Part 39 (2/2)

She turned towards the staircase which led to the servants'

quarters, with the intention, no doubt, of making them smart, when she encountered one of them. An unkempt, untidy figure, clad in a nondescript costume, consisting of checked tweed trousers, carpet slippers, dress-coat and waistcoat, crumpled s.h.i.+rt and collar and no necktie, came strolling leisurely down the stairs as Mrs. Lamb was about to ascend them. It was James Cottrell, the butler, in general, so far as appearances went, the most immaculate of beings. His mistress stared at him in not unnatural surprise.

”Cottrell!--you!--in that state!--at this time of day!--why, you're not even dressed.”

So far from showing any signs of being ashamed or disconcerted, Mr. Cottrell's manner was not only self-possessed, it was affability itself. Thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, he tilted himself on his heels, till his legs touched the stair behind, and he smiled.

”No, Mrs. Lamb, I am not dressed--that is, my costume is not in that perfect state of completeness which I prefer. It is not my habit to make personal remarks, but since we are on the subject, I may observe that you're not dressed either. I shouldn't call that dressing-gown full dress--would you? Your hair don't look--to me--as if it had been done for days, and you really must excuse my mentioning that your complexion seems to have got itself all mixed up anyhow.”

”Cottrell, you're drunk; how dare you speak to me like that?”

”No, Mrs. Lamb, I am not drunk; I do a.s.sure you that I am at least as sober as you are. If you want to know what drink can do for a man, I recommend you to go and look at your husband--there is a drunkard, if you like; he's like a perambulating sponge.

Last night it took six of us to get him upstairs; that man ought to be black-listed. As for daring to speak to you, Mrs. Lamb, there may be some folks whom you inspire with awe, but you don't inspire me with any.”

”Don't you think I'll let you speak to me like that, although you are a man and I'm a woman. You'll leave my service at once--and without a character.”

”As for a character, any character which you might give me, Mrs.

Lamb, would, in all human probability, do me more harm than good. It will be my constant endeavour to conceal the fact that I ever occupied a position in your establishment; it might do me a serious injury were it to become known. As to leaving your service, I shall be only too glad to do so inside sixty seconds; only there's a little formality which I should like to have completed before I go. I should like to have my overdue wages, Mrs. Lamb. They are more than three months overdue, and I should like to see the colour of my money, Mrs. Lamb.”

”You shall have your wages; you needn't be afraid.”

”Thank you; that is good news. Because, to be quite frank, I was beginning to be afraid--in fact, we all were.”

”You impertinent brute! Where are those other creatures?”

”Other creatures? You refer to my colleagues, male and female?

We are all of us creatures, Mrs. Lamb--including you. I believe that two or three of them have already quitted your service, including the young Frenchwoman who was supposed to be your own particular maid. She said that she never bargained to wait on a woman of your cla.s.s, so she's gone. I noticed two young women in the kitchen when I was down there just now. They seemed to be in a more or less tearful condition. Poor wretches! perhaps they never expected to find themselves in such a place as this. As for the rest of my colleagues, I fancy they are still in bed. I do not doubt that if you take them their overdue wages they'll get up, and get out of the house also, as quickly as you like. I imagine they'll be only too glad of the chance.”

Mrs. Lamb looked at Mr. Cottrell as if she were meditating measures of a distinctly active kind. Although he might not have been conscious of it, for some seconds he stood in imminent peril of realising that, at least physically, his mistress was more than a match for the average man. But, apparently, after thinking things over she changed her mind and postponed hostilities.

”You shall be paid for this, my man--they all shall--just wait a bit.” She moved, as if to return to her bedroom, then paused.

”There's some one at the door.”

There did seem to be some one at the front door, some one who saluted with equal vigour both the bell and the knocker. Mr.

Cottrell was philosophical.

”Ah! there's been one or two already this morning. You've perhaps been in such a queer state yourself that you didn't hear them, though they made noise enough; but there have been several visitors. Jones the fishmonger wants his little account, and Franks the butcher wants his, and Murphy the greengrocer, and the baker, and the grocer, and the milkman, and, I think, the laundry, and three or four more besides. They all want their little accounts--good big ones some of them are. I peeped through the dining-room window, but I didn't notice just who was there, and I didn't open to them either. I've had about enough of opening to those kind of people; they won't go round to the side entrance, and it's no use asking them to. But that sounds as if it was the landlord come to put the brokers in for rent. A landlord always thinks himself ent.i.tled to make as much noise as he likes at his own front door.”

Some one seemed to consider himself at liberty to make as much clatter as he liked.

”Cottrell, go down at once and see who is at the door.”

”Wouldn't you like to go and see yourself, Mrs. Lamb?”

”If you don't obey my orders and go at once I'll throw you out of the house with my own hands, and you shall whistle for your wages.”

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