Текст книги "Doctor Syn on the High Seas"

Автор книги: Russell Thorndike

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Chapter 3

Doctor Syn Escapes

The large mansion at Iffley stood in its town distinctive grounds,

and was hidden by trees. A high wall ran round three sides, and the

river completed the circle of defense upon the fourth.

Doctor Syn rode to the Lodge gates, and without dismounting rang the

bell. A forbidding-looking man-servant came out from the Lodge and asked

him his business. He opened one side of the great gates with an ill

grace, and Doctor Syn noted that he looked it again directly he has

passed through.

– 17 -

Now, it so happened that the Squire of Iffley had heard that Doctor

Syn had forbidden his pupils to play cards or dice, and as this had been

one of the Bully’s sources of income, he was enraged to see the cause of

his disappointment riding up the drive.

Bully Tappitt did not wait for his servant to open the front door.

He opened it himself, and, grabbing a heavy whip from a handy peg,

strode out in a fine rage on to the porch steps.

“And what the devil brings you here?” he asked brusquely. “I thought

you had warned your companions against visiting me. However, if you are

here to play behind their backs, I am your man, with cards or dice in

secret.”

“I am not here for gaming, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, without

dismounting. “I bring you a message from a lady.”

“The devil you do,” laughed the Squire. “Come in your official

position as a parson, no doubt. Well, understand that I am not paying

compensation to any woman who has had the privilege of my attentions.”

“There is no question of attentions in this case, sir,” replied

Doctor Syn coldly. “You have not had the honour of meeting the lady in

question, and she will only extend you that honour in the presence of

myself and her English legal adviser, Mr. Antony Cobtree. She will

receive you at White Friars House, St. Giles’, tomorrow at noon, if you

desire to interview her concerning your nephew’s affairs in Spain.”

“Are you talking of the Almago women from Madrid?” asked Tappitt.

“I have the honour to be speaking on behalf of the Senora Almago,

sir.”

“Are they in Oxford, then?” he demanded.

“They are, sir,” went on Syn. “I myself have lodged them with the

good woman who lets the apartments I named.”

“But they were to come here. What the devil!” exploded the Squire.

“Why are they not here? I invited them.”

“Pardon me, sir. The invitation was null and void, and under the

circumstances demanded no reply.” Doctor Syn spoke quietly, but with a

cold disdain. “The letter did not come from you. It came, in fact, from

nobody, for, as I pointed out to my good friends at Lampne Castle, and

have since confirmed it, there is no such person as Elinor Tappitt, wife

to the Squire of Iffley. You are a bachelor.”

“And who are you to interfere with my schemes —” started the Squire.

“Schemes, eh?” repeated the Doctor. “I can well believe that. I

will tell you my authority. I am the prospective son-in-law to the

Senora. Yes, sir, her daughter, the Senorita, with her mother’s

consent, has promised to marry me.”

“Marry you?” retorted the Squ ire. “We’ll see about that. I rather

think she will marry my nephew.”

Doctor Syn shook his head. “She has already refused him, sir.”

“Then if he’s such a fool as I always suspected, she shall marry me,”

said the Squire. “Or I’ll marry the widow, and then refuse you the

daughter. Yes, sir, I’ll brook no interference from a hypocritical

young parson, who no doubt thinks to get the dead Spaniard’s money into

his own coffers.”

“There is no more to be said, I think, sir. Tomorrow at noon. Good

day.”

“Oh no,” replied the Squire. “Not good day yet. I have not finished

with you.”

“But I have with you till noon tomorrow,” replied Doctor Syn, turning

his horse’s head down the long drive and riding slowly away.

“I think not, till my grooms have done with you,” cried the Squire.

He then balwed out the words: “Stables, quick! All of you!”

– 18 -

Doctor Syn saw him run into the stable yard, and so put his own hose

to the canter.

The drive was a long one through an avenue of trees. Fortunately the

young parson knew the lie of the ground. He remembered that there was a

back lane from the stables which was a short cut to the Lodge gates. He

remembered that these gates were locked. Even at a gallop he could

hardly reach them and persuade the man to open before the arrival of the

half-dozen bullies that Bully Tappitt kept to do other and dirtier work

than grooming. Just as he was considering the possibility of attempting

a gallop, he heard the deep bell clanging from the stable tower, and

guessed that this must be a signal to the lodge-keeper to stop him. The

bell was followed by a banging of doors, cries from stablemen, cracking

of whips, and then the full-throated baying of hounds. Doctor Syn had

no intention of riding into such disadvantage. He knew well that Bully

Tappitt would not scruple to go to extremes. This at the best would be

a flogging, perhaps injury to his horse, and then as an excuse a

trumped-up accusation of libelous interference, which the Squire would

lodge against him to the College authorities. The odds were too heavy

to risk. It was then that a richer way out occurred to him.

