Sir Harry's son and heir was a heavily built young man, with a big vacant face and a small black moustache. He was military in the militia sense of the word, holding the rank of captain in the 9th battalion of the Royal West Kent Regiment.
"Hal has a devil of a lot more in him than people give him credit for," was his father's favourite appreciation, and indeed it was popularly supposed that in Mr. Harry Tanneur's big frame was revived the ancient courage of Sir Folk, the wisdom of Sir Peter (a contemporary of Falstaff and one of the Judges who sent Prince Henry to prison), the subtlety of Sir George (ambassador at the Court of Louis of France), and the eminently practical cent. per cent. acumen of his father.
They were seated at breakfast at "Hydeholm," Sir Harry, his son and the faded lady of the house. Sir Harry read a letter and tossed it to his wife.
"Laura's in trouble again," he said testily, "really, my dear, your sister is a trial! First of all her husband loses his money and blames me for putting him into the Siberian Gold Recovery Syndicate, then he dies, and now his wife expects me to interest myself in a petty suburban squabble."
The meek lady read the letter carefully.
"The man seems to have annoyed Alicia," she commented mildly, "and even though he is a duke and it seems strange for a duke to be living in Brockley "
"Duke?" frowned Sir Harry, "I didn't see anything about dukes. Let me see the letter again, my love."
"Duke," muttered Sir Harry, "I can't see any word that looks like 'duke' ah, here it is, I suppose, I thought it was 'dude'; really Laura writes an abominable hand. H'm," he said, "I see she suggests that Hal should spend a week or so with them how does that strike you, my boy?"
It struck Hal as an unusually brilliant idea. He had views about Alicia, inclinations that were held in check by his father's frequent pronouncements on the subject of mesalliances.
So it came about that Hal went on a visit to his aunt and cousin.
"He's probably one of these insignificant continental noblemen," said his father at parting, "you must put a stop to his nonsense. I have a young man in my eye who would suit Alicia, a rising young jobber who does business for me. If the duke or whatever he is persists in his attentions, a word from you will bring him to his senses.
"I shall punch the beggar's head," promised Hal, and Sir Harry smiled indulgently.
"If, on the other hand," he said thoughtfully, "you find he is the genuine article the thing might be arranged amicably you might make friends with him and bring him along to Hydeholm. He is either no good at all or too good for Alicia it's about time Winnie was off my hands."
Miss Winnie Tanneur was aged about twenty-eight and looked every year of it.
VII"66 has a visitor," reported Hank.
The Duke took his feet from the mantel-shelf and reached for his tobacco.
A spell of silence had fallen upon him that morning, that had been broken only by a brief encounter with the butcher on the quality of a leg of mutton, supplied on the day previous.
"Has she?" he said absently.
"I said '66,' which is of neither sex," said Hank. "This fellow "
"Oh, it's a man, is it?" said the Duke brightening up; "what sort of a man, who is he?"
Hank touched a bell and the grave man servant appeared.
"Who is the visitor next door?" demanded the Duke.
"A Captain Tanneur, m'lord; militia; and the son of Sir Harry Tanneur who is related to No. 66."
"You've been gossiping with the servants," accused the Duke.
"Yes, m'lord," said the man without hesitation.
"Quite right," said the duke approvingly. When the servant was gone he asked
"Do you ever pine for the wilds, Hank, the limitless spread of the prairies, and the twinkling stars at night?"
"Come off, Pegasus," begged Hank.
"The fierce floods of white sunlight and the quivering skyline ahead," mused the Duke dreamily, "the innocent days and the dreamless nights."
"No fierce floods in mine," said Hank decisively; "me for the flesh pots of Egypt, the sinful life."
"Do you ever "
"Take a walk you," said Hank rudely. "Say your love-sick piece to the shop windows. What are you going to do about Captain Tanneur the bold militia man?"
"I suppose," said his grace, "he's been sent for to protect the innocent girl from the unwelcome addresses of the wicked duke. I'll have a talk with him."
He strolled into the garden, dragging the step ladder with him. He planted it against the wall this time, and mounting slowly surveyed the next garden.
His luck was in, for the object of his search sat in a big basket chair reading the Sporting Life.
"Hullo," said the Duke.
Hal looked up and scowled. So this was the persecutor.
"Hullo," said the Duke again.
"What the devil do you want?" demanded Hal with studied ferocity.
"What have you got?" asked the Duke obligingly.
