Part 46 (2/2)

”Good-bye Charles, Reginald, De Coursy, West-ma-coate Cosmos, me Lord Beauchamp. Fare thee well,” said Sam, with a grin.

It was at that time that the little Scotch terrier began to sniff at Jack's trouser legs inquisitively. The dog had wandered near him, attracted by the sound of his familiar voice, and though it evidently scented something intimate, could not recognize his former master in the changed appearance resultant on his enforced bath. And so the dog sniffed and sniffed while the glint of its upward turned eyes ominously resented any friendly overture.

Jack had noticed the dog about, and now that it was sniffing at his leg, he softly spoke to it, saying: ”Good-bye, Snooks,” whereupon to his surprise the dog growled at him. Again he said, soothingly: ”Good bye Snooks,” putting out his hand to fondle it, but the dog, in one of those singularly unsympathetic moods rare to its nature, would have none of him, and barked at him furiously.

It was the finis.h.i.+ng stroke to his shame and degradation. ”An outcast, a stranger, so low I have fallen that my own dog barks at me.”

”Come along,” urged the detective to Rutley and Jack. But Rutley halted and turned to Hazel, with the same marvellous air that had won for him confidence in critical moments of ”my lord's” career.

”Ta, ta, pet,” said he, in his softest blandishment to Hazel. ”That was a ravis.h.i.+ng kiss you gave me in the conservatory awhile ago. Ta, ta,” and he threw her a kiss with his free hand and followed it with a tragic scowl at Sam.

”The horrid man,” indignantly exclaimed Hazel.

”Good-bye, Virginia,” and he smiled patronizingly at her. ”You 'peached' on your pal, but rogues do that sometimes. Tra-la.”

”Officer, away with them,” ordered Mr. Harris, with disgust.

”Get a move on, old chappie,” said Sam.

”Come along,” urged the detective.

But Rutley balked, and looking at Mrs. Harris, laughed, the same high-pitched, uncanny laugh he had used previously.

”I had almost forgotten you, Auntie,” he drawled in his most suave and engaging manner. ”You know that it is bad form to take one's leave without saying 'adieu,' and believe me,” and he again laughed, ”I thank you for your lavish reception in honor of the fake lord.”

”Officer, away with them,” stormed Mr. Harris.

Though Rutley was forced away a step or two he still kept his eyes fixed on Mrs. Harris, and managed to hold his ground long enough to add, ironically: ”Adieu, Auntie! Ta, ta!”

”March yees blackguards, march,” said Smith, pus.h.i.+ng the men along.

”How very rude! I have never had anything so scurrilous said to me before in my life.”

”He wasn't a real lord, Auntie. Only tried to act like one, eh, I guess so,” and Sam inwardly chuckled at the balm he offered for her discomfiture.

”Sam, you had better a.s.sist the officers to the railway station,”

suggested Mr. Harris.

”Oh, quite to my fancy, Uncle!” and Sam immediately proceeded after the detectives and their prisoners.

The silence that fell on the group as they watched the prisoners move down the hill was broken by Hazel, who, turning to Mr. Harris, said: ”It was clever of Sam. Indeed, Uncle, it seems to him is due the honor of breaking the spell of a pretender.”

”I am satisfied now that my lord will serve a 'spell' with his partner in the state penitentiary,” replied Mr. Harris.

”A fate that deservedly overtakes adventurers and imposters,” remarked Mrs. Harris.

”And a most pungent warning to the frantic race society runs to entertain t.i.tled swindlers!” added Mr. Harris, gravely.

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