Part 18 (1/2)

Tait looked at his master dubiously as he poured out more brandy, and went over and stood upon the hearthrug with his back to the empty fireplace, drinking it in gulps. ”I did what you're doing now, sir: I took a sight of drink to keep the trouble down. And----” He hesitated.

”Go on,” said Saxham, nodding over the tumbler.

”You're not like other gentlemen in your ways, sir,” said smooth Tait, ”and that makes me 'esitate in saying it. But I took on a gay, agreeable young woman of the free-and-easy sort, and went in for a bit o' pleasure, and more drink along with it. One nail drives out another, you know, sir.

And if the young lady have thrown you hover----”

”Why, you d.a.m.ned, white-gilled, prying brute! you must have been reading my correspondence,” said Saxham thickly, as he lifted the tumbler to his mouth.

Tait grinned. He could venture to tell his master, drunk, what he would not have dared to tell him sober.

”No need for that, sir. I've come and gone between this house and Pont Street too often not to know what was in the wind. Why, Captain Saxham was there with her often and often when you never suspected....”

The tumbler fell from Saxham's hand, and struck the fender, and smashed into a hundred glittering bits.

”Go!” said Tait's master, perfectly, suddenly, dangerously sober, and pointing to the door. The man delayed to finish his sentence.

”While you were in Holloway, sir, and all through the Trial....”

The door, contrary to Tait's discreet, usual habit, had been left open. He vanished through it with harlequin-like agility as a terrible, white-faced black figure seemed to leap upon him....

”I've 'ad an escape for my life!” he said, having reached in a series of bounds the safer regions below stairs.

”Of the Doctor?... Go on with your rubbis.h.i.+ng nonsense!” said the cook.

”What did you go and do to upset 'im, pore dear?” demanded the housemaid, who was more imaginative, and cherished the buddings of a romantic pa.s.sion for one who should be for ever nameless:

”Her at Pont Street has wrote to give 'im the go-by--that's what she've done,” said pale-faced Tait, wiping his dewy brow. ”And seeing the Doctor for the first time since I've been in his service a bit overtook with liquor, and more free and easy like than customary--being a gentleman you or me would 'esitate to take a liberty with in the ordinary way o'

things--I thought I'd let 'im know about the Goings On.”

”Of them two....” interpolated the cook--”Her and the Captain?”

”Shameless, I call 'em!” exclaimed the incandescent housemaid as Tait signified a.s.sent.

”'Aven't they kep' it dark, though!” wondered the cook.

”They're what I call,” stated Tait, who had not quite got over the desertion of the young woman he was to have married, and who had gone off with somebody else, ”a precious downy couple. And what I say is--it's a Riddance!”

”How did 'e take it, pore dear?” gulped the housemaid.

”Like he's took everythink--that is, up to the present moment,” admitted Tait. ”But this is about the last straw.”

The housemaid dissolved in tears.

”He'll get another young lady,” said the cook confidently. ”And him so 'andsome an' so clever, an' with such heaps of carriage-swells for patients.”

Tait shook his prim, respectable head.