Bayliss took a spectacle-case from the recesses of his costume,opened it, took out a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, dived into thejungle again, came out with a handkerchief, polished thespectacles, put them on his nose, closed the case, restored it toits original position, replaced the handkerchief, and took up thepaper.
"Why the hesitation, Bayliss? Why the coyness?" enquired Jimmy,lying with closed eyes. "Begin!""I was adjusting my glasses, sir.""All set now?""Yes, sir. Shall I read the headlines first?""Read everything."The butler cleared his throat.
"Good Heavens, Bayliss," moaned Jimmy, starting, "don't gargle.
Have a heart! Go on!"Bayliss began to read.
FRACAS IN FASHIONABLE NIGHT-CLUBSPRIGS OF NOBILITY BRAWLJimmy opened his eyes, interested.
"Am I a sprig of nobility?""It is what the paper says, sir.""We live and learn. Carry on."The butler started to clear his throat, but checked himself.
SENSATIONAL INTERNATIONAL CONTESTBATTLING PERCY(England)vCYCLONE JIM(America)FULL DESCRIPTION BY OUR EXPERTJimmy sat up.
"Bayliss, you're indulging that distorted sense of humour ofyours again. That isn't in the paper?""Yes, sir. Very large headlines."Jimmy groaned.
"Bayliss, I'll give you a piece of advice which may be useful toyou when you grow up. Never go about with newspaper men. It allcomes back to me. Out of pure kindness of heart I took young BillBlake of the _Sun_ to supper at the Six Hundred last night. This ismy reward. I suppose he thinks it funny. Newspaper men are a lowlot, Bayliss.""Shall I go on, sir?""Most doubtless. Let me hear all."Bayliss resumed. He was one of those readers who, whether theirsubject be a murder case or a funny anecdote, adopt a measuredand sepulchral delivery which gives a suggestion of tragedy andhorror to whatever they read. At the church which he attended onSundays, of which he was one of the most influential andrespected members, children would turn pale and snuggle up totheir mothers when Bayliss read the lessons. Young Mr. Blake'saccount of the overnight proceedings at the Six Hundred Club herendered with a gloomy gusto more marked even than his wont. Ithad a topical interest for him which urged him to extend himself.
"At an early hour this morning, when our myriad readerswere enjoying that refreshing and brain-restoring sleep sonecessary to the proper appreciation of the _Daily Sun_ atthe breakfast table, one of the most interesting sportingevents of the season was being pulled off at the SixHundred Club in Regent Street, where, after three roundsof fast exchanges, James B. Crocker, the well-knownAmerican welter-weight scrapper, succeeded in stoppingLord Percy Whipple, second son of the Duke of Devizes,better known as the Pride of Old England. Once again thesuperiority of the American over the English style ofboxing was demonstrated. Battling Percy has a kind heart,but Cyclone Jim packs the punch.""The immediate cause of the encounter had to do with adisputed table, which each gladiator claimed to haveengaged in advance over the telephone.""I begin to remember," said Jimmy meditatively. "A pill withbutter-coloured hair tried to jump my claim. Honeyed wordsproving fruitless, I soaked him on the jaw. It may be that I wasnot wholly myself. I seem to remember an animated session at theEmpire earlier in the evening, which may have impaired myself-control. Proceed!""One word leading to others, which in their turn led toseveral more, Cyclone Jim struck Battling Percy on whatour rude forefathers were accustomed to describe as themazzard, and the gong sounded for"ROUND ONE"Both men came up fresh and eager to mix things, though itseems only too probable that they had already been mixingmore things than was good for them. Battling Percy tried aright swing which got home on a waiter. Cyclone Jim put ina rapid one-two punch which opened a large gash in theatmosphere. Both men sparred cautiously, being hampered intheir movements by the fact, which neither had at thisstage of the proceedings perceived, that they were onopposite sides of the disputed table. A clever Fitzsimmons'
shift on the part of the Battler removed this obstacle,and some brisk work ensued in neutral territory. Percylanded twice without a return. The Battler's round by ashade.
"ROUND TWO"The Cyclone came out of his corner with a rush, gettinghome on the Battler's shirt-front and following it up witha right to the chin. Percy swung wildly and upset a bottleof champagne on a neighbouring table. A good rallyfollowed, both men doing impressive in-fighting. TheCyclone landed three without a return. The Cyclone'sround.
"ROUND THREE"Percy came up weak, seeming to be overtrained. TheCyclone waded in, using both hands effectively. TheBattler fell into a clinch, but the Cyclone broke awayand, measuring his distance, picked up a haymaker from thefloor and put it over. Percy down and out.
