A Poached Peerage Part 16

Accordingly Mr. Fanning, standing between a cross fire of admonishment and objurgation, was fain to advance till waist-deep.

Encouraged by the recently indicated shallowness of the water, Mr.

Purvis now went boldly forward, as much with the idea of exhibiting superior prowess compared with Mr. Fanning, as of ingratiating himself with the lord of Staplewick. The resoluteness of the proceeding, however, had the effect of demonstrating its own superfluity, for as Mr. Purvis pushed forward he sank no deeper in the water and was able to approach waist-deep within the oar's length of Peckover who, it appeared, had unfortunately come upon a hole and, in his fright, stayed there. Clutching the end of the oar he was pulled out into safety, not, however, without a great show of superfluous energy on the part of Mr. Purvis, who wished to make the most of his effort and have the greatest possible return for his ruined breeches and gaiters; and so the three, rescuers and rescued, stumbled with mixed feelings to the sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER XV

The most tangible result of the aquatic performance was that Gage, through his long immersion, caught a bad chill, and had to take to his bed. Peckover, who was none the worse for the trying twenty minutes (having probably been too frightened to think of catching cold), was summoned to his lords.h.i.+p's bedroom, and there pa.s.sed a particularly uncomfortable quarter of an hour.

"It is all your idiotic fault that I'm stuck away here," the patient declared wrathfully. "That a.s.s of a doctor says he won't let me get up for a week. A fine lot of fun I'm getting out of the t.i.tle up to now.

And I'm paying you a hundred pounds for a week in bed. As though it matters when I'm between the blankets whether I'm a lord or a solicitor's clerk. A peerage only counts when you've got your boots on."

"I'm very sorry, old man," said Peckover contritely. "But I don't see that you can blame me."

"I do blame you," Gage burst out. "Why couldn't you do as I told you, instead of dodging about like a fool and nearly bringing us both to our death!"

"You might make allowances," urged Peckover, "for a chap's feelings, when he finds himself for the first time in cold water with his clothes on."

"Bah!" Gage returned scornfully. "You've no pluck. And you spoilt the whole show. Well, it will have to stand, anyhow; I'm not going to let you make a fool of me again, whatever you may do with yourself. Now perhaps you will put your mind to carrying through the dry land part of the trick. If you don't I'll chuck you back your beggarly t.i.tle, and get on without it. It hasn't done much for me yet."

"What do you want me to do?"

"While I'm lying here," Gage answered in an aggrieved tone, "you've got to make the most of the rescue. I reckon neither of us wants to play the joke over again."

"Not me," Peckover agreed heartily.

"Well, then, the least you can do is to make out what a splendid rescue it was, and that I'm a first-cla.s.s hero, and that you're going to recognize the fact by making over to me a big slice of your fortune.

D'you see? If I'm not a hero there can be no point in your solid admiration and grat.i.tude. So rub it well in."

"All right," Peckover promised.

"You may as well," Gage proceeded, "send for the lawyer chap from Bunbury and have a deed drawn up, settling, say, a couple of hundred thousand on me, it won't mean much as between you and me, but it will impress the local public; and I tell you I mean to have a good bit of glory to pay for this beastly cold. Now, do it at once and do it with a snap, or I shall find a better use for five thousand a year than a cold-catching t.i.tle."

Thus admonished, Peckover carried out his instructions with a will, and in a very few hours the _soi-disant_ Lord Quorn's heroic act promised fair to be an undying tradition for the country-side. In fact, Peckover, in his anxiety to retain his desirable income, rather overdid the business, and so much so that one or two cynical spirits were goaded into making question whether the life so saved was really, apart from the income it might have left behind, quite worth the value its owner evidently set upon it. Still, that mattered nothing to Peckover, who was not thin-skinned, at least on dry land.

