Adventures of Bindle Part 25

He was frankly pessimistic about the future of the district, an att.i.tude of mind that appeared to have been induced by the garments of the local maidens. Fire and flood he promised Fulham, but made no mention of Hammersmith or Putney. In a voice that throbbed with emotion he took his official leave, having convinced everybody that only his intercessionary powers with heaven had stalled off for so long the impending fate he outlined.

Taking up from the table the bag of fifty pounds, he put it in his pocket and with bowed head walked towards the nearest chair.

"'Ere, you've forgotten your bed-feller, sir!" cried Bindle, picking up the silver-mounted hot-water bottle and the framed address and carrying them over to Mr. Sopley.

Mr. MacFie prepared himself for the ordeal before him. Standing in front of Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick as if she had been an altar, he bowed low before her.

"Your Leddys.h.i.+p." A pause of veneration. "Ma Freends," he continued.

"Few meenisters of the Gospel have the preevilege that has been extended to me this evening. It is the will of the Almighty that I succeed a most saintly man (murmurs of approval) in the person of Mr.

Sopley. It will be a deefecult poseetion for me to fill. (Mr. Sopley wagged his head from side to side.) In her breeliant oration her Leddys.h.i.+p has emphasised some of the attreebutes of a man whose G.o.dliness ye can all testify----"

"You shan't keep me out, you baggage. Can't I hear his dear voice! My Andrew! Oh, Andy! Andy! and they want to keep me away from you."

The interruption came from the door, where Alice was vainly endeavouring to keep out a dishevelled-looking creature, who finally broke through and walked unsteadily towards the table.

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick turned and stared at the apparition through her lorgnettes.

Mr. MacFie's jaw dropped.

Mr. Sopley for the first time that evening seemed to forget heaven, and devoted himself to terrestrial things. Everybody was gazing with wide-eyed wonder at the cause of the interruption.

"Oh! my Andrew, my little Andy!" cried the woman in hoa.r.s.e maudlin tones. Her hair, to which was attached a black toque with a brilliant oval of embroidery in front, hung over her left ear. Her clothes, ill-fitting and much stained, hung upon her as if they had been thrown--rather than put on. Her face, intended by Providence to be pretty, was tear-stained and dirty. Her blouse was open at the neck and her boots mud-stained and shapeless.

"What--what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick of Mr.

MacFie, as she rose from her chair, a veritable Rhadamanthus.

The girl, who was now hanging on to Mr. MacFie's arm, turned and regarded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick over her shoulder.

"He's my boooy," she spluttered; then closing her eyes her head wobbled from side to side, as if her neck were unable to support it.

"Your what?" thundered Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick.

"My--my boooy," drawled the girl, "husband. Oh! Andy, Andy!" and she clung to Mr. MacFie the more closely in spite of his frantic efforts to shake himself free.

"Mr. MacFie, what is the meaning of this?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick.

"I've--I've never seen her before," stammered Mr. MacFie, looking as if he had been grabbed by an octopus. "On ma oath, your Leddys.h.i.+p.

Before ma G.o.d!"

"Andy, Andy! don't say such awful things," protested the girl. "You know you married me secret because you said Helen wouldn't let you;"

and she sagged away again, half supporting herself on Mr. MacFie's arm.

"Do you know anything of this woman?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick of Miss MacFie.

Miss MacFie shook her head as if the question were an insult.

"Then it was a secret marriage." Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick remembered what she had heard of Mr. MacFie's conduct at the temperance fete. "Mr. MacFie, you have--you have disgraced----"

"Your Leddys.h.i.+p, on ma honour, I sweear----!"

"Don't, Andy, don't!" said the girl, striving to put her hand over his mouth. "Don't! G.o.d may strike you dead. He did it once, didn't He? Oh!

I've learnt the Bible," she added in a maudlin tone. "I can sing hymns, I can." She began to croon something in a wheezy voice.

Mr. MacFie made a desperate effort to free himself from her clutches, but succeeded only in bringing her to her knees.

"Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" shrieked the girl, "knocking me about, what he swore to love, honour and obey. Oh, you devil, Andy! How you used to behave, and now--and now----"

"I swear it's all a d.a.m.ned lee! It's ma enemy--ma enemy. Woman, I know thee not! Thou art the scarlet woman of Babylon! Get thee from me, I curse thee!" Mr. MacFie's Gaelic blood was up.

"Go it, sir!" said Bindle. "Go it!"

"Ye have come as the ravening wolf upon the sheep-fold at night to destroy the lamb." Mr. MacFie waved his disengaged arm.

"You bein' the lamb, sir, go it!" said Bindle.

"I'll hae the law on ye, woman, I'll hae the law on ye! Ye impostor!

Ye harlot!! Ye daughter of Belial!!!" He flung his arm about, and his eyes rolled with almost maniacal fury. "Ma G.o.d! ma G.o.d! Why persecuteth Thou me?" he cried, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

Then with a sudden drop to earthly things he appealed to Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick.

"Your Leddys.h.i.+p, your Leddys.h.i.+p, do not believe this woman. She lies!

She would ruin me!! I will have her arrested!!! Fetch the police!!!! I demand the police!!!!!"

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick turned towards the door at the entrance of which stood her footman.

"John, blow your police-whistle," she ordered, practical in all things.

John disappeared. A moment later the raucous sound of a police-whistle was heard in continuous blast.

"That's right!" shouted the woman, "that's right! Blow your police-whistle! Blow your pinkish brains out!" Then with a sudden change she turned to Mr. MacFie. "Oh, Andy, Andy! You never was the same man after you 'ad that drink in you down in the country at the temperance fete. Don't you remember how you laughed with me about that Old Bird being washed out of her carriage?"

"It's a lee! It's a lee! A d.a.m.nable lee!" shrieked Mr. MacFie.

Mr. MacFie was interrupted in his protestations by a sudden rush of feet, and the hall began to fill with a wild-eyed, dishevelled crowd.

Mothers carrying their babies, or pulling along little children.

Everyone inviting everyone else to come in. One woman was in hysterics. Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick stared at them in wonder.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of no one in particular.

"It's a raid, mum, a raid; it's a raid," sobbed a woman, leading two little children with the hand and holding a baby in her disengaged arm.

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick paled. "A raid!" she faltered.

"Yes, mum, can't you 'ear the police-whistles?"

"Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!" broke in Bindle, slapping his leg in ecstasy; then a moment after, seeing the terror on the women's faces, he cried out:

"It's all right, there ain't no raid. Don't be frightened. It's ole Calves with that bloomin' police-whistle."