Part 2 (2/2)

After whisking along in the car, ”Shanks's pony” seemed a very slow mode of progress; their breakdown had happened in an out-of-the-way spot, and it was more than an hour before they reached a highroad. It was almost dark by that time, and matters seemed so desperate that Everard determined to hail the very first pa.s.sing motorist who seemed to be able to help them. Fate brought along no handsome tourist car, but a rattling motor-lorry, the driver of which stopped in answer to their united shouts, and, after hearing of the difficulty they were in, consented to give them a lift to the town, five miles away, for which he was bound.

Fortunately the lorry was empty, so the family thankfully climbed in, and squatted on the floor, while Everard sat in front with the driver.

It was not a very aristocratic mode of conveyance for the heir of Cheverley Chase, but Everard was in no mood to pick and choose just then, and would have accepted a seat in a coal truck if necessary. As for the younger ones, they enjoyed the fun of it. It was a very b.u.mpy performance to sit on the floor of the jolting wagon, but at any rate infinitely preferable to walking.

Arrived in Bilstone, their cicerone drove them to a Commercial Hotel with whose landlady he had some acquaintance, and that good dame, after eyeing the party curiously, consented to make up beds for them for the night.

”I've no private sitting-room to put you in, and I can't show these young ladies into the commercial room,” she objected; ”but I'll have a fire lighted in one of the bedrooms, and you can all have some tea up there. Will that suit you?”

Lilias and Dulcie, catching a glimpse through an open door of the company smoking in the commercial room, agreed thankfully, glad to find some safe haven to which they could beat a retreat.

”I wonder what Cousin Clare would say?” they asked each other.

It was indeed an urgent matter to send some news of their whereabouts to Cheverley Chase, where their absence must be causing much alarm. While the landlady, therefore, ordered the tea, Everard went out to the public telephone, asked for a trunk call, and rang up No. 169 Balderton. He could hear relief in the voice of old Winder, who answered the telephone. Everard was not anxious to enter into too many explanations, so he simply said that they had had a breakdown, told the name of the town and the hotel where they were staying, and suggested that Milner should come over next morning to the rescue. On hearing his Grandfather's voice, he promptly rang off. To-morrow would be quite time enough, so he felt, for giving the history of their adventure. The unpleasant interview might just as well be deferred, and he had no wish to listen to explosions of anger over the telephone.

Tea, tinned salmon, plum and apple jam, and very indifferent bedrooms were the best that the Commercial Hotel had to offer, but it was infinitely better than being benighted on the moor. In spite of lack of all toilet necessaries, the Ingletons slept peacefully, worn out with their long day in the fresh air. Milner, the chauffeur, must have made an early start, for he arrived at eleven o'clock next morning in the small car, armed with his master's instructions. He paid the hotel bill, chartered a taxi, in which he dispatched Lilias, Dulcie, Roland, Bevis and Clifford, straight for home, then, engaging a mechanic from a garage, and taking Everard as guide, he started up the hill in the pouring rain to find the abandoned car. It needed several hours'

attention before it could be induced to start, and it was not until evening that he was able to place it safely back in the motor-house at Cheverley Chase.

Everard had expected his peppery grandfather to be angry, but he was quite unprepared for the intensity of the storm which burst over his head on his return.

”Your insolence goes beyond all bounds!” thundered Mr. Ingleton. ”To borrow my car without leave! And to take your sisters without a chaperon to a fifth-rate public-house! You deserve horsewhipping for it! You think yourself the young Squire, do you? And imagine you can do just what you like here? While I'm above ground I'll have you to know _I'm_ master, and n.o.body else in this place!”

”I can't see it was anything so out of the way to take the kids a run in the car, and I never meant to keep the girls out all night,” replied Everard defiantly. He had a temper as well as his grandfather, and the pair had often been at loggerheads before.

”Indeed! There are ways of making people see! You can just go a little too far sometimes!” declared the old gentleman sarcastically. ”I've given orders that you don't take either car out again unless Milner is with you. So you understand?”

”I suppose I do,” grunted Everard, turning sulkily away.

It was only a few days after this that Everard, Lilias, and Dulcie, returning home across the park from a walk in the woods, met Mr. Bowden, the family solicitor, who was riding down the drive from the Chase. He stopped his motor-bicycle and got off to speak to them. They knew him well, for he often came to the house to conduct their grandfather's business, and he was indeed quite a favorite with them all. He looked at Everard keenly when the first greetings were over.

”Been getting yourself into considerable hot water just lately, haven't you?” he remarked.

Everard colored and frowned, then burst forth.

”Grandfather's quite too ridiculous! Why shouldn't I take out the car if I want to? I can drive as well as Milner! He behaved as if I were a kid!

It's more than a fellow can stand sometimes! He likes to keep everything tight in his own hands; at his age it's time he began to stand aside a little and let _me_ look after things! I shall have to take charge of the whole property some day, I suppose!”

Mr. Bowden was gazing at Everard with the noncommittal air often a.s.sumed by lawyers.

”I wouldn't make too sure about that,” he said slowly. ”I suppose you know your Uncle Tristram left a child? No! Well, he did, at any rate. I must hurry on now. I've an appointment to keep at my office. A happy New Year to you all. Good-by!”

And, starting his engine, he was off before they had time to reply.

”What does he mean?” asked Lilias, watching the retreating bicycle.

”Uncle Tristram has been dead for thirteen years! We never seem to have heard anything about him!”

”What was that photo we saw on the study table?” queried Dulcie. ”Don't you remember--the lady and the baby, and it had written on it: 'My wife and Leslie, from Tristram.'”

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