"Look here, my friend," said Hal, rising and fixing his eye-glass with a terrible calm, "I'm not in the habit of receiving visitors over the garden wall "
"Talking about the militia," said the Duke easily, "how is this Territorial scheme going to affect you?"
"My friend " began Hal.
"He calls me his friend," the young man on the wall meditated aloud, "he is ominously polite: he rises from his chair: he is going to begin help!"
He raised his voice and kept his eye on the conservatory door of 66.
"What's wrong?" inquired Hank's voice from the house.
"Come quickly!" called the Duke extravagantly nervous, "here's a young gentleman, a stout young gentleman in the military line of business, who is taking off his coat to me."
"Don't talk such utter damn nonsense," said the angry Hal, "I've done nothing yet."
"Help!" cried the lounging figure at the top of the wall. "He's done nothing yet but !"
"Will you be quiet, sir," roared Hal desperately red in the face; "you'll alarm the neighbourhood and make yourself a laughing stock "
The Duke had seen the flutter of a white dress coming through the little glass house, and as the girl with an alarmed face ran into the garden he made his appeal to her.
"Miss Terrill," he said brokenly, "as one human being to another, I beg you to save me from this savage and I fear reckless young man. Call him off! Chain him up! Let him turn from me the basilisk fires of his vengeful eyes."
"I thought I thought," faltered the girl.
"Not yet," said the Duke cheerfully, "you have arrived in the nick of time to save one who is your ever grateful servant, from a terrible and, I cannot help thinking, untimely end."
She turned with an angry stamp of her foot to her cousin.
"Will you please take me into the house, Hal," she said ignoring the young man on the wall, and his exaggerated expression of relief.
VIII"On behalf of the organ fund," read Hank and regarded the pink tickets that accompanied the vicar's letter with suspicion.
"It's a curious fact," said the Duke, "that of all people and things in this wide world, there is no class so consistently insolvent as the organ class. There isn't a single organ in England that can pay its way. It's broke to the world from its infancy; its youth is a hand-to-mouth struggle, and it reaches its maturity up to the eyes in debt. It has benefit sermons and Sunday-school matinées, garden parties, bazaars and soirées, but nothing seems to put the poor old dear on his legs; he just goes wheezing on, and ends his miserable existence in the hands of the official receiver. What is this by the way?"
"A soirée," said Hank moodily, "and will we help."
She turned with an angry stamp of her foot to her cousin.
"Will you please take me into the house, Hal," she said ignoring the young man on the wall, and his exaggerated expression of relief.
VIII"On behalf of the organ fund," read Hank and regarded the pink tickets that accompanied the vicar's letter with suspicion.
"It's a curious fact," said the Duke, "that of all people and things in this wide world, there is no class so consistently insolvent as the organ class. There isn't a single organ in England that can pay its way. It's broke to the world from its infancy; its youth is a hand-to-mouth struggle, and it reaches its maturity up to the eyes in debt. It has benefit sermons and Sunday-school matinées, garden parties, bazaars and soirées, but nothing seems to put the poor old dear on his legs; he just goes wheezing on, and ends his miserable existence in the hands of the official receiver. What is this by the way?"
"A soirée," said Hank moodily, "and will we help."
The Duke sprang up.
"Rather!" he said jubilantly "will we help? Why, this is the very opportunity I've been waiting for! I'll sing a sentimental song, and you can say a little piece about a poor child dying in the snow."
"Snow nothing," said Hank, "you can sing if you want, and I'll go outside so that folk's shan't see I'm ashamed of you."
He took a turn or two up and down the apartment, then came to an abrupt stop before the Duke.
"Say," he said quickly, "Bill Slewer's out."
The Duke raised his eyebrows.
"The amiable William?" he asked with mild astonishment, "not Bad Man Bill?"
Hank nodded gravely.
"I got a letter from Judge Morris. Bill had a pull in the state and the remainder of his sentence has been remitted by the new governor."
"Well?" asked the Duke with a yawn. Hank was searching his pocket for a letter. He opened one and read
" hope you are having a good time m m your Nevada properties are booming (oh, here we are). By the way Big Bill Slewer's loose, the man the Duke ran out of Tycer country and jailed for shooting Ed. Carter the foreman.
"Bill says he is going gunning for Jukey "
"Ugh!" shuddered the Duke.
" and reckons to leave for Europe soon. Japhet in search of his pa will be a quaker picnic compared with Bill on the sleuth. Tell Jukey "
The Duke groaned.
