Part 22 (2/2)
I indicated myself.
”Then I want you as well as the two seafaring men. Drunk and disorderly can be treated summary. You come on.”
My relations with the Suss.e.x constabulary have, so far, been of the best, but I could not love this person.
”Of course you have your authority to show?” I hinted.
”I'll show it you at Linghurst,” he retorted hotly----”all the authority you want.”
”I only want the badge, or warrant, or whatever it is a plain-clothes man has to show.”
He made as though to produce it, but checked himself, repeating less politely the invitation to Linghurst. The action and the tone confirmed my many-times tested theory that the bulk of English sh.o.r.egoing inst.i.tutions are based on conformable strata of absolutely impervious inaccuracy. I reflected and became aware of a drumming on the back of the front seat that Pyecroft, bowed forward and relaxed, was tapping with his knuckles.
The hardly-checked fury on Hinchcliffe's brow had given place to a greasy imbecility, and he nodded over the steering-bar. In longs and shorts, as laid down by the pious and immortal Mr. Morse, Pyecroft tapped out, ”Sham drunk. Get him in the car.”
”I can't stay here all day,” said the constable.
Pyecroft raised his head. Then was seen with what majesty the British sailor-man envisages a new situation.
”Met gennelman heavy sheeway,” said he. ”Do tell me British gelman can't give 'ole Brish Navy lif' own blighted ste' cart. Have another drink!”
”I didn't know they were as drunk as all that when they stopped me,” I explained.
”You can say all that at Linghurst,” was the answer. ”Come on.”
”Quite right,” I said. ”But the question is, if you take these two out on the road, they'll fall down or start killing you.”
”Then I'd call on you to a.s.sist me in the execution o' my duty.”
”But I'd see you further first. You'd better come with us in the car. I'll turn this pa.s.senger out.” (This was my engineer, sitting quite silent.) ”You don't want him, and, anyhow, he'd only be a witness for the defence.”
”That's true,” said the constable. ”But it wouldn't make any odds--at Linghurst.”
My engineer skipped into the bracken like a rabbit. I bade him cut across Sir Michael Gregory's park, and if he caught my friend, to tell him I should probably be rather late for lunch.
”I ain't going to be driven by _him_.” Our destined prey pointed at Hinchcliffe with apprehension.
”Of course not. You sake my seat and keep the big sailor in order. He's too drunk to do much. I'll change places with the other one. Only be quick; I want to pay my fine and get it over.”
”That's the way to look at it,” he said, dropping into the left rear seat.
”We're making quite a lot out o' you motor gentry.” He folded his arms judicially as the car gathered way under Hinchcliffe's stealthy hand.
”But _you_ aren't driving?” he cried, half rising.
”You've noticed it?” said Pyecroft, and embraced him with one anaconda- like left arm.
”Don't kill him,” said Hinchcliffe briefly. ”I want to show him what twenty-three and a quarter is.” We were going a fair twelve, which was about the car's limit.
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