‘What do you think that horrid old admiral has done?’ cried Jane. ‘To start with he drank so many cocktails that there weren’t nearly enough to go round, and then when they were finished he got a straw from one of the wreaths and drank all the absinthe out of the glass in your picture. Sally actually saw him do it.’
‘No, really that’s too much,’ said Albert, who couldn’t help laughing all the same. ‘I suppose in future I shall be obliged to fill that glass with coloured water, otherwise people will make a habit of drinking it, and you can see for yourselves how terribly the colour values are disturbed when the glass is empty.’
‘Well, my dear Albert, I congratulate you,’ said Walter warmly. ‘The whole thing was a great success, a really good party. And everyone thought the pictures quite brilliant. Manuel was very much impressed. I heard him tell Mr Buggins that he intends to buy one for his collection, and most probably one for the Nation.’
‘Clever Albert,’ said Jane. ‘Darling, I’m so pleased, aren’t you? What’s the time, by the way?’
‘Past seven. We’d better go, I think. No one’s likely to come now, and we’ll have to be rather quick if we’re really dining at eight.’
They picked up their bags, hats and other belongings and began to move towards the door, when Walter said:
‘Look here! What about the admiral? He seems to have passed out completely among those lilies. We can’t very well leave him like that, can we?’
Albert considered.
‘No, I suppose we can’t. Hadn’t we better put him into a taxi and send him home? I expect we could carry him between us, Walter; or if he’s too heavy I’ll call the commissionaire to help.’
They advanced upon the admiral, Walter taking his shoulders and Albert his legs, and half-carried, half-dragged him to the street. Jane hailed a taxi into which they bundled him and shut the door.
‘Where to, sir?’
‘Oh! Walter, where does he live?’
‘How should I know? I haven’t an idea.’
‘Well, where shall we send him?’
Silence.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Walter. ‘Isn’t there a special place somewhere for admirals? Now what is it called? Oh, yes! I remember, of course.’
He gave the taxi-driver half-a-crown and said:
‘Take this gentleman to the Admiralty, please.’
21
The front page of next morning’s Daily Runner was full of interest to members of the recent house party at Dalloch Castle. Jane read it, as she always did, while breakfasting in bed; and for once in her life she pored over its columns with absolutely breathless attention, reading every word, instead of merely skimming down the more sensational columns and then turning over to see if she was mentioned in the gossip page, which I regret to say was her usual method.
Today, the first paragraph which met her eye was:
AGED PEER DIES IN HARNESS
LORD PRAGUE LIFELESS IN
UPPER HOUSE
NIGHT WATCHMAN’S STORY
We regret to announce that Lord Prague, G.C.B., C.V.O., etc., was found dead late last night in the House of Lords. It is stated that his body was discovered just before midnight by Mr George Wilson, the night watchman.
Mr Wilson, when interviewed by the Daily Runner, said:
‘I always go into the House at least once during the night to clear up any pieces of paper, orange peel, or empty bottles that happen to have been left underneath the seats. I had been tidying for some time last night when I noticed the figure of a man half-lying on one of the benches. This did not really surprise me, as the peers often sleep on late into the night after a debate. So I went up to him and said: “Twelve o’clock, m’lord. Can I get you a cup of tea?” He took no notice and, thinking he was fast asleep, I was going to let him stay there till morning when something in his attitude made me pause and look at him more closely. I then realized that he was stone dead, so I went and fetched a policeman.’
Mr Wilson was much shaken by his experience and says that although he has often known the peers to die in the corridors and refreshment rooms of the House he cannot recall one to have died in the House itself before.
Dr McGregor, who was called in by the police, said that death, which was due to heart failure, had taken place some six or seven hours previously: therefore Lord Prague must have passed away in the middle of the debate on Subsidized Potatoes (which is reported on page 13).
It was stated at an early hour this morning that Lady Prague is utterly prostrated with grief.
Lord Rainford, a cousin of the late peer, said in an interview:
‘I saw Prague for a moment yesterday afternoon, and he seemed in his usual good form. It has been a terrible shock to all of us, and the loss to the Nation will be irreparable.’
DASHING MORE
Absalom More, fourth Baron Prague, was born in 1838. Educated at Eton and Sandhurst, he first distinguished himself as a boy of eighteen in the Crimea, where he earned the soubriquet of Dashing More – true to his family motto, More to the Fore. When peace had been declared he was warmly applauded by Queen Victoria, with whom he was always a great favourite. In 1859 he succeeded to the title on the death of his father, and in 1860 he married one of the Queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting, Lady Anastasia Dalloch, daughter of the Earl of Craigdalloch, who died in 1909. In 1910 he married as his second wife, Florence, daughter of Mr Leonard Jackson of Dombey Hall, Leicestershire, who survives him. Both marriages are childless, and the peerage devolves upon a distant cousin, Mr Ivanhoe More, of Victoria Road, Kensington.
The very deepest sympathy will go out to Lady Prague, but her sorrow must needs be tempered by the thought that Dashing More died
