[Frontispiece: "Here's my father, or the police!"]

THE ADMIRABLE TINKER

CHILD OF THE WORLD

BY EDGAR JEPSON

Illustrated by

Margaret Eckerson

NEW YORK

McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 

MCMIV

Copyright, 1904, by

McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 

Published, March, 1904

Third Impression

COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. SIR TANCRED'S QUEST II. THE FINDING OF TINKER III. TINKER ACCEPTS HIS NAME IV. THE TRAINING OF TINKER V. TINKER'S BIRTHDAY BLOODHOUND VI. THE RESCUE OF ELIZABETH KERNABY VII. THE STOLEN FLYING-MACHINE VIII. THE BARON AND THE MONEY-LENDER IX. TINKER INTERVENES X. TINKER'S FOUNDLING XI. TINKER FROM THE MACHINE XII. TINKER BORROWS A MOTOR-CAR XIII. TINKER MEETS HIS OLD NURSE XIV. TINKER TAKES SEPTIMUS RAINER IN HAND XV. TINKER ASSERTS THE RIGHTS OF THE EMPLOYER XVI. TINKER DISOWNS HIS GRANDMOTHER XVII. TINKER AND THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Here's my father, or the police!" . . . Frontispiece

He surveyed himself with an excited curiosity. 

"I can't hold him!"

He poured comforting assurances of safety into her ears. 

"She was quite out of control for a good five minutes. "

"To-night reflect on your misdeeds. To-morrow we will treat of your ransom. "

The pursuit was lively, but short. 

It was his first essay as coiffeur. 

As a battering-ram against the first and second buttons of his waistcoat. 

"Hold it back!" screamed Tinker. 

Over these agreeable occupations they talked. 

And she paused to let the splendour of the gift sink in. 

It's time these lubbers walked the plank. 

THE ADMIRABLE TINKER

CHAPTER ONE

SIR TANCRED'S QUEST

"It is, " said Lord Crosland, "deucedly odd. "

"What?" said Sir Tancred Beauleigh. 

"That after seeing nothing of one another for nearly three years, weshould arrive at this caravanserai from different stations at the sametime, to find that our letters engaging this set of rooms came by thesame post. "

"It comes of having been born on the same day, " said Sir Tancred. "Besides, I always told you that the only possible place to live in intown was the top left-hand corner of the Hotel Cecil, with this view upthe river, and a nice open breezy space in front of you. "

Lord Crosland, who was walking up and down the room as he talked, stopped to gaze out of the window at Westminster, and Sir Tancredlighted another cigarette. 

"What I like about it is, it's retired--out of the world, " said LordCrosland. 

"It was just that recommended it to me. "

A waiter came in, and cleared away the breakfast. Lord Croslandadmired the view; Sir Tancred lay back in his easy chair, gazing withvacant, sombre eyes into the clear blue vault of the summer sky. 

"I can't see why we shouldn't share these rooms for the season, " saidLord Crosland, when the waiter had gone with his tray. "We shall geton all right; we always did at Vane's. "

"Well, " said Sir Tancred slowly, "I have a child, a boy, somewhere--Idon't know where. I've got to find him. I'm going to find him beforeI do anything else. "

"The deuce you have! Well, I'll be shot! To think that you'remarried!"

"I was married when I said good-bye to you nearly three years ago, "said Sir Tancred. "I was married to Pamela Vane. "

"You were married to Miss Vane!" cried Lord Crosland. "But how--how onearth did you manage it? It was impossible!"

"I committed that legal misdemeanour known as false entry, " said SirTancred coolly. "I added the necessary years to our ages. "

"Oh, yes, that, of course, " said Lord Crosland. "You wouldn't let aninformality of that kind stand in your way. But Miss Vane? How didyou persuade her? I should have thought it impossible--absolutelyimpossible. "

"It ran as near impossibility as anything I can think of, " said SirTancred slowly and half dreamily. "But when you are in love with oneanother, impossibilities fade--and I was masterful. "

"You were that, " said Lord Crosland with conviction. 

"Poor Pamela! She was wretched at having to keep it from her father;and I was sorry enough. But it had to be done; when you are eighteen, and in love with one another, twenty-one seems ages away, don't youknow?"

"Of course. "

"And once done, I don't believe--honestly, I don't believe that sheregretted it, " said Sir Tancred; and his sombre eyes were shining. "Heavens, how happy we were!--for four months. But as you'll learn, ifever you have it, happiness is a deucedly expensive thing. I paid aprice for it--I _did_ pay a price. " And he shivered. "At the end offour months it came out, and it was all up. "

"Then that was why Vane gave up coaching, sold Stanley House, and wentabroad, " said Lord Crosland quickly. "We could none of us make it out. "

"That was why. When it came out, my stepmother came on the scene. She's about as remarkable a creature as you'll chance on between nowand the blue moon. She has one idea in her head, the glory of theBeauleighs. I believe she's as mad as a hatter about it. She was oneof the Stryke & Wigrams, the bankers, a Miss Wigram; and I think, don'tyou know, that rising out of that wealthy and respectable firm, shefelt bound to be the bluest-blooded possible. That's what I fancy. Atany rate she's more of a Beauleigh than any Beauleigh since the flood. "

"I know, " said Lord Crosland, and he nodded gravely with theimmeasurable sapience of a boy of twenty-one. 

"I must say, too, " Sir Tancred went on thoughtfully, "that she's beenthe most important Beauleigh for generations. She brought thirtythousand a year to the restoration of our dilapidated fortunes; and shedid restore them. You know what a County is: well, little by littleshe got a grip on the County, and now she just runs it. I tell you, the County has taken to spending every bit of the year it can in townor abroad; when it gets within thirty miles of her, it daren't call itslife its own. "

"By Jove!" said Lord Crosland earnestly. "She must be a holy terror. "

"They call it force of character when she's within thirty miles ofthem, " said Sir Tancred drily; and then he went on with more emphasis:"But the banker streak comes out in her; she thinks too much of money. She doesn't understand that money's a thing you spend on things thatamuse you; she's always making shows with it--dull shows. So it waspart of her scheme for the glory of Beauleigh, that if billionscouldn't be got, I was to marry millions. You can imagine her furywhen she learned that I was married to Pamela. "

"I can that, " said Lord Crosland. 

"She got me back to Beauleigh, on some rotten pretence of legalbusiness about mortgages; and made a descent on Mr. Vane. You knowthat he was as decent a soul as ever lived, and as sensitive. I'mafraid that there was a lot of Stryke & Wigram in that interview--youknow, talk about having entrapped me into marriage with hisdaughter--the last man in the world to dream of it. Fortunately, as Igathered from her talk later, she made him angry enough to turn her outof the house without seeing Pamela. She had to content herself withwriting to her--it must have been a letter. "

"Why on earth didn't you interfere? I wouldn't have stood it!" saidLord Crosland. 

"I was at Beauleigh. I was pretty soon suspicious that our secret hadbeen discovered. When three days passed without my getting a letterfrom Pamela, I was sure of it. And then Fortune played into mystepmother's hands: I had a bad fall with a young horse, and injured myspine. For two months it was touch and go whether I was a cripple forlife; and I was another four months on my back. "

"By Jove!" said Lord Crosland with profound sympathy. 

