CHAPTER V
THE LENIENCY OF JUSTICE
As the clock above the mantelpiece struck eleven, Guy Oliver wiped his pen and laid it carefully down in front of him. He was sitting at a roll-top desk in his office—a room of severely business-like aspect, chiefly furnished with maps and filing cabinets.
With that systematic deliberation that marked all his movements he extracted a document from the pigeon-hole in front of him and rising to his feet walked across to the door. In the passage outside a neatly dressed housemaid was engaged in the task of polishing the banisters.
"Do you know if Sir Antony is up yet, Mary?" he inquired.
"He has been up some little time, sir," answered the girl. "I believe you will find him in the study. I heard him telling Mr. Spalding to lay breakfast in there, instead of in the dining-room."
With a look of mild surprise upon his face, Guy pursued his way downstairs. He crossed the hall, and opening the door of the study remained for a moment on the threshold, contemplating the scene in front of him.
A black oak gate-legged table, gleaming with flowers, fruit, and silver, stood out attractively in the centre of the room, while the spring sunshine, streaming in through the open French window, bathed everything in its warm, inspiriting rays. Tony himself looking delightfully cool and serene in a perfectly cut grey morning suit, was lounging on the broad window-seat gazing out into the garden.
He turned round at Guy's entrance.
"Hullo, old chap!" he observed pleasantly: "just out of bed?"
Guy took no notice of this irreverent question. He advanced to the table, and adjusting his pince-nez, carefully inspected its contents.
"If you will forgive my saying so, Tony," he remarked, "you are becoming shamelessly greedy. Where on earth did you get these peaches and hothouse grapes from?"
"I sent Jennings into Harrod's for them," answered Tony. "A little morning exercise is good for him, and I have a friend coming to breakfast."
"Oh!" said Guy. "Any one I know?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't think so. In fact we only became acquainted ourselves last night."
"One of your curious sporting acquaintances, I suppose?" observed Guy with a faint touch of disapproval.
Tony smiled pensively. "Yes," he said, "on the whole I think we may pass the description. If you will wait and have breakfast with us I shall be charmed to introduce you."
"Thanks very much," said Guy, "but I had my breakfast a couple of hours ago. Besides I am rather busy this morning." He produced the paper which he had brought down from the office. "I wanted to catch you before you went out, to get you to sign this. It's the agreement with Marshall I spoke to you about on Thursday. You had better look it through."
Tony pulled a fountain pen out of his inside pocket. "My dear Guy!" he said. "I should never dream of reading a document that you had passed as accurate. It would be a reflection on your sobriety."
He scribbled his name in the appointed place and handed the paper back to his cousin.
"I see in the Daily Mail this morning that Bugg won his fight all right," remarked the latter. "What time did you get back?"
"I got back at a most respectable hour," said Tony. "I am sorry to say I managed to lose Bugg."
"Lose him!" echoed Guy.
"Yes," said Tony. "You know how careless I am. I——"
He was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," he called out.
The door opened and Spalding advanced with dignity across the threshold.
"Miss Francis," he announced.
There was a moment's pause and then, looking slightly embarrassed but most refreshingly beautiful, Isabel appeared in the doorway.
Tony who had jumped to his feet came forward and took her hand.
"Good-morning, Isabel," he said. "How wonderfully punctual you are! You must have been very well brought up."
She shook her head, smiling shyly. "I am afraid it is only because I am hungry," she said. "As a rule I am late for everything."
"We ought to get along together famously," replied Tony. "Let's see, you don't know Guy yet, do you? Guy, let me introduce you to Isabel. I have already acquainted her with some of your better and brighter qualities."
Guy, whose face was an interesting study in blended emotions, made a little stiff bow.
"I have been trying to persuade him to stay and have breakfast with us," proceeded Tony mischievously, "but he says he doesn't care about my curious sporting friends."
With a spasmodic gesture Guy took a step forward. "Really I—I protest," he stammered. "You mustn't listen to him, Miss Francis. It is a gross misrepresentation."
