The anecdote went well. Of course there will always be a small minority in any audience which does not appreciate a funny story, and there was one in the present case. But the bulk of the company roared with laughter.
"Do you mean," cried Sir Mallaby, choking, "the poor idiot just stood there dumb?"
"Well, he made a sort of yammering noise," said Billie, "but that only made him look sillier."
"Deuced good!" chuckled Sir Mallaby.
"Funniest thing I ever heard in my life!" gurgled Mr. Bennett, swallowing a digestive capsule.
"May have been half-witted," suggested Mr. Mortimer.
Sam leaned across the table with a stern set face. He meant to change the conversation if he had to do it with a crowbar.
"I hear you have taken a house in the country, Mr. Mortimer," he said.
"Yes," said Mr. Mortimer. He turned to Sir Mallaby. "We have at last succeeded in persuading your sister, Mrs. Hignett, to let us rent her house for the summer."
Sir Mallaby gasped.
"Windles! You don't mean to tell me that my sister has let you have Windles!"
Mr. Mortimer nodded triumphantly.
"Yes. I had completely resigned myself to the prospect of spending the summer in some other house, when yesterday I happened to run into your nephew, young Eustace Hignett, on the street, and he said he was just coming round to see me about that very thing. To cut a long story short, he said that it would be all right and that we could have the house." Mr. Mortimer took a sip of burgundy. "He's a curious boy, young Hignett. Very nervous in his manner."
"Chronic dyspepsia," said Mr. Bennett authoritatively, "I can tell it at a glance."
"Is Windles a very lovely place, Sir Mallaby?" asked Billie.
"Charming. Quite charming. Not large, of course, as country houses go. Not a castle, I mean, with hundreds of acres of park land. But nice and compact and comfortable and very picturesque."
"We do not require a large place," said Mr. Mortimer. "We shall be quite a small party. Bennett and myself, Wilhelmina, Bream...."
"Don't forget," said Billie, "that you have promised to invite Jane Hubbard down there."
"Ah, yes. Wilhelmina's friend, Miss Hubbard. She is coming. That will be all, except young Hignett himself."
"Hignett!" cried Mr. Bennett.
"Mr. Hignett!" exclaimed Billie.
There was an almost imperceptible pause before Mr. Mortimer spoke again, and for an instant the demon of embarrassment hovered, unseen but present, above the dinner table. Mr. Bennett looked sternly at Billie; Billie turned a shade pinker and gazed at the tablecloth; Bream started nervously. Even Mr. Mortimer seemed robbed for a moment of his legal calm.
"I forgot to tell you that," he said. "Yes, one of the stipulations—to which I personally was perfectly willing to agree—was that Eustace Hignett was to remain on the premises during our tenancy. Such a clause in the agreement was, I am quite aware, unusual, and, had the circumstances been other than they were, I would have had a good deal to say about it. But we wanted the place, and we couldn't get it except by agreeing, so I agreed. I'm sure you will think that I acted rightly, Bennett, considering the peculiar circumstances."
"Well," said Mr. Bennett reluctantly, "I certainly did want that house...."
"And we couldn't have had it otherwise," said Mr. Mortimer, "so that is all there is to it."
"Well, it need make no difference to you," said Sir Mallaby. "I am sure you will find my nephew Eustace most unobtrusive. He may even be an entertaining companion. I believe he has a nice singing voice. With that and the juggling of our friend here and my sister's late husband's orchestrion, you will have no difficulty in amusing yourselves during the evenings. You remember the orchestrion, Sam?" said Sir Mallaby, on whom his son's silence had been weighing rather heavily for some time.
"Yes," said Sam, and returned to the silence once more.
"The late Mr. Hignett had it put in. He was very fond of music. It's a thing you turn on by pressing a button in the wall," continued Sir Mallaby. "How you stop it, I don't know. When I was down there last it never seemed to stop. You mustn't miss the orchestrion!"
"I certainly shall," said Mr. Bennett decidedly. "Music of that description happens to be the one thing which jars unendurably on my nerves. My nervous system is thoroughly out of tune."
"So is the orchestrion," said Sir Mallaby. "I remember once when I was down there...."
"I hope you will come down there again, Sir Mallaby," said Mr. Mortimer, "during our occupancy of the house. And you, too," he said, addressing Sam.
"I am afraid," said Sam frigidly, "that my time will be very much occupied for the next few months. Thank you very much," he added, after a moment's pause.
"Sam's going to work," said Sir Mallaby.
"Yes," said Sam with dark determination. "Work is the only thing in life that matters!"
"Oh, come, Sam!" said Sir Mallaby. "At your age I used to think love was fairly important, too!"
"Love!" said Sam. He jabbed at his soufflé with a spoon. You could see by the scornful way he did it that he did not think much of love.
§ 4
Sir Mallaby, the last cigar of the night between his lips, broke a silence which had lasted a quarter of an hour. The guests had gone, and he and Sam were alone together.
"Sam," he said, "do you know what I think?"
"No," said Sam.
Sir Mallaby removed his cigar and spoke impressively. "I've been turning the whole thing over in my mind, and the conclusion I have come to is that there is more in this Windles business than meets the eye. I've known your Aunt Adeline all my life, and I tell you it isn't in that woman to change her infernal pig-headed mind, especially about letting her house. She is a monomaniac on that subject. If you want to know my opinion, I am quite certain that your cousin Eustace has let the place to these people without her knowledge, and intends to pocket the cheque and not say a word about it. What do you think?"
"Eh?" said Sam absently.
"I said, what do you think?"
"What do I think about what?"
"About Eustace Hignett and Windles."
"What about them?"
Sir Mallaby regarded him disprovingly. "I'm hanged if I know what's the matter with you to-night, Sam. You seem to have unhitched your brain and left it in the umbrella stand. You hadn't a word to say for yourself all through dinner. You might have been a Trappist monk. And with that delightful girl Miss Bennett, there, too. She must have thought you infernally dull."
"I'm sorry."
"It's no good being sorry now. The mischief's done. She has gone away thinking you an idiot. Do you realise," said Sir Mallaby warmly, "that when she told that extremely funny story about the man who made such a fool of himself on board the ship, you were the only person at the table who was not amused? She must have thought you had no sense of humour!"
Sam rose. "I think I'll be going," he said. "Good night!"
A man can bear just so much.