"Ah, but it was when I began to mend that my troubles began. Therewere no letters for me--not a letter. Just think of it! I knew thatPamela must be wanting me; and there I lay a helpless log. I was surethat she had written; and, knowing my stepmother, I was sure that Ishould never see the letters. I sent for her, and asked for them. Shecoolly told me that she and her brother, my other guardian, Sir EverardWigram, Bumpkin Wigram he's generally called, had decided that I was tobe saved, if possible, from the results of my folly at any cost. Theywould have taken steps to have the marriage nullified, if it hadn'tbeen for the risk of my being prosecuted for false entry. Then shetalked of my ingratitude after all her efforts to raise the Beauleighsto their former glory. I couldn't stand any more that day; and thenurse came in and fetched her out. That interview didn't do me anygood. "

"It hardly sounds the thing for an injured spine, " said Lord Crosland. 

"A few days later we had another; and she had the cheek to tell me thatone day I should be grateful to her for having saved me from theclutches of a designing girl--rank idiocy, you see, for she was onlykeeping us apart for the time being. But it set me talking about thefirm of Stryke & Wigram; and for once I got her really angry. It didme good. Yet, you know, she really believed it; she believed that shewas acting for the best. "

"Of course, " said Lord Crosland thoughtfully, "she didn't know MissVane, I mean Lady Beauleigh, your wife. It would have made all thedifference. "

"I've made that excuse for her often enough, " said Sir Tancred. "Butit doesn't carry very far. Just look at the cold-bloodedness of it:there was I, a helpless cripple, in a good deal of pain most of thetime, mad for a word of my wife; and that damned woman kept back herletters. Talk about the cruelty of the Chinese--an ordinary woman cangive them points, and do it cheerfully!"

"They are terrors, " said Lord Crosland with conviction. 

"Well, there I lay; and I had to grin and bear it. But, well, I don'twant to talk about it. The only relief was that once a week mystepmother seemed to feel bound to come and tell me that it was all formy good; and I could talk to her about the manners and customs of thebanking classes. Then, after five and a half months of it, when I waslooking forward to getting free and to my wife, she came and told methat Pamela was dead. I refused to believe it; and she gave me aletter from Vane's solicitor informing her of the fact. "

"Poor beggar!" said Lord Crosland. 

Sir Tancred was silent; he was staring at nothing with sombre eyes. 

Lord Crosland looked at him compassionately; presently he said, "Itexplains your face--the change in it. I was wondering at it. Icouldn't understand it. "

"What change? What's the matter with my face?" said Sir Tancredindifferently. 

"Well, you used to be a cheerful-looking beggar, don't you know. Nowyou look like what do you call him--who fell from Heaven--Lucifer, sonof the Morning. I read about him at Vane's, mugging up poetry for thatexam. "

"You'll hardly believe it, " said Sir Tancred very seriously, "but Itook to reading books myself at Beauleigh, when I got allright--reading books and mooning about. I had no energy. I went andsaw Vane's solicitor of course; but he could tell me nothing, orwouldn't tell me. Said his client had called on him, and told him toinform my stepmother of Pamela's death, and had not told him where shedied, or where he was now living. I fancied he was keeping somethingback; but I had no energy, and I didn't drag it out of him. I went toStanley House; it was to be let. No one could tell me where the Vaneshad gone. I stayed at Beauleigh--mooning about. I wouldn't go toOxford; and I wouldn't travel. I mooned about. Six months ago I cameacross Vicary at a meet--you remember Vicary at Vane's?--he told methat Vane had died in Jersey. I went to Jersey, and found Vane'sgrave. Next to it was my wife's. "

Again Sir Tancred fell silent in a gloomy musing. 

"Well?" said Lord Crosland gently. 

"The oddest thing happened. It doesn't sound exactly credible; and youwon't understand it. I don't. But as I stood by the grave, I suddenlyfelt that there was something for me to do, something very importantthat had to be done. It was odd, very odd. I went back to my hotelquite harassed, puzzling and racking my brains. Then an idea struckme; and I had a hunt through the registers. I found that two daysbefore she died a boy was born, Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh--the oldBeauleigh names. She knew that I should like him to be called by them. From the registers I learnt where they had been living. I rushed offto the house, and found it empty and to let--always these shut-uphouses. I made inquiries and inquiries, from the house agents and thetradespeople. I could learn nothing. They had lived very quietly. But there was a child; people had seen him wheeled about in aperambulator. He had disappeared. I suspected my stepmother at once;and I hurried back to Beauleigh. It had bucked me up, don't you know, to think that I had a child. I had it out with my stepmother; and whatdo you think she told me?"

"Can't guess; but I'm laying odds that it doesn't surprise me, " saidLord Crosland. 

"She said that the fact of my having a son and heir would stand in theway of my making the marriage she hoped. That the boy was in the handsof a respectable couple, where I need never hope to find him; that hewould be brought up in the station of life suitable to his mother'shaving been the daughter of a Tutor. My word, I did talk about thefirm of Stryke & Wigram!"

"I should think you must have, " said Lord Crosland. 

"I lost no time, but put the matter in the hands of a crack PrivateInquiry Agency. When they learned what I was doing, I'm hanged if mystepmother and uncle Bumpkin didn't stop my allowance. " He laughedruefully. "However, I kept the inquiries going by selling my twohorses, my jewellery, my guns, and my clothes. That's why I'm in theserags. But no good came of it; the private detective discoverednothing, and charged me nearly three hundred for discovering it. Butthe crowning point of my stepmother's madness came yesterday. We hadthe proper business interview on my coming of age; and she and uncleBumpkin handed me over six hundred a year, and six thousand readymoney. Then she made me an offer. She would give me ten thousand ayear to enable me to keep up the glory of the Beauleighs, and marry themillions to increase it, if I would give up searching for the boy, andconsent to his being brought up in his respectable position. I didn'ttalk about swindling him out of his rights; for I've come to theconclusion that it's no good talking of Justice to a woman. They don'tunderstand what you're driving at--those of the banking classes anyhow. I told her she could stick to Beauleigh Court, since it would only be awhite elephant to me with my six hundred a year, and go on ruling theCounty. But I was going to clear out, and I couldn't help saying thatI hoped her path and mine would never cross again. "

"It was deuced little to say, " said Lord Crosland. 

"Oh, what was the good? She couldn't have understood. She's mad, madas a hatter about the glory of the Beauleighs. But it did one goodthing; it made her cast me off for good and all. She'd toiled for thefamily: and this was her reward. I might go to the Workhouse my ownway. Now you see, she won't interfere to stop my finding the boy. AndI'm going to find him if I have to spend ten years on it, and everypenny I have. And when I have found him, I'm going to look after himmyself, and keep him with me. I don't suppose I shall find it much inmy line. I'm not fond of children; and I'm not an affectionate person. That sort of thing is rather dried up in me. But it was little enoughI could do for my wife while she was alive, and now I should like to dothe only thing I can. "

"I see, " said Lord Crosland. 