"I am quite sure you wouldn't say anything disagreeable, Mr.—Mr. Guy," replied Isabel consolingly. "You have much too kind a face."
Guy crimsoned vividly, and with a gentle chuckle Tony relieved Isabel of her coat.
"Don't you be deceived," he said. "You should hear the brutal way he addresses my tenants when they want something done to their houses."
"Oh, do shut up, Tony," remonstrated Guy.
"Aren't you really going to stay to breakfast?" asked Isabel, inspecting the table. "There seems to be such a lot for two."
"I—I am afraid I can't," said Guy with some embarrassment. "I should be delighted to, but—I have some work I must get done." He turned to Tony. "By the way, there was a note from Henry this morning saying that if you were going to be at home to-night he would like to come to dinner. He wants me to ring him up and let him know."
"I suppose we may as well get it over," said Tony sadly. "If I say no he will only want me to dine at Rutland Gate, and that would be worse still. The last time I went I was put next to a woman who ate nothing but beans and drank hot water and lemon. It made me feel quite faint."
"Very well," said Guy. "I will tell him to come along at eight. Don't go out and forget all about it."
He made another stiff little bow to Isabel, and walking across to the door, took his departure.
"That's Guy," said Tony. "What do you think of him?"
"I think he's rather nice," said Isabel thoughtfully. "He is just a wee bit serious, of course, but then you want that in a secretary, don't you?"
Tony nodded. "Guy is wonderful," he began. "Since he came to live with me——"
He was interrupted by the reappearance of Spalding, who entered the room carrying a tray full of silver dishes which sent up various appetizing odours into the morning air.
Isabel contemplated the feast with frank interest.
"What a good breakfast!" she observed. "Do you always have a breakfast like this?"
"Always," replied Tony firmly. "I find my constitution requires it."
He walked across to the sideboard, where Spalding had set out the dishes, and lifting up their covers in turn announced the results to Isabel.
She selected mushroom omelette as a starting point, and after helping himself lightly to the same delicacy, Tony sat down alongside of her at the gate-legged table.
"Well," he said, "and what's the report? Has Mrs. Spalding made you comfortable?"
Isabel nodded gratefully. "Yes," she said; "she has been so pleasant and kind. She didn't seem to mind in the least my coming in like that in the middle of the night, and this morning she had a cup of tea and a lovely hot bath all ready for me when I woke up." She paused. "I don't know what I should have done last night if it hadn't been for you," she added with a sudden slight return to her former shyness.
"Oh, you would have been all right," said Tony cheerfully. "Somebody else would have come along and knocked those interfering gentlemen down for you. London is full of obliging strangers. We just had the good luck to be the first—that was all."
"It was not all," returned Isabel with spirit. "There was the supper, and finding me somewhere to go to, and asking me to breakfast this morning, and—and—oh, being so nice about everything." She hesitated. "Your friend—the one who fought for us so bravely—I hope he was not hurt?"
Tony shook his head. "You couldn't hurt Bugg," he said, "except with a pickaxe."
"I hope you told him how grateful I was to him," she added.
"I haven't had the chance yet," replied Tony. "He hasn't come home."
A sudden look of concern flashed into Isabel's amber eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "perhaps he is hurt after all. Perhaps he is in a hospital!"
"I should think it much more likely that he's in a police station," observed Tony. "I can't think why he hasn't rung up though, unless it's because he is anxious to keep my name out of it. For a prize-fighter Bugg has the most wonderfully delicate feelings."
"A prize-fighter!" echoed Isabel. "Is he a prize-fighter like—like—like Carpentier?"
"Something like him," said Tony; "especially the way he covers up." He paused. "Bugg is really quite a famous person in his way you know. He is practically the welter-weight champion of England. He only stays on here and works for me because it amuses him. I meant to explain last night, but there were so many other things to talk about."
"I see," said Isabel slowly. "And you were just walking together?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Bugg had been boxing at the Cosmopolitan Club. It was over rather earlier than we expected, and I was taking him along to give him some supper. That's how we happened to be in Long Acre."
