Jimmy Thesiger was feeling depressed1. Avoiding George, whom he suspec-ted of being ready to tackle him on serious subjects, he stole quietly awayafter lunch. Proficient2 as he was in details of the Santa Fé boundary dis-pute, he had no wish to stand an examination on it this minute.
Presently what he hoped would happen came to pass. Loraine Wade,also unaccompanied, strolled down one of the shady garden paths. In amoment Jimmy was by her side. They walked for some minutes in silenceand then Jimmy said tentatively:
“Loraine?”
“Yes?”
“Look here, I’m a bad chap at putting things—but what about it? What’swrong with getting a special licence and being married and living togetherhappily ever afterwards?”
Loraine displayed no embarrassment3 at this surprising proposal. In-stead she threw back her head and laughed frankly4.
“Don’t laugh at a chap,” said Jimmy reproachfully.
“I can’t help it. You were so funny.”
“Loraine—you are a little devil.”
“I’m not. I’m what’s called a thoroughly5 nice girl.”
“Only to those who don’t know you—who are taken in by your delusiveappearance of meekness6 and decorum.”
“I like your long words.”
“All out of crossword7 puzzles.”
“So educative.”
“Loraine, dear, don’t beat about the bush. Will you or won’t you?”
Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic appearance of de-termination. Her small mouth hardened and her little chin shot out ag-gressively.
“No, Jimmy. Not while things are as they are at present—all unfinished.”
“I know we haven’t done what we set out to do,” agreed Jimmy. “But allthe same—well, it’s the end of a chapter. The papers are safe at the AirMinistry. Virtue8 triumphant9. And—for the moment—nothing doing.”
“So—let’s get married?” said Loraine with a slight smile.
“You’ve said it. Precisely10 the idea.”
But again Loraine shook her head.
“No, Jimmy. Until this thing’s wound up—until we’re safe—”
“You think we’re in danger?”
“Don’t you?”
Jimmy’s cherubic pink face clouded over.
“You’re right,” he said at last. “If that extraordinary rigmarole ofBundle’s is true—and I suppose, incredible as it sounds, it must be true—then we’re not safe till we’ve settled with No 7!”
“And the others?”
“No—the others don’t count. It’s No 7 with his own ways of working thatfrightens me. Because I don’t know who he is or where to look for him.”
Loraine shivered.
“I’ve been frightened,” she said in a low voice. “Ever since Gerry’s death.
.?.?.”
“You needn’t be frightened. There’s nothing for you to be frightenedabout. You leave everything to me. I tell you, Loraine—I’ll get No 7 yet.
Once we get him—well, I don’t think there’ll be much trouble with the restof the gang, whoever they are.”
“If you get him—and suppose he gets you?”
“Impossible,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “I’m much too clever. Always havea good opinion of yourself—that’s my motto.”
“When I think of the things that might have happened last night—” Lo-raine shivered.
“Well, they didn’t,” said Jimmy. “We’re both here, safe and sound —though I must admit my arm is confoundedly painful.”
“Poor boy.”
“Oh, one must expect to suffer in a good cause. And what with mywounds and my cheerful conversation, I’ve made a complete conquest ofLady Coote.”
“Oh! Do you think that important?”
“I’ve an idea it may come in useful.”
“You’ve got some plan in your mind, Jimmy. What is it?”
“The young hero never tells his plans,” said Jimmy firmly. “They maturein the dark.”
“You are an idiot, Jimmy.”
“I know. I know. That’s what everyone says. But I can assure you, Lo-raine, there’s a lot of brain work going on underneath11. Now what aboutyour plans? Got any?”
“Bundle has suggested that I should go to Chimneys with her for a bit.”
“Excellent,” said Jimmy approvingly. “Nothing could be better. I’d likean eye kept on Bundle anyway. You never know what mad thing she won’tget up to next. She’s so frightfully unexpected. And the worst of it is, she’sso astonishingly successful. I tell you, keeping Bundle out of mischief12 is awhole-time job.”
“Bill ought to look after her,” suggested Loraine.
“Bill’s pretty busy elsewhere.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Loraine.
“What? Not the Countess? But the lad’s potty about her.” Loraine contin-ued to shake her head.
“There’s something there I don’t quite understand. But it’s not theCountess with Bill—it’s Bundle. Why, this morning, Bill was talking to mewhen Mr. Lomax came out and sat down by Bundle. He took her hand orsomething, and Bill was off like—like a rocket.”
“What a curious taste some people have,” observed Mr. Thesiger. “Fancyanyone who was talking to you wanting to do anything else. But you sur-prise me very much, Loraine. I thought our simple Bill was enmeshed inthe toils13 of the beautiful foreign adventuress. Bundle thinks so, I know.”
“Bundle may,” said Loraine. “But I tell you, Jimmy, it isn’t so.”
