’ear it beginning—rumble, rumble, rumble, like a big drum.’
‘Do you mean he got D.T.’s?’ I asked rather stupidly.
‘Not ’im! ’E was reading ’imself poetry—Shakespeare, Tennyson, ones ’ose names I can’t remember. Well, after maybe another couple of bottles, ’e’d start thinking ’ow beautiful ’e read and what a pity there wasn’t nobody to listen to ’im. That’s where I came in. I was only first footman, but the butler was deaf. So when ’e rang I ’ad to go up to the study and act audience for ’im. Many’s the night we did a play, a couple of long Brownings, and a handful of tiddlers. I got to like it; though, mind you at first it was a job keeping awake: because ’e made you drink level with ’im. But I knew it was as much as my job was worth to doze.’
I said: ‘He sounds a marvellous old pirate. Were the rest of his habits to match?’
Turpin shook his head regretfully.
‘Strait-laced as a Baptist over women. That was my trouble. I reckon the ones that are always taking it out on Cleopatra or Queen Guinevere don’t see what us others want with the real thing. Caught me in the cellar, doing the under-’ousemaid a bit of good. “Filthy malpractice”—I can still ’ear ’im—“and in the middle of my wine.” Still ’e never put a word against me in my character.’
A bell rang, and in a box above our heads a light came under the sign which said ‘Morning Room’.
‘Now what’s that for?’ grumbled Turpin. ‘It’s an hour and a ’alf to tea-time. Besides the old lady’s got Mr. flaming Cedric up there, giving ’er the usual pasting.’
He struggled into his coat and went reluctantly upstairs. I sat and waited. On return his first words gave me a sharp surprise.
‘It’s you that’s wanted.’
‘Me? Who by?’
‘That Cedric. Know what ’e ’ad the bleeding face to say when I told ’im you was down ’ere? ’E ’oped I wasn’t teaching you to fuddle yourself in the afternoons! Bastard!’
I was almost as annoyed as Turpin—particularly as I was still near enough to my public school to have a sense of guilt about indulging in sluggardry after lunch.
‘I suppose, in courtesy, I must go.’
‘You watch out,’ said Turpin prophetically. ‘ ’E’s up to something.’
I found Cedric Ellison pacing up and down the morning-room. As soon as he saw me he leapt forward and gripped my hand, at the same time subjecting me to one of his compelling, man-to-man stares.
‘I knew I could rely on you,’ he said, allowing his voice to vibrate slightly.
‘I didn’t,’ was what I nearly replied; but prudence won and I merely made a non-committal noise.
‘Frankly,’ he continued, ‘it’s a god-send that we have you in the house. It’s so often the same story; the man that’s needed is the expert who can speak with authority. As an ordinary business-man with no professional qualifications I’m always coming up against that hard fact.’
He gave a rueful laugh that was so rueful it would have got any ham actor turned off the boards.
‘What did you want me to do?’ I said cautiously.
‘Just a little matter of explaining a legal term to my mother. . . . You know about Powers of Appointment?’
‘Something,’ I admitted.
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ cried Cedric with ogreish gaiety.
I followed him out on to the landing which he crossed to a door I had never previously seen opened. It gave on to a small room which had been equipped as a sort of feminine study. It contained a beautiful Louis Quinze writing-desk at which Mrs. Ellison was seated.
My first reaction was that the old lady ought not to be bothered with any business matter at all. She looked too ill. She was wearing an old-fashioned black dress sewn with jet ornaments and her face against the dark fabric was chalky white.
‘Now, Mother,’ said Cedric in a very jolly tone, ‘I’ve brought along our referee.’
‘He can’t know whether they were married,’ she
‘Do you mean he got D.T.’s?’ I asked rather stupidly.
‘Not ’im! ’E was reading ’imself poetry—Shakespeare, Tennyson, ones ’ose names I can’t remember. Well, after maybe another couple of bottles, ’e’d start thinking ’ow beautiful ’e read and what a pity there wasn’t nobody to listen to ’im. That’s where I came in. I was only first footman, but the butler was deaf. So when ’e rang I ’ad to go up to the study and act audience for ’im. Many’s the night we did a play, a couple of long Brownings, and a handful of tiddlers. I got to like it; though, mind you at first it was a job keeping awake: because ’e made you drink level with ’im. But I knew it was as much as my job was worth to doze.’
I said: ‘He sounds a marvellous old pirate. Were the rest of his habits to match?’
Turpin shook his head regretfully.
‘Strait-laced as a Baptist over women. That was my trouble. I reckon the ones that are always taking it out on Cleopatra or Queen Guinevere don’t see what us others want with the real thing. Caught me in the cellar, doing the under-’ousemaid a bit of good. “Filthy malpractice”—I can still ’ear ’im—“and in the middle of my wine.” Still ’e never put a word against me in my character.’
A bell rang, and in a box above our heads a light came under the sign which said ‘Morning Room’.
‘Now what’s that for?’ grumbled Turpin. ‘It’s an hour and a ’alf to tea-time. Besides the old lady’s got Mr. flaming Cedric up there, giving ’er the usual pasting.’
He struggled into his coat and went reluctantly upstairs. I sat and waited. On return his first words gave me a sharp surprise.
‘It’s you that’s wanted.’
‘Me? Who by?’
‘That Cedric. Know what ’e ’ad the bleeding face to say when I told ’im you was down ’ere? ’E ’oped I wasn’t teaching you to fuddle yourself in the afternoons! Bastard!’
I was almost as annoyed as Turpin—particularly as I was still near enough to my public school to have a sense of guilt about indulging in sluggardry after lunch.
‘I suppose, in courtesy, I must go.’
‘You watch out,’ said Turpin prophetically. ‘ ’E’s up to something.’
I found Cedric Ellison pacing up and down the morning-room. As soon as he saw me he leapt forward and gripped my hand, at the same time subjecting me to one of his compelling, man-to-man stares.
‘I knew I could rely on you,’ he said, allowing his voice to vibrate slightly.
‘I didn’t,’ was what I nearly replied; but prudence won and I merely made a non-committal noise.
‘Frankly,’ he continued, ‘it’s a god-send that we have you in the house. It’s so often the same story; the man that’s needed is the expert who can speak with authority. As an ordinary business-man with no professional qualifications I’m always coming up against that hard fact.’
He gave a rueful laugh that was so rueful it would have got any ham actor turned off the boards.
‘What did you want me to do?’ I said cautiously.
‘Just a little matter of explaining a legal term to my mother. . . . You know about Powers of Appointment?’
‘Something,’ I admitted.
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ cried Cedric with ogreish gaiety.
I followed him out on to the landing which he crossed to a door I had never previously seen opened. It gave on to a small room which had been equipped as a sort of feminine study. It contained a beautiful Louis Quinze writing-desk at which Mrs. Ellison was seated.
My first reaction was that the old lady ought not to be bothered with any business matter at all. She looked too ill. She was wearing an old-fashioned black dress sewn with jet ornaments and her face against the dark fabric was chalky white.
‘Now, Mother,’ said Cedric in a very jolly tone, ‘I’ve brought along our referee.’
‘He can’t know whether they were married,’ she
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