"Interviewed by our representative after the fight,Cyclone Jim said: 'The issue was never in doubt. I washandicapped at the outset by the fact that I was under theimpression that I was fighting three twin-brothers, and Imissed several opportunities of putting over the winningwallop by attacking the outside ones. It was only in thesecond round that I decided to concentrate my assault onthe one in the middle, when the affair speedily came to aconclusion. I shall not adopt pugilism as a profession.
The prizes are attractive, but it is too much like work.'"Bayliss ceased, and silence fell upon the room.
"Is that all?""That is all, sir.""And about enough.""Very true, sir.""You know, Bayliss," said Jimmy thoughtfully, rolling over on thecouch, "life is peculiar, not to say odd. You never know what iswaiting for you round the corner. You start the day with thefairest prospects, and before nightfall everything is as rockyand ding-basted as stig tossed full of doodlegammon. Why is this,Bayliss?""I couldn't say, sir.""Look at me. I go out to spend a happy evening, meaning no harmto any one, and I come back all blue with the blood of thearistocracy. We now come to a serious point. Do you think mylady stepmother has read that sporting chronicle?""I fancy not, Mr. James.""On what do you base these words of comfort?""Mrs. Crocker does not read the halfpenny papers, sir.""True! She does not. I had forgotten. On the other hand theprobability that she will learn about the little incident fromother sources is great. I think the merest prudence suggests thatI keep out of the way for the time being, lest I be fallen uponand questioned. I am not equal to being questioned this morning.
I have a headache which starts at the soles of my feet and getsworse all the way up. Where is my stepmother?""Mrs. Crocker is in her room, Mr. James. She ordered the car tobe brought round at once. It should be here at any moment now,sir. I think Mrs. Crocker intends to visit the Park beforeluncheon.""Is she lunching out?""Yes, sir.""Then, if I pursue the excellent common-sense tactics of thelesser sand-eel, which as you doubtless know buries itself tailupwards in the mud on hearing the baying of the eel-hounds andremains in that position till the danger is past, I shall be ableto postpone an interview. Should you be questioned as to mywhereabouts, inflate your chest and reply in a clear and manlyvoice that I have gone out, you know not where. May I rely onyour benevolent neutrality, Bayliss?""Very good, Mr. James.""I think I will go and sit in my father's den. A man may lie hidthere with some success as a rule."Jimmy heaved himself painfully off the sofa, blinked, and set outfor the den, where his father, in a deep arm-chair, was smoking arestful pipe and reading the portions of the daily papers whichdid not deal with the game of cricket.
Mr. Crocker's den was a small room at the back of the house. Itwas not luxurious, and it looked out onto a blank wall, but itwas the spot he liked best in all that vast pile which had onceechoed to the tread of titled shoes; for, as he sometimesobserved to his son, it had the distinction of being the onlyroom on the ground floor where a fellow could move withoutstubbing his toe on a countess or an honourable. In this peacefulbackwater he could smoke a pipe, put his feet up, take off hiscoat, and generally indulge in that liberty and pursuit ofhappiness to which the Constitution entitles a free-bornAmerican. Nobody ever came there except Jimmy and himself.
He did not suspend his reading at his son's entrance. He muttereda welcome through the clouds, but he did not raise his eyes.
Jimmy took the other arm-chair, and began to smoke silently. Itwas the unwritten law of the den that soothing silence ratherthan aimless chatter should prevail. It was not until a quarterof an hour had passed that Mr. Crocker dropped his paper andspoke.
"Say, Jimmy, I want to talk to you.""Say on. You have our ear.""Seriously.""Continue--always, however, keeping before you the fact that I ama sick man. Last night was a wild night on the moors, dad.""It's about your stepmother. She was talking at breakfast aboutyou. She's sore at you for giving Spike Dillon lunch at theCarlton. You oughtn't to have taken him there, Jimmy. That's whatgot her goat. She was there with a bunch of swells and they hadto sit and listen to Spike talking about his half-scissors hook.""What's their kick against Spike's half-scissors hook? It's adarned good one.""She said she was going to speak to you about it. I thought I'dlet you know.""Thanks, dad. But was that all?""All.""All that she was going to speak to me about? Sure there wasnothing else?""She didn't say anything about anything else.""Then she _doesn't_ know! Fine!"Mr. Crocker's feet came down from the mantelpiece with a crash.
"Jimmy! You haven't been raising Cain again?""No, no, dad. Nothing serious. High-spirited Young Patricianstuff, the sort of thing that's expected of a fellow in myposition."Mr. Crocker was not to be comforted.