Turning his hose sharp to the right, he rode through the woods, along

the mossy path that led to the river. The Isis ran there broad and

wide, but it would not be the first time that the young scholar and sum

his horse, and he considered that a wetting and a laugh against Tappitt

in the face of his bullies were preferable to a bad manhandling. He was

no coward, as he was to show by the different risk he was to take, but

as a lover he was not desirous to court any facial disfigurement.

So he galloped through the wood in the opposite direction taken by

his would-be assailants. Just as he approached the boathouse, a voice

cried out, “Now, then, sir, what do you want?”

“A heavily built waterman barred his way. He was armed with a short,

sharp boat-hook.

The Doctor reined his horse. “I have been talking to your master,

the Squire of Iffley,” he answered pleasantly, waving his ha nd towards

the river. “He thinks that this little ditch is unswimmable, on

horseback. You know how given he is to a wager. I am about to prove to

him that a good horse and rider find it easy. What do you think?”

“I think not,” growled the boatman. “The stable bell has been

clanging, and that means “close all ways out of the estate.”

“If you come here, I’ll give you good reason not to detain me,”

replied Doctor Syn, affably putting his hand into his breeches pocket.

He saw the covetous glint into the other’s eye. He read his though, “If

this fool cares to hand me a guinea to get out of here, I’ll take it,

stop him leaving and then deny his gift to my master.”

Doctor Syn sure enough held up the guinea invitingly with his right

hand. The man approached, and put out one hand for the coin, and with

the other tried to grasp the rein. The rider shortened rein to prevent

this, and at the same time distracted the other’s attention with a

sudden “Hallo! Is this a good one? I believe not. I’ve been done

brown. I should have rung them one by one. It looks to me—well,

dull.”

“I’ll ring it,” said the other eagerly. “Let’s see.”

“I’ll try it in my teeth,” answered Syn.

He suited the action to the word; put the coin between his teeth, and

made a face as though biting hard.

– 19 -

The man waited for his judgment, eyeing the guinea held so firmly in

the young man’s white teeth. Instead he should have kept his eye on the

young man’s right hand. The fist closed, and a terrific blow caught the

waterman under the jaw. Down the bank he rolled into the water, and

down the bank went horse and rider straight into the river, and by the

time the man scrambled for the bank and held his jaw, Doctor Syn was in

midstream heading for the bank. The current was stronger than he

thought, and swept his horse below the opposite landing-stage, but

Doctor Syn headed for a meadow belonging to a little farm, intending to

land there, despite a notice on a tree which said, “Trespassers will be

prosecuted.”

The owner of the farm happened to be out with a fowling-piece under

his arm, and, objecting to the swimming would-be

trespasser, cried out: “Now then, if, as I saw, you come from yonder

cursed place, you should know what to expect from me if you attempt to

touch my bank. I’ve suffered enough from the sins of the Tappitt crowd,

so my advice is, swim back as fast as you can, lest I drill holes in

you.”

“I’ve just escaped from there, my good friend,” Doctor Syn called

back. “I preferred a wettin g to a whipping from the rascals. So of

your charity let me land here, or my horse may drown.”

“Who are you, then?” asked the farmer cautiously.

“A young doctor of Queen’s College,” he answered. “And with every

cause to hate the folk behind me.”

The farmer immediately came down from the bank and pointed out the

best spot for landing, which was no sooner accomplished than Doctor Syn

was asking which was the best bridge to cross in order to come upon the

road leading past the gates of Iffley Court, and on the way to Oxford.

‘I wish to have the laugh of them from the safe side of their locked

gates,” he said. “Aye, and before they have discovered how I have

tricked them, too,” he added.

For this reason of haste, re refused the farmer’s offer o f a stable

for his horse and grooming, while he should dry his clothes by the

kitchen fire, and himself with a warming drink.

But for all his haste, the farmer insisted on rubbing down the horse

with a wisp of grass, and as he did so he talked. “I’ll show you the

way beyond the house. You can gallop it in three minutes, while they’ll

be hunting you in the grounds, or waiting for you to break cover.

You’ll reach Iffley gates before that rogue you knocked into the Isis.

