Part 20 (2/2)

I am told that the alteration for the worse started shortly after his arrival at the front. What did it I don't know--but he lost one whisker and a portion of an ear, thus giving him a somewhat lopsided appearance; though rakish withal. It may have been a detonator which went off as he ate it--it may have been foolish curiosity over a maxim--it may even have been due to the fact that he found a motor-bicycle standing still, what time it made strange provocative noises, and failed to notice that the back wheel was off the ground and rotating at a great pace.

Whatever it was it altered James Henry. Not that it soured his temper--not at all; but it made him more reckless, less careful of appearances. He forgot the repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere, and a series of incidents occurred which tended to strain relations all round.

There was the question of the three dead chickens, for instance. Had they disappeared decently and in order much might have been thought but nothing would have been known. But when they were deposited on their owner's doorstep, with James Henry mounting guard over the corpses himself, it was a little difficult to explain the matter away. That was the trouble--his sense of humour seemed to have become distorted.

The pastime of hunting for rats in the sewers of Ypres cannot be too highly commended; but having got thoroughly wet in the process, James Henry's practice of depositing the rat and himself on the Adjutant's bed was open to grave criticism.

But enough: these two instances were, I am sorry to state, but types of countless other regrettable episodes which caused the popularity of James Henry to wane.

The final decree of death or banishment came when James had been in the country some seven weeks.

On the day in question a dreadful shout was heard, followed by a flood of language which I will refrain from committing to print. And then the Colonel appeared in the door of his dug-out.

”Where is that accursed idiot, Murgatroyd? Pa.s.s the word along for the d.a.m.n fool.”

”'Urry up, Conky. The ole man's a-twittering for you.” Murgatroyd emerged from a recess.

”What's 'e want?”

”I'd go and find out, cully. I think 'e's going to mention you in 'is will.” At that moment a fresh outburst floated through the stillness.

”Great 'Eavens!” Murgatroyd reluctantly rose to his feet. ”So long, boys. Tell me mother she was in me thoughts up to the end.” He paused outside the dug-out and then went manfully in. ”You wanted me, sir.”

”Look at this, you blithering a.s.s, look at this.” The Colonel was searching through his Fortnum and Mason packing-case on the floor.

”Great Heavens! and the caviar too--imbedded in the b.u.t.ter. Five defunct rodents in the brawn”--he threw each in turn at his servant, who dodged round the dug-out like a pea in a drum--”the marmalade and the pate de fois gras inseparably mixed together, and the whole covered with a thick layer of disintegrating cigar.”

”It wasn't me, sir,” Murgatroyd spoke in an aggrieved tone.

”I didn't suppose it was, you fool.” The Colonel straightened himself and glared at his hapless minion. ”Great Heavens! there's another rat on my hairbrush.”

”One of the same five, sir. It ricocheted off my face.” With a magnificent nonchalance his servant threw it out of the door. ”I think, sir, it must be James 'Enry.”

”Who the devil is James Henry?”

”Sir Derek Temple's little dawg, sir.”

”Indeed.” The Colonel's tone was ominous. ”Go round and ask Sir Derek Temple to be good enough to come and see me at once.”

What happened exactly at that interview I cannot say; although I understand that James Henry considered an absurd fuss had been made about a trifle. In fact he found it so difficult to lie down with any comfort that night that he missed much of his master's conversation with him.

”You've topped it, James, you've put the bra.s.s hat on. The old man threatens to turn out a firing party if he ever sees you again.”

James feigned sleep: this continual harping on what was over and done with he considered the very worst of form. Even if he had put the caviar in the b.u.t.ter and his foot in the marmalade--well, hang it all--what then? He'd presented the old buster with five dead rats, which was more than he'd do for a lot of people.

”In fact, James, you are not popular, my boy--and I shudder to think what Monica will do with you when she gets you. She's come over, you may be pleased to hear, Henry. She is V.A.D.-ing at a charming hospital that overlooks the sea. James, why can't I go sick--and live for a s.p.a.ce at that charming hospital that overlooks the sea? Think of it: here am I, panting to have my face washed by her, panting----”

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