Isabel nodded. "I understand. It is all plain now. Last night I was frightened and everything seemed so confused."
"I don't wonder at it," said Tony sympathetically. "Unless one's led a very strenuous life it must be horribly confusing to be suddenly held up by a couple of dagoes in Long Acre, and then rescued by a future champion of England."
There was a long pause.
"I—I feel somehow that I ought to explain," began Isabel uncomfortably. "You have been so nice about not asking any questions, but of course you must be wondering who I am, and—and how things came to be like this."
"Only mildly and pleasantly," said Tony. "I never allow my curiosity to get painful."
Isabel set down her cup. "I would tell you if I could," she said rather desperately, "but there are reasons why I mustn't."
Tony's face brightened at once. "How nice!" he observed. "I love mystery, and so few people have any of it about them nowadays—especially in Hampstead."
"I hate it," exclaimed Isabel with what seemed unnecessary bitterness: "I have had nothing else but mystery and secrets all my life. Oh, if you only knew how lovely it was just to be oneself for once—to be able to do and say exactly what one likes—" She paused and took a long, deep breath. "I can't go back again," she added. "I—I believe I should kill myself if I did."
"Of course you can't go back," said Tony. "We settled all that last night. You are going to stay on with Mrs. Spalding and adopt me and Guy as cousins. I don't think there is any need to let Henry in just at present. One would want a bit of practice before adopting Henry."
Isabel looked across at him with that frank, almost childish smile of hers, which contrasted so delightfully with the little touch of dignity in her manner.
"I should love to have some nice relations," she said. "All mine are perfectly horrid."
"And all mine," observed Tony, "are horribly perfect. I don't know which is the more trying of the two."
There was a moment's pause, and then, as if a sudden thought had struck her, Isabel reached across to the adjoining chair, and unhooked the little silver chain-bag which she had brought in with her.
"Oh," she said, "before I forget I wanted to ask you if you would be so kind as to do something for me. I hate bothering you, but you see I don't know any one else, and I'm so ignorant about this kind of thing." She took out a couple of rings and a brooch and pushed them across the table. "It's to sell them," she added. "I—I think they ought to be worth something."
Tony picked up the brooch. It was a beautiful piece of work—a large single and absolutely flawless emerald, delicately set in gold. Without being an expert in such matters he knew enough of precious stones to realize that it was of considerable value.
"I should think this would do to begin with," he said, "unless you are going to be very extravagant. It ought to bring in bread and butter for the rest of your life-time."
Isabel's face lighted up. "Will it really!" she exclaimed. "How lovely. I never thought it would be worth as much as that!"
Tony turned his attention to the rings, which in their way were every bit as good as the brooch. One was the half-hoop of sapphires and diamonds which he had noticed on the previous evening, the other consisted of three very fine rubies, mounted in a curious, old-fashioned setting that seemed to be of Eastern origin.
He examined them both with much interest and then handed them back to Isabel.
"You must keep them," he said. "They are much too beautiful to sell, and besides, there is no need to sell them. The brooch will bring you in quite a lot of money, and you can always get credit from the milkman as long as you wear rubies and diamonds."
Isabel smiled, and slipping on the two rings held them out for Tony's inspection.
"I am so glad," she said happily. "I should hate to have sold them really. You see they belonged—" She again came to an abrupt and rather confused halt. "They belonged to my great-grandmother," she finished weakly.
"Indeed," said Tony in a perfectly grave voice. "She must have had charming hands."
There was a light tap at the door, and after a moment's delay the discreet figure of Spalding again appeared on the threshold.
"I beg pardon, Sir Antony," he observed, "but Bugg has just returned. I thought you might wish to be informed."
Tony pushed back his chair. "What has he been doing with himself?" he asked.
"I fancy, sir," returned Spalding impassively, "that he has been spending the night in the Bow Street police station."
"Oh!" exclaimed Isabel in a horrified voice.