I’ll do anything against them ov er there. I have cause enough to hate

them. Lend me your ear, for my wife is coming down the meadow, and what

I would say is her grief.”

Thereupon he quickly whispered a foul story of seduction which the

Squire of Iffley had carried out against their daughter. She had been

taken across the river by boat, and sent back the next morning with

money stitched into her clothing. At the end of this sad story the man

chuckled grimly:

“But my revenge is coming, and little do they know how I am going to

strike. I have planned with some cunning.”

– 20 -

“It seems to me, then,” said Doctor Syn, “that it were a good thing for

the neighbourhood if this scoundrel should be removed to the place in

which he rightly belongs.”

“Aye, sir,” replied the farme r. “And that is where I wish him, and

I’ll help him there too. The deepest Hell.”

“The same place to which I was referring,” nodding the parson dryly.

“Well, keep your ears open for immediate gossip concerning him, and you

may find that I have taken the responsibility of sending him there from

your shoulders.”

“Don’t rob me of revenge. I live for it,” pleaded the man. “Let me

be some help to you.”

“The time is not yet ripe. But soon I may ask your help,” and with a

wave of his hand and still dripping wet, Doctor Syn cantered out through

the farmyard and galloped up the road to the bridge.

The farmer was right. He reached the gates in less than three

minutes, but drew rein ere he came abreast of them, walking his horse

along the grass footpath to avoid the noise.

But so much noise was the Squire of Iffley making with his curses and

his riding-crop upon backs of hounds and stablemen that no one heard

the rider approach or saw him peer through the gates with a grin. In the

centre of the dr ive stood Tappitt, lashing out freely with his whip.

Some half-dozen stablemen armed with cudgels and whips were staring up

the drive.

“I tell you,” cried the Squire, “that he can only get out this way.

The coward is hiding in the trees somewhere. Loose those mastiffs and

let ‘em rout him out. He can’t get out of locked gates, or jump the

wall.”

“I’m afraid he has got out all the same,” laughed Doctor Syn.

The Squire swung around with an oath, and stared at the rider through

the gates.

“How the devil—” he began.

But Doctor Syn cut him short.

“I may be a parson, but I am also a good judge of horseflesh. I

never ride a horse who cannot jump. But, my faith, the Isis is a broad

ditch. However, a good horse is a good horse. Tomorrow? At noon? The

attorney, the ladies and myself will await you at St. Giles’. Good day.

I’m sorry I cannot stay longer to enjoy your sport and hospitality, but

we tutors are hard-worked.”

And digging his heels in hard, Doctor Syn let his horse out into a

full gallop towards Oxford.

– 21 -

Chapter 4

The Challenge

Just before noon on the following day Doctor Syn, Tony Cobtree, and

the Spanish mother and daughter awaited the arrival of the Squire of

Iffley.

White Friars, in which Doctor Syn had taken lodging for the ladies,

was a pleasantly situated house with windows overlooking St. Giles’

market. The Annual Fair was in full swing. Hundreds of merry-makers

jostled each other good-humouredly to get to the various booths of

entertainment and the gaily decorated stalls. From every street people

were hurrying to swell the crowd.

With one arm encircling Imogene’s waist, Doctor Syn leaned from the

open window enjoying the scene.

“Our visitor from Iffley will be hard put to it in making his way

through this lot,” he laughed.

Antony Cobtree, who was seated at a table with the Senora, looked up

from the legal papers he had been arranging.

“You seem very sanguine that he’ll come,” he answered. “For my part,

I think he will not dare to show his face. The rascal has too many

enemies amongst the townsfolk. When you made the appointment, you

forgot the Fair, Christopher, and I am willing to lay you a guinea that

he will not have the courage to swagger his way through that crowd.”

“The bully is not without courage,” replied Syn. “And I still think

he will come.”

“Are you willing, then, to lose your guinea?” asked the young lawyer.

“I rather fear you would lose yours,” laughed the Doctor. “There’s a

coach just turning into the Market, and I can see the Iffley arms on the

panel. The coachman seems to have as little regard for the crowd as his

master has, for he’s lashing out freely with his long whip, while our

bully is poking his cane at them through the window. Come and see.

There will be trouble, I think.”

Although the plunging horses had cleared a space with their hoofs,

the crowd was so densely packed that those nearest to the coach could

not press back out of reach from the lashings of the long whip, and the

coachman standing up on his box fiercely struck at all within reach.

Angry men were rushing the coach doors, but right and left the heavy

knob of the Squire’s long cane kept striking, and the oaths that

followed each sickening thud proclaimed the fact that he had scored a

hit.

