War-time Silhouettes Part 15

"You're quite wrong, Knott. He sent me--that exquisite study--on the wall yonder." He pointed as he spoke to a small drawing in water colours.

Peter got up, looked at it a moment, and shrugged his shoulders.

"If you're satisfied, I've got nothing to say."

"Satisfied--of course I'm satisfied--" A tolerant, almost condescending smile stole over David's eyes and mouth. "You don't understand--artists, Knott."

"Perhaps not, perhaps not." Knott pulled out his watch. "Anything doing in your own line, Saunderson?" he asked in a tone of careful indifference.

David puffed at his pipe.

"I'm not very busy--but--you know--that's rather a good thing--now I'm a special constable."

Peter Knott's single eyegla.s.s wandered over the unwieldy frame sitting opposite him.

"A special constable?" he echoed.

David puffed complacently.

"Sergeant," he replied.

Peter Knott dropped his gla.s.s.

"Really, you know, Saunderson. For a man at your time of life, and obliged to work for his living, it's--" He hesitated. "Well, you oughtn't to do it."

David smiled in a superior way.

"That's just where--you're wrong--Knott--we relieve the--younger men--that's our job--and I'm proud to--"

Peter Knott's kindly old eyes twinkled at the thought of David tackling a l.u.s.ty cracksman, twinkled and then became grave.

"Supposing you get laid up, injured in some way?" he asked.

"We don't think about that." David's expression was serene. "I go on--duty at--two--very quiet then--lovely it is--on fine nights--when I've been working--to get out--into the cool air--"

As David spoke Peter Knott pulled out his watch again and then got up.

"I saw your cousin Herbert a few days ago, Saunderson. He said he hadn't seen you for a long time, wondered whether you'd go down to Rendlesham for a few weeks. He wants a catalogue of his prints, and there are some old ma.n.u.scripts he would like your opinion about. I'm going down this week-end. What shall I tell him?"

David put down his pipe.

"Tell him--I'm much obliged--later on perhaps--I can't--leave my duties--while these Zeppelin scares last. They need experienced men--one doesn't know what--may happen." He had got on his feet and had gradually reached the door of the tiny flat. "Good-bye, Knott," he said as he took the other's hand. "Don't forget--about Macma.n.u.s and--Plimsoll--"

His visitor was two flights below when David called to him--

"If you happen--to hear of--a secretarys.h.i.+p--Wyatt's--"

But by the time he got the words out Peter Knott was out of hearing.

In due course Peter Knott reported the result of his visit to Sir Herbert Saunderson. The latter, a kindly man with an income barely enough for the responsibilities a large family entailed on him, took counsel with his old friend as to what could be done next. There was reason for believing that David's stolid silence regarding his own concerns concealed a general impecuniousness quite as p.r.o.nounced as that of the artist friends whose cause he pleaded.

"Why not send him the prints with a cheque on account and say you need the catalogue soon, as you may make up your mind to sell them?"

"A capital idea," replied the other, and the suggestion was promptly carried into effect.

One winter morning, some months afterwards, a seedy-looking individual called at Portland Place with a typewritten letter, requiring an answer.

Sir Herbert Saunderson, busy reading and signing letters, tossed it over to his secretary. The young lady read it aloud according to rule.

DEAR HERBERT [it ran],--

I have finished the catalogue, but there are one or two details which I should like to settle before sending it to the printers. My friend Mr.

Wyatt, who has been kindly helping me with the work since my little accident, will explain the different points to you and take your instructions, I am so sorry I can't come myself, but Mr. Wyatt is thoroughly competent and I can strongly recommend him if you have any other work of an a.n.a.logous character.

Yours ever,

D.S.

The one ear with which Sir Herbert Saunderson was listening while he went on signing the papers before him had caught part though not all of the letter.

"Did I hear the word 'accident,' Miss Milsome?" he asked, looking up.

"Yes, Sir Herbert."

"How did it happen? Let's have a look."

The busy man glanced through it.

"Send for Mr. Wyatt, please."

The seedy little man entered and was asked courteously to seat himself.

"What has happened to my cousin?" asked Sir Herbert.

Mr. Wyatt seemed embarra.s.sed by the question.

"The fact is, Sir Herbert," he began hesitatingly, "Mr. Saunderson didn't want much said about that. His great wish is that I should be given certain necessary data regarding the catalogue, but to tell you the truth--"

Mr. Wyatt stopped. There was a note of anxiety in his pleasant, cultivated voice.

Sir Herbert Saunderson and Miss Milsome exchanged glances.

"Pray don't hesitate to tell me if anything is wrong with my cousin, Mr.--er--"

"Wyatt," added Miss Milsome softly.