It has been frequently said of the Mulliners that you may perplex but you cannot baffle them. It was getting on for dinner-time before Osbert finally decided upon a plan of action: but this plan, he perceived as he examined it, was far superior to the first one.
He had been wrong, he saw, in thinking of flying to foreign climes. For one who desired as fervently as he did never to see Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames again in this world, the only real refuge was a London suburb. Any momentary whim might lead Sir Masterman to pack a suitcase and take the next boat to the Far East, but nothing would ever cause him to take a tram for Dulwich, Cricklewood, Winchmore Hill, Brixton, Balham or Surbiton. In those trackless wastes Osbert would be safe.
Osbert decided to wait till late at night; then go back to his house in South Audley Street, pack his collection of old jade and a few other necessaries, and vanish into the unknown.
It was getting on for midnight when, creeping warily to the familiar steps, he inserted his latch-key in the familiar keyhole. He had feared that Bashford Braddock might be watching the house, but there were no signs of him. He slipped swiftly into the dark hall and closed the front door softly behind him.
It was at this moment that he became aware that from under the door of the dining-room at the other end of the hall there was stealing a thin stream of light.
For an instant, this evidence that the house was not, as he had supposed, unoccupied startled Osbert considerably. Then, recovering himself, he understood what must have happened. Parker, his man, instead of leaving as he had been told to do, was taking advantage of his employer's presumed absence from London to stay on and do some informal entertaining. Osbert, thoroughly incensed, hurried to the dining-room and felt that his suspicion had been confirmed. On the table were set out all the materials, except food and drink, of a cosy little supper for two. The absence of food and drink was accounted for, no doubt, by the fact that Parker and – Osbert saw only too good reason to fear – his lady-friend were down in the larder, fetching them.
Osbert boiled from his false wig to the soles of his feet with a passionate fury. So this was the sort of thing that went on the moment his back was turned, was it? There were heavy curtains hiding the window, and behind these he crept. It was his intention to permit the feast to begin and then, stepping forth like some avenging Nemesis, to confront his erring manservant and put it across him in no uncertain manner. Bashford Braddock and Major-General Sir Masterman Petherick-Soames, with their towering stature and whipcord muscles, might intimidate him, but with a shrimp like Parker he felt that he could do himself justice. Osbert had been through much in the last forty-eight hours, and unpleasantness with a man who, like Parker, stood a mere five feet five in his socks appeared to him rather in the nature of a tonic.
He had not been waiting long when there came to his ears the sound of footsteps outside. He softly removed his wig, his nose, his whiskers and his blue spectacles. There must be no disguise to soften the shock when Parker found himself confronted. Then, peeping through the curtains, he prepared to spring.
Osbert did not spring. Instead, he shrank back like a more than ordinarily diffident tortoise into its shell, and tried to achieve the maximum of silence by breathing through his ears. For it was no Parker who had entered, no frivolous lady-friend, but a couple of plug-uglies of such outstanding physique that Bashford Braddock might have been the little brother of either of them.
Osbert stood petrified. He had never seen a burglar before, and he wished, now that he was seeing these, that it could have been arranged for him to do so through a telescope. At this close range, they gave him much the same feeling the prophet Daniel must have had on entering the lions' den, before his relations with the animals had been established on their subsequent basis of easy camaraderie. He was thankful that when the breath which he had been holding for some eighty seconds at length forced itself out in a loud gasp, the noise was drowned by the popping of a cork.
It was from a bottle of Osbert's best Bollinger that this cork had been removed. The marauders, he was able to see, were men who believed in doing themselves well. In these days when almost everybody is on some sort of diet it is rarely that one comes across the old-fashioned type of diner who does not worry about balanced meals and calories but just squares his shoulders and goes at it till his eyes bubble. Osbert's two guests plainly belonged to this nearly obsolete species. They were drinking out of tankards and eating three varieties of meat simultaneously, as if no such thing as a high blood-pressure had ever been invented. A second pop announced the opening of another quart of champagne.
At the outset of the proceedings, there had been little or nothing in the way of supper-table conversation. But now, the first keen edge of his appetite satisfied by about three pounds of ham, beef and mutton, the burglar who sat nearest to Osbert was able to relax. He looked about him approvingly.
'Nice little crib, this, Ernest,' he said.
'R!' replied his companion – a man of few words, and those somewhat impeded by cold potatoes and bread.
'Must have been some real swells in here one time and another.'
'R!'
'Baronets and such, I wouldn't be surprised.'
'R!' said the second burglar, helping himself to more champagne and mixing in a little port, sherry, Italian vermouth, old brandy and green Chartreuse to give it body.
The first burglar looked thoughtful.
'Talking of baronets,' he said, 'a thing I've often wondered is – well, suppose you're having a dinner, see?'
'R!'
'As it might be in this very room.'
'R!'
