s a pledge I gave Miss Marlebone.”

  Lee got a sudden, bright idea. “I’m the best man.”

  “Are you?” The vicar wore a puzzled frown, Lee nodded, “that’s strange, they said the best man wouldn’t be here until tomorrow, he was supposed to be coming from London, did they change their minds.”

  “Tomorrow, from London?” Muttered Lee as he clattered down the aisle of the church.

  “I say, Mr Lee.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll be here tomorrow?”

  “Oh, yeah, for rehearsal you mean?”

  “I suppose so.” The vicar was scratching his head.

  “Yeah, I’ll be here,” he walked to the door of the church, “if I’m not here, start without me.”

  “Of course…..” Lee ran down the steps and across the square, “wait a minute,” the vicar went to the door, “start without you? That’s impossible. Mr Lee!” He roared but Lee ran up the main road. “Dear me, Americans.” The vicar went back into his church shaking his head.

  When Lee reached the edge of the village a small crowd had congregated by the side of the road, he stopped to get his breath and walked over to join them, they were all looking down the slope at George’s house.

  The cart lay in shattered pieces, crushed against the fallen wall.

  Grace lay in a faint on the ground as Charlie fanned her, the constable stood over them taking notes.

  Lee found some of the men chuckling. “They say the big fellah from the city did it and took off for the hills.” Laughed one.

  “I saw a berserker looking something like George Dobkins with an axe charging the trees up there.” Said another with a laugh and they all joined in.

  “Hello.” One of the men
stood with his hands in his pockets smoking a pipe, they all looked in the direction he was looking. Lee followed their gaze.

  The constable had dropped his notebook and put his hand to his head, he swayed and finally fell to the ground, a short time later Charlie did the same. Suddenly a couple of men in front did the same.

  “The wind’s shifted.” Roared a terrified voice, “run for your lives! Run for your lives!”

  There was a wild stampede and in a matter of seconds not a soul stood at the side of the road. Lee was flying up the road and into the trees.

  He returned to the house dispirited and tired, but when he realised that they hadn’t returned as he had imagined, his spirits sank even lower. He sat glumly with Cloud out in the sunshine and passed the afternoon away.

  “I’ve been thinking, Smoke.”

  “Yeah, about what, Two-Refs?”

  “Going home.” Cloud turned his head quickly.

  “Are you crazy?” Lee sat with his hands clasped on his stomach, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “It’s that Marlebone dame, ain’t it? I knew she’d be trouble. Look, pal, after Clem tells everyone that you’re his grandson you’ll be up to your ears in dames, the country’s crawling with ‘em, all looking for rich husbands.” Cloud lit a cigarette.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said once you’ve got dough…..”

  “Smoke, has the old Lord said anything to you about claiming me as his grandson?”

  “Not in so many words, he ain’t, but it’s a sure……”

  “Has he said anything about Winterhaiming?”

  “I ain’t heard anything, why do you ask?”

  “Because it’s obvious.” Lee got to his feet to stride up and down.

  “It is?”

  “Don’t you see? Old Haddington is going to claim Winterhaiming as his grandson.”

  “He can’t do that.”

  “He’s probably going to do it tomorrow, in fact I’ll lay a hundred that’s what he’s going to do.”

  “You haven’t got a hundred.” Said Cloud.

  “She is one cold-blooded woman.”

  “Is she?”

  “She’s got Winterhaiming snared, they’ve already completed their wedding arrangements.”

  “Wedding arrangements? Two-Refs, what are you talking about?”

  “I’ve got to see her and stop her.”

  “Two-Refs…….” Lee was striding off.

  “Don’t you see, Smoke? She’ll have Winterhaiming announce it tomorrow and then the old man will make his announcement? I have to stop her from making the worst mistake she’ll ever make.”

  “Two-Refs, come back here.” Cloud went after him but Lee’s legs were longer and he disappeared into the house. “Crazy fool.”

  “He’s right, you know.” Clarence came from behind a tree smoking a cigar.

  “Have you got another one of those?” Cloud pointed to the cigar as he tossed his cigarette away.

  “Certainly.” Clarence took one from his pocket and handed it to Cloud and lit it for him.

  “Right about what?” Cloud returned to his seat while Clarence went to the seat vacated by Lee.

  “About the double announcement tomorrow.”

  “Are you telling me Clem is about to accept that….that…..”

  “Reginald Winterhaiming.”

  “Yeah, as his grandson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Clem tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “In other words, he didn’t say what he’s going to do?”

  “I think that if you were to use your eyes, my dear fellow, the conclusion is obvious.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Miss Marlebone is a very clever young woman.”

  “Okay, she’s got some brains, so what?”

  “Apparently you seem to be the only person in the whole area who isn’t aware that Winterhaiming and she are making arrangements to be married.”

  “Okay, they’re a swell pair, I hope they’ll be very happy together, but what’s that got to do with Two-Ref’s claim?”

  “Come, come, my dear fellow, Lady Marlebone and her husband are in desperate straits right now, they need money urgently, need I say more?”

  “I don’t get your drift, Clarence.”