“Then what’s the big idea?”
“Don’t you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit of sleuthing on hisown?”
“Bill? He hasn’t got the brains.”
“I’m not so sure. When a simple, muscular person like Bill does set outto be subtle, no one ever gives him credit for it.”
“And in consequence he can put in some good work. Yes, there’s some-thing in that. But all the same I’d never have thought it of Bill. He’s doingthe Countess’s little woolly lamb to perfection. I think you’re wrong, youknow, Loraine. The Countess is an extraordinarily14 beautiful woman—notmy type of course,” put in Mr. Thesiger hastily—“and old Bill has alwayshad a heart like an hotel.”
Loraine shook her head, unconvinced.
“Well,” said Jimmy, “have it your own way. We seem to have more orless settled things. You go back with Bundle to Chimneys, and for heaven’ssake keep her from poking15 about in that Seven Dials place again. Heavenknows what will happen if she does.”
Loraine nodded.
“And now,” said Jimmy, “I think a few words with Lady Coote would beadvisable.”
Lady Coote was sitting on a garden seat doing woolwork. The subjectwas a disconsolate16 and somewhat misshapen young woman weeping overan urn17.
Lady Coote made room for Jimmy by her side, and he promptly18, being atactful young man, admired her work.
“Do you like it?” said Lady Coote, pleased. “It was begun by my AuntSelina the week before she died. Cancer of the liver, poor thing.”
“How beastly,” said Jimmy.
“And how is the arm?”
“Oh, it’s feeling quite all right. Bit of a nuisance and all that, you know.”
“You’ll have to be careful,” said Lady Coote in a warning voice. “I’veknown blood poisoning set in—and in that case you might lose your armaltogether.”
“Oh! I say, I hope not.”
“I’m only warning you,” said Lady Coote.
“Where are you hanging out now?” inquired Mr. Thesiger. “Town—orwhere?”
Considering that he knew the answer to his query19 perfectly20 well, he putthe question with a praiseworthy amount of ingenuousness21.
Lady Coote sighed heavily.
“Sir Oswald has taken the Duke of Alton’s place. Letherbury. You knowit, perhaps?”
“Oh, rather. Topping place, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Lady Coote. “It’s a very large place, and gloomy,you know. Rows of picture galleries with such forbidding-looking people.
What they call Old Masters are very depressing, I think. You should haveseen a little house we had in Yorkshire, Mr. Thesiger. When Sir Oswaldwas plain Mr. Coote. Such a nice lounge hall and a cheerful drawing roomwith an ingle-nook—a white striped paper with a frieze22 of wisteria I chosefor it, I remember. Satin stripe, you know, not moiré. Much better taste, Ialways think. The dining room faced northeast, so we didn’t get much sunin it, but with a good bright scarlet23 paper and a set of those comic huntingprints—why, it was as cheerful as Christmas.”
In the excitement of these reminiscences, Lady Coote dropped severallittle balls of wool, which Jimmy dutifully retrieved24.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Coote. “Now, what was I saying? Oh—about houses—yes, I do like a cheerful house. And choosing things for itgives you an interest.”
“I suppose Sir Oswald will be buying a place of his own one of thesedays,” suggested Jimmy. “And then you can have it just as you like.”
Lady Coote shook her head sadly.
“Sir Oswald talks of a firm doing it—and you know what that means.”
“Oh! But they’d consult you!”
“It would be one of those grand places—all for the antique. They’d lookdown on the things I call comfortable and homey. Not but that Sir Oswaldwasn’t very comfortable and satisfied in his home always, and I daresayhis tastes are just the same underneath. But nothing will suit him now butthe best! He’s got on wonderfully, and naturally he wants something toshow for it, but many’s the time I wonder where it will end.”
Jimmy looked sympathetic.
“It’s like a runaway25 horse,” said Lady Coote. “Got the bit between itsteeth and away it goes. It’s the same with Sir Oswald. He’s got on, and he’sgot on, till he can’t stop getting on. He’s one of the richest men in England—but does that satisfy him? No, he wants still more. He wants to be—Idon’t know what he wants to be! I can tell you, it frightens me sometimes!”
“Like the Persian Johnny,” said Jimmy, “who went about wailing26 forfresh worlds to conquer.”
Lady Coote nodded acquiescence27 without much knowing what Jimmywas talking about.
“What I wonder is—will his stomach stand it?” she went on tearfully.
“To have him an invalid—with his ideas—oh, it won’t bear thinking of.”
“He looks very hearty,” said Jimmy consolingly.
“He’s got something on his mind,” said Lady Coote. “Worried that’s whathe is. I know.”
“What’s he worried about?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps something at the works. It’s a great comfort forhim having Mr. Bateman. Such an earnest young man—and so conscien-tious.”
“Marvellously conscientious,” agreed Jimmy.
