A Damsel in Distress

"I 'ave my reasons."

"You think you 'ave, which is a very different thing. I suppose you

imagine that you've put a stopper on a certain little affair by

surreptitiously destroying letters entrusted to you."

"I never!" exclaimed Albert with a convulsive start that nearly

sent eleven plates dashing to destruction.

"'Ow many times have I got to tell you to be careful of them

plates?" said Keggs sternly. "Who do you think you are--a juggler

on the 'Alls, 'urling them about like that? Yes, I know all about

that letter. You thought you was very clever, I've no doubt. But

let me tell you, young blighted Albert, that only the other evening

'er ladyship and Mr. Bevan 'ad a long and extended interview in

spite of all your hefforts. I saw through your little game, and I

proceeded and went and arranged the meeting."

In spite of himself Albert was awed. He was oppressed by the sense

of struggling with a superior intellect.

"Yes, you did!" he managed to say with the proper note of

incredulity, but in his heart he was not incredulous. Dimly, Albert

had begun to perceive that years must elapse before he could become

capable of matching himself in battles of wits with this

master-strategist.

"Yes, I certainly did!" said Keggs. "I don't know what 'appened at

the interview--not being present in person. But I've no doubt that

everything proceeded satisfactorily."

"And a fat lot of good that's going to do you, when 'e ain't

allowed to come inside the 'ouse!"

A bland smile irradiated the butler's moon-like face.

"If by 'e you're alloodin' to Mr. Bevan, young blighted Albert, let

me tell you that it won't be long before 'e becomes a regular duly

invited guest at the castle!"

"A lot of chance!"

"Would you care to 'ave another five shillings even money on it?"

Albert recoiled. He had had enough of speculation where the butler

was concerned. Where that schemer was allowed to get within reach

of it, hard cash melted away.

"What are you going to do?"

"Never you mind what I'm going to do. I 'ave my methods. All I

'ave to say to you is that tomorrow or the day after Mr. Bevan

will be seated in our dining-'all with 'is feet under our table,

replying according to his personal taste and preference, when I ask

'im if 'e'll 'ave 'ock or sherry. Brush all them crumbs carefully

off the tablecloth, young blighted Albert--don't shuffle your

feet--breathe softly through your nose--and close the door be'ind

you when you've finished!"

"Oh, go and eat cake!" said Albert bitterly. But he said

it to his immortal soul, not aloud. The lad's spirit was broken.