The Kingdom Round the Corner Part 4

"All right," she said reluctantly. "I suppose there's no other way. Get into the back, Prentys; I'll ride in front with Lord Taborley."

He was glad to have something to occupy his attention--to be able to talk without the necessity of regarding her. They were both embarra.s.sed by the memory of their recent tempest of emotion. "Braithwaite! So that's the name of the good fairy who gave us our day in the country. I don't remember him; but that's not remarkable. Generals at the Front were as common as policemen in London; you found one at every street corner. As for trenchdwellers like myself, we never came in touch with them except when we were in for a wigging. We came in touch with them all right then."

She made no remark. He had the feeling that she was annoyed with herself for having let the General's name escape her. Up to that point she had referred to him anonymously as "a friend at the War Office." Tabs tried to switch to another subject without making the change offensively apparent. "Now that I'm a free man, I've got to reorganize a household."

She kindled into interest, "Taborley House is still a hospital, isn't it?"

"Yes, I handed it over to the Americans. I was glad to do that for my mother's sake. After all, I'm half American. At least a third of my boyhood was spent in the States. But they're sending most of their wounded home now, so I shall soon have it back on my hands. But that wasn't what I meant. It was too big for me; I never lived there."

"Then what did you mean?"

He realized that she was encouraging him to continue talking because the topic was safe--not because it held much attraction for her.

"What I meant was that I'll have to try to collect up my old servants. I don't know where they all are, or who's alive and who's dead. There's one man I'm particularly anxious to discover."

He slowed down, tooting his horn vigorously as they rounded an awkward corner. When they were again on the level she reminded him: "You were saying that you were anxious to discover----"

"Oh, that man of mine! There isn't much to tell! He looked after me while I was up at the 'Varsity; when I left, I carried him off. I was always wandering, so I made him my body-servant. When we were leading civilized lives in cities he acted as my valet-butler-secretary. When we were adventuring in the remoter parts of the world, he was my companion-friend. I had a real affection for the chap; he was so genuinely distinguished and quick to learn. He'd have gone far if things had kept on. As it is, he's probably gone farther."

"Gone farther?" She sounded half-asleep--politely lackadaisical.

"Gone West," he explained shortly. "His letters became fewer. We joined up together in the ranks. You know all about my end of it. I suppose it was my mother's democratic Americanism that made me do that. We got drafted into different regiments. After the fighting had been going for a year, he stopped corresponding. The funny thing was that none of my letters to him was returned."

She was so bored that she was scarcely listening. He cut the matter short by adding, "It was your mention of General Braithwaite that started me gossiping."

She pulled herself together with a jerk and instantly became all attention. "How? How could my mentioning General Braithwaite do that?"

He noticed again her unreasonable suspicion of hostility each time he made a reference to this man. Thinking it the wiser policy to overlook it, he answered evenly, "Because his name also happened to be Braithwaite."

Fully fifteen minutes elapsed. "She's quite fed up with my valet," he told himself. He hadn't been able to contrive any fresh topic which was sufficiently innocuous, so he'd been keeping silent. They were again pa.s.sing over the bridge beneath which, like a gleaming sword, lay the Thames, barriered on either bank by the little bow-windowed houses, with their s.h.i.+ning bra.s.ses and whitened steps. They were already catching up with the throng of London traffic when she shook herself out of her self-absorption by saying, "There must be thousands of Braithwaites in the world."

He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes. Her latest conversational effort tickled his sense of humor--it was so wholly inadequate. He laughed outright. "That's better; the high spirits will soon be coming back---- Thousands of Braithwaites! My dear Terry, there must be hundreds of thousands." Then in a graver voice, "But though there were thousands of millions, it wouldn't restore to me my one loyal man."

"You loved him?" She uttered her guess softly.

"Yes, and I--it's a queer thing to say about one's valet--I admired him tremendously."

It was the best part of five years since Tabs had driven a car. He hadn't yet regained his old dexterity. He wasn't expert enough to attend to the wheel and at the same time to carry on a conversation. As he left the bridge he had to pa.s.s a coster's barrow which was drawn up beside the curb. The coster was dressed in the soiled khaki of a man recently released from the Army; his barrow was piled high with narcissi and daffodils, and a drowsy donkey drooped between the shafts. In avoiding a suicidal pedestrian, Tabs misjudged the room that he had to spare. He felt a jolt, guessed what had happened, and jammed on his brakes. A policeman in front of him was holding up a magisterial hand. Behind him a stream of familiar trench profanity was gathering in volume; under other circ.u.mstances he would have found a certain enjoyment in the sound. He looked back and saw what he expected: the barrow overturned; the flowers scattered, the donkey surprised out of its drowsiness, thrown on its back and kicking in its harness; the coster straddling the sudden ruin and calling down all the rigors of the law. A crowd was running together; it hesitated between the coster and Tabs, uncertain as to which would provide the more exciting entertainment. When the policeman waving his note-book approached the car, it plunked for Tabs.

The policeman was a stout, fat-fingered, immovable kind of person. He said nothing till he had penciled down the car's official number. Tabs gave his name and address. "Lord Taborley, etc." The policeman lifted his slow eyes to judge for himself whether the Lord part of his information looked probable. The lean aristocratic face which he encountered seemed to correspond with the specifications recorded. He asked to see his Lords.h.i.+p's license. Tabs embarked on explanations, pointing to the bandaged wrist of Prentys as a confirmation of his facts. While he was explaining the coster joined them, having got his donkey on to its legs. He was violent with anger and burning to expound the justice of his cause. Suddenly he struck out a convincing line of argument, "Look at 'im, the bloomin' slacker--the pasty h'aristocrat. 'E didn't see no fightin'. Not 'im. But now the war's been won by poor blokes like meself, 'e ain't ashamed ter go banging abart in h'Army cars."