'Well, would a baronet's sister go in before the daughter of the younger son of a peer? I've often wondered about that.'
The second burglar finished his champagne, port, sherry, Italian vermouth, old brandy and green Chartreuse, and mixed himself another.
'Go in?'
'Go in to dinner.'
'If she was quicker on her feet, she would,' said the second burglar. 'She'd get to the door first. Stands to reason.'
The first burglar raised his eyebrows.
'Ernest,' he said coldly, 'you talk like an uneducated son of a what-not. Haven't you never been taught nothing about the rules and manners of good Society?'
The second burglar flushed. It was plain that the rebuke had touched a tender spot. There was a strained silence. The first burglar resumed his meal. The second burglar watched him with a hostile eye. He had the air of a man who is waiting for his chance, and it was not long before he found it.
'Harold,' he said.
'Well?' said the first burglar.
'Don't gollup your food, Harold,' said the second burglar.
The first burglar started. His eyes gleamed with sudden fury. His armour, like his companion's, had been pierced.
'Who's golluping his food?'
'You are.'
'I am?'
'Yes, you.'
'Who, me?'
'R!'
'Golluping my food?'
'R! Like a pig or something.'
It was evident to Osbert, peeping warily through the curtains, that the generous fluids which these two men had been drinking so lavishly had begun to have their effect. They spoke thickly, and their eyes had become red and swollen.
'I may not know all about baronets' younger sisters,' said the burglar Ernest, 'but I don't gollup my food like pigs or something.'
And, as if to drive home the reproach, he picked up the leg of mutton and began to gnaw it with an affected daintiness.
The next moment the battle had been joined. The spectacle of the other's priggish object-lesson was too much for the burglar Harold. He plainly resented tuition in the amenities from one on whom he had always looked as a social inferior. With a swift movement of the hand he grasped the bottle before him and bounced it smartly on his colleague's head.
Osbert Mulliner cowered behind the curtain. The sportsman in him whispered that he was missing something good, for ring-seats to view which many men would have paid large sums, but he could not nerve himself to look out. However, there was plenty of interest in the thing, even if you merely listened. The bumps and crashes seemed to indicate that the two principals were hitting one another with virtually everything in the room except the wall-paper and the large sideboard. Now they appeared to be grappling on the floor, anon fighting at long range with bottles. Words and combinations of whose existence he had till then been unaware, floated to Osbert's ears: and more and more he asked himself, as the combat proceeded: What would the harvest be?
And then, with one titanic crash, the battle ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
It was some moments before Osbert Mulliner could bring himself to peep from behind the curtains. When he did so, he seemed to be gazing upon one of those Orgy scenes which have done so much to popularize the motion-pictures. Scenically, the thing was perfect. All that was needed to complete the resemblance was a few attractive-looking girls with hardly any clothes on.
He came out and gaped down at the ruins. The burglar Harold was lying with his head in the fireplace: the burglar Ernest was doubled up under the table: and it seemed to Osbert almost absurd to think that these were the same hearty fellows who had come into the room to take pot-luck so short a while before. Harold had the appearance of a man who has been passed through a wringer. Ernest gave the illusion of having recently become entangled in some powerful machinery. If, as was probable, they were known to the police, it would take a singularly keen-eyed constable to recognize them now.
The thought of the police reminded Osbert of his duty as a citizen. He went to the telephone and called up the nearest station and was informed that representatives of the Law would be round immediately to scoop up the remains. He went back to the dining-room to wait, but its atmosphere jarred upon him. He felt the need of fresh air: and, going to the front door, he opened it and stood upon the steps, breathing deeply.
And, as he stood there, a form loomed through the darkness and a heavy hand fell on his arm.
'Mr Mulliner, I think? Mr Mulliner, if I mistake not? Good evening, Mr Mulliner,' said the voice of Bashford Braddock. 'A word with you, Mr Mulliner.'
Osbert returned his gaze without flinching. He was conscious of a strange, almost uncanny calm. The fact was that, everything in this world being relative, he was regarding Bashford Braddock at this moment as rather an undersized little pipsqueak, and wondering why he had ever worried about the man. To one who had come so recently from the society of Harold and Ernest, Bashford Braddock seemed like one of Singer's Midgets.
'Ah, Braddock?' said Osbert.
At this moment, with a grinding of brakes, a van stopped before the door and policemen began to emerge.
'Mr Mulliner?' asked the sergeant.
Osbert greeted him affably.
'Come in,' he said. 'Come in. Go straight through. You will find them in the dining-room. I'm afraid I had to handle them a little roughly. You had better 'phone for a doctor.'
'Bad are they?'
'A little the worse for wear.'
'Well, they asked for it,' said the sergeant.
'Exactly, sergeant,' said Osbert. '
Rem acŭ tetigisti
.'
Bashford Braddock had been standing listening to this exchange of remarks with a somewhat perplexed air.