The Magistrate Part 41

MR. POSKET.

Oh! my child, my stepson, young Mr. Farringdon, has not called, has he?

LUGG.

No, sir.

MR. POSKET.

[_To himself._] Where can that boy be? [_To LUGG._] Thank you, that's all.

LUGG.

[_Who has been eyeing MR. POSKET with astonishment, goes to the door, and then touches the bridge of his nose._] Nasty cut while shavin', sir?

[_LUGG goes out._

MR. POSKET.

Where can that boy have got to? If I could only remember how, when, and where we parted! I think it was at Kilburn. Let me think--first, the kitchen. [_Putting his hand to his side as if severely bruised._]

Oh! Cis was all right, because I fell underneath; I felt it was my duty to do so. Then what occurred? A dark room, redolent of onions and cabbages and paraffine oil, and Cis dragging me over the stone floor, saying, "We're in the scullery, Guv; let's try and find the tradesmen's door." Next, the night air--oh, how refres.h.i.+ng! "Cis, my boy, we will both learn a lesson from to-night--never deceive." Where are we? In Argyll Street. "Look out, Guv, they're after us."

Then--then, as Cis remarked when we were getting over the railings of Portman Square--then the fun began. We over into the square--they after us. Over again, into Baker Street. Down Baker Street. Curious recollections, whilst running, of my first visit, as a happy child, to Madame Tussaud's, and wondering whether her removal had affected my fortunes. "Come on, Guv--you're getting blown." Where are we? Park Road. What am I doing? Getting up out of puddle. St. John's Wood. The cricket-ground. "I say, Guv, what a run this would be at Lord's, wouldn't it? and no fear of being run out either, more fear of being run in." "What road is this, Cis?" Maida Vale. Good gracious! A pious aunt of mine once lived in Hamilton Terrace; she never thought I should come to this. "Guv?" "Yes, my boy." "Let's get this kind-hearted coffee-stall keeper to hide us." We apply. "Will you a.s.sist two unfortunate gentlemen?" "No, blowed if I will." "Why not?"

" 'Cos I'm agoin' to join in the chase after you." Ah! Off again, along Maida Vale! On, on, heaven knows how or where, 'till at last, no sound of pursuit, no Cis, no breath, and the early Kilburn buses starting to town. Then I came back again, and not much too soon for the Court. [_Going up to the washstand and looking into the little mirror, with a low groan._] Oh, how shockingly awful I look, and how stiff and sore I feel! [_Taking off his coat and hanging it on a peg, then was.h.i.+ng his hands._] What a weak and double-faced creature to be a magistrate! I really ought to get some member of Parliament to ask a question about me in the House. Where's the soap? I shall put five pounds and costs into the poor's box to-morrow. But I deserve a most severe caution. Ah, perhaps I shall get that from Agatha. [_He takes off his white tie, rolls it up and crams it into his pocket._] When Wormington arrives I will borrow some money and send out for a black cravat! All my pocket money is in my overcoat at the Hotel des Princes. If the police seize it there is some consolation in knowing that that money will never be returned to me. [_There is a knock at the door._] Come in!

_LUGG enters._

LUGG.

Your servant, Mr. Wyke, wants to see you, sir

MR. POSKET.

Bring him in. [_LUGG goes out._] Wyke! From Agatha! From Agatha!

_LUGG re-enters with WYKE._

WYKE.

Ahem! Good morning, sir.

MR. POSKET.

Good morning, Wyke. Ahem! Is Master Farringdon quite well?

WYKE.

He hadn't arrived home, when I left, sir.

MR. POSKET.

Oh! Where is that boy? [_To WYKE._] How's your mistress this morning, Wyke?

WYKE.

Very well, I hope, sir; _she_ ain't come home yet, either.

MR. POSKET.

Not returned--nor Miss Verrinder?

WYKE.

No, sir--neither of them.

MR. POSKET.

[_To himself._] Lady Jenkins is worse, they are still nursing her!

Good women, true women!

WYKE.

[_To himself._] That's eased his deceivin' old mind.

MR. POSKET.

[_To himself._] Now, if the servants don't betray me and Cis returns safely, the worst is over. To what a depth I have fallen when I rejoice at Lady Jenkins' indisposition!

WYKE.

Cook thought you ought to know that the mistress hadn't come home, sir.

MR. POSKET.

Certainly. Take a cab at once to Campden Hill and bring me back word how poor Lady Jenkins is. Tell Mrs. Posket I will come on the moment the Court rises.

WYKE.

Yes, sir.

MR. POSKET.

And, Wyke. It is not at all necessary that Mrs. Posket should know of my absence with Master Farringdon from home last night. Mrs. Posket's present anxieties are more than sufficient. Inform Cook, and Popham, and the other servants that I shall recognise their discretion in the same spirit I have already displayed towards you.

WYKE.

[_With sarcasm._] Thank you, sir. I will. [_He produces from his waistcoat-pocket a small packet of money done up in newspaper, which he throws down upon the table._] Meanwhile, sir, I thought you would like to count up the little present of money you gave me last night, and in case you thought you'd been over-liberal, sir, you might halve the amount. It isn't no good spoiling of us all, sir.

_LUGG enters._