  “Lord Haddington is going to claim Reginald Winterhaiming as his grandson tomorrow. Your boy, as you so quaintly call him, has lost.”

  “I don’t see that.”

  “Because you refuse to accept the obvious.”

  “This Winterhaiming character is well off, right now, ain’t he?”

  “He’s not poor, but he’s not that well off. This estate will make him more than well off.”

  Cloud puffed on his cigar.

  “Well, this little shindig tomorrow is going to be a real humdinger, I think we’ll just stick around to hear it officially.”

  “I would like to offer you a friendly suggestion, Cloud.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Don’t stick around.” Clarence got to his feet. “I did warn you. The authorities are on your tracks right this minute, any delay could be….fatal.”

  “Just what do you mean by that?” Demanded Cloud angrily. “You keep saying this, that and the other about police being on our tracks. Two-Refs and I ain’t got nothing to hide.”

  “If you say so, old chap.”

  “You bring on these authorities.”

  “Have no fear of that, Cloud.” Clarence strode off toward the house. Cloud sat puffing on his cigar in angry silence.

  Clarence came striding along the back corridor with a pleased smile on his face, puffing his cigar.

  “Well, sir, haven’t you got a tongue…..”

  Clarence halted at a corner when he heard the familiar voice, he tiptoed back the way he’d come and disappeared through a side door.

  “Speak up,” Sir Rupert was jabbing his cane at a large pot plant, “well, God gave you a tongue, you poor, skinny fool, speak up.”

  Lee stood to one side as they came strolling down the corridor from the front door, the late afternoon sun came streaming in as Gilmore closed the door.

  “Well, did you two have a nice day?” Lee asked sullenly.

  “How very kind of you to ask, Mr Lee, we had a charming day, didn’t we, Reginald?”

  “We certainly did, my dear Cynthia.”

  “Miss Marlebone, may I have a word with you?” He asked as they strode past.

  “Perhaps a little later, Mr Lee, I’m frightfully busy.”

  “Cynthia, I want to talk to you.”

  “I say…..” Began Winterhaiming.

  “If you ever learn to speak to a lady in a correct tone of voice, Mr Lee, I might spare a few moments to speak to you. Until then, good afternoon, sir.” Cynthia strode off, Lee was about to follow but Winterhaiming stood in his way.

  “As you are a foreigner and a guest of his Lordship, Lee, I shall restrain myself sufficiently to overlook you want of manners.” Lee stared at him coldly. “In future you will conduct yourself in a gentlemanly fashion should you ever find yourself in the presence of Miss Marlebone. If you do not, sir, I shall be forced to thrash you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly.” Said Lee icily.

  “Then I shall say good day to you, sir.” Winterhaiming turned on his heels and strode off.

  Haddington poked his head around the corner, he had heard everything.

  “Go after her, my boy.” He whispered, “go on.” Lee turned to look at him. “Don’t be afraid of that blighter, you’re a boxer, knock him out.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” said Lee, “but I’ll let it pass just now.” He walked in the opposite direction.

  “Don’t go away, Two-Refs, don’t give up.” Haddington stood watching him grimly. “Oh, damn.” He muttered.

  “Clemmie.” Sir Rupert came from nowhere to put his hand on Haddington’s shoulder. Haddington jumped in fright.

  “If you ev
er,” gasped the old man, “if you ever dare to attempt to frighten the life out of me like that again, I’ll…..I’ll strangle you.”

  “Clemmie, I’ve done something terrible, something really terrible.”

  “Have you?” Haddington walked away completely disinterested.

  “I’m afraid, old man, I’ve killed one of your servants, I’ve killed him. A skinny chap he was, I used my cane a little too hard, cut the bounder in half. His body is lying in the rear corridor.

  “Good, I’ll send for the police.” Called Haddington cheerfully.

  “You don’t mean to say you’re going to turn me over to the police, your only brother?”

  “Only if there’s a possibility you’ll be hanged.”

  “How can you be so heartless, Clemmie, how can you be so heartless?”

  Haddington reached the end of the corridor, stopped and turned to face his brother. “It’s easy, Rupert, it’s easy.” And went on his way.

  “I’ve got to hide, I’ve got to hide.” Sir Rupert was in a panic, but he collected his wits about him to make himself scarce.

  “If only it were true,” Haddington was shaking his head as he walked along mumbling to himself, “if only it were true.”

  One of the maids came upon the dismembered plant.

  “Well, I never.” She said. She looked at the half plant standing in the pot, then she looked up at the top of the window before which the plant had been standing, she could see a leaf caught there.

  The plant was one of those long, leafy drooping things that grew constantly, it was a special prize of one of the cooks. Winterhaiming had tied a piece of string to one end of the plant, passed the string through the top of the window and tied a small bucket of sand to it.

  It would keep it straight and help it grow, said the expert Winterhaiming. The cook was delighted.

  The maid looked through the window but could see no sign of bucket or string. She walked away to break the bad news to the cook.

  On the other side of the window lying on the ground, out of sight was an unconscious Clarence, a bucket of sand nearby.

  * * * * *