Part 36 (2/2)

”It ain't that, Mr. 'Awkes,” protested Britton loyally. ”He's lost his nerve, that's wot it is. They allus do when they realise 'ow bad they're hit. Turn 'im down? Not much, Mr. 'Awkes. Take it from me, Mr. 'Awkes, he's not going to give 'er the _chawnce_ to turn 'im down.”

”Ach, Gott!” said Gretel. I will stake my head that she wrung her hands.

”Women is funny,” said Hawkes. (I had no idea the wretch was so ungrammatical.) ”You can't put your finger on 'em ever. While I 'aven't seen much of the Countess during my present engagement, I will say this: she has a lot more sense than people give 'er credit for. Now why should she throw the 'ooks into a fine, upstanding chap like 'im, even if he is an American? She made a rotten bad job the first time, mind you. If she has threw the 'ooks into 'im, as I am afeared, I can't see wot the deuce ails 'er.”

My perfect footman, Blatchford, ventured an opinion, and I blessed him for it. ”We may be off our nuts on the 'ole bloomink business,” said he. ”Maybe he 'as thrown the 'ooks into 'er. Who knows? It looks that w'y to me.” (I remember distinctly that he used the word ”thrown” and I was of half a mind to rush in and put him over Hawkes, there and then.)

”In any case,” said Britton, gloom in his voice, ”it's a most unhappy state of affairs. He's getting to be a perfect crank. Complines about everything I do. He won't 'ave 'is trousers pressed and he 'asn't been shaved since Monday.”

I stole away, rage in my soul. Or was it mortification? In any event, I had come to an irrevocable decision: I would s.h.i.+p the whole lot of them, without notice, before another day was gone.

The more I thought of the way I was being treated by my own servants, and the longer I dwelt upon the ignominious figure I must have presented as the hero of their back-door romance, the angrier I got. I was an object of concern to them, an object of pity! Confound them, they were feeling sorry for me because I had received my _conge_, and they were actually finding fault with me for not taking it with a grin on my face!

Before going to bed I went into the loggia (for the first time in three days) and, keeping myself pretty well hidden behind a projection in the wall, tried to get a glimpse of the Countess's windows. Failing there, I turned my steps in another direction and soon stood upon my little balcony. There was no sign of her in the windows, although a faint light glowed against the curtains of a well-remembered room near the top of the tower.

Ah, what a cosy, jolly room! What a delicious dinner I had had there!

And what a supper! Somehow, I found myself thinking of those little tan pumps. As a matter of fact, they had been a source of annoyance to me for more than forty-eight hours. I had found myself thinking of them at most inopportune times, greatly to the detriment of my work as a realist.

It was cool on the balcony, and I was abnormally warm, as might be expected. It occurred to me that I might do worse than to sit out there in the cool of the evening and enjoy a cigar or two--three or four, if necessary.

But, though I sat there until nearly midnight and chattered my teeth almost out of my head with the cold, she did not appear at her window.

The aggravating part of it was that while I was s.h.i.+vering out there in the beastly raw, miasmic air, she doubtless was lying on a luxurious couch before a warm fire in a dressing gown and slippers,--ah, slippers!--reading a novel and thinking of nothing in the world but her own comfort! And those rascally beggars presumed to think that I was in love with a selfish, self-centred, spoiled creature like that!

Rubbis.h.!.+

I am afraid that p.o.o.pend.y.k.e found me in a particularly irascible frame of mind the next morning. I know that Britton did. I thought better of my determination to discharge Britton. He was an exceptionally good servant and a loyal fellow, so why should I deprive myself of a treasure simply because the eastern wing of my abode was inhabited by an unfeeling creature who hadn't a thought beyond fine feathers and bonbons? I was not so charitably inclined toward Hawkes and Blatchford, who were in my service through an influence over which I did not appear to have any control. They would have to go.

”Mr. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e,” said I, after Blatchford had left the breakfast room, ”I want you to give notice to Hawkes and Blatchford to-day.”

”Notice?” he exclaimed incredulously.

”Notice,” said I, very distinctly.

He looked distressed. ”I thought they were most; satisfactory to you.”

”I've changed my opinion.”

”By Jove, Mr. Smart, I--I don't know how the Countess will take such high-handed--ahem! You see, sir, she--she was good enough to recommend them to me. It will be quite a shock to--”

”By the Lord Harry, Fred, am I to--”

”Don't misunderstand me,” he made haste to say. ”This is your house.

You have a perfect right to hire and discharge, but--but--Don't you think you'd better consider very carefully--” He seemed to be finding his collar rather tight.

I held up my hand. ”Of course I do not care to offend the Countess Tarnowsy. It was very kind of her to recommend them. We--we will let the matter rest for a few days.”

”She has informed me that you were especially pleased with the manner in which they served the dinner the other night. I think she said you regarded them as incomparable diadems, or something of the sort. It may have been the champagne.”

My thoughts leaped backward to that wonderful dinner. ”It wasn't the champagne,” said I, very stiffly.

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