The Intrusion of Jimmy Part 21

"I know. She's your hostess, but you haven't started your visit yet.

So, you've just got time to say what you really think of her, before you have to pretend she's perfect."

"Well--"

"I detest her," said Molly, crisply. "I think she's hard and hateful."

"Well, I can't say she struck me as a sort of female Cheeryble Brother. Lord Dreever introduced me to her at the station. She seemed to bear it pluckily, but with some difficulty."

"She's hateful," repeated Molly. "So is he, Sir Thomas, I mean. He's one of those fussy, bullying little men. They both bully poor Lord Dreever till I wonder he doesn't rebel. They treat him like a school-boy. It makes me wild. It's such a shame--he's so nice and good-natured! I am so sorry for him!"

Jimmy listened to this outburst with mixed feelings. It was sweet of her to be so sympathetic, but was it merely sympathy? There had been a ring in her voice and a flush on her cheek that had suggested to Jimmy's sensitive mind a personal interest in the down-trodden peer.

Reason told him that it was foolish to be jealous of Lord Dreever, a good fellow, of course, but not to be taken seriously. The primitive man in him, on the other hand, made him hate all Molly's male friends with an unreasoning hatred. Not that he hated Lord Dreever: he liked him. But he doubted if he could go on liking him for long if Molly were to continue in this sympathetic strain.

His affection for the absent one was not put to the test. Molly's next remark had to do with Sir Thomas.

"The worst of it is," she said, "father and Sir Thomas are such friends. In Paris, they were always together. Father did him a very good turn."

"How was that?"

"It was one afternoon, just after we arrived. A man got into Lady Julia's room while we were all out except father. Father saw him go into the room, and suspected something was wrong, and went in after him. The man was trying to steal Lady Julia's jewels. He had opened the box where they were kept, and was actually holding her rope of diamonds in his hand when father found him. It's the most magnificent thing I ever saw. Sir Thomas told father he gave a hundred thousand dollars for it."

"But, surely," said Jimmy, "hadn't the management of the hotel a safe for valuables?"

"Of course, they had; but you don't know Sir Thomas. He wasn't going to trust any hotel safe. He's the sort of a man who insists on doing everything in his own way, and who always imagines he can do things better himself than anyone else can do them for him. He had had this special box made, and would never keep the diamonds anywhere else.

Naturally, the thief opened it in a minute. A clever thief would have no difficulty with a thing like that."

"What happened?"

"Oh, the man saw father, and dropped the jewels, and ran off down the corridor. Father chased him a little way, but of course it was no good; so he went back and shouted, and rang every bell he could see, and gave the alarm; but the man was never found. Still, he left the diamonds. That was the great thing, after all. You must look at them to-night at dinner. They really are wonderful. Are you a judge of precious stones at all?"

"I am rather," said Jimmy. "In fact, a jeweler I once knew told me I had a natural gift in that direction. And so, of course, Sir Thomas was pretty grateful to your father?"

"He simply gushed. He couldn't do enough for him. You see, if the diamonds had been stolen, I'm sure Lady Julia would have made Sir Thomas buy her another rope just as good. He's terrified of her, I'm certain. He tries not to show it, but he is. And, besides having to pay another hundred thousand dollars, he would never have heard the last of it. It would have ruined his reputation for being infallible and doing everything better than anybody else."

"But didn't the mere fact that the thief got the jewels, and was only stopped by a fluke from getting away with them, do that?"

Molly bubbled with laughter.

"She never knew. Sir Thomas got back to the hotel an hour before she did. I've never seen such a busy hour. He had the manager up, harangued him, and swore him to secrecy--which the poor manager was only too glad to agree to, because it wouldn't have done the hotel any good to have it known. And the manager harangued the servants, and the servants harangued one another, and everybody talked at the same time; and father and I promised not to tell a soul; so Lady Julia doesn't know a word about it to this day. And I don't see why she ever should--though, one of these days, I've a good mind to tell Lord Dreever. Think what a hold he would have over them! They'd never be able to bully him again."

"I shouldn't," said Jimmy, trying to keep a touch of coldness out of his voice. This championship of Lord Dreever, however sweet and admirable, was a little distressing.

She looked up quickly.

"You don't think I really meant to, do you?"

"No, no," said Jimmy, hastily. "Of course not."

"Well, I should think so!" said Molly, indignantly. "After I promised not to tell a soul about it!"

Jimmy chuckled.

"It's nothing," he said, in answer to her look of inquiry.

"You laughed at something."

"Well," said Jimmy apologetically, "it's only--it's nothing really--only, what I mean is, you have just told one soul a good deal about it, haven't you?"

Molly turned pink. Then, she smiled.

"I don't know how I came to do it," she declared. "It just rushed out of its own accord. I suppose it is because I know I can trust you."

Jimmy flushed with pleasure. He turned to her, and half-halted, but she continued to walk on.

"You can," he said, "but how do you know you can?"

She seemed surprised.

"Why--" she said. She stopped for a moment, and then went on hurriedly, with a touch of embarra.s.sment. "Why, how absurd! Of course, I know. Can't you read faces? I can. Look," she said, pointing, "now you can see the castle. How do you like it?"

They had reached a point where the fields sloped sharply downward. A few hundred yards away, backed by woods, stood the gray ma.s.s of stone which had proved such a kill-joy of old to the Welsh sportsmen during the pheasant season. Even now, it had a certain air of defiance. The setting sun lighted the waters of the lake. No figures were to be seen moving in the grounds. The place resembled a palace of sleep.

"Well?" said Molly.

"It's wonderful!"

"Isn't it! I'm so glad it strikes you like that. I always feel as if I had invented everything round here. It hurts me if people don't appreciate it."

They went down the hill.

"By the way," said Jimmy, "are you acting in these theatricals they are getting up?"

"Yes. Are you the other man they were going to get? That's why Lord Dreever went up to London, to see if he couldn't find somebody. The man who was going to play one of the parts had to go back to London on business."

"Poor brute!" said Jimmy. It seemed to him at this moment that there was only one place in the world where a man might be even reasonably happy. "What sort of part is it? Lord Dreever said I should be wanted to act. What do I do?"

"If you're Lord Herbert, which is the part they wanted a man for, you talk to me most of the time."

Jimmy decided that the piece had been well cast.

The dressing-gong sounded just as they entered the hall. From a door on the left, there emerged two men, a big man and a little one, in friendly conversation. The big man's back struck Jimmy as familiar.

"Oh, father," Molly called. And Jimmy knew where he had seen the back before.

The two men stopped.

"Sir Thomas," said Molly, "this is Mr. Pitt."

The little man gave Jimmy a rapid glance, possibly with the object of detecting his more immediately obvious criminal points; then, as if satisfied as to his honesty, became genial.