“You idle dogs!” shouted the Squire. “Must I teach you to give way

for your betters? If you want a lesson, I will give you one.”

At this there was a growling protest from the crowd, and a woman’s

voice rang out with, “What happened to Betty Dale, the girl at Iffley

Mill?”

“Aye, and a score of other poor lasses like Esther Sommers,” cried

another.

“And he dares drive his cattle into St. Giles!” sang out a man.

The Squire flung open the door of the coach and shouted to the

footman to get down and lead the near horse, which was still plunging.

Leaving his cane to the coach, he then drew his sword and faced his

assailants. They shrank back before the naked steel. They well knew

his reputation, and feared the determined fury in his eyes. conscious

of his own power, he laughed and walked slowly to the horses’ heads.

The footman, who feared his master more than the angry crowd, climbed

down from the high ledge at the back of the coach on which he stood, and

followed the Squire to the front, where he grasped the bearing-reins and

steadied the frightened animals.

– 22 -

“The times are bad indeed,” said the Squire in a loud voice, “when a

gentleman must needs cut a passage for his own coach through such scum.

Follow on my hee ls, you” (this over his shoulder to the terrified

footman), “and we’ll reach White Friars over dead bodies if any of these

clodpoles oppose us.”

Thereupon he advanced so suddenly that those of the crowd immediately

threatened by the Bully’s weapon fell head over heels against their

fellows behind them, who were so tightly packed before that they were

seized with panic, and it was amidst groans from the fallen, shrieks

from the women and children and cruses from all, that the Squire of

Iffley’s equipage swept on towards White Friars.

Doctor Syn, still learning from the parlour window which was on the

first floor, saw that a lot of women and children were wedged in the

crowd directly in front of the entrance to the house, so, leaving his

companions, he r an down the white-paneled stairway, and, flinging open

the front door, dragged those nearest into the safety of the hall, at

the same time ordering others to follow their example. Thus a clearing

was effected in front of the Squire’s sword and the oncoming horses.

In this manner it did not take long to reach the house, where the

Squire called a halt.

“Await me here,” he cried to his servants. “and should any of this

rabble annoy you further, do not scruple to use strong measures.” He

then addressed h is stalwart coachman. “Get your artillery out of the

boot, you fool, and if your whip don’t do your business try flintflashing.”

Whereupon the coachman stood up, put the whip in its socket, opened

the locker beneath the box seat, and produced two horse-pistols and a

blunderbuss, which he lay on the roof of the vehicle.

It was then that the Squire saw, to his further annoyance, that the

way to the house was barred by the huddled women and children whom

Doctor Syn was shepherding.

“Faith, must I cu t my way through this lot, to keep an appointment?”

At this, and the sight of his yet drawn sword, the children cried and

whimpered, while some of the women set up a screaming. In a few

moments, however, Doctor Syn managed to calm their fears, assuring them

that he would see to their protection, and as soon as all was quiet he

confronted the Squire, and spoke clearly enough for all to hear.

“I believe, sir, that you take great pride in your title of “Bully’.

It is an epithet after your own heart, and no doubt you consider ‘Bully’

Tappitt to be something of a fine fellow. In that I suggest you are

wrong. If you look at a dictionary, providing, of course, that you

can read—you will find that a bully is a coward. And the

dictionary is right, sir, for what is more cowardly than a

strong man oppressing those he thinks weaker than himself?”

At this there was a mummur of approbation from the angry men

who were grouped around the coach.

“Hold your tongues, you rascals, when you hear your betters

speak.”

But more than his words, it was the sunlight gleaming on the

naked blade that silenced them. At which the Squire, with a

scornful laugh, turned his back on them and answered Doctor Syn.

“I think it takes more than a coward to have faced this mass

of dangerous discontents alone, sir.”

– 23 -

“I rather think that Bully Tappitt, in his vast conceit, saw no

danger in it,” replied the parson, with a sneer. “For your own safety,

however, let me tell you that your situation is very dangerous; for,

were I to use a little oratory against you, those stout fellows of

Oxford Town would duck you in the horse-trough younder. But I choose to

do no such thing. My cloth forbids it. I am man of peace. And I

recommend these good people to ignore your brutalities, and to continue

their merry-makings.”

At this some of the bolder spirits raised a cheer, but the Squire

took no heed, but continued:

“Merry-makings?” he repeated. “This Fair is a scandal to the

neighbourhood. What is it but an annual excuse for cheating,

quarreling, idle lewdness and drinking to excess?”