The _Bunbury Bulletin_ devoted a column and three quarters to the "Romantic and Heroic Incident at Staplewick Park," and told its breathless readers in unusually and adjectively gorgeous language how a distinguished young Colonial of immense wealth was the guest with the newly succeeded Lord Quorn at Staplewick Towers, temporarily in the occupation of Colonel and Lady Agatha Hemyock; how he had, while fis.h.i.+ng in the justly celebrated and admired lake in the beautiful park, overbalanced himself in making a cast, had fallen into deep water, and he being in imminent risk of drowning, how the gallant young n.o.bleman, worthy descendant of a line of heroes and otherwise distinguished ancestors, had plunged in and with great difficulty and after unheard-of exertions rescued his friend. The writer having fully described the occurrence, with a minuteness of detail only possible from the pen of one who was not there, proceeded to give the respective lineage and achievements of rescued and rescuer, while the interstices in the thrilling narrative were filled up with topographical, historical and picturesque notes by way of local colour; items which were kept ready for use in the event of anything worthy of description happening at Staplewick, from a chimney on fire to a royal visit.

Great as was the sensation which the highly coloured account created, it may be safely a.s.serted that by none was it read with more consuming interest than by Mr. Purvis, the farmer, and Mr. Fanning, the butcher.

Their traditional and rooted belief in the infallibility of the newspaper press received a shock from which it never recovered. But when their astonished perusal reached the last and most sensational paragraph, in which it was stated "on the best authority" that the grateful millionaire had, as a mark of his esteem, admiration and grat.i.tude, settled a considerable fortune, "a sum which, it was an open secret, might be represented by a two and five noughts," on his deliverer, their sensations became of a complicated character that defied a.n.a.lysis. Anyhow, the result was that they met to discuss the matter, and the outcome of the meeting was that next morning they proceeded to the Towers and sought an interview with the supposit.i.tious millionaire.

Peckover felt somewhat uncomfortable when the visitors were announced.

In his exuberance in making the most of a sham rescue he had overlooked the spectators, or at least had regarded them as negligible factors in the episode.

After a few words of disingenuous congratulation, Mr. Fanning came to the point. He and Mr. Purvis had seen it stated, doubtless correctly, in the local paper that Mr. Gage had in his grat.i.tude, etc., rewarded his purported rescuer in more than princely fas.h.i.+on. And Mr. Fanning and Mr. Purvis, whilst not withholding their meed of admiration from his lords.h.i.+p, whose illness they deplored, and who had, they generously admitted, done the best he could, were anxious to know where they came in, and could only say that it was hard for them to express in words their joint and several disappointment at being mentioned in connexion with the affair only in the roles of casual spectators. Whereas, Mr.

Fanning urged with a suggestion of latent heat, it was they who brought the accident to its comparatively happy termination; but for them and the parts they played, he, Mr. Fanning, did not think they would that day be having the pleasure of addressing Mr. Gage, or at any rate he, Mr. Gage, the advantage of being in a position to listen to them; the depressing inference being obvious.

As Peckover had by this time come to take a more comfortable and even jocular view of the affair, he was not inclined to give more notice to the claim than seeing in it evidence that the bogus rescue had deceived its witnesses. Moreover, as a c.o.c.kney, he had not much opinion of or consideration for the feelings of a farmer and a country butcher.

"Oh, I don't think you did much," he replied off-handedly.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Mr. Fanning maintained, "we did everything, if the lives of yourself and his lords.h.i.+p count for anything."

"You didn't risk your lives," Peckover argued.

"We did, begging your pardon, sir."

"What, in three feet six inches of water?"

"How," urged Mr. Fanning, "were we to know the depth? We were prepared to go much deeper."

"I dare say," returned Peckover incredulously. "But as you didn't that doesn't come into the account. You did a lot of shouting, I admit, and nearly knocked my head off by flinging that infernal oar at me as though you thought you were harpooning a whale. Well, what do you want?"