"Well, you can understand that, though I've agreed to share these roomswith you for the next few days, I can't make it a permanentarrangement. I may have to be off anywhere at a moment's notice. Onthe other hand, by offering a thumping big reward, as I can do at last, I shall probably find him at once; and you wouldn't care for rooms witha small child about. "

"Oh, I don't know. I rather like kids, " said Lord Crosland. "They'reamusing little beggars often enough. "

"Ah, but this one is so small; only two and a half, " said Sir Tancred. "And now I'll write the advertisement. "

CHAPTER TWO

THE FINDING OF TINKER

Sir Tancred went to the writing-table, sat down, and began to write. He wrote slowly, pausing to think, and made many erasures. 

"I think the advertisement will make my stepmother squirm. It'll makethe County talk, " he said thoughtfully. 

"It seems to me you can't help giving the show away, " said LordCrosland. 

There came a knock at the door, and a waiter came in: "Please, SirTancred, there's a lady, leastways a person, wanting to see you. "

"To see me?" said Sir Tancred with some surprise. "Who can it be?Show her up?"

He went on with his writing, and presently the waiter ushered in atall, gaunt woman, with a rugged, hard-featured face, dressed in therustiest black, and carrying a brown-paper parcel. 

Sir Tancred turned round in his chair, and she said very nervously, "Good-morning, sir. "

"Good-morning, " said Sir Tancred; then he sprang up and cried, "Why--why--it's Selina Goodyear!"

"Yes, sir, it's me. I was afraid you wouldn't remember me after allthis time. And--and--it's a liberty I'm taking, coming to see you likethis, " she went on with a voluble, nervous eagerness, twisting herhands. "But not getting any answer to my letters, I went down toBeauleigh Court yesterday on the chance of getting a word with you; forI knew you'd be bound to be there, seeing as it was your coming of age. But I didn't get a chance, and came back to London by the last train, not knowing as you was in it, till I came out of Victoria, and saw yougetting into a cab and heard you tell the cabman to drive here. And Imade up my mind to come and see you here, though I know it's a libertyI'm taking. But I can't help it, "--and her voice suddenly grewfierce, --"it's about the boy. "

"The boy! My boy!" cried Sir Tancred. 

"Yes, sir. You see I was his nurse from the first. Poor MissPamela--I mean Lady Beauleigh, sir--gave him to me to take care ofbefore she died--leastways, she didn't give him to me, she was tooweak, poor dear; but she told me to take care of him, as I wrote toyou, sir. "

"As you wrote? Yes; go on. "

"And I did take care of him till Mr. Vane died. And oh, he was such adear baby! Then, when the young lawyer came with Mrs. Bostock and toldme as how you had arranged for her to have charge of him, and I had togive him over to her, it nearly broke my heart. But it isn't aboutmyself I came to talk, but about him. I know it's troubling you, sir--and a gentleman has his pleasures, and they take up his time. But, after all, he's your own son, sir, and if you'd only come and seehim for yourself, you wouldn't let him be treated like he is----"

"You know where he is!" Sir Tancred almost shouted. 

"Why, of course, sir. I told you in my letters. He's living with themBostocks, out Catford way. "

"You must take me to him at once!" cried Sir Tancred; and he rushedinto his bedroom, and came out with a hat and stick. 

"Look here, old chap, " said Lord Crosland. "I'm going to clear out fora few days. You'd like the kid to yourself at first. Then I'll comeback and share the rooms if you like. "

"Oh, no; it'll be all right, " said Sir Tancred, and he hurried Selinafrom the room to the lift, from the lift to a cab. 

They were no sooner settled in it, and the driver was getting quicklythrough the traffic under the stimulus of a promise of treble his fare, than Sir Tancred turned to Selina, and said quickly: "What do you meanby saying that I would not let the child be treated as he is? How's hetreated?"

"I mean that he's starved and beaten, that's what I mean, sir, " saidSelina. "Just what I said in my letters. "

"But I was told he was in the hands of respectable people. "

"Respectable!" exclaimed Selina: "but I told you in my letters allabout them, sir. "

"When did you write to me?" said Sir Tancred. 

"First when Miss Pamela died; and then when Mr. Vane died, "--SirTancred saw how his stepmother had obtained the information whichenabled her to get possession of the child, --"and three times sinceOctober. "

"Since October!" cried Sir Tancred; he had never dreamed that thesuppression of his letters had continued after his recovery. 

"I only found the boy in October, " said Selina. 

"Look here, " said Sir Tancred, "you'd better tell me the whole storyfrom the beginning. I didn't get your letters. "

"You didn't get them?" said Selina, and her face cleared. "I thoughtyou couldn't have, sir. I knew you wasn't the one to take no notice ofthem. Well, it was like this, sir. When Mrs. Bostock took the boyaway, I began to worry and worry about him; I kind of pined for him. Then I thought if I could see him sometimes, I should feel better; andI never liked the looks of Mrs. Bostock. She looked like a drinker;though all the time she was in Jersey with the lawyer she kept soberenough. I had got another place in St. Hellers, but I couldn't standworrying about him, and wondering if he was well treated. And I didn'tlike the way she wouldn't tell me where she lived. I had my savings, too; so I gave up my place, and came to London to look for her. I knewshe lived in South London from something she let drop; and I took aroom in Lambeth and looked for her in neighbourhoods which would belikely for her to live in. But it's a large place, sir, and I wasmonths and months doing it, moving from neighbourhood to neighbourhood. I used to trapse and trapse about all day, and at night I used to gointo Publics, the saloon bars as well as the common bars, for I didn'tknow which class she really belonged to. I went into hundreds ofPublics, but I never set eyes on her. Then, last October, when I'dnearly come to the end of my savings, I saw her going into a Public atNew Cross. I couldn't believe it; it seemed too good to be true. Ithought I must have made a mistake; I daren't go in, for fear sheshould know me; and I thought she never would come out. When she didcome out, and I saw it was really 'er, I nearly fainted right away; butI follered 'er, and she went from Public to Public with two shops inbetween, and it was nearly ten o'clock when she took the tram, and pasteleven when she got to her cottage at Catford, for she stopped at twomore Publics. But I walked about all night, for I wasn't going to takeno chances; and next morning I found, sure enough, that the child wasthere. But he was that changed, and he didn't know me. " Her harshvoice sank to the mournfullest tone; and she paused. 

Sir Tancred said nothing, he could say nothing; he was amazed andprofoundly touched by the persistence of this passionate, single-eyeddevotion in this hard-featured, harsh-voiced, rugged creature. 

