The Lion's Share by Arnold Bennett (booksvooks TXT) 📕

him. She had undertaken the enterprise of launching him on a tremendous artistic career, and she must carry it through. She wanted to make a neat, clean job of the launching, and she would do it dispassionately, like a good workwoman. He had admitted--nay, he had insisted--that she was necessary to him. Her pride in that fact had a somewhat superior air. He might be the most marvellous of violinists, but he was also a child, helpless without her moral support. She would act accordingly. It was absurd to be angry with a child, no matter what his vagaries.... At this juncture of her reflections she noticed that Mr. Gilman and Miss Thompkins had quitted the yacht together and were walking seawards. They seemed very intimate, impregnated with mutual understanding. And Audrey was sorry that Mr. Gilman was quite so simple, quite so straightforward and honest.

When the dinghy arrived at the sea-wall Audrey won the stalled admiration of the sailor in charge of the boat by pointing at once to the best--if not the only--place fit for a landing. The sailor was by no means accustomed to such _flair_ in a yacht's guests. Indeed, it had often astonished him that people who, as a class, had so little notion of how to get into or out of a dinghy could have succeeded, as they all apparently had, in any department of life.

With continuing skill, Audrey guided Madame Piriac over the dyke and past sundry other obstacles, including a watercourse, to a gate in the wall which formed the frontier of the grounds of Flank Hall. The gate seemed at first to be unopenably fastened, but Audrey showed that she possessed a genius with gates, and opened it with a twist of the hand. They wandered through a plantation and then through an orchard, and at length saw the house. There was not a sign of Aguilar, but the unseen yard-dog began to bark, hearing which, Madame Piriac observed in French: "The property seems a little neglected, but there must be someone at home."

"Aguilar is bound to come now!" thought Audrey. "And I am lost!" Then she added to herself: "And I don't care if I _am_ lost. What an unheard-of lark!" And to Madame Piriac she said lightly: "Well, we must explore."

The blinds were nearly all up on the garden front. And one window--the French window of the drawing-room--was wide open.

"The crisis will be here in one minute at the latest," thought Audrey.

"Evidently Miss Moze is at home," said Madame Piriac, gazing at the house. "Yes, it is distinguished. It is what I had expected.... But ought we not to go to the front door?"

"I think we ought," Audrey agreed.

They went round the side of the house, into the main drive, and without hesitation Madame Piriac rang the front door bell, which they could plainly hear. "I must have my cards ready," said she, opening her bag. "One always hears how exigent you are in England about such details, even in the provinces. And, indeed, why not?"

There was no answer to the bell. Madame Piriac rang again, and there was still no answer. And the dog had ceased to bark.

"_Mon Dieu!_" she muttered. "Have you observed, darling, that all the blinds are down on this facade?"

She rang a third time. Then, without a word, they returned slowly to the garden front.

"How mysterious! _Mon Dieu!_ How English it all is!" muttered Madame Piriac. "It gives me fear."

Audrey had almost decided definitely that she was saved when she happened to glance through the open window of the drawing-room. She thought she saw a flicker within. She looked again. She could not be mistaken. Then she noticed that all the dust sheets had been removed from the furniture, that the carpet had been laid, that a table had been set for tea, that there were flowers and china and a teapot and bread-and-butter and a kettle and a spirit-lamp on the table. The flicker was the flicker of the blue flame of the spirit-lamp. The kettle over it was puffing out steam.

Audrey exclaimed, within herself:

"Aguilar!"

She had caught him at last. There were two cups and saucers--the best ancient blue-and-white china, out of the glass-fronted china cupboard in that very room! The celibate Aguilar, never known to consort with anybody at all, was clearly about to entertain someone to tea, and the aspect of things showed that he meant to do it very well. True, there was no cake, but the bread-and-butter was expertly cut and attractively arranged. Audrey felt sure that she was on the track of Aguilar's double life, and that a woman was concerned therein. She was angry, but she was also enormously amused and uplifted. She no longer cared the least bit about the imminent danger threatening her incognito. Her sole desire was to entrap Aguilar, and with deep joy she pictured his face when he should come into the room with his friend and find the mistress of the house already installed.

"I think we had better go in here, darling," she said to Madame Piriac, with her hand on the French window. "There is no other entrance."

Madame Piriac looked at her.

"_Eh bien!_ It is your country, not mine. You know the habits. I follow you," said Madame Piriac calmly. "After all, my dear little Audrey ought to be delighted to see me. I have several times told her that I should come. All the same, I expected to announce myself.... What a charming room! So this is the English provinces!"

The room was certainly agreeable to the eye. And Audrey seemed to see it afresh, to see it for the first time in her life. And she thought: "Can this be the shabby old drawing-room that I hated so?"

The kettle continued to puff vigorously.

"If they don't come soon," said Audrey, "the water will be all boiled away and the kettle burnt. Suppose we make the tea?"

