His Lordship's Leopard Part 9

"Ha!" said Spotts, casting a look of mock commiseration at the Englishman.

"Perhaps it might be better," suggested the tragedian, "if Miss Arminster saw her first."

"Perhaps it might," acquiesced Spotts.

"All right, I'll go," said Violet; adding to Cecil, as she pa.s.sed him: "Don't be frightened; her bark's worse than her bite." And she entered the house laughing.

"But where are the others?" asked the author.

"Sh!" whispered the tragedian, casting a suspicious glance at the Quaker. "We're not alone."

"Yes," said Spotts, "the Bishop's got a new convert."

"Oh," returned Banborough, "I forgot you hadn't met this gentleman. We inadvertently rescued him, and since then he's done us a similar service twice over. I really don't know what he's called. The clothes belong to Spotts."

"I thought I recognised the costume," said Smith. Then, turning to the stranger, he demanded, abruptly: "What's your name?"

"I have been known by many," came the suave tones of the Quaker, "but for the purposes of our brief acquaintance thee mayst call me Friend Othniel."

The tragedian gave a grunt of disapproval.

"I think he can be trusted," remarked Spotts. "He's certainly stood by us well, so far. Now tell us about Kerrington and Mill."

"Yes, I'm most anxious to know what's become of them," said the Englishman. And the three drew nearer together, while the Quaker, turning to the road, stood basking in the sunshine, his broad flabby hands clasped complacently before him.

Tybalt Smith, after casting another furtive glance in Friend Othniel's direction, murmured the words:

"Shoe-strings and a sandwich!"

"Eh? What?" queried Banborough.

"Our two friends," continued the tragedian, "through the powerful aid of a member of our fraternity, whose merits the public have hitherto failed to recognise, have sought refuge in the more humble walks of life to escape the undesirable publicity forced upon them by _you_! Mr.

Kerrington, disguised as a Jew pedlar, is now dispensing shoe-strings and collar-b.u.t.tons on lower Broadway, while Mr. Mill is at present taking a const.i.tutional down Fifth Avenue encased in a sandwich frame calling attention to the merits of Backer's Tar Soap. He is, if I may so express it, between the boards instead of on the boards--a little pleasantry of my own, you will observe."

The tragedian paused, but failing to elicit the desired laugh, continued his narration:

"Mrs. Mackintosh, though having been offered a most desirable position to hawk apples and chewing-gum on Madison Square, has preferred to share the rigours of an unknown exile, that she might protect the youthful innocence of our leading lady."

"All of which means," said Spotts shortly, "that Mill and Kerrington chose to fake it out in town, while you and the old girl bolted."

"Our friend," remarked Smith, casting an aggrieved look at the last speaker, "is lamentably terse. But let us join Mrs. Mackintosh. She will support my remarks, not perhaps in such chaste diction, but--"

"Oh, shut it off!" interrupted Mr. Spotts. "Come along, Othniel. I guess you're in this, too." And he led the way into the house.

When they entered the private parlour they found Mrs. Mackintosh and Miss Arminster waiting to receive them, the old lady with mingled feelings of righteous indignation and amus.e.m.e.nt at the ludicrous position in which they were placed, which latter she strove hard to conceal.

"Well, Bishop," she began, as soon as Banborough was fairly in the room, "you've carried off an innocent and unsuspecting young lady in a Black Maria, imprisoned an officer of the law, deceived his agents, reduced two of the members of our company to walking the streets, forced us to consort with thieves and criminals," pointing to the bland form of the Quaker, who had just appeared in the doorway, "laid us all under the imputation of plotting against our country, exiled us from our native land, brought me away from New York in my declining years, with only the clothes I stand up in, and deposited me in a small room on the third floor of a second-cla.s.s hotel, which is probably full of fleas! And now I ask you, sir, in the name of Christian decency, which you're supposed to represent, and common sense, of which you've very little, what you're going to do with us?"