"Well, sir, " Selina went on, "I moved to Eltham, and took a room. Isoon found out what sort the Bostocks were. Every Saturday they drewtwo pounds for the keep of the child; and they were hardly ever sobertill Thursday. And they starved the child, sir; and sometimes theybeat him. Now and then, when they were drunk, I've got food, good foodto him. But not often, for he was their livelihood, and however drunkthey was, they kept an eye on him; mostly he's locked up in a bedroom. I wrote to you, sir, three times, and waited and waited for answerstill I was sick at heart; and things was getting worse and worse. Icouldn't have stood it any longer; I was just going to steal him andcarry him off somewhere where I could look after him without no oneinterfering. But I thought I'd see you, and tell you about it first. And now, sir, if you'd let me have charge of him"--her eyes fairlyblazed with eagerness--"I'd look after him properly--I would, indeed. And I shouldn't want no two pounds a week--why, five shillings, fiveshillings would be ample, sir. I'm a capable woman, and I can get asmuch charring as ever I can do. "

"Of course, you shall have charge of him, " said Sir Tancred. "You seemto be the only person in the world who has any right to have charge ofhim. "

"Oh, thank you, sir!" said Selina in a husky voice; and she dabbed ather eyes. 

"It's not for you to thank me; it's for me to thank you, " said SirTancred. 

"Oh, no, sir!" said Selina quickly. "I know what gentlemen are. I'vebeen in service in good houses. They have their sport and theirpleasures; and they can't attend to things like this. "

"I've been looking for him for six months--ever since I knew that I hada child, " said Sir Tancred in a very bitter voice. 

"Have you now, sir?" said Selina. "Ah, if I'd only known, and come toyou!"

Her story had tided them over the greater part of their journey; andfor the rest of it they were silent, Sir Tancred immersed in a bitterreverie, Selina sitting with a hand on each knee, bent forward, withshining eyes, breathing quickly. 

Towards the end of their journey she had to direct the cabman; and pastthe last long row or little red-brick villas, in a waste from which theagriculturalist had retired in favour of the jerry-builder, they cameto the goal, three dirty, tumble-down cottages. The cab stopped at thethird cottage; Selina sat back in the seat and pulled down her veil, incase Mrs. Bostock should recognise her; Sir Tancred got down andknocked at the door. A long-drawn snore was the only answer. Hehammered on the door with his cane till he heard the grating of a chairon a brick floor; the door opened, and a blowsy, red-faced woman peeredat him with blinking eyes. 

"You have a little boy here in your charge. I've come for him, " saidSir Tancred. 

The woman only blinked at him stupidly. 

"I've come for the little boy, " said Sir Tancred loudly. 

A look of drunken cunning stole into the woman's muddled face. Shesaid thickly, "There ain't no lil boy 'ere, " and tried to shut the door. 

Sir Tancred thrust it open with a vigour which sent her staggering intoa chair, and stepped into the squalid, reeking room. Hunched up in achair, opposite the woman, sat a snoring man. 

"Come!" said Sir Tancred. "I want no nonsense! Where's the child?"

A dull, muddled rage gathered in the woman's eyes; she made an effortto rise on quite irresponsive legs. "Halbut!" she howled. "Halbut, wake up! Here's a thief an' a burglar trying to steal the brat!"

The man grunted, and jerked out of his sleep with the mystic word, "Washishish?"

"It'sh burglarsh, Halbut!" cried the woman, who seemed suddenly to seetwo or more Sir Tancreds. "They're shtealing bratsh! Bash 'em!"

Halbut jerked onto his feet, and stood lurching:

"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle, " he said, with a ferocity whichpetered out in an idiotic grin. 

"Thash it! Bash 'em!" cried the woman. 

Halbut advanced in a circular movement on Sir Tancred, with his fistsup; "Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle, " he said firmly. 

Sir Tancred lunged smartly at his chest with his cane; and he tumbleddown with his face to the wall. 

"Englishmansh oush ish ish cashle, " he said drowsily to the wainscot, and was still. 

Sir Tancred took the woman gingerly by the shoulder, and gave her ashake. "Where's the child?" he said. 

Apparently he had shaken the fumes up and the intelligence down, forher only answer was a burst of sibilant incoherence. 

With an exclamation of impatient disgust he loosed her, and went intothe back room. It was empty. He went up the rickety stairs, and, ashe had expected, found the door of the bedroom locked. He kicked itopen and went into the frowsy room. The child was not in it. He camedownstairs and opened the back door. As he did so, he heard ascuttling rustle. The garden was empty, but the rustle he had heardset him exploring the dirty, rag-covered hedge with keen eyes. He sawnothing, and walked down the garden, stooping and peering into thebottom of the hedge. Half-way down it his eyes fell on two littleblack feet, just sticking out; and above them two frightened eyesstared through the twigs. 

Sir Tancred put his hands in among them gently, and drew out a tinychild; his peaked little face was black, his thin little arms and legswere black, he was clothed in filthy rags; and his yellowish hair was atangled mat. The child struggled like a very feeble little wild beast, clawing and scratching, but silent with a terrible silence which showedhow he had learned to dread drawing attention to himself. 

"Quiet! quiet! I'm not going to hurt you, " said Sir Tancred in agentle voice, a little husky with a piercing emotion which had invadedhim; and something in its tones really did quiet the child, for hestruggled no more, though his breath came in a quick, faint, terrifiedpanting. 

Sir Tancred took him through the house, and felt a quivering throb runthrough him at the sight of the brutes who had fallen back into theirdrunken slumbers. He brought him out to the cab, and said hoarsely toSelina, "Is this the child?"

"That's him, sir! That's him!" said Selina, holding out her hands forhim; and the tears of joy trickled down her rugged cheeks. 

Sir Tancred gave him to her, bade the cab-man drive to the Hotel Cecil, and got into the cab. 

Selina had untied the brown-paper parcel, and was putting a little coaton the child. "I took the liberty of getting it to bring him away, incase you should let me have charge of him, " she said. 

The child still panted, but most of the terror had faded from his eyes;he had recognised his friend. Sir Tancred looked at him hungrily; hissoul, so long starved, was feasting on the sight of that atom ofhumanity, so grimy, so shocking to the eye, but his own child. 

"They call you Hildebrand Anne, do they?" he said with a broken, joyfullaugh. "Tinker's the name for you!"

CHAPTER THREE

TINKER ACCEPTS HIS NAME

The child sat very still on Selina's lap, shrinking back as far aspossible from Sir Tancred. Selina kept talking to him, and his fatherspoke to him several times, but he uttered never a sound. Once whenSir Tancred moved suddenly, he threw up his little thin arm to guardhis face; and Sir Tancred swore. 

They agreed that he would be happier if they took no notice of him fora while, and sat quiet. He seemed relieved, for he sank into an easierposition on Selina's lap, and presently they saw him stroke his coatwith a caressing gesture, as though its softness pleased him. After along while, he sat up, looked at the horse, said in a quaint, thinwhisper, "Gee-gee--mine like gee-gee"; and then looked swiftly roundwith frightened eyes, fearful lest he had drawn attention to hisexistence. 

Suddenly he began to blink, then, lulled by the motion of the cab, hefell asleep. They sat quiet, and had reached a more civilised part ofLondon, when Sir Tancred said, "Do you think I could hold him withoutwaking him?"

Selina nodded, and lifted him into his arms, and so they came to theHotel Cecil. 

When the cab stopped, the child awoke frightened, and at once began tostruggle. Sir Tancred handed him over to Selina, who soothed him, andcarried him to the lift. As soon as they were in his rooms, SirTancred rang for a waiter, and when he came, bade him bring up breadand hot milk at once. The child heard the words and said plaintively, "Mine hungly! Mine hungly!"

