Sam was standing in the doorway, beaming on me with invincible good-humour.
“You are handling them wrong. Allow me. A moment more and you would have ruined the crease.”
I became aware of a pair of trousers hanging limply in my grasp. He took them from me, and, folding them neatly, placed them in my trunk.
“Don’t get all worked up about it, sonny,” he said. “It’s the fortune of war. Besides, what does it matter to you? Judging by that very snug apartment in London, you have quite enough money for a young man. Losing your job here won’t break you. And, if you’re worrying about Mrs. Ford and her feelings, don’t! I guess she’s probably forgotten all about the Nugget by this time. So cheer up. You’re all right!”
He stretched out a hand to pat me on the shoulder, then thought better of it and drew it back.
“Think of my happiness, if you want something to make you feel good. Believe me, young man, it’s some. I could sing! Gee, when I think that it’s all plain sailing now and no more troubles, I could dance! You don’t know what it means to me, putting through this deal. I wish you knew Mary! That’s her name. You must come and visit us, sonny, when we’re fixed up in the home. There’ll always be a knife and fork for you. We’ll make you one of the family! Lord! I can see the place as plain as I can see you. Nice frame house with a good porch. … Me in a rocker in my shirtsleeves, smoking a cigar and reading the baseball news; Mary in another rocker, mending my socks and nursing the cat! We’ll sure have a cat. Two cats. I like cats. And a goat in the front garden. Say, it’ll be great!”
And on the word, emotion overcoming prudence, he brought his fat hand down with a resounding smack on my bowed shoulders.
There is a limit. I bounded to my feet.
“Get out!” I yelped. “Get out of here!”
“Sure,” he replied agreeably. He rose without haste and regarded me compassionately. “Cheer up, son! Be a sport!”
There are moments when the best of men become melodramatic. I offer this as excuse for my next observation.
Clenching my fists and glaring at him, I cried, “I’ll foil you yet, you hound!”
Some people have no soul for the dramatic. He smiled tolerantly.
“Sure,” he said. “Anything you like, Desperate Desmond. Enjoy yourself!”
And he left me.
XIII
I evacuated Sanstead House unostentatiously, setting off on foot down the long drive. My luggage, I gathered, was to follow me to the station in a cart. I was thankful to Providence for the small mercy that the boys were in their classrooms and consequently unable to ask me questions. Augustus Beckford alone would have handled the subject of my premature exit in a manner calculated to bleach my hair.
It was a wonderful morning. The sky was an unclouded blue, and a fresh breeze was blowing in from the sea. I think that something of the exhilaration of approaching spring must have stirred me, for quite suddenly the dull depression with which I had started my walk left me, and I found myself alert and full of schemes.
Why should I feebly withdraw from the struggle? Why should I give in to Smooth Sam in this tame way? The memory of that wink came back to me with a tonic effect. I would show him that I was still a factor in the game. If the house was closed to me, was there not the Feathers? I could lie in hiding there, and observe his movements unseen.
I stopped on reaching the inn, and was on the point of entering and taking up my position at once, when it occurred to me that this would be a false move. It was possible that Sam would not take my departure for granted so readily as I assumed. It was Sam’s way to do a thing thoroughly, and the probability was that, if he did not actually come to see me off, he would at least make inquiries at the station to find out if I had gone. I walked on.
He was not at the station. Nor did he arrive in the cart with my trunk. But I was resolved to risk nothing. I bought a ticket for London, and boarded the London train. It had been my intention to leave it at Guildford and catch an afternoon train back to Stanstead; but it seemed to me, on reflection, that this was unnecessary. There was no likelihood of Sam making any move in the matter of the Nugget until the following day. I could take my time about returning.
I spent the night in London, and arrived at Sanstead by an early morning train with a suitcase containing, among other things, a Browning pistol. I was a little ashamed of this purchase. To the Buck MacGinnis type of man, I suppose, a pistol is as commonplace a possession as a pair of shoes, but I blushed as I entered the gun-shop. If it had been Buck with whom I was about to deal, I should have felt less self-conscious. But there was something about Sam which made pistols ridiculous.
My first act, after engaging a room at the inn and leaving my suitcase, was to walk to the school. Before doing anything else, I felt I must see Audrey and tell her the facts in the case of Smooth Sam. If she were on her guard, my assistance might not be needed. But her present state of trust in him was fatal.
A school, when the boys are away, is a lonely place. The deserted air of the grounds, as I slipped cautiously through the trees, was almost eerie. A stillness brooded over everything, as if the place had been laid under a spell. Never before had I been so impressed with the isolation of Sanstead House. Anything might happen in this lonely spot, and the