Banborough sat down suddenly on the nearest available chair, made a weak attempt at a smile, gave it up, and blurted out:

"Well, I'm blessed if I know! But permit me to decline the declining years," he murmured gallantly.

"I have," continued the lady, with a twinkle in her eye, "for the past thirty years played blameless parts on the metropolitan stage, and I'm too old to a.s.sume with any degree of success the role of a political criminal."

"Madam," said the author, making a desperate effort to compose himself, "I'm the first to admit the lack of foresight on my part which has placed us in this deplorable predicament; but the fact remains that we're suspected of a serious crime against this Government, and until we can prove ourselves innocent it's necessary to protect our liberties as best we may. I fortunately have ample funds, and I can only say that it will be a duty as well as a privilege to take you all to a place of safety, and keep you there, as my guests, till happier times."

"Hear, hear!" said the tragedian from the back of the room, while the Quaker settled himself into the most comfortable armchair with a sigh of contentment.

"Very nicely spoken, young man," replied the older lady, whose suspicions were only partially allayed, "but words aren't deeds, and Canada, where I'm informed we're to be dumped, is a long way off; and if you imagine you can go cavorting round the country with a Black Maria for a whole afternoon without bringing the police down on you, you're vastly mistaken!"

"Thee speaketh words of wisdom, but a full stomach fortifieth a stout heart," said Friend Othniel.

"Yes," replied Smith, who took this remark to himself. "I ordered dinner at six, thinking you'd be in then, and if I'm not mistaken it's here now." And as he spoke the door opened and a waiter entered to lay the table.

Conversation of a private nature was naturally suspended forthwith, and the members of the A. B. C. Company sat in silence, hungrily eyeing the board.

"Thee mayst lay a place for me, friend," said the Quaker to the waiter, as he watched the preparations with bland enjoyment.

"Did you order any drinks?" asked Banborough of the tragedian.

"No, Bishop, I didn't," replied the latter. "As you're paying for the show, I thought I'd leave you that privilege."

"Order six soda lemonades," said Banborough to the waiter, adding behind his hand to Spotts, as he noted the gloom spread over the company: "No liquor to-night. We need to keep our wits about us."

"Stop, friend," came the unctuous tones of the Quaker, arresting the waiter as he was about to leave the room. "For myself I never take strong waters, but thee forgettest, Bishop," giving Banborough the t.i.tle he had heard the others use, "thee forgettest that our revered friend,"

with a wave of his hand in Mrs. Mackintosh's direction, "hath an affection of her lungs which requires her to take a brandy and soda for her body's good before meals. Let it be brought at once!"

"Why, you impudent upstart!" gasped the old lady, as the door closed behind the waiter. "How dare you say I drink!"

"Shoo!" returned Friend Othniel, lapsing from the Quaker into the tramp; "I ain't orderin' it for youse. I've a throat like a Sahara."

Then turning to the other members of the company, he continued:

"Now seein' as we've a moment alone, and bein' all criminals, I votes we has a session o' the committee o' ways and means."

A chorus of indignant protest arose from every side.

"Youse ain't criminals, eh? What's liberatin' prisoners, an' stealin'

two hosses an' a kerridge, an' the driver's hat an' coat, with a five-dollar bill in the pocket?"

Banborough rose to deny vehemently the last a.s.sertion.

"Oh, yes, ther' was," continued the tramp. "I got that." And he produced a crisp note at the sight of which the Englishman groaned, as he realised the d.a.m.ning chain of evidence which circ.u.mstance was building up around them.

"An' lockin' up officers of the law," Friend Othniel went on, "an'

runnin' off with prisoners, specially a tough like me, one o' your pals, what's wanted particular." And he winked villainously.

"I do not see," began Banborough, who was fast losing his temper, "that there's any need of discussing the moral aspect of this affair. You,"

turning to the tramp, "will have your dinner and your drink, and a certain sum of money, and you'll then kindly leave us. Though your nature may be incapable of appreciating the difference between a crime knowingly committed and one innocently entered into, a difference exists, and renders further a.s.sociation between us undesirable, to say the least."