A ghastly early morning light illuminated the faces of Lord Craigdalloch’s unfortunate guests as they sat surrounded by the salvage from his home, which looked like nothing so much as the remains of an auction sale before the buyers have removed their purchases.
Lot 1. – Fine old Jacobean oak table suitable for entrance hall. Two assegais and a waste-paper basket.
Lot 2. – Bust of the younger Pitt. Large sofa upholstered in Heal Chintz. Gong of Benares brass-work.
Lot 3. – Case of stuffed grouse in summer and winter plumage. Chippendale writing-table. Large print of Flora McDonald (etc., etc.).
Albert and Jane looked round with some amusement at the different varieties of bedroom attire displayed upon other members of the party. Sally looked lovely in crêpe-de-chine pyjamas, over which she wore a tweed coat lined with fur. Lady Prague was also wrapped in a tweed coat over a linen nightdress and a Shetland wool cardigan. She wore galoshes over her bedroom slippers. Lord Prague, who had collapsed into an armchair, was shivering in a Jaeger dressing-gown which had a sort of cape elaborately trimmed with pale blue braid, and the general stood near him in khaki pyjamas and a manly overcoat. The admiral wore a mackintosh. His bare, white and skinny legs sticking out from beneath it bore witness to the fact that Admiral Wenceslaus was a devotee of the old-fashioned, but convenient, night-shirt.
Albert went to the other side of the castle and picked up the clothes which he and Jane had thrown out of their bedroom windows. Jane and Sally, on seeing them, gave high cries of delight, and retiring behind an adjacent wardrobe they began to dress. Walter and Albert did likewise, and Albert was also able to lend a jumper and a pair of grey flannel trousers to Mr Buggins. Everybody else secretly wished that they had had sufficient forethought to throw some clothes out of the windows; the morning air was distinctly chilly.
‘I’ve still two pairs of trousers left,’ said Albert, holding in one hand the orange tartan ones he had worn upon the moor, and in the other his bright blue pair. ‘Won’t somebody wear them? General, can I tempt you? Lady Prague, come now! No?’
‘Will you lend them to me, young man?’
‘Admiral – but, of course, how very kind of you, and how lucky that I have the matelot ones. You will feel quite at home in them. Here is a real fisherman’s jersey, too, why, you’ll be thinking you are back on the dear old flagship – with “Yo! ho! ho! and a bottle of rum.”’
The admiral, who seemed rather overwhelmed by the foregoing events, retired behind a zebra-skin screen to put on the trousers. He stayed there for some time, and when he finally emerged, carried his eye in his hand. Creeping up behind Lady Prague, he suddenly thrust it into her face, yelling out:
‘Peep-uck-bo!’
Lady Prague uttered a piercing scream and ran away as fast as the clinging draperies of her night-dress would allow until, tripping up over her galoshes, she fell heavily on the gravel and grazed her knees rather badly. General Murgatroyd and Mr Buggins assisted her to a chair. After this she became more acid than ever.
Meanwhile the admiral again withdrew behind his screen, where he was found much later by Mr Buggins and Sally, fast asleep on the ground.
‘Poor old boy,’ said Sally kindly, ‘it’s been too much for him.’
‘Humph! I think I can guess what has been too much for him.’ And Mr Buggins produced from under the cast-off night-shirt three empty whisky bottles. ‘Might as well leave him there,’ he said. ‘Got a head like a horse; he’ll be all right soon.’
The whole castle was now enveloped in flames, which rose to almost double its height – a terrifying spectacle. Even more alarming was the noise, a deafening roar like the sound of huge waterfalls, broken every now and then by the crash of falling masonry. Birds and bats, fascinated by the glare, were to be seen flying to their doom; and two huge beech trees which stood near the house were completely blackened.
The little party on the lawn sat in a dazed silence, over-awed by the sight of this catastrophe.
When the firemen arrived they were far too late to save anything but some outhouses. Not to be deprived of their fun, however, they were soon playing the hose indiscriminately upon the huge flames, the beech trees and the general, who unobserved had strolled up towards the house in order to have a better view. Dripping wet and speechless with rage he rushed back to the others, and was obliged to swallow his pride and borrow Albert’s tartan trousers and orange sweater. The sight of him thus attired was too much for Sally and Walter, who became perfectly hysterical with laughter which they were unable to control, and finally they had to go for a long walk in order to regain their composure.
‘I wonder what the effect of all this will be on Morris-Minerva?’ said Sally.
‘Are you feeling all right, my own?’
‘Yes, quite now, thank you, darling. Will the poor angel have red hair and a fiery nature as the result of it?’
When they got back to the others they found that quite a little crowd was collected on the lawn, constantly augmented by people from neighbouring villages, who straggled by twos and threes up the drive.
Those members of the house party who were not clothed were beginning to feel rather self-conscious. The sightseers all followed the same procedure. They stood for some time gazing at the fire, saying: ‘Hoots!’ – ‘Wisha!’ – ‘Mon it’s gran’!’ and other unintelligible phrases of the kind, after which they had a good look at the survivors, coming up quite close and breathing heavily. They then inspected the lares and penates on the lawn, piece by piece, admiring or criticizing. Having taken their time and seen everything of interest, they sat about the place in little scattered
