Part 48 (1/2)

”I hadn't forgotten, Peterby; and good day, Mr. Smivvle.”

”Au revoir, sir, delighted to have had the happiness. If you _should_ chance ever to be in Worcesters.h.i.+re, the Hall is open to you. Good afternoon, sir!” And so, with a prodigious flourish of the hat, Mr. Smivvle bowed, smiled, and swaggered off. Then, as he turned to follow Peterby into the inn, Barnabas must needs pause to glance towards the spot where lay the Viscount's torn glove.

CHAPTER XXVIII

CONCERNING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, THE LEGS OF A GENTLEMAN-IN-POWDER

In that delightful book, ”The Arabian Nights' Entertainments,” one may read of Spirits good, and bad, and indifferent; of slaves of lamps, of rings and amulets, and talismanic charms; and of the marvels and wonders they performed. But never did Afrit, Djinn, or Genie perform greater miracles than steady-eyed, soft-voiced Peterby.

For if the far away Orient has its potent charms and spells, so, in this less romantic Occident, have we also a spell whereby all things are possible, a charm to move mountains--a spell whereby kings become slaves, and slaves, kings; and we call it Money.

Aladdin had his wonderful Lamp, and lo! at the Genie's word, up sprang a palace, and the wilderness blossomed; Barnabas had his overflowing purse, and behold! Peterby went forth, and the dull room at the ”George” became a mansion in the midst of Vanity Fair.

Thus, at precisely four o'clock on the afternoon of the third day, Barnabas stood before a cheval mirror in the dressing-room of his new house, surveying his reflection with a certain complacent satisfaction.

His silver-b.u.t.toned blue coat, high-waisted and cunningly rolled of collar, was a sartorial triumph; his black stockinette pantaloons, close-fitting from hip to ankle and there looped and b.u.t.toned, accentuated muscled calf and virile thigh in a manner somewhat disconcerting; his snowy waistcoat was of an original fas.h.i.+on and cut, and his cravat, folded and caressed into being by Peterby's fingers, was an elaborate masterpiece, a matchless creation never before seen upon the town. Barnabas had become a dandy, from the crown of his curly head to his silk stockings and polished shoes, and, upon the whole, was not ill-pleased with himself.

”But they're--dangerously tight, aren't they, Peterby?” he inquired suddenly, speaking his thought aloud.

”Tight, sir!” repeated Mr. Barry, the tailor, reproachfully, and shaking his gentleman-like head, ”impossible, sir,--with such a leg inside 'em.”

”Tight, sir?” exclaimed Peterby, from where he knelt upon the floor, having just finished looping and b.u.t.toning the garments in question, ”indeed, sir, since you mention it, I almost fear they are a trifle too--roomy. Can you raise your bent knee, sir?”

”Only with an effort, John.”

”That settles it, Barry,” said Peterby with a grim nod, ”you must take them in at least a quarter of an inch.”

”Take 'em in?” exclaimed Barnabas, aghast, ”no, I'll be shot if you do,--not a fraction! I can scarcely manage 'em as it is.” Peterby shook his head in grave doubt, but at this juncture they were interrupted by a discreet knock, and the door opening, a Gentleman-in-Powder appeared. He was a languid gentleman, an extremely superior gentleman, but his character lay chiefly in his nose, which was remarkably short and remarkably supercilious of tip, and his legs which were large and n.o.bly shaped; they were, in a sense, eloquent legs, being given to divers tremors and quiverings when their possessor labored under any strong feeling or excitement; but, above all, they were haughty legs, contemptuous of this paltry world and all that therein is, yea, even of themselves, for their very calves seemed striving to turn their backs upon each other.

”Are you in, sir?” he inquired in an utterly impersonal tone.

”In?” repeated Barnabas, with a quick downward glance at his tight nether garments, ”in?--in what?--in where?”

”Are you at 'ome, sir?”

”At home? Of course,--can't you see that?”

”Yes, sir,” returned the Gentleman-in-Powder, his legs growing a little agitated.

”Then why do you ask?”

”There is a--person below, sir.”

”A person?”

”Yes, sir,--very much so! Got 'is foot in the door--wouldn't take it out--had to let 'em in--waiting in the 'all, sir.”

”What's he like, who is he?”

”Whiskers, sir,--name of Snivels,--no card!” Here might have been observed the same agitation of the plump legs.