The Twickenham Peerage Part 48

He didn't seem as if he knew what to make of me at all.

'I beg your pardon, sir, what name?'

'What name?' I looked him up; I couldn't look him down, he was a size too large. 'Bring in that luggage.'

I don't know whether it was the power of the human eye, or what it was; but he didn't need a second telling. He nipped down the steps, took the portmanteau which the cabman was holding out, and deposited it in the hall as neat and nice as ninepence. While he was engaged in doing this another gentleman in the same rigging came sailing up to me.

'What name, sir?'

'Don't you know me?'

'No, sir.'

'Don't you call me "sir" again, or you never will.'

I turned into a room upon my left--the first there was to turn into.

It was a good large room, but it wanted livening up. There was too much darkness about the place, and too much solidity about the furniture, to suit me. Footman No. 2 had followed me to the door.

'May I ask your name, sir?'

'Didn't I tell you not to call me "sir "?'

Plainly he was like his friend--didn't know what to make of me.

'I'll send Mr. Gayer to you.'

Presently in came a tall, thin old party, with a stoop. Old family servant written large all over him. Bound to have been in the house his whole life long. Served my father; probably my grandfather too. So I shot an arrow into the air.

'Hollo, Gayer! Why, you're as thin as I am.'

He came right into the room and took a squint at me.

'My lord!'

He gave a little hop.

'How do? I want something to eat. Now.'

The old chap was trembling all over.

'My lord, I--I'm delighted to see you, if I may make so bold as to say so, but I--I don't understand. It's been given out that your lords.h.i.+p is dead.'

'I'm not dead. As you'll find if you don't soon feed me. Where's every one--or any one?'

'The Marquis has gone to Cressland.'

'Who's gone to Cressland?'

'Your lords.h.i.+p's brother. I--I've got in the way of calling him the Marquis.'

'Then get out of it. What's he gone to Cressland for?'

'Well, my lord, it's not generally known in the house, but I believe he's gone to look at your lords.h.i.+p's coffin.'

'To look at my what?'

'At the coffin, my lord, which your lords.h.i.+p's supposed to be in.'

'Inside or out?'

'I rather think the coffin's to be opened. I imagine some doubt has arisen.'

'If I'm the doubt, I have arisen. Well. Gayer, I'll talk to you another time. At present I want something to eat.'

'Something shall be ready within five minutes. Would your lords.h.i.+p like to go upstairs while it's being prepared?'

'I don't mind.'

'Your lords.h.i.+p's brother occupies the blue room, would your lords.h.i.+p like the oak room?'

'I don't care. Anything will do--for the present.'

I emphasised the last three words, to prepare his mind for the alterations which were at hand. Directly I got into the oak room I knew that if I was to continue to reside in that establishment there'd have to be as many as several. I don't like old-fas.h.i.+oned houses: I don't believe I like old-fas.h.i.+oned anything. If I had my choice, I'd have every thing, and every one, about me up-to-date with the procession; not a mile and a half behind it. That great grim room, with the black oak walls, and the catafalque of a bed wouldn't suit me one little bit. I'd sooner have it a study in rose-coloured silk.

Things had begun well. The mischief was that experience had inclined me to the belief that a good beginning meant a bad ending. Still it was something to have been recognised by Mr. Gayer. It was also something to have learned what was taking place at Cressland. I'd no notion what had caused suspicion to be aroused. If, within a fortnight, Mr. Smith's conscience had p.r.i.c.ked him to that extent, then he must be possessed of an outsize in consciences. Anyhow they'd find that it wasn't me who'd been putting in a stay at the family mausoleum.

As I was going downstairs I heard the sound of children's laughter coming from a room above. It sounded queer in that old house. Youth seemed out of place within those black walls. But I'd soon change all that. Youth's what I keep betting on all the time. Where it don't go, I don't go either.

'There are children in the house,' I said to Gayer, as he was settling me at table.

'There are, my lord. They came yesterday. I hope they didn't annoy your lords.h.i.+p.'

'No; they didn't annoy me.' The idea of children annoying me made me smile. I never met a child yet with whom I wasn't on terms of friends.h.i.+p at first sight. 'Send down to Mr. Foster and tell him to come up to me at once.'

'Mr. Stephen Foster?'

'Mr. Stephen. I suppose he's alive.'

'Oh, yes, my lord, and very well. If your lords.h.i.+p will excuse my saying so, he'll be as much surprised to see your lords.h.i.+p as gratified. He told me with his own lips that he was present at your lords.h.i.+p's deathbed.'

'Was he? One day I may return the compliment. Perhaps I'll be present at his. Has he gone with my brother to Cressland?'

'Not that I'm aware of. In fact, I don't believe he knows Lord Reginald has gone.'

'Then fetch him along to me.'

They fetched him along in such fas.h.i.+on that he arrived as I was finis.h.i.+ng lunch. I made a hasty meal, for I was aware that a curious interview was close ahead. I can do as much on an empty stomach as most men; but all the same when serious business is on hand, I like to have it comfortably filled. And I'd made up my mind from the very first that I'd have one meal in Twickenham House if I never had another.

Gayer came into the room with an air.