"All right, my lamb, " said Selina. "You shall have dinner very soon. "

When the waiter brought the bread and milk, Selina prepared it, and satdown at the table with the child on her knee. In a flash his grimylittle hands were in the basin, and he was thrusting the bread and milkinto his mouth with both of them. Selina pushed the bowl out of hisreach, and fed him with a spoon, very slowly, nor did she give himmuch. Sir Tancred watched his ravenous eating with a constrictedheart. When she had given him as much as she thought good for him, Selina put the bowl out of sight. The look of supreme content on hislittle face was even more pathetic in its extravagance than hisravenous hunger. He curled himself up on Selina's lap, surveyed theroom for a while with drowsy eyes, and fell asleep. 

Sir Tancred opened the note from Lord Crosland, which he had leftunheeded on the table; it ran:

"DEAR BEAULEIGH:

"I have moved myself and my belongings to 411 and 412, till you havegot things arranged. I'm off to Lord's for the day, but shall dine atthe Cecil. Let us dine together. 

"Yours sincerely, "CROSLAND. "

Sir Tancred felt relieved, and grateful for Lord Crosland'sthoughtfulness. 

"We shall be able to have these rooms to ourselves, " he said to Selina. 

"Yes, sir, " said Selina. "And he'll want some clothes. When he's hada little sleep, and I've given him a bath, I'd better go out and getsome. "

"No: I'll go now myself, " said Sir Tancred. "Then, when he's had hisbath, they'll be ready for him. "

He hurried down into a cab, and drove to Swan & Edgar's. There hebought the finest little vests and petticoat and frocks and socks andcoats they could find him. On his way back with his purchases heremembered shoes, stopped the cab at the boot-maker's, and bought adozen pairs. When he came back to his rooms, followed by two waitersloaded with parcels, he heard a splashing in the bathroom, and whenthey had set down their loads and were gone, Selina came to him andsaid, "I should like you to come and look at him, sir. "

She had been crying. 

Sir Tancred went into the bathroom, and found Hildebrand Anne splashingin the bath: "Hallo, Tinker, " he said cheerfully, and turned sick atthe sight of the wales and bruises about the thin little body. 

"Look at that, sir, " said Selina fiercely; and she touched the worst ofthem. 

The child winced at her touch, gentle as it was, and said in hisquaint, thin voice, "Halbut did do that. Mine not like Halbut. No:mine not like Halbut. " And he shook his little head vigorously. 

Sir Tancred groaned, and wished with all his heart that he had takenadvantage of his brief meeting with Halbut to give him a soundthrashing. Then he thought with a vindictive satisfaction how bitterlythe brute would feel the loss of liquors consequent upon the loss ofhis income. He went out, rang for a waiter, and bade him send for adoctor. 

When the doctor came he examined the bruises, and felt all the tinybones carefully. He declared that none of them were broken and that, in spite of having been starved, the child was sound and healthy. Themoment the doctor's grip on him loosed, Tinker wriggled off his kneeand fled to Selina, who carried him away along with a selection fromthe parcels to dress him. 

"A bad case, " said the doctor. "But I've seen worse, much worse. Ihope you'll put the matter into the hands of the Society for thePrevention of Cruelty to Children, and have the parentsprosecuted--picked him up in the gutter I suppose. "

"I haven't made up my mind about prosecuting them, " said Sir Tancred. 

"Oh, have them prosecuted! Have them prosecuted! It stops others, "said the doctor. "And besides, they might get the cat: it's the onlything brutes of this kind understand. " Then he added thoughtfully, "There's one uncommon thing about this child--quite uncommon. "

"What's that?"

"His vitality--he ought to be in bed, half-dying, with those bruises, and starved as he is. But you saw how he struggled to get away fromme. Well, I'll write you a prescription for as strong a tonic as Idare give a child. "

He wrote the prescription, promised to be round every morning, and tookhis fee. As he went away he said, "Someone ought to get six month'shard labour for maltreating him. "

After a while Selina brought in Tinker, dressed in his new clothes, with his mat of hair cut close to his head. He was still grimy--manybaths were yet needed before he would be clean; but Sir Tancred sawthat, once clean, and his peaked face filled out a little, he would bea very pretty baby. His features were fine, his eyes of a deep blue, his head was small and well-shaped, and the close-cut hair clusteredabout it in little curls. 

He clung to Selina's gown, and Sir Tancred bade her sit down, and seewhat he would do. It was a long time before he stirred from her side, and then only a little way, moving with a curious, stealthy gait, casting fearful glances at Sir Tancred. He was attracted by the brightstuffs which covered the furniture, and went from piece to piece, stroking it. Then he saw himself in the unnecessarily mirrored door ofthe sideboard, and surveyed his image with an almost excited curiosity, and, it almost seemed, approbation. 

[Illustration: He surveyed himself with an excited curiosity. ]

An idea struck Sir Tancred; he went out, took a cab, came back with anarmful of toys, and set them in the middle of the room. The childstared and stared at them with great eyes. After a long while, in hisstealthy, timid way, he made a few steps towards them, and scuttledback to Selina. He sallied out again, came nearer to them, and fledback. In the fourth attempt he carried off a little horse, and escapedwith it behind the sofa. There he played with it, or rather sathugging it, stroking it, or fingering it, in a dead silence. SirTancred watched his every movement, his every expression, missingnothing; his eyes could not have enough of him. 

Twice again Selina fed him, and twice he was again ravenous. Athalf-past six she put him to bed. 

Sir Tancred dressed for dinner, made arrangements for the feeding ofSelina, and went into the smoking-room. There Lord Crosland found him, and they dined together. After dinner Lord Crosland pressed him to goto a theatre or a music-hall; but Sir Tancred would not: thediscoveries of the day had left him no heart for amusement. He sawLord Crosland set out in search of diversion; came back to his room, and sent Selina to her supper, while he watched over the child. He satby the window, looking up the river, and smoking, in an unhappyreverie. Now and again he went and looked long at his sleeping boy. 

When Selina came up from her supper he heard for the first time thestory of his wife's death, and received her last message, which hadbeen so long delivering. It was no little comfort to him in thisrevival of sorrow to hear that she had learned of the accident whichprevented him from coming to her, and, sure of their ultimate meeting, had come to bear patiently their separation. And the knowledge thatshe must die without seeing him again had come to her in the mercifuland indifferent weariness so often the forerunner of death. 

When he had heard, and heard again, all that Selina could tell him, hegave her a cheque for five hundred pounds, putting aside herprotestations that she had never looked for it, and would rather nothave it, with the declaration that he had actually written out theadvertisement offering that reward for information about his missingchild, when she had brought it. 

Long after she had gone to bed, he sat thinking over her story, immersed in unhappy memories and unavailing regrets, and his bitternessagainst his stepmother and uncle grew and grew in him at the illtreatment his child had endured through their interference and neglect, to a strength to which his own wrongs had never brought it. 