"Really!" said Tony. "How exciting!" He turned to Isabel. "Shall we have him up?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Send him along, Spalding," continued Tony. "He needn't trouble about making himself beautiful. Tell him I should like to see him at once."
The butler withdrew, and a few moments later Bugg appeared in the doorway. He saluted Tony with a cheerful grin, and then, as he caught sight of Isabel, a sudden embarrassment seemed to descend upon his spirit. He coughed apologetically, lowered his eyes, and shuffled slightly with one foot.
"Good-morning, Bugg," said Tony. "Come and sit down."
Bugg advanced cautiously to the nearest chair and seated himself on the extreme edge.
"Mornin', sir," he observed. Then, throwing a nervous glance at Isabel, he added hoarsely, "Pleased to see yer, Miss."
"I am very pleased to see you," said Isabel a little shyly. "I want to thank you for what you did last night. I am so sorry they took you to prison."
Bugg stared hard at the carpet. "That's all right, Miss," he muttered. "Don't you worry abaht that, Miss."
Tony offered Isabel a cigarette, and then lit one himself.
"You were magnificent, Bugg," he said. "Tell us what happened after we left."
Bugg coughed again. "Well, sir, 'twas this wy, sir. Seein' as you and the young laidy was best aht of it, I jest keeps them two Daigoes busy like withaht puttin' 'em through it. It didn't seem to me as no one was goin' to taike the trouble to foller you when 'e could be standin' there watchin' a scrap fur nothin'."
"I hope you didn't get hurt," said Isabel, who, with a slightly bewildered expression, had been trying to follow this narrative.
Bugg shook his head. "Not me, Miss. It was jest a 'alf 'oliday fur me till they starts usin' their feet, and then I 'anded 'em a couple of flaps in the jaw quick, an' that steadied 'em. Not as I think they meant no 'arm, Miss. There's parts o' the world where they don't know no better.
"Yours is a generous heart, Bugg," said Tony. "What happened next?"
"The rozzers come then, sir—a pair of 'em, sir. They busts in through the crowd like tigers, and afore ye could wink, one of 'em grabs onter me, and the other cops 'old of the tall Daigo."
"And the second man—the one with the crooked eyes?" asked Isabel quickly. "What happened to him?"
"Well, I don't rightly know, Miss," said Bugg apologetically. "Yer see, 'e weren't there in a manner o' speakin'. 'E'd gorn across the street when I give 'im that shove in the jaw, an 'e 'adn't 'ad time to come back. I think the coppers missed 'im."
"But they stuck to you two all right?" said Tony.
Bugg nodded his head. "Yus, sir, we all goes orf to the staition together—me an' the cops an' the Daigo an' the 'ole bloomin' street arter us. It weren't 'alf a picnic, sir, I can tell yer. Well, w'en we gets to the staition, I sees the inspector—'im wot taikes the charge—lookin' partikler 'ard at me, but 'e don't say nothin', 'cept to ask me my naime and address.
"''Erbert Johnson of 'Igh Street, Keington,' says I. It was the fust thing as comes into my 'ead.
"'An' you?' says 'e, turnin' to the Daigo.
"'My naime is Smith,' says the Daigo in 'is funny foreign wy o' speakin'.
"'It's a good naime,' says the inspector, writin' it dahn. 'Wot's all this trouble abaht?'
"'It was a misunderstandin',' says the Daigo very 'aughty like. 'I declines to answer any further questions.'
"'You got anything to sy, 'Erbert Johnson,' says 'e to me.
"'I agree with the gen'leman wot's just spoke, sir,' says I.
"'Very well,' says 'e. 'This is a matter fur 'is Honour, this is. You'll 'ave to stop 'ere the night, the pair of ye, unless ye've got some kind friends as'll come along an' bail yer aht.'
"'E looks at us both, but the Daigo don't sy nothin' and I thinks to meself the more privit we keeps this 'ere little mixup the better fur all parties concerned. So I lays low too, an' orf we goes to the cells, saime as a couple o' ord'nary drunks and disorderlies."
