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A Damsel in Distress

Page 39

"Send something to drink into the library, Keggs," said Lord

Belpher.

"Very good, your lordship."

"A topping idea," said Reggie. "I'll just take the old car round to

the garage, and then I'll be with you."

He climbed to the steering wheel, and started the engine. Lord

Belpher proceeded to the library, while Keggs melted away through

the green baize door at the end of the hail which divided the

servants' quarters from the rest of the house.

Reggie had hardly driven a dozen yards when he perceived his

stepmother and Lord Marshmoreton coming towards him from the

direction of the rose-garden. He drew up to greet them.

"Hullo, mater. What ho, uncle! Back again at the old homestead,

what?"

Beneath Lady Caroline's aristocratic front agitation seemed to

lurk.

"Reggie, where is Percy?"

"Old Boots? I think he's gone to the library. I just decanted him

out of the car."

Lady Caroline turned to her brother.

"Let us go to the library, John."

"All right. All right. All right," said Lord Marshmoreton

irritably. Something appeared to have ruffled his calm.

Reggie drove on. As he was strolling back after putting the car

away he met Maud.

"Hullo, Maud, dear old thing."

"Why, hullo, Reggie. I was expecting you back last night."

"Couldn't get back last night. Had to stick in town and rally round

old Boots. Couldn't desert the old boy in his hour of trial."

Reggie chuckled amusedly. "'Hour of trial,' is rather good, what?

What I mean to say is, that's just what it was, don't you know."

"Why, what happened to Percy?"

"Do you mean to say you haven't heard? Of course not. It wouldn't

have been in the morning papers. Why, Percy punched a policeman."

"Percy did what?"

"Slugged a slop. Most dramatic thing. Sloshed him in the midriff.

Absolutely. The cross marks the spot where the tragedy occurred."

Maud caught her breath. Somehow, though she could not trace the

connection, she felt that this extraordinary happening must be

linked up with her escapade. Then her sense of humour got the

better of apprehension. Her eyes twinkled delightedly.

"You don't mean to say Percy did that?"

"Absolutely. The human tiger, and what not. Menace to Society and

all that sort of thing. No holding him. For some unexplained reason

the generous blood of the Belphers boiled over, and then--zing.

They jerked him off to Vine Street. Like the poem, don't you know.

'And poor old Percy walked between with gyves upon his wrists.' And

this morning, bright and early, the beak parted him from ten quid.

You know, Maud, old thing, our duty stares us plainly in the

eyeball. We've got to train old Boots down to a reasonable weight

and spring him on the National Sporting Club. We've been letting a

champion middleweight blush unseen under our very roof tree."

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