The suppression and ignoring of Selina's last letters was inexplicableto him; he could only suppose that his stepmother had burnt them onreading only the signature; or had believed them to be themisrepresentations of a person trying to supplant Mrs. Bostock. Hethought for a while of writing to his stepmother out of the fulness ofhis heart; and then he told himself that it was no use. At last hewent heavily to bed. Three times in the night he awoke, and went andlistened at the door of the boy's bedroom; there was no sound; he wassleeping peacefully. 

After his morning bath Tinker looked a shade less grimy, and even thefew meals he had enjoyed since his rescue had filled out his face alittle. About eleven it was decided that a walk in the Embankmentgardens would be good for him, and Selina carried him out. But it wasvery soon plain that it was anything but good for him. Every passer-bythrilled him with a fresh terror; in three minutes he clung to Selinapanting and gasping with fright, his little fingers gripping her with aconvulsive clutch, his eyes starting out of his head, but all in aterrible silence. It was appalling to see such an extremity of emotionnot dare to find a vocal expression. Quickly they perceived that therewas no reassuring or soothing him; Sir Tancred blindfolded him with hishandkerchief, took him from Selina, and carried him quickly back to thehotel. He sat on Selina's lap, recovering very slowly, for nearly anhour. Then he got to his toys. 

That afternoon Sir Tancred made a search, and discovered a staircaseleading up to the roof. It was somewhat besprent with blacks; butthere the child could take an airing, unterrified, in a solitude _àtrois_, and in a very fresh air, when a south or west wind blew. 

By the afternoon of the next day he had grown used to Sir Tancred, and, when he was tired of his silent play with his toys, would sit on hisknee in perfect content. The skin of his face was almost white; nowonly his knees were really grimy. 

On the evening of the fourth day, as he was having his supper, eatingit with much less of the ravenous fervour of a wolf in winter-time, SirTancred distinctly saw him smile; it was very faint, but it was anundoubted smile. 

Three mornings later Sir Tancred was lying awake, when his door waspushed wider open, and Tinker stole in:

"Hallo, Tinker! Come here! You'll catch cold! What are you lookingfor?" said Sir Tancred. 

"Gee-gee, " said Tinker. 

"Come here, and get warm. "

After a little thought Tinker accepted the invitation, and Sir Tancredlifted him into bed. He huddled up to Sir Tancred, and presently foundthat his unshaven chin was rough, and stroked it with some wonder. 

"You _are_ a funny little Tinker, " said Sir Tancred fondly. 

"Mine Tinker. Mine Tinker!" said the child with a faint crow. 

CHAPTER FOUR

THE TRAINING OF TINKER

Sir Tancred had a very sound theory that the air of London is ashealthy an air as can be breathed in England; but for all that Tinkerenjoyed the best quality of that air, on the roof of the Hotel Cecil, varied by the ozone of Brighton and the air of many parts of thecountry, it was many a long day before he showed a real tendencytowards sturdiness, and outgrew the effects of his privations. He waslong, too, outgrowing his terror of strangers. 

Meanwhile Sir Tancred was trying to slake his intolerable thirst fordistraction, distraction from his memories and regrets, in that sectionof London Society which, let us hope, cannot see itself for its ownbrilliancy, or hear itself for its own noise, that curious collectionof Princes and millionaires, aristocrats and tradesmen, great ladiesand upper Bohemians, about which the only fitting thing is its title, found for it by some inspired journalist, of the Smart Set. There, where life forever bubbles a cheap and exceedingly dry champagne of avery doubtful exhilaration, he did now and again find a poor respitefrom regret till time blunted the edge of his sorrows. And when hissorrow was no longer acute, he had formed a reckless and extravaganthabit of life from which, even when the reason for it had passed, henever sought to free himself: indeed, it never occurred to him to try. 

But he never let his effort to drown his sorrow in the whirlpool ofthis strenuous life of pleasure interfere with his care of his littleson; in truth, Tinker's society was his chief relaxation from thelaborious and exacting round. Wherever he might be, in London, Paris, Vienna, Monte Carlo, or a country-house, Tinker was at hand, in hishotel, or lodged in the neighbourhood under the care of the faithfulSelina. 

A singularly early riser for one who sojourns in the Polite, or, to beexact, the Impolite World, --even in London he breakfasted at ten, --SirTancred was able to devote two or three hours every morning to thechild before the serious and exacting pleasures of the day, and, beforethree years had passed, he had grown a veritable connoisseur in woodenbricks, tin soldiers, and composite animals. However late he returnedat night, he never failed to look at Tinker in his cot in the roomadjoining his bedroom, to assure himself that he was warm enough, or, if need were, lift him more comfortably on to his pillow. He watchedhim in his childish complaints with more care than the careful nurseshe paid to watch him, or even than the fond and faithful Selina. Andyet he did not spoil him. 

Till Tinker was six years old they were playmates. Then, little bylittle, Sir Tancred found himself drifting into the position of generalinstructor, and after a while began to give serious thought to thematter. It was not, perhaps, a sound education that he gave the child. The classical side of it and the commercial were alike neglected; thehistorical was forgotten. The spelling was weak, and the handwritingwas very bad. But, riding, fencing, and boxing were very carefullycultivated, with the result that Tinker, though he lacked the lumps ofmuscle which disfigured that eminent ancient, might very well have viedin strength and agility with the child Hercules. 

In the matter of languages, by dint of spending some of each year inthe different European capitals, he learned to speak better French thanhe did English, for his father enjoyed far better society on theContinent than he did in London. In the same way, by sojourning in theland, he learned to make himself understood in German; and two monthsat Rome gave him a fair Italian. It must be admitted that he was asbad at spelling in all three of those languages as he was in his own. Again, his geography was hardly of the ornamental kind; he was entirelyand happily ignorant of the whereabouts of Leeds and Crim Tartary; itis doubtful whether the Balearic Isles, which most boys of the WesternWorld could point you out on a map, were even a name to him. But bythe time he was ten he could so deal with continental or EnglishBradshaw that in five or six minutes he could tell you the quickest orthe most comfortable way of reaching any town in which aself-respecting person would care to find himself, and his knowledge ofsteamer-routes and the Great American railways was no less sound. 

Besides these accomplishments he was acquiring a wide knowledge of theworld. By his eleventh birthday, though inexperienced in Lestrygonsand Lotos-eaters, he had seen the cities of more men than that way-wornwanderer Ulysses at the end of his voyages, and he had no meanunderstanding of their disposition. Besides, as the years went on, SirTancred's debts increased. To live the really strenuous London life, you need a great deal of money; and though Fortune, so cruel to him inlove, was kind at Bridge, her kindness was not continuous; andsometimes the ungracious importunities of his creditors drove him intoretirement in the country. During these times of exile Tinker was, forthe most part, his only companion, save for brief visits from LordCrosland; and since Sir Tancred made a point of talking to him as hisequal in age and experience, he gained from these times of closeintimacy a yet wider knowledge of the world. These retirements neverlasted long, not long enough indeed for Tinker, who was always happyenough in the country. Sir Tancred after a while grew impatient forthe distractions of which he had acquired so deep-rooted a habit. Moreover, in the country, out of a well-filled country house orshooting-box, he might at any time fall into the old, sorrowfulbrooding on his lost happiness. 

