A Damsel in Distress

In his late rambles about Belpher Castle in the company of Keggs

and his followers, George had been privileged to inspect the

library. It was an easily accessible room, opening off the main

hail. He left Billie and her new friend deep in a discussion of

slugs and plant-lice, and walked quickly back to the house. The

library was unoccupied.

George was a thorough young man. He believed in leaving nothing to

chance. The gardener had seemed a trustworthy soul, but you never

knew. It was possible that he drank. He might forget or lose the

precious note. So, with a wary eye on the door, George hastily

scribbled it in duplicate. This took him but a few minutes. He went

out into the garden again to find Billie Dore on the point of

stepping into a blue automobile.

"Oh, there you are, George. I wondered where you had got to. Say, I

made quite a hit with dadda. I've given him my address, and he's

promised to send me a whole lot of roses. By the way, shake hands

with Mr. Forsyth. This is George Bevan, Freddie, who wrote the

music of our show."

The solemn youth at the wheel extended a hand.

"Topping show. Topping music. Topping all round."

"Well, good-bye, George. See you soon, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes. Give my love to everybody."

"All right. Let her rip, Freddie. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

The blue car gathered speed and vanished down the drive. George

returned to the man in corduroys, who had bent himself double in

pursuit of a slug.

"Just a minute," said George hurriedly. He pulled out the first of

the notes. "Give this to Lady Maud the first chance you get. It's

important. Here's a sovereign for your trouble."

He hastened away. He noticed that gratification had turned the

other nearly purple in the face, and was anxious to leave him. He

was a modest young man, and effusive thanks always embarrassed him.

There now remained the disposal of the duplicate note. It was

hardly worth while, perhaps, taking such a precaution, but George

knew that victories are won by those who take no chances. He had

wandered perhaps a hundred yards from the rose-garden when he

encountered a small boy in the many-buttoned uniform of a page. The

boy had appeared from behind a big cedar, where, as a matter of

fact, he had been smoking a stolen cigarette.

"Do you want to earn half a crown?" asked George.

The market value of messengers had slumped.

The stripling held his hand out.

"Give this note to Lady Maud."

"Right ho!"

"See that it reaches her at once."