Part 42 (1/2)

I expected an irritable outburst, but to my surprise he turned and preceded me toward the door. We entered the room and found Mr. Bundercombe there alone. Lord Porthoning looked from one to the other of us. His heavy gray eyebrows were drawn together; his face was the embodiment of a snarl.

”Now what in the name of all that's reasonable,” he began in his hard, rasping voice, ”made you bring me in here? I don't want to better my acquaintance with that old man, your father-in-law! I'd a good deal rather he'd stayed in his own country. I don't like the looks of him--I hate fat men! Don't keep me waiting here, Paul. If you want my advice I'll give it to you. If you want anything else you won't get it.”

Mr. Bundercombe had moved softly round until he was standing with his back to the door. His manner was the one he had a.s.sumed so successfully in church--dignified, almost solemn.

”Paul,” he said, ”I asked you to invite this person in here because, now that you are Eve's husband, I felt that the interests of your family must be considered before my own inclinations. In my country we treat all men alike, and I am bound to say that if you'd been married to Eve out in Okata, and I'd seen any old skunk, whether he'd been an earl or what he looks like--a secondhand clothes dealer--sneaking Eve's presents, I'd have had him in prison before you'd reached the station.”

”Mr. Bundercombe!” I exclaimed, horrified; it seemed to me that my father- in-law was carrying this affair too far.

Lord Porthoning, from whom I had expected a torrent of fierce abuse, stood looking at us both with an expression no written words could portray. His cheeks were ashen. His hands, which were crossed upon the k.n.o.b of his cane, were shaking. Mr. Bundercombe extended his right hand.

”Sir,” he concluded sternly, ”for the sake of the conventions of the country in which I find myself, and bearing in mind your connection with my son-in-law, I have kept the police out of this interview. Be so good as to hand over to Paul the emerald brooch you have secreted in your coat pocket!”

The pall of silence seemed suddenly removed. Lord Porthoning leaned forward. Then he began to talk. Any sympathy I might have felt for him, any feeling I may have had that my father-in-law's retributive scheme was of too drastic a nature, vanished before he had finished the first three sentences. Mr. Bundercombe, upon whom he heaped abuse of the most virulent character, remained unmoved. When at last Lord Porthoning paused for breath, I turned toward my father-in-law.

”What does this mean?” I asked.

”It means,” Mr. Bundercombe explained, ”that this gentleman, who finds my daughter's presents so inadequate, was actually leaving your house with an emerald brooch belonging to Eve in the righthand pocket of his coat!”

Lord Porthoning was once more incoherent. This time, however, I stopped him. I was already heartily sick of the affair, but at this stage I could not back out.

”Lord Porthoning,” I said, ”there is no necessity for such vigorous denials. The matter is easily arranged. You had better permit me to examine the pocket in question.”

”I'll see you and your common bully of a father-in-law in h.e.l.l before I allow either of you to touch me or my clothing!” my pleasant connection declared fiercely. ”Get out of my way, both of you! And be thankful if you don't have to answer for this outrage in a police court!”

He swaggered toward the door. Mr. Bundercombe, who had appeared to stand on one side, suddenly caught him by the shoulders.

”Feel in his right-hand pocket, Paul!” he bade me.

I did so and promptly produced the brooch. Lord Porthoning's eyes seemed almost to start from his head. I could see that he suddenly became limp in Mr. Bundercombe's grasp. His eyes were fixed on the jewels and his amazement was undeniable. Mr. Bundercombe winked at me over his head.

”What is the meaning of this, Lord Porthoning?” I demanded as sternly as I could.

My courage was failing me. I felt that the joke, after all, had been a severe one. Lord Porthoning seemed almost on the point of collapse. His eyes never once left the brooch which I was holding.

”I didn't take it!” he gasped. ”I swear I didn't take it!”

I was anxious now to finish the affair.

”Lord Porthoning,” I said, ”I will take your word. You say you never took the brooch. Very well; we will a.s.sume, for the sake of the family, that it found its way into your pocket by accident.”

Lord Porthoning felt his forehead. There were big drops of sweat standing out there. There was something in his extreme agitation that was, in a way, incomprehensible. He edged toward the door.

”I didn't take it!” he muttered. ”Let me go! Let me get away!”

Mr. Bundercombe stood on one side. My hand was on the handle of the door.

I looked at my father-in-law questioningly. My sympathies were now almost with the enemy, but I felt bound to see the affair through.

”It was you who discovered this little accident,” I remarked. ”I think you will agree with me that it is best to say nothing more about it.”

Mr. Bundercombe once more winked at me solemnly over the head of my stricken connection.