The most uncommon part of Tinker's education was the carefulcultivation of his faculty of observation. Sir Tancred himself had anatural gift of understanding his fellow-creatures, which, along withhis finer brain, little by little placed him in the noble butunenviable position of being the first person to whom his friends flewto be extricated from their scrapes. He had found that his gift stoodhim in such good stead in his varying fortunes that he spared no painsto equip Tinker with the faculty even more finely developed. 

In forming Tinker's manners he was at once aided and hindered by manywomen. The faithful Selina, with all the best-hearted intentions inthe world of spoiling the child, was foiled, partly by Sir Tancred'swatchfulness, and partly by the uncertainty of her own temper. She wasliable to the sudden, gusty rages of her class; and one of these ragesundid the harm of many days' indulgence. When, however, Tinker wasnine, she resigned with many misgivings, tears, and upbraidings ofconscience, her charge of him, to marry a middle-aged Parisianhairdresser of Scotch nationality and the name of Angus McNeill. SirTancred had far more trouble with the women who fell in love with him;and many women fell in love with him or thought themselves in love withhim, for his handsome, melancholy face, his reputation forrecklessness, and above all for his cold insensibility to their charm. In ten years of the strenuous, smart life, his name was never coupledwith that of any woman. All and each of these made a pet of Tinker, since they found it the surest way to abate his father's coldness. Onthe other hand the great ladies of the Faubourg de St. Germain pettedhim because his seraph's face and delightful manners charmed them;while any nice woman petted him because she could not help it. 

Fortunately Tinker did not like being petted; his sentiments, indeed, on the matter of being kissed by the effusive verged on the ungallant. He liked to be a nice woman's familiar friend; his attitude toward hercould be almost avuncular; but if a woman would pet him, he endured itwith the exquisite patience with which his father forever taught him totreat the sex. In weaker hands than those of his father, he woulddoubtless have become a precocious and irritating monkey, always andpainfully in evidence. But Sir Tancred and his creditors saw to itthat his life in the world was broken by spells of healthy, boyishlife, and he remained modest enough and simple-hearted. 

As to his nerves, though they were always high-strung, the effects ofhis cruel treatment as a baby wore little by little and slowly away, until there was left only a faint dread, or rather dislike, of beingalone in the dark, and a tendency to awake once in a month or so, crying out from a bad dream. 

CHAPTER FIVE

TINKER'S BIRTHDAY BLOODHOUND

Hildebrand Anne came out of the long glass doors of the morning room ofthe Refuge, as Sir Tancred had happily named the cottage atFarndon-Pryze, which he had bought soon after Jeddah won the Derby at ahundred to one, and whither he retired when he was at loggerheads withFortune, or Hildebrand Anne began to look fagged by London life. Hisfather was reading a newspaper at the end of the lawn, and he walkedacross to him. 

Sir Tancred looked up from his paper, and said with a sigh:

"I'm afraid there's no birthday present for you, Tinker. "

"That's all right, sir, " said Tinker cheerfully. 

Father and son made an admirable pair, a pair of an extraordinarydistinction. Reckless pride and sorrow had impressed on Sir Tancred'sdark, sombre face much of the look of Lucifer, Son of the Morning;Tinker was very fair with close-cropped golden curls clustering roundhis small head, features as finely cut as those of his father, sunnyblue eyes, lips curved like Cupid's bow, and the air of a seraph. Thename had clung to him from its perfect inappropriateness. A tinker isbut a gritty sight, and Hildebrand Anne had grown up, to the eye, anangel child, of a cleanliness uncanny in a small boy. 

"Even if there were anything to buy in Farndon-Pryze, our fortunes areat a low ebb, " said Sir Tancred with faint sorrow. 

Tinker heaved a sympathetic sigh, and said again, "Oh, that's allright, sir. "

"And the papers offer no suggestions for a new campaign, " and SirTancred, looking with some contempt at the score of grey, pink, yellow, and green sheets which littered the grass around his long cane chair, fanned himself with his panama; for, though the month was May, themorning was hot. 

"We shall have lots of money soon, " said Tinker cheerily. 

"Well, I hope so. It is no use my reading these wretched rags, unlessthey put me in the way of a coup. "

"We always do, " said Tinker with conviction; and he strolled away, pondering idly the question of riches. 

From the end of the garden of the Refuge, Tinker scanned the countryround with dissatisfied eyes. None of the low hills was hollowed by apirates', or brigands', or even a smugglers' cave with its buriedhoard, no ruin tottered above a secret treasure-chamber. For himselfhe did not mind; it was all one to him whether he hunted his prey inthe Champs Elysées or the long, straggling street of Farndon-Pryze. There were men in both places; and, though the methods of enraging themwere different, they grew crimson to much the same fieriness. Hefound, indeed, an angry Frenchman more entertaining than an angryEnglishman, but he was no epicure in sensations: only, he liked themexciting. But he would fain have discovered treasure for the sake ofhis father who, as he well knew, did not find in Farndon-Pryze theentertainment which satisfied his simpler, boyish heart. 

As he scanned the unsatisfactory landscape, he heard the sound ofhoofs, and looking round, saw James Alloway, a young farmer of theneighbourhood, riding along the highway. His face brightened; thecoast was clear; it was the very morning to play toreador. In a breathhe was through the hedge, and on the way to the village. He approachedit after the manner of a red Indian, only pausing to cut a switch froma hedge. He had a score to settle with Josiah Wilby, a boy whosetalebearing had procured him his last, well-earned whacking. Fortunefavoured him: he spied his prey playing in careless security with twoother boys on the village green; crept between two cottages; and wasout on him or ever he was aware of the coming of an avenger. At thesight of Tinker, Josiah bolted for home; but he had not gone twentyyards before the stinging switch was curling round him. He ran theharder, howling and roaring; and Tinker accompanied him to the door ofhis father's cottage. As the roaring Josiah rushed in, the infuriatedMrs. Wilby rushed out, and Tinker withdrew. From a convenientdistance, he raised his hat, and protested his regret at having had toinstruct her son in the first principles of honour. Mrs. Wilby tookhis politeness as an insult, and with a rustic disregard of his prettymanners called him a limb, and threatened him with merciless punishmenton the return of her husband. Tinker shrugged his shoulders, spreadout his hands, gestures he had acquired in France, and hurried off onhis main errand. 

He came swiftly to a small field in which there browsed a large andsolitary ram, by name Billy, Tinker's playfellow in the game ofbull-fighting. With a somewhat unfair casting of the star part, Tinkeralways played the matador, Billy played the bull. 

Drawing a stout wooden sword, the handiwork of Sir Tancred, who neverdreamed of the purpose it served, from its hiding-place in the hedge, Tinker slipped over the gate. Billy greeted his playfellow with anill-conditioned grunt expressive of no joy at all. Tinker saluted, walked up to within ten yards, and waved his hat at him. Billy watchedhim with a wicked eye, affected to graze, and of a sudden charged withall his speed. Tinker sprang aside as the ram's head went down tobutt, and as he hurtled past, prodded him with the sword behind theshoulder. 

