Part 8 (1/2)
At the moment of Vane's arrival he was discoursing fluently on the problem of education. The point is really immaterial, as Sir John discussed all problems with equal fluency, and the necessity for answering was rare. He had a certain shrewd business-like efficiency, and in most of his harangues there was a good deal of what, for want of a better word, might be termed horse sense. But he was so completely self-opinionated and sure of himself that he generally drove his audience to thoughts of poisons that left no trace or even fire-arms. Especially when he was holding forth on strategy. On that subject he considered himself an expert, and regularly twice a week he emptied the smoking-room at Rumfold by showing--with the aid of small flags--what he would have done had he been in charge of the battle of the Somme in 1916. He was only silenced once, and that was by a pessimistic and saturnine Sapper.
”Extraordinary,” he murmured. ”I congratulate you, Sir John. The plan you have outlined is exactly in every detail the one which the Commander-in-Chief discussed with me when overlooking the charming little village of Gueudecourt. 'Johnson,' he said, 'that is what we will do,'
and he turned to the Chief of Staff and ordered him to make a note of it.” The Sapper paused for a moment to relight his pipe. Then he turned impressively to Sir John. ”There was no Chief of Staff. The Chief of Staff had gone: only a few bubbles welling out of the mud remained to show his fate. And then, before my very eyes, the C.-in-C. himself commenced to sink. To my fevered brain it seemed to be over in a minute.
His last words as he went down for the third time were 'Johnson, carry on.' . . . Of course it was kept out of the papers, but if it hadn't been for a Tank going by to get some whisky for the officers' mess, which, owing to its pressure on neighbouring ground squeezed them all out again one by one--you know, just like you squeeze orange pips from your fingers--the affair might have been serious.”
”I did hear a rumour about it,” said the still small voice of a machine-gunner from behind a paper.
”Of course,” continued the Sapper, ”the plan had to be given up. The whole of G.H.Q. sat for days in my dug-out with their feet in hot water and mustard. . . . A most homely spectacle--especially towards the end when, to while away the time, they started sneezing in unison. . . .”
A silence settled on the smoking-room, a silence broken at last by the opening and shutting of the door. Sir John had retired for the night. . . .
At the moment that Vane paused at the entrance to his bit of fairyland Sir John was in full blast.
”What, sir, is the good of educating these people? Stuffing their heads with a lot of useless nonsense. And then talking about land nationalisation. The two don't go together, sir. If you educate a man he's not going to go and sit down on a bare field and look for worms. . . .” He paused in his peroration as he caught sight of Vane.
”Ah! ha!” he cried. ”Surely a new arrival. Welcome, sir, to my little home.”
Restraining with a great effort his inclination to kick him, Vane shook the proffered hand; and for about ten minutes he suffered a torrent of grandiloquence in silence. At the conclusion of the little man's first remark Vane had a fleeting vision of the cavalry-man slinking hurriedly round two bushes and then, having run like a stag across the open, going to ground in some dense undergrowth on the opposite side. And Vane, to his everlasting credit be it said, did not even smile. . . .
After a while the flood more or less spent itself, and Vane seized the occasion of a pause for breath to ask after old John.
”I see you've got a new lodge-keeper, Sir John. Robert tells me that the old man who was here under Lord Forres is in the village.”
”Yes. Had to get rid of him. Too slow. I like efficiency, my boy, efficiency. . . . That's my motto.” Sir John complacently performed three steps of his celebrated strut. ”Did you know the Hearl?” Though fairly sound on the matter, in moments of excitement he was apt to counterbalance his wife with the elusive letter. . . .
Vane replied that he did--fairly well.
”A charming man, sir . . . typical of all that is best in our old English n.o.bility. I am proud, sir, to have had such a predecessor. I number the Hearl, sir, among my most intimate friends. . . .”
Vane, who remembered the graphic description given him by Blervie--the Earl's eldest son--at lunch one day, concerning the transaction at the time of the sale, preserved a discreet silence.
”A horrible-looking little man, old bean,” that worthy had remarked.
”Quite round, and bounces in his chair. The governor saw him once, and had to leave the room. 'I can't stand it,' he said to me outside, 'the dam fellow keeps hopping up and down, and calling me His Grace. He's either unwell, or his trousers are coming off.'” Lord Blervie had helped himself to some more whisky and sighed. ”I've had an awful time,” he continued after a while. ”The governor sat in one room, and Patterdale bounced in the other, and old Podmore ran backwards and forwards between, with papers and things. And if we hadn't kept the little blighter back by force he was going to make a speech to the old man when it was all fixed up. . . .”
At last Sir John left Vane to himself, and with a sigh of relief he sank into the chair so recently vacated by the cavalryman. In his hand he held a couple of magazines, but, almost unheeded, they slipped out of his fingers on to the gra.s.s. He felt supremely and blissfully lazy. The soft thud of tennis b.a.l.l.s, and the players' voices calling the score, came faintly through the still air, and Vane half closed his eyes. Then a sudden rustle of a skirt beside him broke into his thoughts, and he looked up into the face of the girl whom Lady Patterdale had greeted as Joan.
”Why it's my bored friend of the photograph!” She stood for a moment looking at him critically, rather as a would-be purchaser looks at a horse. ”And have they all run away and left you to play by yourself?”
She pulled up another chair and sat down opposite him.
”Yes. Even Sir John has deserted me.” As he spoke he was wondering what her age was. Somewhere about twenty-two he decided, and about ten more in experience.
”For which relief much thanks, I suppose?”
”One shouldn't look a gift host in the stockings,” returned Vane lightly.
”I think it's very charming of him and his wife to have us here.”
”Do you? It's hopelessly unfas.h.i.+onable not to do war work of some sort, and this suits them down to the ground. . . . Why the Queen visited Rumfold the other day and congratulated Lady Patterdale on her magnificent arrangements.” There was a mocking glint in her eyes, otherwise her face was perfectly serious.