"Tell Jukey to watch out for his loving little friend Bill. Bill is going to have a big send off and a bad citizens' committee has presented the hero with a silver plate Colt's revolver and has passed a special resolution deprecating the artificial social barriers of an effete and degenerate aristocracy."
The Duke smiled.
"If Bill turns up in Brockley I'll run the military gentleman loose on him," he announced calmly; "in the meantime let us address ourselves to the soirée."
It was announced from the pulpit on the next Sunday that amongst the kind friends who has promised to help was "our neighbour the Duc de Montvillier" and the next morning Miss Alicia Terrill sought out the vicar and asked to be relieved of a certain promise she had made.
"But, my dear Miss Terrill, it's quite impossible," protested the amazed cleric; "you were so very keen on the soirée, and your name has been sent to the printer with the rest of the good people who are singing. Here's the proof." He fussed at his desk and produced a sheet of paper.
"Here we are," he said, and she read:
"No. 5 (song), 'Tell me, where is fancy bred' Miss A. Terrill.
"No. 6 (song), 'In my quiet garden' The Duc de Montvillier."
"And here again in Part II," said the vicar. She took the papers with an unsteady hand.
"No. 11 (song), 'I heard a voice' Miss A. Terrill.
"No. 12 (song), 'Alice, where art thou' The Duc de Montvillier."
She looked at the vicar helplessly.
"Why why does the Duke follow me?" she asked weakly.
"It was his special wish," explained the other. "He said his voice would serve to emphasize the sweetness of your singing and coming, as it would, immediately after your song these are his own words his feeble efforts would bring the audience to a "
"Oh yes," she interrupted impatiently, "I can well imagine all that he said, and I'm thoroughly decided that the programme mustbe rearranged."
In the end she had her way.
For some reason she omitted to convey to her mother the gist of the conversation. If the truth must be told, she had already regretted having spoken of the matter at all to her family, for her mother's letter to the Tanneurs had brought to her a greater infliction than her impetuous suitor. Whatever opinion might be held of the genius of Hal Tanneur at Hydeholm, in the expressive language of the 9th's mess, he was "no flier." The girl had learnt of his coming with dismay, and the gleam of hope that perhaps after all, he might be able to effectively snub the young man of the step ladder, was quickly extinguished as the result of the brief skirmish she had witnessed. And Hal was attentive in his heavy way, and had tricks of elephantine gallantry that caused her more annoyance than alarm.
On the evening of the day she had seen the vicar, Mr. Hal Tanneur decided upon making a diplomatic offer, so set about with reservations and contingencies, that it was somewhat in the nature of a familiar stock exchange transaction. In other words he set himself the task of securing an option on her hand, with the understanding that in the event of his father's refusal to endorse the contract, the option was to be secretly renewed for an indefinite period. He did not put the matter in so few words as I, because he was not such a clever juggler of words as I am, but after he had been talking, with innumerable "d'ye see what I mean Alic's" and "of course you understand's," she got a dim idea of what he was driving at. She let him go on. "Of course the governor's got pots of money, and I don't want to get in his bad books. Just now he's a bit worried over some Nevada property he's trying to do a chap out of in quite a business-like way of course. The other chap the chap who has the property now has got a big flaw in his title and he doesn't know it. See? Well, unless he renews his claim and gets some kind of an order from the court, or something of that sort, the governor and the governor's friends can throw him out, d'ye see what I mean?"
"I really don't see what this is to do with me," said Alicia frankly bored, "you said you wanted to tell me something of the greatest importance, and I really ought to be seeing about mother's supper."
"Wait a bit," he pleaded, "this is where the whole thing comes in: if the governor pulls this deal off, he'll be as pleased as Punch, and I can say out plump and plain how I feel about you."
It was on the tip of her tongue to inform him that "plump and plain" was ludicrously descriptive of himself, but she forbore. Instead she plunged him into a state of embarrassed incoherence by demanding coolly
"Do I understand, Hal, that you have been proposing to me?"
She cut short his explanations with a smile.
"Please don't wound my vanity by telling me this is only a tentative offer anyway I'll put your mind at rest. Under no circumstances could I marry you: there are thousands of reasons for that decision, but the main one is, that I do not love you, and I cannot imagine anything short of a miracle that would make me love you."
She left him speechless.
The greater part of the next day he sulked in the garden, but towards the evening he grew cheerful. After all, a woman's No was not necessarily final.
He got most of his ideas from the comic papers.