Part 21 (2/2)

Hadman had been spurred and a little startled when he realized the magnitude of what really could be done, and saw also that this slangy, moneyed youth was not merely an enthusiastic fool, but saw into business schemes pretty sharply and was of a most determined readiness. With this power ranging itself on the side of Hutchinson and his invention, it was good business to begin to move, if one did not want to run a chance of being left out in the cold.

Hutchinson had gone to Manchester, and there had been barely time for a brief but characteristic interview between him and Tembarom, when he rushed back to London. Tembarom felt rather excited when he remembered it, recalling what he had felt in confronting the struggles against emotion in the blunt-featured, red face, the breaks in the rough voice, the charging up and down the room like a curiously elated bull in a china shop, and the big effort to restrain relief and grat.i.tude the degree of which might seem to under-value the merits of the invention itself.

Once or twice when he looked serious, Tembarom was thinking this over, and also once or twice when he grinned. Relief and grat.i.tude notwithstanding, Hutchinson had kept him in his place, and had not made unbounded efforts to conceal his sense of the incongruity of his position as the controller of fortunes and the lord of Temple Barholm, which was still vaguely flavored with indignation.

When he had finished his last pipe, Tembarom rose and knocked the ashes out of it.

”Now for Pearson,” he said.

He had made up his mind to have a talk with Pearson, and there was no use wasting time. If things didn't suit you, the best thing was to see what you could do to fix them right away --if it wasn't against the law. He went out into the hall, and seeing the two footmen standing waiting, he spoke to them.

”Say, I didn't know you fellows were there,” he said. ”Are you waiting up for me? Well, you can go to bed, the sooner the quicker. Good night.” And he went up-stairs whistling.

The glow and richness and ceremonial order of preparation in his bedroom struck him as soon as he opened the door. Everything which could possibly have been made ready for his most luxurious comfort had been made ready. He did not, it is true, care much for the huge bed with its carved oak canopy and ma.s.sive pillars.

”But the lying-down part looks about all right,” he said to himself.

The fine linen, the soft pillows, the downy blankets, would have allured even a man who was not tired. The covering had been neatly turned back and the snowy whiteness opened. That was English, he supposed. They hadn't got on to that at Mrs. Bowse's.

”But I guess a plain little old New York sleep will do,” he said.

”Temple Barholm or no Temple Barholm, I guess they can't change that.”

Then there sounded a quiet knock at the door. He knew who it would turn out to be, and he was not mistaken. Pearson stood in the corridor, wearing his slightly anxious expression, but ready for orders.

Mr. Temple Barholm looked down at him with a friendly, if unusual, air.

”Say, Pearson,” he announced, ”if you've come to wash my face and put my hair up in crimping-pins, you needn't do it, because I'm not used to it. But come on in.”

If he had told Pearson to enter and climb the chimney, it cannot be said that the order would have been obeyed upon the spot, but Pearson would certainly have hesitated and explained with respectful delicacy the fact that the task was not ”his place.” He came into the room.

”I came to see, if I could do anything further and--” making a courageous onslaught upon the situation for which he had been preparing himself for hours--”and also--if it is not too late--to venture to trouble you with regard to your wardrobe.” He coughed a low, embarra.s.sed cough. ”In unpacking, sir, I found--I did not find--”

”You didn't find much, did you?” Tembarom a.s.sisted him.

”Of course, sir,” Pearson apologized, ”leaving New York so hurriedly, your--your man evidently had not time to-- er--”

Tembarom looked at him a few seconds longer, as if making up his mind to something. Then he threw himself easily into the big chair by the fire, and leaned back in it with the frankest and best- natured smile possible.

”I hadn't any man,” he said. ”Say, Pearson,” waving his hand to another chair near by, ”suppose you take a seat.”

Long and careful training came to Pearson's aid and supported him, but he was afraid that he looked nervous, and certainly there was a lack of entire calm in his voice.

”I--thank you, sir,--I think I'd better stand, sir.”

”Why?” inquired Tembarom, taking his tobacco-pouch out of his pocket and preparing to fill another pipe.

”You're most kind, sir, but--but--” in impa.s.sioned embarra.s.sment--”I should really PREFER to stand, sir, if you don't mind. I should feel more--more at 'ome, sir,” he added, dropping an h in his agitation.

<script>