“Are you claiming a monopoly upon your own pet habits, sir?” asked

the Doctor scornfully.

This the Squire ignored, as well as the laughter the remark caused

amongst the crowd. He merely continued:

“I should have thought that the University, of which you are such a

bright ornament, would have used what influence it has to stop this

annual inconvenience.”

“The University, sir, agrees with the God in Heaven Whom it tries to

serve, in that the lives and happiness of these good people are vastly

more important than the trifling inconvenience that may trouble

gentlemen of your kidney.”

The Squire’s sword twitched angrily, but on hearing a chorus of

applause behind him, he had sufficient wisdom not to run his blade

through the body of a defenseless man before the eyes of so many hostile

witnesses.

“Have done with your incivilities, sir!” he cried angrily. “You

take advantage of your cloth, and think yourself secure by toadying to

peasants. I did not come here, at some inconvenience, to bandy words

with you, but to transact a piece of business with some ladies. Lead

the way.

“The sooner it’s over the better,” replied the Doctor.

He turned to lead the way, and saw that Tony Cobtree was standing in

the porch. The young attorney was dressed in the height of fashion as

became one of his station who had journeyed so far to woo his lady. The

Squire saw him too, and noted that his fingers were playing a dangerous

tattoo upon the beautifully chased gold hilt of his small-sword.

“Another security you had, eh, Doctor?” he sneered. “Your cloth and

popularity amongst the commoners were not sufficient. You must have an

armed coxcomb behind you.”

“You would find but little of the coxcomb in either of us, sir, if it

came to sword-play,” replied Syn haughtily. “But we are not

sufficiently interested to indulge you. Perhaps we set as much store

upon the rules of duelling as you do, and just as you value your station

in life—such as it is—why, so do we; and no man of breeding is

considered dishonoured by declining to meet one whom he knows to be

beneath him.”

“Have done with your glib talk, Mister Parson!” rapped out the

Squire, “and let us transact our business with these for eign women.

Where are they? And where is this Kentish lawyer that you spoke about?”

“Let me introduce myself, sir,” retored young Cobtree, coming

forward. “You, I understand, are this Iffley Squire, of whom we have

heard small good. I am Antony Cobtree, Attorney at Law, and here for

the convenience and protection of two respected Spanish ladies. I have

been recommended for this

– 24 -

office by my friend here, Doctor Syn of this University, and by two very

distinguished Justices of the Peace in the County of Kent, one of them

being Sir Henry Pembury of Lympne Castle, and the other my own father

and his friend, Sir Charles Cobtree, Leveller of the Marsh Scots of

Romney, in the Court -House of Dymchurch-under-the-Wall. Let me add that

my recommend ation has been approved by the two honoured ladies who await

you above. And let me add again that they are only willing to receive

you as representing your ward and nephew, Mister Nicholas Tappitt, now

absent in Spain, who was involved in generous business ties with the

late Senor Almago. These ladies now await you: the widow and the

daughter of the said Spanish gentleman. Doctor Syn and myself are both

busy men; and so if you will follow us to the parlour above, you shall

hear the instructions regarding your ward.”

Saying which, young Cobtree led the way through the crowd of women

and children in the hall.

Now, on the mention of the parlour above, the Squire of Iffley lifted

his quizzing -glass and, surveying the window indicated, beheld the

beautiful Imogene anxiously peering over the ledge.

The Squire, seeming not to have listened to the purport of the

lawyer’s speech, called upon Doctor Syn to wait.

“Is that young filly above there the wench whom my nephew has let

slip through his purse-strings?”

Doctor Syn did not reply, but with an angry gesture pointed to the

porch.

The Squire, however, did not immediately obey the invitation to enter

the house. He continued to gaze at the Spanish girl, who, feeling the

embarrassment, retired from the open window.

“I have always thought my nephew a fool,” continued the Squire. “I

am now so sure of it that if I do not marry the girl myself I shall at

least cut him out of my testament. She is as beautiful as she is rich,

and shall such a morsel be thrown away upon such a rapacious young

parson as yourself? We’ll soon see to that, sir. Lead me to this

charmer, at once.”

Doctor Syn, who had kindly set the children aside to make a passageway, now turned with an expression of suppressed fury upon the Squire of

Iffley.

“You must please understand, sir,” he said coldly, “that you are only

permitted to enter here as a legal representative of your nephew. In

short, to be quite frank, I do not intend to introduce you to my

betrothed, so you will look upon this as merely a business interview.

Follow me.”

Saying which, Doctor Syn followed young Cobtree into the hall.

