Sir Hilton's Sin Part 47

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE TOUT'S FINAL.

That crash was not a human utterance proceeding from the lips of Sir Hilton Lisle, but a sudden shivering of gla.s.s, followed closely by the falling of big flower-pots in the conservatory, amidst the breaking of woodwork and rustling twigs and leaves.

But a human utterance followed in an angry, raucous voice which shouted--

"Oh, murder! I've done it now; I've broke my blooming leg."

While faintly heard from somewhere outside there was the yelping, barking, howling whine of a dog.

The effect was magical.

The ladies shrieked, the sleeper awakened, and sat up, frightened and wondering, rubbing her eyes, and, as the two gentlemen rushed into the conservatory, the two doors of the drawing-room were thrown open, for Mark and Jane to enter by one, Syd and Sam Simpkins by the other.

"Oh, Syd!" sobbed Molly, holding out her arms.

"Oh, dear!" sighed the boy, after a glance at the great skin upon the floor; "the cat's out of the bag now."

"Yes, reg'lar," growled the trainer. "There, don't you squeal, my gal.

There's enough to do the high strikes without you, and I'm going to see as you have your rights."

"Syd, my darling, come here," cried Lady Lisle. "What does all this mean?"

The boy was saved from answering by the action of Mark, who had darted into the conservatory, dog-like, on hearing a scuffle going on, and more breaking of gla.s.s, so as to be in the fight, and he now backed in, dragging at the dilapidated legs of the race-tout, helped by Sir Hilton and Granton, each of whom had hold of an arm, as they deposited their capture on the carpet. "Gently, Marky Willows," said the prisoner, coolly; "one of them legs is broke."

"Broken! Which?" cried the doctor, the natural instinct of his craft rising above the feeling of triumph over the capture. In an instant he was upon one knee, feeling for the fracture, "Why, they're both right enough."

"Air they?" said the tout, coolly. "A blooming good job too! I thought one was gone. Here, Marky, would you mind getting me my boots?"

"Your boots?" cried the groom, looking with disgust, in the broadening daylight, at a pair of very dirty, stockingless feet.

"Yes, lad; they're jus' behind that there spiky plant in the big tub."

"There, Mark!" cried Jane, triumphantly. "Burglars! What did I say?"

"Burglars, be hanged!"

"You scoundrel!" cried Sir Hilton. "What were you doing there?" and, as if answering, the piteous wailing of a dog came from outside.

"Trying to get out to my poor little dawg, Sir Rilton, on'y my foot slipped just as I was opening that top light. You oughter be ashamed of yourself, you ought!"

"Well, of all the effrontery!" cried Granton.

"So he oughter, doctor. That there flower-stand's painted up ter rights, but it's rotten as touchwood."

"You ruffian! You broke in, and have been hidden there all the time."

"Broke in, Sir Rilton. Nay, I wouldn't do sech a thing. I come in at that gla.s.s door right and proper enough, to try and see her ladyship about that pretty little dawg, but she and you was so busy having a row over the family washing that I says to myself, 'The best thing you can do, Dinny's to call again,' and I was going to call again, as I says, when that beggarly rotten old flower-stand give way. Hark at the pretty little dear asking for his master."

For the puppy whined again.

"Well, you're a pretty scoundrel!" cried the doctor. "You dirty brute!

Here, Hilt, old fellow, I should have him locked-up in a horse-box while you send for the police."

"What!" shouted the tout, struggling up into a sitting position. "What for?"

"Burgling," cried Sir Hilton.

"Not me, sir. I ain't no burglar. Where's my jemmies and dark lanthorns, and where's the swag? I swear I ain't touched a thing."

"You may swear that if you like when you're brought up before the Bench, where I'm chairman, as it happens."

"Me--police--brought up before the Bench? You won't do it, Sir Rilton.

I knows too much."

"What!" cried Sir Hilton and the doctor together, while the ladies exchanged glances.

"You don't want the dirty linen washed in public," said the tout, with a chuckle. "Her ladyship there said so."

"Enough of this," cried Lady Lisle, who had recovered herself. "Let this man be taken away and secured till the police come."

The imperious words had their effect upon one who was present, Mark collaring the tout.

"And you--man," continued Lady Lisle, "are that--person's father." She uttered the word "person" in a tone, innocent as the appellation was, so acid that it made, the trainer bristly and Syd more of a man.

"Yes, I'm her father, my lady, but it's no use to cut up rough."

"Silence, man!" cried Lady Lisle, indignantly; "take the creature away."

"Shan't!" roared the trainer, starting. "She's my gal, and she shall have her rights."

"Syd!" cried poor Molly, in a pa.s.sionate burst of tears, and she turned and flung her arms round the boy's neck.

"Syd, my child!" wailed Lady Lisle, pa.s.sionately. "You too? Has it come to this?"

"Yes," sobbed and wailed the poor, pretty, childish-looking thing, turning now upon Lady Lisle and throwing up her dishevelled head, "of course it has; and he ain't yours now--he's mine, ain't you, Syd dear, and you won't let your poor little wife be abused like that, will you?"

"No," cried the boy, stoutly, as Lady Lisle clapped her hands to her temples, and stared as if she could not believe her eyes and ears.

"Yes, auntie dear, it's all right; this is my darling little wife, and we love one another like--Here, what's the matter with you?"

This was to the doctor, who suddenly threw up his hands, spun round with his face to Lady Tilborough, and began stamping about, laughing hysterically, seeming moment by moment as if he would choke.

"Here, Lady Tilborough--Hetty darling," he half sobbed, "take me away.

I shall have a fit!"

"Be quiet, dear," she whispered, catching him by the arm. "I shall break down too. Listen--pray listen! The whitewashing of poor old Hilt."