"I know how you feel," Tabs said. "But you're mistaken; I served in the ranks two years myself. I was only demobbed yesterday; to-day's my first day out of uniform. I'll pay you whatever you think fair; so you don't need to work yourself up."

The man's att.i.tude changed completely. He removed his cap and scratched his head. "Served in the ranks, did yer? Then you and me was pals out there!" He turned to the policeman, "'E ain't done me as much damidge as if one of them there Big Berthas 'ad landed."

The policeman let his fat eyes wander from the coster to Tabs, from Tabs back to the coster. "I wuz too old ter go," he said inconsequently; "but me son's out there and won't ever come back." He crossed out the particulars he had written down so laboriously; when that was done, he fumbled his note-book back into his pocket. "If your mate 'ere says that it's h'all right, sir, it's h'all right so far as I'm consarned. Your fust day h'out of the h'Army! Well, well!" He looked at Terry with a world of understanding, wheeled about slowly and went ponderously back to his corner.

"That was sportsmanly of you." It was Tabs speaking. "I'd like to know how much----"

The coster shook his head. "It don't cost you nothink. Me and you used ter share."

Tabs protested. The man climbed the running-board and pushed his grime-stained hand into the car. "Call it quits, mister, and shake for luck. And now the little lady, if she don't h'object."

Terry shook his hand daintily. So there wasn't going to be a fight after all! Everything had been settled amicably! With an air of disappointment the crowd dispersed.

"Came pretty well out of that!" Tabs remarked as the car started forward.

"You're not to talk." Terry's voice was high-strung and emphatic. "You can't talk and drive--and you've got to drive like mad."

"Why? What's the hurry?"

"The hurry! We've wasted twenty minutes; we've barely time to get there."

"Oh, the General! I'd forgotten. Well, it won't do the old boy any harm to wait. Lord, the hours he and his sort have kept me waiting on parade-grounds in France!"

Then he remembered that this General wasn't an old boy. If he wasn't old, there was all the less reason for making so much effort not to be late. Nevertheless, to please Terry---- He could feel her body twitching. Every time he had to slow down for traffic he was aware of her impatience. Why was it of such vital importance to her that they should arrive in time? She wasn't too punctual by habit. A thought struck him; it was like a searchlight pointing out many things that had been dark. Her anxiety wasn't that they should arrive in time, but before time. She didn't intend, if she could prevent it, that he should meet the owner of the car. Had it not been for the double accident of Prentys spraining her wrist and having failed to mention that the car must be back by three-thirty, he would never have been allowed to know that there was a General. Terry had been compelled to let him drive if the borrowed car was to be returned; but her main object now was to reach the War Office a few minutes early and to smuggle him off before an introduction would be necessary. If they arrived punctually or late, the General might be already on the pavement---- Tabs bit his lip. He hated petty intrigue. He demanded a man's code of honor from the woman he adored and made no feeble excuses for feminine dishonesty. This was the worst disappointment she had given him.

As they approached Hyde Park, when it was too late to turn off into a side-street, he saw that the road ahead was blocked. He worked the car as far forward as possible and then had to halt. Terry was nervously consulting her watch. "The time?" he asked.

"Three-twenty-three."

"Then this puts the lid on it." He beckoned to a policeman, "What's holding us up?"

"The Queen's expected, so I'm told, sir, though us didn't 'ave no proper warning."

At that moment the crowd out of sight commenced cheering. The cheering spread and drew nearer. It was taken up by people who were strung across the road immediately in front. A carriage flashed by in which two ladies were sitting, one of whom was bowing from right to left. Despite her irritation at the delay, Terry stood up so that she could get a clearer view above the cl.u.s.tered heads. The cheering grew deafening, then lessened, and sank to a hoa.r.s.e murmur beneath the trees of the Park. As she reseated herself and the traffic lurched forward, she turned to Tabs, "You noticed who it was?"

"The Queen."

"Yes, but the lady who was with her?"

"I didn't see."

"It was Diana--Lady Dawn with whom I nursed. She's supposed to be the most beautiful woman in England."

"Don't know her. So I shouldn't have placed her if I had seen her."

They made a clear run of it from Hyde Park Corner to Whitehall and drew up quite marvelously before the War Office on the second.

"Done it," said Tabs as he shut off the engine. "It's zero hour exactly."

But Terry wasn't there to listen to him, as he discovered when his attention was free and the engine had ceased to throb. Almost before they had halted, she had nipped out of the car and was hailing a taxi which was on the point of moving off. His bag was already in process of being whisked from one vehicle to the other. This indecent haste to be rid of him roused his obstinacy; he sat still where he was and watched.

She returned a little breathless and self-congratulatory. "There! Wasn't that clever of me? Taxis are scarce. If I hadn't collared you that one you might have---- Come on, Tabs, if you're stiff in your lame leg, give me your hand and I'll----"

At that moment the dingy swing-doors of the War Office flew open and a red-tabbed, handsome figure of a man, with gold braid on his cap and crossed swords on his epaulettes, came briskly out on to the steps. He caught sight of Terry and, throwing her an airy salute, came with an eager stride towards her. He wasn't the old fogy Tabs had so persistently imagined. He was young, barely thirty, lean, tall and swift-moving as an arrow--very much what Tabs had been before he had spent himself at the war.

"Hulloa, Terry! This is ripping. I didn't expect you---- But what's all this? An accident! What have you been doing to Prentys?"