Mr. Fanning's face was lowering, and that of Mr. Purvis was overspread by a foolish grin of disappointment. Certainly matters were not turning out as they had antic.i.p.ated on their walk to the Towers. They were being rudely awakened from their dreams of returning to their respective homes rich men.

Mr. Fanning paused for a moment, as collecting, so to say, his routed forces for a final charge. "Well, sir," he said, bluntly now and with a note of repressed indignation; "putting myself aside for the moment, I should like to ask, seeing what you are doing for his lords.h.i.+p, whether my friend Mr. Purvis' efforts on your behalf are not to meet with suitable recognition. It was Mr. Purvis who, with me, kept our presence of mind when matters looked black; it was Mr. Purvis who, under my direction, ran with splendid prompt.i.tude to the boathouse; it was Mr. Purvis who fetched out all there was to fetch, the oar and the rope, and, under my directions, lashed the one to the other; it was Mr.

Purvis who, at my suggestion, and at imminent risk to himself, first made sure of his lords.h.i.+p when his lords.h.i.+p was totally exhausted.

Yes."

Mr. Fanning paused, and drew a murrey-coloured handkerchief lightly across his heated brow. Mr. Purvis, with the reticence of conscious desert, stood eyeing Peckover with an expression which suggested, that if that unsympathetic person was not duly impressed by the catalogue of his achievements, he ought to be, and that if he, Purvis, failed to obtain due reward for the same he would be content to leave his claim to the judgment of posterity, but at the same time would much prefer an immediate and more material recognition.

"It was Mr. Purvis," resumed the butcher, "accompanied and a.s.sisted by your humble servant, who at considerable risk, I may say, great risk, since I am no swimmer----"

"Nor ain't I," interjaculated Purvis, thankfully, as looking to his ignorance to increase the figure of his recompense.

"Anyhow," continued Fanning, rather put off his eloquence by the interruption, "we risked it. We risked it. And we are husbands of wives and fathers of families."

Mr. Fanning, who was said to be in the habit of knocking his wife about after an evening at the _Pigeons_, became, for a butcher, almost touching, and Mr. Purvis, whose wife ruled him with a copper-stick on the rare occasions when her tongue failed, experienced no difficulty in looking intensely married.

"It was Mr. Purvis, guided and sustained by me, who pushed out for you, sir, and----"

"It was Mr. Purvis, directed by you, who nearly sliced the top of my head off," Peckover interposed flippantly.

"Your rescue," pursued Fanning, ignoring the interruption, "was no light matter. It was the stiffest job I've ever been concerned in, though I must say I never expected to have to bring the fact home to the gentleman most interested in it."

"Well," said Peckover curtly, "what did you expect?"

"Leave it to you, sir," Purvis replied promptly, shrewdly fearing the effect his friend's verbosity might have upon the ultimate figure.

But Mr. Fanning would have his say. "Putting aside, sir, the risk of life we ran, to say nothing of the most valuable existence which it has been our privilege to prolong, I may mention that I was wearing on the occasion a bran new pair of boots which are now good for nothing, quite ruined, sir; I had on likewise my best market-day gaiters and breeches ditto; added to which the tails of my coat and the sleeves were so saturated that my missus can do nothing with 'em. And I believe I am correct in stating that Mr. Purvis' wearing apparel was greatly deteriorated."

He turned towards Purvis for corroboration. That worthy man gave an a.s.senting nod. "Ain't been able to get into my breeches since, nor my boots, nor my gaiters," he a.s.serted painfully.

Peckover made a rapid calculation based on the price-tickets he had studied during the luncheon hour in the windows of various establishments in Cheapside. "All right," he said graciously, "I shall be happy to present you with five pounds apiece; that is one pound seventeen for the damage and three guineas each for your trouble."

For a few moments a sepulchral silence reigned in the room. Then Mr.

Fanning's mouth slowly opened, as though the machinery, brought to a sudden stop, was just set going again. But all he could say was: