Part 47 (1/2)

The only point which appeared absolutely clear to him in a welter of confusing occurrences was the fact that he had lost the chance of kidnapping Ogden. Everything had arranged itself so beautifully simply and conveniently as regarded that venture until a moment ago; but now that the boy had discovered his ident.i.ty it was impossible for him to attempt it. He was loth to accept this fact. Surely, even now, there was a way ...

Quite suddenly an admirable plan occurred to him. It involved the co-operation of his father. And at that thought he realised with a start that life had been moving so rapidly for him since his return to the house that he had not paid any attention at all to what was really as amazing a mystery as any. He had been too busy to wonder why his father was there.

He debated the best method of getting in touch with him. It was out of the question to descend to the pantry or wherever it was that his father lived in this new incarnation of his. Then the happy thought struck him that results might be obtained by the simple process of ringing the bell. It might produce some other unit of the domestic staff. However, it was worth trying. He rang the bell.

A few moments later the door opened. Jimmy looked up. It was not his father. It was a dangerous-looking female of uncertain age, dressed as a parlour-maid, who eyed him with what seemed to his conscience-stricken soul dislike and suspicion. She had a tight-lipped mouth and beady eyes beneath heavy brows. Jimmy had seldom seen a woman who attracted him less at first sight.

”Jer ring, S'?”

Jimmy blinked and almost ducked. The words had come at him like a projectile.

”Oh, ah, yes.”

”J' want anything, s'?”

With an effort Jimmy induced his mind to resume its interrupted equilibrium.

”Oh, ah, yes. Would you mind sending Skinner the butler to me.”

”Y's'r.”

The apparition vanished. Jimmy drew out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. He felt weak and guilty. He felt as if he had just been accused of nameless crimes and had been unable to deny the charge. Such was the magic of Miss Trimble's eye--the left one, which looked directly at its object. Conjecture pauses baffled at the thought of the effect which her gaze might have created in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the s.e.x she despised, had it been double instead of single-barrelled. But half of it had wasted itself on a spot some few feet to his right.

Presently the door opened again, and Mr. Crocker appeared, looking like a benevolent priest.

CHAPTER XIX

BETWEEN FATHER AND SON

”Well, Skinner, my man,” said Jimmy, ”how goes it?”

Mr. Crocker looked about him cautiously. Then his priestly manner fell from him like a robe, and he bounded forward.

”Jimmy!” he exclaimed, seizing his son's hand and shaking it violently. ”Say, it's great seeing you again, Jim!”

Jimmy drew himself up haughtily.

”Skinner, my good menial, you forget yourself strangely! You will be getting fired if you mitt the handsome guest in this chummy fas.h.i.+on!” He slapped his father on the back. ”Dad, this is great!

How on earth do you come to be here? What's the idea? Why the b.u.t.tling? When did you come over? Tell me all!”

Mr. Crocker hoisted himself nimbly onto the writing-desk, and sat there, beaming, with dangling legs.

”It was your letter that did it, Jimmy. Say, Jim, there wasn't any need for you to do a thing like that just for me.”

”Well, I thought you would have a better chance of being a peer without me around. By the way, dad, how did my step-mother take the Lord Percy episode?”

A shadow fell upon Mr. Crocker's happy face.

”I don't like to do much thinking about your step-mother,” he said. ”She was pretty sore about Percy. And she was pretty sore about your lighting out for America. But, gee! what she must be feeling like now that I've come over, I daren't let myself think.”