The Duke in the Suburbs. Wallace Edgar
C., who had a reputation for archness to sustain, told them that they mustn't believe all the dreadful stories they heard about her, and even if she did smoke, well what of it?
"Ah," murmured the Duke with sympathetic resentment of the world's censure, "what of it?"
"There was a lady in Montana," said Hank courteously, "a charming lady she was too, who smoked morning, noon and night, and nobody thought any worse of her."
The lady basked in the approval. Of course, she only smoked very occasionally, a teeny weeny cigarette.
"That woman," said Hank solemnly, "was never without a pipe or a see-gar. Smoked Old Union plug – do you remember her, Duke?"
"Let me see," pondered the Duke, "the lady with the one eye or – "
"Oh, no," corrected Hank, "she died in delirium tremens – no, don't you remember the woman that ran away with Bill Suggley to Denver, she got tried for poisonin' him in '99."
"Oh, yes!" The Duke's face lit up, but Mrs. C. coughed dubiously.
Mr. Roderick Nape called. He was mysterious and shot quick glances round the room and permitted himself to smile quietly.
They had the conventional opening. The Duke was very glad to see him, and he was delighted to make the acquaintance of the Duke. What extraordinary weather they had been having!
Indeed, agreed the Duke, it was extraordinary.
"You've been to America," said Mr. Roderick Nape suddenly and abruptly.
The Duke looked surprised.
"Yes," he admitted.
"West, of course," said the young Mr. Nape carelessly.
"However did you know?" said the astonished nobleman.
Young Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders.
"One has the gift of observation and deduction – born with it," he said disparagingly. He indicated with a wave of his hand two Mexican saddles that hung on the wall.
"Where did they come from?" he asked, with an indulgent smile.
"I bought 'em at a curiosity shop in Bond Street," said the Duke innocently, "but you're right, we have lived in America."
"I thought so," said the young Mr. Nape, and pushed back his long black hair.
"Of course," he went on, "one models one's system on certain lines, I have already had two or three little cases not without interest. There was the Episode of the Housemaid's brooch, and the Adventure of the Black Dog – "
"What was that?" asked the Duke eagerly.
"A mere trifle," said the amateur detective with an airy wave of his hand. "I'd noticed the dog hanging about our kitchen; as we have no dogs I knew it was a stranger, as it stuck to the kitchen, knew it must be hungry. Looked on its collar, discovered it belonged to a Colonel B – , took it back and restored it to its owner, and told him within a day or so, how long it was, since he had lost it."
Hank shook his head in speechless admiration.
"Any time you happen to be passing," said young Mr. Nape rising to go, "call in and see my little laboratory; I've fixed it up in the greenhouse; if you ever want a blood stain analysed I shall be there."
"Sitting in your dressing gown, I suppose," said the Duke with awe, "playing your violin and smoking shag?"
Young Mr. Nape frowned.
"Somebody has been talking about me," he said severely.
"63 has to call, 51 is out of town, and 35 has measles in the house," reported the Duke one morning at breakfast.
Hank helped himself to a fried egg with the flat of his knife.
"What about next door!" he asked.
"Next door won't call," said the Duke sadly. "Next door used to live in Portland Place, where dukes are so thick that you have to fix wire netting to prevent them coming in at the window – no, mark off 66 as a non-starter."
Hank ate his egg in silence.
"She's very pretty," he said at length.
"66?"
Hank nodded.
"I saw her yesterday, straight and slim, with a complexion like snow – "
"Cut it out!" said the Duke brutally.
"And eyes as blue as a winter sky in Texas."
"Haw!" murmured his disgusted grace.
"And a walk – " apostrophized the other dreamily.
The Duke raised his hands.
"I surrender, colonel," he pleaded; "you've been patronizing the free library. I recognize the bit about the sky over little old Texas."
"What happened – ?" Hank jerked his head in the direction of No. 66.
The Duke was serious when he replied.
"Africans, Siberians, Old Nevada Silver and all the rotten stock that a decent, easy-going white man could be lured into buying," he said quietly; "that was the father. When the smash came he obligingly died."
Hank pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"It's fairly tragic," he said, "poor girl."
The Duke was deep in thought again.
"I must meet her," he said briskly.
Hank looked at the ceiling.
"In a way," he said slowly, "fate has brought you together, and before the day is over, I've no doubt you will have much to discuss in common."
The Duke looked at him with suspicion.
"Have you been taking a few private lessons from young Sherlock Nape?" he asked.
Hank shook his head.
"There was a certain tabby cat that patronized our back garden," he said mysteriously.
"True, O seer!"
"She ate our flowers."
"She did," said the Duke complacently. "I caught her at it this very morning."
"And plugged her with an air-gun?"
"Your air-gun," expostulated the Duke hastily.
"Your plug," said Hank calmly, "well, that cat – "
"Don't tell me," said the Duke, rising in his agitation – "don't tell me that this poor unoffending feline, which your gun – "
"Your shot," murmured Hank.
"Which your wretched air-gun so ruthlessly destroyed," continued the Duke sternly, "don't tell me it is the faithful dumb friend of 66?"
"It was," corrected Hank.
"The devil it was!" said his grace, subsiding into gloom.
The situation was a tragic one. Alicia Terrill trembling with indignation, a faint flush on her pretty face, and her forehead wrinkled in an angry frown, kept her voice steady with an effort, and looked down from the step ladder on which she stood, at the urbane young man on the other side of the wall.
He stood with his hands respectfully clasped behind his back, balancing himself on the edge of his tiny lawn, and regarded her without emotion. The grim evidence of the tragedy was hidden from his view, but he accepted her estimate of his action with disconcerting calmness.
Hank, discreetly hidden in the conservatory, was an interested eavesdropper.
The girl had time to notice that the Duke had a pleasant face, burnt and tanned by sun and wind, that he was clean-shaven, with a square, determined jaw and clear grey eyes that were steadfastly fixed on hers. In a way he was good looking, though she was too angry to observe the fact, and the loose flannel suit he wore did not hide the athletic construction of the man beneath.
"It is monstrous of you!" she said hotly, "you, a stranger here – "
"I know your cat," he said calmly.
"And