“Oswald thinks a lot of Mr. Bateman’s judgement. He says that Mr. Bate-man is always right.”
“That was one of his worst characteristics years ago,” said Jimmy feel-ingly.
Lady Coote looked slightly puzzled.
“That was an awfully28 jolly weekend I had with you at Chimneys,” saidJimmy. “I mean it would have been awfully jolly if it hadn’t been for poorold Gerry kicking the bucket. Jolly nice girls.”
“I find girls very perplexing,” said Lady Coote. “Not romantic, you know.
Why, I embroidered29 some handkerchiefs for Sir Oswald with my own hairwhen we were engaged.”
“Did you?” said Jimmy. “How marvellous. But I suppose girls haven’t gotlong hair to do that nowadays.”
“That’s true,” admitted Lady Coote. “But, oh, it shows in lots of otherways. I remember when I was a girl, one of my—well, my young men—picked up a handful of gravel30, and a girl who was with me said at oncethat he was treasuring it because my feet had trodden on it. Such a prettyidea, I thought. Though it turned out afterwards that he was taking acourse in mineralogy—or do I mean geology?—at a technical school. But Iliked the idea—and stealing a girl’s handkerchief and treasuring it—allthose sort of things.”
“Awkward if the girl wanted to blow her nose,” said the practical Mr.
Thesiger.
Lady Coote laid down her woolwork and looked searchingly but kindlyat him.
“Come now,” she said. “Isn’t there some nice girl that you fancy? Thatyou’d like to work and make a little home for?”
Jimmy blushed and mumbled31.
“I thought you got on very well with one of those girls at Chimneys thattime—Vera Daventry.”
“Socks?”
“They do call her that,” admitted Lady Coote. “I can’t think why. It isn’tpretty.”
“Oh, she’s a topper,” said Jimmy. “I’d like to meet her again.”
“She’s coming down to stay with us next weekend.”
“Is she?” said Jimmy, trying to infuse a large amount of wistful longinginto the two words.
“Yes. Would—would you like to come?”
“I would,” said Jimmy heartily32. “Thanks ever so much, Lady Coote.”
And reiterating33 fervent34 thanks, he left her.
Sir Oswald presently joined his wife.
“What has that young jackanapes been boring you about?” he deman-ded. “I can’t stand that young fellow.”
“He’s a dear boy,” said Lady Coote. “And so brave. Look how he gotwounded last night.”
“Yes, messing around where he’d no business to be.”
“I think you’re very unfair, Oswald.”
“Never done an honest day’s work in his life. A real waster if there everwas one. He’d never get on if he had his way to make in the world.”
“You must have got your feet damp last night,” said Lady Coote. “I hopeyou won’t get pneumonia35. Freddie Richards died of it the other day. Dearme, Oswald, it makes my blood run cold to think of you wandering aboutwith a dangerous burglar loose in the grounds. He might have shot you.
I’ve asked Mr. Thesiger down for next weekend, by the way.”
“Nonsense,” said Sir Oswald. “I won’t have that young man in my house,do you hear, Maria?”
“Why not?”
“That’s my business.”
“I’m so sorry, dear,” said Lady Coote placidly36. “I’ve asked him now, so itcan’t be helped. Pick up that ball of pink wool, will you, Oswald?”
Sir Oswald complied, his face black as thunder. He looked at his wifeand hesitated. Lady Coote was placidly threading her wool needle.
“I particularly don’t want Thesiger down next weekend,” he said at last.
“I’ve heard a good deal about him from Bateman. He was at school withhim.”
“What did Mr. Bateman say?”
“He’d no good to say of him. In fact, he warned me very seriouslyagainst him.”
“He did, did he?” said Lady Coote thoughtfully.
“And I have the highest respect for Bateman’s judgement. I’ve neverknown him wrong.”
“Dear me,” said Lady Coote. “What a mess I seem to have made ofthings. Of course, I should never have asked him if I had known. Youshould have told me all this before, Oswald. It’s too late now.”
She began to roll up her work very carefully. Sir Oswald looked at her,made as if to speak, then shrugged37 his shoulders. He followed her into thehouse. Lady Coote, walking ahead, wore a very faint smile on her face. Shewas fond of her husband, but she was also fond—in a quiet, unobtrusive,wholly womanly manner—of getting her own way.
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1
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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proficient
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| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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3
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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4
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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5
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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6
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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7
crossword
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| n.纵横字谜，纵横填字游戏 | |
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8
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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9
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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10
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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11
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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12
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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13
toils
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| 网 | |
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14
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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15
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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16
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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17
urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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18
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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19
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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20
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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21
ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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22
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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23
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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24
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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26
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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27
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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28
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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29
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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31
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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33
reiterating
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的现在分词 ) | |
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34
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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35
pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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36
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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37
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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