Bugg paused for a moment, and a reminiscent grin spread slowly across his face.
"It's a good story," said Tony encouragingly. "Go on with it."
"Well, sir, I 'adn't bin in the cell very long w'en the door opens and who should come in but the inspector 'isself. 'E looks me up an' dahn with a kinder twinkle in 'is eye, an' then 'e says, ''Erbert Johnson,' 'e says, 'w'y the 'ell didn't yer dot 'im one o' them left 'ooks o' yours, and then we shouldn't 'ave 'ad all this trouble?' Well, that done it, sir! I twigs at once 'e'd spotted who I was, and seein' 'e meant ter be friendly like I ups and tells 'im just exactly 'ow it 'ad all come abaht. 'Don't worry,' says 'e ter me; 'your blue-chinned pal don't want a fuss no more'n you do. 'E's jest bin bribin' and corruptin' o' me to run the caise through as a ord'nary street quarrel, an' seein' as we're told ter be kind to straingers, per'aps I might see my wy ter do it.' Then 'e puts 'is 'and on my shoulder. 'As fur you, 'Erbert Johnson,' 'e says, 'you gotter come along with me an' be introjooced to some o' the boys. We does a bit o' scrappin' 'ere in our spare time, an' 'tain't often we 'as the honour of entertaining a future champion of England.'
"With that, sir, 'e taikes me upstairs to the inspector's room, where there was 'alf a dozen cops sittin' arahnd smokin' and drinkin' saime as if it was a pub or a privit drorin' room. Talk o' sports, sir—w'y Gawd love us I might a bin the King of England the wy they treated me. 'Tell us abaht the fight, Tiger,' they says, and if you'd seen me sittin' there, sir, with a large Bass in one 'and and a four-penny stinker in the other and all them cops 'angin' on my words, ye'd 'ave laughed fit ter bust yerself, sir."
Tony nodded his head. "I have always suspected that the police led a double life," he said.
"They're all right, sir," explained Bugg earnestly, "on'y they got their livin' to get, saime as other folks. They treated me proper, they did. Gimme a 'addick fur breakfast next mornin', and w'en the caise comes on they 'as it all arrainged fur us right an' simple as anything. The copper as took us 'e tells 'is little bit, saime as wot 'e'd fixed up with the inspector, an' then the Beak—'ole Sir 'Orace Samuel it was—'e puts on 'is glasses and blinks rahnd at the pair of us. 'Either o' the prisoners any observations to hoffer?' 'e says. 'E waits 'alf a tick, an' then as neither of us says nothin', 'e scratches 'is 'ead and grunts aht, 'seven-and-sixpence an' costs, an' 'urry up with the nex' caise.'"
Bugg stopped, and wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve looked from Tony to Isabel and then back again at his patron.
"An' that's abaht all, sir," he added. "We forks out the rhino, and then I gets a taxi-cab and tells the bloke to bung along 'ere as quick as 'e can shift." He hesitated for a moment. "I 'ope I done the right thing, sir?" he finished anxiously.
There was a long pause.
"You always do the right thing, Bugg," said Tony, at last. "It's almost a disease with you."
He pushed back his chair and for a little while remained gazing thoughtfully at the marmalade pot.
"Bugg," he said; "have you any special engagements the next few days?"
"Not as I knows on, sir," replied Tiger, innocently.
Tony nodded his head. "Good," he observed, and without further comment he renewed his contemplation of the breakfast table.
"There's the matter o' the stakes, sir," Bugg ventured to remind him. "'Alf-past twelve, sir, was the time Dr. Donaldson said they'd be payin' over."
Tony again nodded. "That will be all right, Bugg," he said. "I will go down to the Club myself and collect the royal booty. I only hope Da Freitas will turn up personally. It would give me great pleasure to watch him writing out the cheque."
He looked across smilingly towards Isabel, and saw to his amazement that she had suddenly gone as white as a sheet.