The Tigress Part 15

"And in the present instance the correction is to be administered--how?"

he asked.

"By me--with this," was the viscount's answer, holding up his doubled right hand.

"You mean your purpose is to punch my head?"

"Precisely," returned the other.

"You must be mad, Lord Kneedrock. Remember that I am a civil officer in his majesty's service. If you feel that I have injured you or yours in any way, there is a recognized means of adjustment. There are the courts."

"The courts are too slow and indecisive."

"Nevertheless, if you dare lay a hand on me I shall test them. I give you fair warning."

Kneedrock laughed his irritating laugh.

"You are quite meeting my opinion of you," he said. "You are a cur and a poltroon."

The deputy commissioner's face flamed. "If you dare repeat that," he snapped, "I shall--"

"Go to the courts, I a.s.sume."

The viscount saw his fingers double into his palms. "You are a liar and a scandalmonger!" he flung at him. And at this Dinghal drew back his fist.

"Although you have the advantage," he flared, "no man may blackguard me and go unpunished!"

"My left hand is crippled," said Kneedrock. "I shall not use it." And as Dinghal aimed a blow at his chin, he guarded with his right.

The bout lasted something over four minutes, during which Kneedrock landed at will. There was no instant when he did not command.

Now and again, to encourage his adversary to face further punishment, he permitted him to get in a body blow, or accepted a glancing tap on neck or cheek. And by way of finale he broke Dinghal's somewhat protuberant nose.

Three days later he and Nina took s.h.i.+p at Bombay and sailed for England.

CHAPTER VIII

In a World Within a World

"I'd rather have a whole cab-driver to myself than share a peer of the realm with another woman," said Mrs. Darling.

She had been in England eighteen months, and the shadow of her tragedy, which never bore very heavily, had lifted.

She sat in a basket chair on the lawn at Puddlewood, dressed all in filmy white, and sipped tea with the d.u.c.h.ess of Pemberwell, her great-aunt, in the shade of one of Puddlewood's ancient oaks. In her lap lay an unopened copy of the _Times_.

"Is he a cab-driver, then?" inquired the d.u.c.h.ess, taking her literally.

"Yes," Nina laughed, "a heavenly cab-driver. He threads the milky way.

Some say aviator."

"Oh, Nina!"

"He's very nice, I a.s.sure you, my dear. Not an ounce of fat on him. All bone and sinew and nerve."

"And--a Yankee," added the d.u.c.h.ess belittlingly.

"A free-born American," corrected her great-niece, "and with the loveliest accent. You should hear him say: 'Evah at you' se'vice, Miss'

Dahling.' You'd fall in love with him yourself."

"And this aviator person is yours exclusively?"

"Undividedly. Isn't it nice?"

"I think I should prefer Nibbetts myself; or Sir George Grey, or--well, scores I could name."

"I dare say. You married the duke. Your taste speaks for itself, dear aunt."

Though the d.u.c.h.ess made no retort, she appeared annoyed. She poured herself a fresh cup of tea and sipped it in silence. Nina opened her paper.

She was still turning the pages when his grace sauntered over, halted, and gazed for a moment at the spread tea-table. He was small, bald and peaked, with tiny black eyes like shoe-b.u.t.tons.

"There isn't any seed-cake," he complained. "I can't take tea without seed-cake. You know I never take tea without seed-cake, do I, Doody?"

Doody was his pet name for his d.u.c.h.ess.

"No, you don't," she said. "It's too bad. There was only a little, and Nina ate it."

Nina, who had not been listening, looked up.

"What's that I ate?" she asked.

"Doody says you ate all the seed-cake," explained the duke.

"Oh, I believe I did. It was exceptionally good, too. I wish there had been more."

"You don't wish it half as much as I," and there was a suspicion of querulousness in his grace's tone.

"He's flying at Doncaster to-day," Nina observed, devouring the aviation news, and already forgetful of the duke and the seed-cake.

"Who's flying?" he asked sharply.

"Pierson," answered Nina. "My David."

"Then I hope he jolly well breaks his neck," was the snapping rejoinder as his grace wheeled about and set off for the castle to admonish his housekeeper.

Having exhausted the aviation news, Mrs. Darling turned to the American cables. Everything American now held for her a magnified interest.

Presently she slapped the page out flatter and interestedly bent her head closer.