Madame Piriac raised her eyebrows.

"It is your country," she repeated. "That appears to be singular, but I have not the English habits."

And she sat down, smiling.

Audrey opened the tea caddy, put three spoonfuls of tea into the pot, and made the tea.

The clock struck on the mantelpiece. The clock was actually going. Aguilar was ever thorough in his actions.

"Four minutes to brew, and if they don't come we'll have tea," said Audrey, tranquil in the assurance that the advent of Aguilar could not now be long delayed.

"Do you take milk and sugar, darling?" she asked Madame Piriac at the end of the four minutes, which they had spent mainly in a curious silence. "I believe you do."

Madame Piriac nodded.

"A little bread-and-butter? I'm sorry there's no cake or jam."

It was while Madame Piriac was stirring her first cup that the drawing-room door opened, and at once there was a terrific shriek.

"Audrey!"

The invader was Miss Ingate. Close behind Miss Ingate came Jane Foley.


CHAPTER XXXIV


THE TANK-ROOM

"Did you get my letter?" breathed Miss Ingate weakly, after she had a little recovered from the shock, which had the appearance of being terrific.

"No," said Audrey. "How could I? We're yachting. Madame Piriac, you know Miss Ingate, don't you? And this is my friend Jane Foley." She spoke quite easily and naturally, though Miss Ingate in her intense agitation had addressed her as Audrey, whereas the Christian name of Mrs. Moncreiff, on the rare occasions when a Christian name became necessary or advisable, had been Olivia--or, infrequently, Olive.

"Yachting!"

"Yes. Haven't you seen the yacht at the Hard?"

"No! I did hear something about it, but I've been too busy to run after yachts. We've been too busy, haven't we, Miss Foley? I even have to keep my dog locked up. I don't know what you'll say. Aud--Mrs. Moncreiff! I really don't! But we acted for the best. Oh! How dreadfully exciting my life does get at times! Never since I played the barrel organ all the way down Regent Street have I--! Oh! dear!"

"Have my tea, and do sit down, Winnie, and remember you're an Essex woman!" Audrey adjured her, going to the china cupboard to get more cups.

"_I'll_ just tell you all about it, Mrs. Moncreiff, if you'll let me," Jane Foley began with a serene and happy smile, as she limped to a chair. "I'm quite ready to take all the consequences. It's the police again, that's all. I don't know how exactly they got on the track of the Spatts at Frinton. But I dare say you've seen that the police have seized a lot of documents at our head-quarters. Perhaps that explains it. Anyway I caught sight of our old friend at Paget Gardens nosing about, and so as soon as it was dark I left the Spatts. It's a horrid thing to say, but I never was so glad about anything as I was at leaving the Spatts. I didn't tell them where I was going, and they didn't ask. I'm sure the poor things were very relieved to have me go. Miss Ingate tells me to-day she's heard they've both resigned from the Union. Mr. Spatt went up to London on purpose to do it. And can you be surprised?"

"Yes, you can, and yet you can't!" exclaimed Miss Ingate. "You can, and yet you can't!"

"I met Miss Ingate on Frinton front," Jane Foley proceeded. "She was just getting into her carriage. I had my bag and I asked her to drive me to the station. 'To the station?' she said. 'What for? There's no train to-night.'"

"No more there wasn't!" Miss Ingate put in, "I'd been dining at the Proctors' and it was after ten, I know it was after ten because they never let me leave until after ten, in spite of the long drive I have. Fancy there being a train from Frinton after ten! So of course I brought Miss Foley along. Oh! It was vehy interesting. Vehy interesting. You see we had to think of the police. I didn't want the police coming poking round my house. It would never do, in a little place like Moze. I should never hear the last of it. So I--I thought of Flank Hall. I----"

Jane Foley went on:

"Miss Ingate was sure you wouldn't mind, Mrs. Moncreiff. And personally I was quite certain you wouldn't mind. We left the carriage at Miss Ingate's, and carried the bag in turns. And I stood outside while Miss Ingate woke up Mr. Aguilar. It was soon all right."

"I must say Aguilar was vehy reasonable," said Miss Ingate. "Vehy reasonable. And he's got a great spite against my dear Inspector Keeble. He suggested everything. He never asked any questions, so I told him. You do, you know. He suggested Miss Foley should have a bed in the tank-room, so that if there was any trouble all the bedrooms should look innocent."

"Did he tell you I'd come here to see him not long since?" Audrey demanded.

"And why didn't you pop in to see _me?_ I was hurt when I got your note."

"Did he tell you?"

"Of course he didn't. He never tells anybody anything. That sort of thing's very useful at times, especially when it's combined with a total lack of curiosity. He fixed every, thing up. And he keeps the gates locked, so that people can't wander in."

"He didn't lock the gate at the bottom of the garden, because it won't lock," said