Young Cobtree, who had overheard all and had reached the parlour

first, instructed the ladies that it would not be seemly for either of

them to rise, to curtsey, or in any way greet the scoundrel who

unfortunately had to be admitted to the conference merely as the

guardian of his nephew, and thus it was that when Doctor Syn said, “This

is the Squire of Iffley, and uncle to your acquaintance Nicholas

Tappitt, who is here at the request of your legal representative,”

neither of the ladies so much as bowed an acknowledgment to the Squire’s

elaborate bow in the doorway. Realizing that he was ignored, however,

did not prevent him from raising his quizzing-glas and surveying

with audible sighs the young Imogene.

“I think we will close the windows,” said young Cobtree. “I shall

nver be able to make myself clear to you, sir, with all this noise. In

point of fact, sir, the crowd is grown so hostile against you that on

the completion of our interview I think you will be hard put to it to

reach your home at Iffley with a whole skin. Kindly sit down there.”

And he pointed to an empty chair at the table.

– 25 -

This the Squire surv eyed through his quizzing-glass as he approached it,

pretended to perceive dust upon the seat, which he flicked away with a

large handkerchief, and continued the insulting gesture till young

Cobtree had closed the window.

“If the chair is not to your liking, sir,” he said, as he sat down in

front of his papers, I am sure the ladies will allow you to stand. It

will at least lend you a show of respect.”

The Squire placed one hand idly on the back of the chair, and raising

his glance once more, surveyed the elder lady quickly, passed on to the

younger, and surveyed her longer, while uttering a sigh of longingness.

“Although these gentlemen,” he said, waving his hand towards Doctor

Syn and young Cobtree, “seem as desirous as their friends without to

place me at a disadvantage with you, I assure you both, dear ladies,

that I am ravished to meet such beauty, and would wish nothing better

than to be your very humble servant.” An elaborate bow before

continuing: “I extend to you a very hearty welcome to E ngland and to

Oxford. Perhaps I owe you an apology. Doctor Syn has already corrected

me for the letter of invitation I sent you at Lympne Castle. It was

supposed to come from my wife. You will ask me why I acted this lie.

My excuse is that I was anxious to play the humble host to you, and am

still anxious to do so. Not being versed in the conversations of Spain,

I feared that, did you know I was a bachelor, you might feel inclined to

refuse my hospitality. Let me assure you that in England the presen ce

of my lady housekeeper ensures that all proper conventions would be

observed. Also when I wrote I was ignorant that this very fortunate

young parson had been more successful than my nephew in having won the

heart of this lady. Had I known of this, I should have extended my

hospitality to him. This I still do. Doctor Syn, you are welcome at

Iffley for as long as these ladies will honour me with their presence.”

Doctor Syn was about to reply, but Imogene interrupted him with a

gesture.

“My mother speaks but little English, sir,” she said, addressing the

Squire, “so no doubt you will allow me as her medium. My mother has

come to England to seek quiet after her bereavement. We are very

comfortable here in these rooms found for us by Doctor Syn. She would

not feel happy if we were to thrust ourselves upon you as guests, lest

our own sadness communicate itself to others of your household.”

“Bless you, my dear young lady,” laughed the Squire, “You may both

of you cry all day, if you be in the mind, and I’ll give orders that all

at Iffley shall cry with you for company and to put you at your ease.”

“I think, sir,” put Doctor Syn, “that we can let any question of your

hospitality alone. Since I have forbidden my own students to visit you,

I shall advise these ladies in the same manner. Mr. Cobtree is a busy

man, and I have my duties at Queen’s College. I suggest that we finish

our business as speedily as possible.”

“Nothing that I can do or say,” laughed the Squire, “appears to have

any weight with any of you. I give in. Since I am thus discredited,

let me at least know how my fool of a nephew stands in your regard. Is

he, or is he not, mentioned in this Almago’s will?”

To which Imogene replied: “Mister Antony Cobtree here is

representing my mother and myself in English law. I have already

translated my dear father’s last testament to him from the Spanish,

which he has put into legal terms in English. As your nephew’s

guardian —and may I say that we are both very attached to your nephe w,

sir?—it is only right that in his behalf you should

– 26 -

hear my father’s last wishes concerning him. Mister Cobtree, will you

proceed?”

Tony Cobtree afterwards confessed that he not only enjoyed the official

situation, in which he found himself, but went out of his way to sound

the deepest dryness of the legal phrases which he uttered. And in this

vanity he might well be excused, since it was the very first case he had