A Damsel in Distress

He resumed this vein as they alighted and rang the bell.

"This," said Reggie, "is rather like a bit out of a melodrama.

Convict son totters up the steps of the old home and punches the

bell. What awaits him beyond? Forgiveness? Or the raspberry? True,

the white-haired butler who knew him as a child will sob on his

neck, but what of the old dad? How will dad take the blot of the

family escutcheon?"

Lord Belpher's scowl deepened.

"It's not a joking matter," he said coldly.

"Great Heavens, I'm not joking. How could I have the heart to joke

at a moment like this, when the friend of my youth has suddenly

become a social leper?"

"I wish to goodness you would stop."

"Do you think it is any pleasure to me to be seen about with a man

who is now known in criminal circles as Percy, the Piccadilly

Policeman-Puncher? I keep a brave face before the world, but

inwardly I burn with shame and agony and what not."

The great door of the castle swung open, revealing Keggs, the

butler. He was a man of reverend years, portly and dignified, with

a respectfully benevolent face that beamed gravely on the young

master and Mr. Byng, as if their coming had filled his cup of

pleasure. His light, slightly protruding eyes expressed reverential

good will. He gave just that touch of cosy humanity to the scene

which the hall with its half lights and massive furniture needed to

make it perfect to the returned wanderer. He seemed to be

intimating that this was a moment to which he had looked forward

long, and that from now on quiet happiness would reign supreme. It

is distressing to have to reveal the jarring fact that, in his

hours of privacy when off duty, this apparently ideal servitor was

so far from being a respecter of persons that he was accustomed to

speak of Lord Belpher as "Percy", and even as "His Nibs". It was,

indeed, an open secret among the upper servants at the castle, and

a fact hinted at with awe among the lower, that Keggs was at heart

a Socialist.

"Good evening, your lordship. Good evening, sir."

Lord Belpher acknowledged the salutation with a grunt, but Reggie

was more affable.

"How are you, Keggs? Now's your time, if you're going to do it." He

stepped a little to one side and indicated Lord Belpher's crimson

neck with an inviting gesture.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Ah. You'd rather wait till you can do it a little more privately.

Perhaps you're right."

The butler smiled indulgently. He did not understand what Reggie

was talking about, but that did not worry him. He had long since

come to the conclusion that Reggie was slightly mad, a theory

supported by the latter's valet, who was of the same opinion. Keggs

did not dislike Reggie, but intellectually he considered him

negligible.