"Jimmy, you've got to pull up. Honest, you have. I don't care formyself. I like to see a boy having a good time. But yourstepmother says you're apt to queer us with the people up top,the way you're going on. Lord knows I wouldn't care if thingswere different, but I'll tell you exactly how I stand. I didn'tget wise till this morning. Your stepmother sprang it on mesuddenly. I've often wondered what all this stuff was about, thisliving in London and trailing the swells. I couldn't think whatwas your stepmother's idea. Now I know. Jimmy, she's trying toget them to make me a peer!""What!""Just that. And she says--""But, dad, this is rich! This is comedy of a high order! A peer!
Good Heavens, if it comes off, what shall I be? This titlebusiness is all so complicated. I know I should have to change myname to Hon. Rollo Cholmondeley or the Hon. Aubrey Marjoribanks,but what I want to know is which? I want to be prepared for theworst.""And you see, Jimmy, these people up top, the guys who arrangethe giving of titles, are keeping an eye on you, because youwould have the title after me and naturally they don't want toget stung. I gathered all that from your stepmother. Say, Jimmy,I'm not asking a lot of you, but there is just one thing you cando for me without putting yourself out too much.""I'll do it, dad, if it kills me. Slip me the info!""Your stepmother's friend Lady Corstorphine's nephew . . .""It's not the sort of story to ask a man with a headache tofollow. I hope it gets simpler as it goes along.""Your stepmother wants you to be a good fellow and make friendswith this boy. You see, his father is in right with the Premierand has the biggest kind of a pull when it comes to handing outtitles.""Is that all you want? Leave it to me. Inside of a week I'll beplaying kiss-in-the-ring with him. The whole force of my sunnypersonality shall be directed towards making him love me. What'shis name?""Lord Percy Whipple."Jimmy's pipe fell with a clatter.
"Dad, pull yourself together! Reflect! You know you don'tseriously mean Lord Percy Whipple.""Eh?"Jimmy laid a soothing hand on his father's shoulder.
"Dad, prepare yourself for the big laugh. This is where you throwyour head back and roar with honest mirth. I met Lord PercyWhipple last night at the Six Hundred Club. Words ensued. I fellupon Percy and beat his block off! How it started, except that weboth wanted the same table, I couldn't say. 'Why, that I cannottell,' said he, 'but 'twas a famous victory!' If I had known,dad, nothing would have induced me to lay a hand upon Perce, savein the way of kindness, but, not even knowing who he was, itwould appear from contemporary accounts of the affair that I justnaturally sailed in and expunged the poor, dear boy!"The stunning nature of this information had much the same effecton Mr. Crocker as the announcement of his ruin has upon the GoodOld Man in melodrama. He sat clutching the arms of his chair andstaring into space, saying nothing. Dismay was written upon hisanguished countenance.
His collapse sobered Jimmy. For the first time he perceived thatthe situation had another side than the humorous one which hadappealed to him. He had anticipated that Mr. Crocker, who as ageneral thing shared his notions of what was funny and could berelied on to laugh in the right place, would have been struck,like himself, by the odd and pleasing coincidence of his havingpicked on for purposes of assault and battery the one young manwith whom his stepmother wished him to form a firm and lastingfriendship. He perceived now that his father was seriously upset.
Neither Jimmy nor Mr. Crocker possessed a demonstrative nature,but there had always existed between them the deepest affection.
Jimmy loved his father as he loved nobody else in the world, andthe thought of having hurt him was like a physical pain. Hislaughter died away and he set himself with a sinking heart to tryto undo the effect of his words.
"I'm awfully sorry, dad. I had no idea you would care. I wouldn'thave done a fool thing like that for a million dollars if I'dknown. Isn't there anything I can do? Gee whiz! I'll go rightround to Percy now and apologise. I'll lick his boots. Don't youworry, dad. I'll make it all right."The whirl of words roused Mr. Crocker from his thoughts.
"It doesn't matter, Jimmy. Don't worry yourself. It's only alittle unfortunate, because our stepmother says she won't thinkof our going back to America till these people here have given mea title. She wants to put one over on her sister. That's allthat's troubling me, the thought that this affair will set usback, this Lord Percy being in so strong with the guys who givethe titles. I guess it will mean my staying on here for a whilelonger, and I'd liked to have seen another ball-game. Jimmy, doyou know they call baseball Rounders in this country, andchildren play it with a soft ball!"Jimmy was striding up and down the little room. Remorse had himin its grip.
"What a damned fool I am!""Never mind, Jimmy. It's unfortunate, but it wasn't your fault.
You couldn't know.""It was my fault. Nobody but a fool like me would go aboutbeating people up. But don't worry, dad. It's going to be allright. I'll fix it. I'm going right round to this fellow Percynow to make things all right. I won't come back till I've squaredhim. Don't you bother yourself about it any longer, dad. It'sgoing to be all right."
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