Part 25 (1/2)
”I beg your pardon? . . . Ah, to be sure!” I had forgotten my false nose.
”How did Herbert pick up with you?” she asked musingly. ”His friends are not usually so--so--”
”Respectable?” I suggested.
”I think I meant to say 'presentable.' They are never respectable by any chance.”
”Then, happily, it still remains to be proved that I am one of them.”
”He seems, at any rate, to reckon you high amongst them, since he gave your name.”
”Gave my name? To whom?”
”Oh, I don't know--to the magistrate--or the policeman--or whoever it is.
I have never been in a police-cell myself,” she added, with a small smile.
”Is Herbert, then, in a police-cell?”
She nodded. ”At Vine Street. He wants to be bailed out.”
”What amount?”
”Himself in ten pounds and a friend in another ten. He gave your name; and the policeman is waiting for the answer.”
”I see,” said I; ”but excuse me if I fail to see why, being apparently so impatient to bail him out, you have waited for me. To be sure (for reasons which are dark to me) he appears to have given my name to the police; but we will put that riddle aside for the moment. Any respectable citizen would have served, with the money to back him. Why not have sent Horrex, for example?”
”But I thought the--the--”
”Surety?” I suggested. ”I thought he must be a householder. No,” she cried, as I turned away with a slight shrug of the shoulder, ”that was not the real reason! Herbert is--oh, why will you force me to say it?”
”I beg your pardon,” said I. ”He is at certain times not too tractable; Horrex, in particular, cannot be trusted to manage him; and--and in short you wish him released as soon as possible, but not brought home to this house until your guests have taken leave?”
She nodded at me with swimming eyes. She was pa.s.sing beautiful, more beautiful than I had thought.
”Yes, yes; you understand! And I thought that--as his friend--and with your influence over him--”
I pulled out my watch. ”Has Horrex a hansom in waiting?”
”A four-wheeler,” she corrected me. Our eyes met, and with a great pity I read in hers that she knew only too well the kind of cab suitable.
”Then let us have in the policeman. A four-wheeler will be better, as you suggest, since with your leave I am going to take Horrex with me.
The fact is, I am a little in doubt as to my influence: for to tell you the plain truth, I have never to my knowledge set eyes on your husband.”
”My husband?” She paused with her hand on the bell-pull, and gazed at me blankly. ”My husband?” She began to laugh softly, uncannily, in a way that tore my heart. ”Herbert is my brother.”
”Oh!” said I, feeling pretty much of a fool.
”But what gave you--what do you mean--”