The Garotters Part 6

BEMIS, entering into the spirit of it: 'Not the least; but--' He laughs, and drops back into his chair.

MRS. ROBERTS, distributing the brush to young Mr. Bemis, and the tie to his wife, and dropping upon her knees before Mr. Bemis: 'Now, Mrs. Lou, you just whip off that crumpled tie and whip on the fresh one, and, MISTER Lou, you give his hair a touch, and I'll have this torn b.u.t.ton-hole mended before you can think.' She seizes it and begins to sew vigorously upon it.

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Agnes, you are the most ridiculously sensible woman in the country.'

LAWTON, standing before the group, with his arms folded and his feet well apart, in an att.i.tude of easy admiration: 'The Wounded Adonis, attended by the Loves and Graces. Familiar Pompeiian fresco.'

MRS. ROBERTS, looking around at him: 'I don't see a great many Loves.'

LAWTON: 'She ignores us, Mrs. Crashaw. And after what you've just said!'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Then why don't you do something?'

LAWTON: 'The Loves NEVER do anything--in frescoes. They stand round and sympathise. Besides, we are waiting to administer an anaesthetic. But what I admire in this subject even more than the activity of the Graces is the serene dignity of the Adonis. I have seen my old friend in many trying positions, but I never realised till now all the simpering absurdity, the flattered silliness, the senile coquettishness, of which his benign countenance was capable.'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Don't mind him a bit, Mr. Bemis; it's nothing but--'

LAWTON: 'Pure envy. I own it.'

BEMIS: 'All right, Lawton. Wait till--'

MRS. ROBERTS, making a final st.i.tch, snapping off the thread, and springing to her feet, all in one: 'There, have you finished, Mr.

and Mrs. Lou? Well, then, take this lace handkerchief, and draw it down from his neck and pin it in his waistcoat, and you have--'

LAWTON, as Mr. Bemis rises to his feet: 'A Gentleman of the Old School. Bemis, you look like a miniature of yourself by Malbone.

Rather flattered, but--recognisable.'

BEMIS, with perfectly recovered gaiety: 'Go on, go on, Lawton. I can understand your envy. I can pity it.'

LAWTON: 'Could you forgive Roberts for not capturing the garotter?'

BEMIS: 'Yes, I could. I could give the garotter his liberty, and present him with an admission to the Provident Woodyard, where he could earn an honest living for his family.'

LAWTON, compa.s.sionately: 'You ARE pretty far gone, Bemis. Really, I think somebody ought to go for Roberts.'

MRS. ROBERTS, innocently: 'Yes, indeed! Why, what in the world can be keeping him?' A nursemaid enters and beckons Mrs. Roberts to the door with a glance. She runs to her; they whisper; and then Mrs.

Roberts, over her shoulder: 'That ridiculous great boy of mine says he can't go to sleep unless I come and kiss him good-night.'

LAWTON: 'Which ridiculous great boy, I wonder?--Roberts, or Campbell? But I didn't know they had gone to bed!'

MRS. BEMIS: 'You are too bad, papa! You know it's little Neddy.'

MRS. ROBERTS, vanis.h.i.+ng: 'Oh, I don't mind his nonsense, Lou. I'll fetch them both back with me.'

LAWTON, after making a melodramatic search for concealed listeners at the doors: 'Now, friends, I have a revelation to make in Mrs.

Roberts's absence. I have found out the garotter--the a.s.sa.s.sin.'

ALL THE OTHERS: 'What!'

LAWTON: 'He has been secured--'

MRS. CRASHAW, severely: 'Well, I'm very glad of it.'

YOUNG BEMIS: 'By the police?'

MRS. BEMIS, incredulously: 'Papa!'

BEMIS: 'But there were several of them. Have they all been arrested?'

LAWTON: 'There was only one, and none of him has been arrested.'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Where is he, then?'

LAWTON: 'In this house.'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Now, Dr. Lawton, you and I are old friends--I shouldn't like to say HOW old--but if you don't instantly be serious, I--I'll carry my rheumatism to somebody else.'

LAWTON: 'My DEAR Mrs. Crashaw, you know how much I prize that rheumatism of yours! I will be serious--I will be only too serious.

The garotter is Mr. Roberts himself.'

ALL, horror-struck: 'Oh!'

LAWTON: 'He went out without his watch. He thought he was robbed, but he wasn't. He ran after the supposed thief, our poor friend Bemis here, and took Bemis's watch away, and brought it home for his own.'

YOUNG BEMIS: 'Yes, but--'

MRS. BEMIS: 'But, papa--'

BEMIS: 'How do you know it? I can see how such a thing might happen, but--how do you know it DID?'

LAWTON: 'I divined it.'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Nonsense!'

LAWTON: 'Very well, then, I read of just such a ease in the Advertiser a year ago. It occurs annually--in the newspapers. And I'll tell you what, Mrs. Crashaw--Roberts found out his mistake as soon as he went to his dressing-room; and that ingenious nephew of yours, who's closeted with him there, has been trying to put him up to something--to some game.'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Willis has too much sense. He would know that Edward couldn't carry out any sort of game.'

LAWTON: 'Well, then, he's getting Roberts to let HIM carry out the game.'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Edward couldn't do that either.'

LAWTON: 'Very well, then, just wait till they come back. Will you leave me to deal with Campbell?'

MRS. CRASHAW: 'What are you going to do?'

YOUNG BEMIS: 'You mustn't forget that he got us out of the elevator, sir.'