The Twickenham Peerage Part 58

'You ask me that, knowing that Babbacombe was the name of the wretch who was his accomplice in the fraud of which you have just now heard--is that so?'

'It's a question of resemblance.'

'Are you asking me if I'm the wretch in question? Answer!'

'When you put it that way it seems impossible; I recognise that. But if you had seen his photograph----'

'Reggie, stop. I'll speak to you when we're alone. I have not your capacity for forgetting that we are brothers.' I turned to Fitz. 'The other day, sir, I presented you with the key of the street. Why are you here again?'

Reggie answered.

'He came with me.'

'Allow the man to speak for himself. Why are you here?'

Straightway Fitz began to fidget; and, also, to stammer.

'The plain truth is, sir, I mean, my lord, that the likeness is so striking that----'

'Well?'

For Fitz had stopped. When he continued he went off at a tangent----

'Of course I wasn't acquainted with what I've just now heard, or I should have known that your lords.h.i.+p couldn't possibly be the--the man I thought you were. But at the same time----'

'Well?'

For Fitz had stopped again.

'The fact is, my lord, I've become liable for Mr. Babbacombe in certain directions, and his disappearance puts me in a hole.'

'Well?'

'He went home to his wife the other day----'

'His wife?'

'Yes, my lord, his wife; without saying where he had come from, or where he was going to, or without mentioning a word about the liabilities I had entered into on his behalf. So I--I--I----'

Fitz stopped short in a stutterer's quagmire. I perceived that next time Mr. Merrett went home, Mr. FitzHoward's difficulties would have to be attended to.

'Well? Continue, sir, if you please.'

'My lord, after what has transpired all that remains for me to do is to apologise to your lords.h.i.+p for my intrusion, and to a.s.sure your lords.h.i.+p that it shan't occur again. So, begging your lords.h.i.+p's pardon, I wish you, my lord, good day.'

Fitz withdrew. I wondered what would be his mental condition when he found himself in the street. I rang the bell, pointing, when a footman appeared, to Mr. Smith, who sat crumpled up on a chair, as if his backbone was broken.

'Throw that thing into the street.'

As I had expected, Reggie interposed with an air of shocked surprise.

'Twickenham!' He moved towards his invertebrate friend. 'Come, Douglas, let me give you my arm.'

I struck in.

'Reggie, if you allow that man to touch you, you will go with him out of this house, and I will never speak to you again. More! By to-morrow morning he shall be standing in a felon's dock.' I fancy it was because, in spite of himself, my dear brother was influenced by what he saw upon my face, that he refrained from pressing on the other his friendly offices. I turned again to the footman. 'Do you hear what I say? Throw that thing into the street.'

Mr. Smith saved himself from that crowning humiliation--the pressing persuasion of a servant's hand. He got upon his feet.

'I can take myself away.'

He did. As he shuffled towards the door I pushed his shoulder, so that he stumbled into the footman's arms. As he cast a backward glance at me I was reminded of a humorous picture I had seen somewhere, representing St. Peter hurling a lost soul through the gates of Paradise. One could not but feel that the Hon. Douglas Howarth had brought his wares to an uncommonly bad market. Reggie moved as if to offer him a.s.sistance; but I stood in his way so that he could not pa.s.s.

When we were alone I endeavoured to explain to Reggie what was the kind of brother with whom Providence had blessed him.

'There are men who are content to let their brothers live as long as they conveniently can. You belong to the other cla.s.s. Foster informs me that for years you have been a.s.suring him that the time had really come for you to pick my bones. I can understand your disappointment at finding that, after a.s.sisting at my death and burial, I still persist in remaining alive. But I beg you, for your own sake, not to allow your disappointment to carry you too far. For I a.s.sure you that if it comes to my knowledge that you ever again attempt, by word, look, or sign, to a.s.sociate me with the accomplice of that scoundrel's villainy, although I am your brother, I will chastise you physically, and I will take steps to publicly brand you as the blackguard I shall know you are.'

'Your threats are unnecessary. You speak as if I were to blame for what has happened. I deny it wholly.'

'Explain yourself--with care.'

'Look at the way in which you have treated me, You had no right to leave me for fifteen years in ignorance of whether you were dead or alive.'

'Is that your reason for confounding me with this man Babbacombe?'

'The man's your living image.'

'Is that your reason?'

'I say it is a reason; if you saw the man yourself, you'd know it was a reason.'

'I begin to perceive your point. You were of opinion that I could be that sort of man; an accidental resemblance convinced you that I was.

I am obliged to you. I will instruct Foster to see that a sum of five thousand pounds is paid to you annually, and Gayer that you are not to enter this house again. I shall refuse to acknowledge you when we meet; nor will I stay in any room in which you are. Now go.'

'I am sorry that you should take this tone. If I have done you an injustice it has been unintentionally.'

'Go.'

'I am going. I only wished to apologise to you before I went. That's all.'

And my affectionate brother followed his friends.

CHAPTER XXVII

A WHIPPING BOY