The Man from Brodney's
CHAPTER VIII
THE MAN FROM BRODNEY'S
It was quite forty-eight hours before the Deppinghams surrendered to theBrownes. They were obliged to humbly admit, in the seclusion of theirown councils, that it was to the obnoxious but energetic Britt that theyowed their present and ever-growing comfort.
It is said that Mr. Saunders learned more law of a useful and purposefulcharacter during his first week of consultation with Britt than he couldhave dreamed that the statutes of England contained. Britt's brain was awhirlpool of suggestions, tricks, subterfuges and--yes, witticisms--thatSaunders never even pretended to appreciate, although he was obligingenough to laugh at the right time quite as often as at the wrong. "Hetalks about what Dan Webster said, how Dan Voorhees could handle a jury,why Abe Lincoln and Andy Jackson were so--" Saunders would begin in adazzled sort of way.
"Mr. Saunders, will you be good enough to ask Bromley to take Pong outfor a walk?" her ladyship would interrupt languidly, and Saunders woulddescend to the requirements of his position.
Late in the afternoon of the day following the advent of the Brownes,Lord and Lady Deppingham were laboriously fanning themselves in themidst of their stifling Marie Antoinette elegance.
"By Jove, Aggie, it's too beastly hot here for words," growled he forthe hundredth time. "I think we'd better move into your grandfather'srooms."
"Now, Deppy, don't let the Brownes talk you into everything theysuggest," she complained, determined to be stubborn to the end. "Theyknow entirely too much about the place already; please don't let themknow you as intimately."
"That's all very good, my dear, but you know quite as well as I that wemade a frightful mistake in choosing these rooms. It _is_ cooler on thatside of the house. I'm not too proud to be comfortable, don't you know.Have you had a look at your grandfather's rooms?"
She was silent for a long time, pondering. "No, I haven't, Deppy, but Idon't mind going over there now with you--just for a look. We can do itwithout letting them see us, you know."
Just as they were ready to depart stealthily for the distant wing, aservant came up to their rooms with a note from Mrs. Browne. It was aninvitation to join the Americans at dinner that evening in the grandbanquet hall. Across the bottom of Mrs. Browne's formal little note, herhusband had jauntily scrawled: "_Just to see how small we'll feel in aninety by seventy dining-room_" Lady Deppingham flushed and her eyesglittered as she handed the note to her husband.
"Rubbish!" she exclaimed. Paying no heed to the wistful look in his eyesor to the appealing shuffle of his foot, she sent back a dignifiedlittle reply to the effect that "A previous engagement would prevent,etc." The polite lie made it necessary for them to venture forth atdinner time to eat their solitary meal of sardines and wafers in thegrove below. The menu was limited to almost nothing because Deppyrefused to fill his pockets with "tinned things and biscuit."
The next day they moved into the west wing, and that evening they hadthe Brownes to dine with them in the banquet hall. Deppingham awoke inthe middle of the night with violent cramps in his stomach. He sufferedin silence for a long time, but, the pain growing steadily worse, hisstoicism gave way to alarm. A sudden thought broke in upon him, and witha shout that was almost a shriek he called for Antoine. The valet foundhim groaning and in a cold perspiration.
"Don't say a word to Lady Deppingham," he grunted, sitting up in bed andgazing wildly at the ceiling, "but I've been poisoned. The demmedservants--ouch!--don't you know! Might have known. Silly ass! See what Imean? Get something for me--quick!"
For two hours Antoine applied hot water bags and soothing syrups, andhis master, far from dying as he continually prophesied, dropped offinto a peaceful sleep.
The next morning Deppingham, fully convinced that the native servantshad tried to poison _him_, inquired of his wife if _she_ had felt thealarming symptoms. She confessed to a violent headache, but laid it tothe champagne. Later on, the rather haggard victim approached Brownewith subtle inquiries. Browne also had a headache, but said he wasn'tsurprised. Fifteen minutes later, Deppingham, taking the bit in hisquivering mouth, unconditionally discharged the entire force of nativeservants. He was still in a cold perspiration when he sent Saunders totell his wife what he had done and what a narrow escape all of them hadhad from the treacherous Moslems.
Of course, there was a great upheaval. Lady Agnes came tearing down tothe servants' hall, followed directly by the Brownes and Mr. Britt. Thenatives were ready to depart, considerably nonplussed, but not a littlerelieved.
"Stop!" she cried. "Deppy, what are you doing? Discharging them afterwe've had such a time getting them? Are you crazy?"
"They're a pack of snakes--I mean sneaks. They're assassins. They triedto poison every one of us last--"
"Nonsense! You ate too much. Besides, what's the odds between beingpoisoned and being starved to death? Where is Mr. Britt?" She gave asharp cry of relief as Britt came dashing down the corridor. "We mustengage them all over again," she lamented, after explaining thesituation. "Stand in the door, Deppy, and don't let them out until Mr.Britt has talked with them," she called to the disgraced nobleman.
"They won't stop for me," he muttered, looking at the half-dozen krisesthat were visible.
Britt smoothed the troubled waters with astonishing ease; the servantsreturned to their duties, but not without grumbling and no end of savageglances, all of which were levelled at the luckless Deppingham.
"By Jove, you'll see, sooner or later," he protested, like theschoolboy, almost ready to hope that the servants would bear him out bydoling out ample quantities of strychnine that very night.
"Why poison?" demanded Britt. "They've got knives and guns, haven'tthey?"
"My dear man, that would put them to no end of trouble, cleaning upafter us," said Deppingham, loftily.
The next day the horses were brought in from the valley, and the trapswere put to immediate use. A half-dozen excursions were planned by thenow friendly beneficiaries; life on the island, aside from certain legalrestraints, began to take on the colour of a real holiday.
Two lawyers, each clever in his own way, were watching every move withthe faithfulness of brooding hens. Both realised, of course, that thegreat fight would take place in England; they were simply active asoutposts in the battle of wits. They posed amiably as common allies inthe fight to keep the islanders from securing a single point of vantageduring the year.
"If they hadn't been in such a hurry to get married," Britt wouldlament.
"Do you know, I don't believe a man should marry before he's thirty, awoman twenty-six," Saunders would observe in return.
"You're right, Saunders. I agree with you. I was married twice before Iwas thirty," reflected Britt on one occasion.
"Ah," sympathised Saunders. "You left a wife at home, then?"
"Two of 'em," said Britt, puffing dreamily. "But they are other men'swives now." Saunders was half an hour grasping the fact that Britt hadbeen twice divorced.
Meanwhile, it may be well to depict the situation from the enemy's pointof view--the enemy being the islanders as a unit. They were prepared toabide by the terms of the will so long as it remained clear to them thatfair treatment came from the opposing interests. Rasula, the Aratatlawyer, in mass meeting, had discussed the document. They understood itsrequirements and its restrictions; they knew, by this time, that therewas small chance of the original beneficiaries coming into the propertyunder the provisions. Moreover, they knew that a bitter effort would bemade to break this remarkable instrument in the English courts. Theirattitude, in consequence, toward the grandchildren of their former lordswas inimical, to say the least.
"We can afford to wait a year," Rasula had said in another mass meetingafter the two months of suspense which preceded the discovery thatgrandchildren really existed. "There is the bare possibility that theymay never marry each other," he added sententiously. Later came the newsthat marriage between the heirs was out of the question. Then theislanders laughed as they toiled. But they were no
t to be caughtnapping. Jacob von Blitz, the superintendent, stolid German that he was,saw far into the future. It was he who set the native lawyerunceremoniously aside and urged competent representation in London. Thegreat law firm headed by Sir John Brodney was chosen; a wide-awakerepresentative of the distinguished solicitors was now on his way to theisland with the swarthy committee which had created so much interest inthe metropolis during its brief stay.
Jacob von Blitz came to the island when he was twenty years old. Thatwas twenty years before the death of Taswell Skaggs. He had worked inthe South African diamond fields and had no difficulty in securingemployment with Skaggs and Wyckholme. Those were the days when the twoEnglishmen slaved night and day in the mines; they needed white men tostand beside them, for they looked ahead and saw what the growingdiscontent among the islanders was sure to mean in the end.
Von Blitz gradually lifted labour and responsibility from theirshoulders; he became a valued man, not alone because of his ability asan overseer, but on account of the influence he had gained over thenatives. It was he who acted as intermediary at the time of the revolt,many years before the opening of this tale. Through him the two issueswere pooled; the present co-operative plan was the result. For this hewas promptly accepted by both sides as deserving of a sharecorresponding to that of each native. From that day, he cast his lotwith the islanders; it was to him that they turned in every hour ofdifficulty.
Von Blitz was shrewd enough to see that the grandchildren were notcoming to the island for the mere pleasure of sojourning there; theirmotive was plain. It was he who advised--even commanded--the horde ofservants to desert the chateau. If they had been able to follow hisadvice, the new residents would have been without "help" to the end oftheir stay. The end of their stay, he figured, would not be many weeksfrom its beginning if they were compelled to dwell there without theluxury of servants. Bowles often related the story of Von Blitz's ragewhen he found that the recalcitrants had been persuaded to resume workby the American lawyer.
He lived, with his three wives, in the hills just above and south of thetown itself. The Englishmen who worked in the bank, and the three Boerforemen also, had houses up there where it was cooler, but Von Blitz wasthe only one who practised polygamy. His wives were Persian women andhandsome after the Persian fashion.
There were many Persian, Turkish and Arabian women on the island, wivesof the more potential men. It was no secret that they had been purchasedfrom avaricious masters on the mainland, in Bagdad and Damascus and thePersian gulf ports--sapphires passing in exchange. Marriages wereperformed by the local priests. There were no divorces. Perhaps theremay have been a few more wife murders than necessary, but, if oneassumes to call wife murder a crime, he must be reminded that thenatives of Japat were fatalists. In contradiction to this belief,however, it is related that one night a wife took it upon herself toreverse the lever of destiny: she slew her husband. That, of course, wasa phase of fatalism that was not to be tolerated. The populace burnedher at a stake before morning.
One hot, dry afternoon about a week after the reopening of the chateau,the siesta of a swarthy population was disturbed by the shouts of thosewho kept impatient watch of the sea. Five minutes later the whole townof Aratat knew that the smoke of a steamer lay low on the horizon. Noone doubted that it came from the stack of the boat that was bringingRasula and the English solicitor. Joy turned to exultation when the wordcame down from Von Blitz that it was the long-looked-for steamship, the_Sir Joshua_.
Just before dusk the steamer, flying the British colours, hove to offthe town of Aratat and signalled for the company's tug. There was no onein Aratat too old, too young or too ill to stay away from the pier andits vicinity. Bowles telephoned the news to the chateau, and theoccupants, in no little excitement, had their tea served on the grandcolonnade overlooking the town.
Von Blitz stood at the landing place to welcome Rasula and his comrades,and to be the first to clasp the hand of the man from London. For thefirst time in his life his stolidity gave way to something resemblingexhilaration. He cast more than one meaning glance at the chateau, andthose near by him heard him chuckle from time to time. The horde ofnatives seethed back and forth as the tug came running in; every eye wasstrained to catch the first glimpse of--Rasula? No! Of the man fromBrodney's!
At last his figure could be made out on the forward deck. His straw hatwas at least a head higher than the turban of Rasula, who was indicatingto him the interesting spots in the hills.
"He's big," commented Von Blitz, comfortably, more to himself than tohis neighbour. "And young," he added a few minutes later. Bowles,standing at his side, offered the single comment:
"Good-looking."
As the tall stranger stepped from the boat to the pier, Von Blitzsuddenly started back, a look of wonder in his soggy eyes. Then, athrill of satisfaction shot through his brain. He turned a look oftriumph upon Britt, who had elbowed through the crowd a moment beforeand was standing close by.
The newcomer was an American!