Billy pulled himself up as soon as he could check his momentum, andturned and stood blinking. Twice he rapped the ground hard with hisforefoot. Tinker again drew to within ten yards of him; again Billycharged; and again he was prodded behind the shoulder. It was abeautiful game, and Tinker's lightness of foot, quickness of eye, andcoolness of head did every credit to the education he had received fromhis father. 

It was, indeed, a fine game, but as dangerous as it was fine; if Billyhad once downed the boy, he would never have left him till he hadground the life out of him. This Tinker did not know, so that he didnot draw all the excitement out of the game he would have done. It hadgrown more and more dangerous, also; for, by dint of playing it, Billy, who had started as a fat, clumsy, and sulky beast, had grown thin, nimble, and vicious. Alloway, indeed, often declared that he did notknow what ailed the ram; his food never seemed to be doing him anygood, and neither man, woman, nor child dare cross the field in whichhe browsed. 

The game lasted some twenty minutes; and Tinker's skill, sureness, andlightness of movement was the prettiest sight. Sometimes, with asnorting bleat, Billy would turn sharply at the end of his charge, andcharge again; then the concentration on the matter in hand, which hisfather had so carefully cultivated in Tinker, proved a most fortunatepossession: he was never caught off his guard. But he was beginning tothink that he had had enough of it, and Billy was sure that he had, when there came a roar from the road, and there sat Alloway on hishorse. Or rather, he was no longer sitting on his horse, he wasthrowing himself off it. 

Without one word of thanks to his playfellow for the pleasant game hehad enjoyed with him, Tinker bolted for the further hedge, Billy afterhim, and Alloway after both. Tinker knew the ground, ran for a postand rails which filled a gap, and skipped over them a few yards aheadof his energetic playfellow, who stood gazing after him with a ruefulvindictiveness. Alloway came rushing up, and took no heed of thedisappointed ram, who butted his right leg against the rails with greatpromptitude and violence. Alloway emulated his violence not only inhis language, but by cutting him as hard as he could with the whip hecarried, and rushed on after Tinker. Tinker could run at an admirablepace for a boy of eleven, and he was used to keeping it up longer thanthe rustic wind would last. But Alloway was brisker than a farm hand, or a keeper, and at the end of a couple of fields he began to gain. Tinker was soon aware of the painful fact, and knew that retributionwas on him. But, though he could not escape, he could postpone; andhis quick mind leaped to the fact that the more done Alloway was, theless vigorously would he ply his whip; besides, there was a chance thathe might suddenly collapse. 

At the entrance to the village there was a bare fifty yards betweenthem. As he came up to the smithy, Blazer, the blacksmith's dog, theterror of the village, began to bark; and Tinker's saving idea came tohim. He ran into the yard, and walked quietly up to Blazer, who barkedand strained at his chain with every advertisement of savage fury. Tinker knew a good deal about dogs; he came quietly up to him, andtried to pat his head. Blazer caught at the hand, and Tinker left itpassive in his teeth. Blazer's teeth bruised the skin, but did notpierce: and suddenly he realised that he did not know what to do withit. 

With a sheepish air he let it go, and resumed his barking. Tinkerstepped right up to his kennel, and the barking Blazer danced about himin an agony of indecision. Alloway rushed into the yard, and crying, "I've got you, you young devil! Have I?" made for Tinker. 

Blazer saw a happy way out of his awkward uncertainty, and bitAlloway's leg. 

Alloway jumped back with a roar; and, lashing at Blazer, hopped about. 

The blacksmith ran out of the smithy, and took in the situation at aglance. 

"Take away your dog, Green! Take him away!" shouted Alloway. "I'mgoing to warm the young gentleman's jacket! He's been worriting myram!"

Alloway was a good customer; but Tinker was a familiar friend, and theastute blacksmith scratched his head at great length before he saidslowly, "If zo be as you've 'it Blaazer, you'll 'av ter tak 'im awayyoursel'. I dussn't go near 'im; no, not wuz it ever so. "

"I'm going to larrup the young limb!" cried Alloway obstinately. 

"You'll 'ave to wait, then, till Blaazer gits quiet. I dussn't meddlewith 'im; an' I'm shoeing Mr. 'Utton's graay maare. " And with anatural, untrained diplomacy the blacksmith retired quickly into thesmithy. 

For a minute or two Alloway cursed and Blazer barked. Then Tinker satquietly down on the threshold of the kennel, and fanned himself withhis hat. The empurpled Alloway grew purpler at the sight of a coolnesshe did not share. 

"You young rip!" he roared, dancing lightly in his exasperation, "I'lllarrup you if I stay here till to-morrow morning!"

"If you're speaking to me, Mr. Alloway, you needn't speak so loud. I'mnot deaf, " said Tinker with gentle severity. 

Mr. Alloway in his violent, rustic way, uttered a good many remarksquite unfit for boyish ears. 

Tinker paid no heed to him, but chirrupped to Blazer, who came to himin a wondering sulkiness, and with many protesting growls sufferedhimself to be patted. Alloway put his hands in his pockets, and stoodstolidly with his legs wide apart, a picture of florid manliness andgrim, but whiskered determination. Some small boys, heavy with theirmidday meal, came to the gate of the yard, and in an idle repletionexhausted themselves in conjectures as to the true inwardness ofTinker's relation with Blazer, and Alloway's absorption in it. Twicethe blacksmith came to the smithy door, and a large, slow grin spreadpainfully over his bovine face. 

Tinker continued to pet Blazer till the surprised and mollified dog satdown between his feet, and put his head on his knee. Then Tinker beganto apply that power of concentration in which he had been trained byhis father to the discovery of a method of final escape. PresentlyAlloway went to the gate, and, climbing onto it, sat waiting for histriumph in a stubborn doggedness. 

After a while Tinker said gently, "That's a good horse you ride, Mr. Alloway. "

The farmer said nothing. 

"He's young, isn't he?" said Tinker. 

An acute and scornful expression of "You don't get round me!" filledall of the farmer's face that was not covered with whiskers. 

"Did you think to tie him up before you ran after me?" said Tinkerearnestly. 

Alloway sprang from the gate as though a very sharp nail had of asudden sprouted up immediately beneath him, slapped his thigh, andstood shaking his whip at Tinker with expressive, but starting eyes. 

"I dare say he's out of the county by now, " said Tinker thoughtfully. 

"You young blackguard!" said Alloway, and stepped towards the kennel. Blazer shot out to the length of his chain; and Alloway, in his fury, cut him savagely with his whip. Blazer roared rather than barked; thenoise stimulated Tinker's wits; and he saw his way. 

Alloway recovered himself sufficiently to say with choking emphasis, "Horse, or no horse, you don't get me to leave here!" and went back tothe gate. 

Tinker let him climb on it, and then he said gently, "Have you everplayed at being a runaway slave hunted by bloodhounds, Mr. Alloway?"

Alloway scowled at him most malignantly. 

"I should think it would be quite an exciting game. It doesn't reallymatter that Blazer's only a bull terrier; we can call him a bloodhound, you know, " Tinker went on, looking at the dog a little regretfully. 

Alloway, coddling his fury, scarcely heard him. 

"I'll be the slave-owner, " said Tinker, fumbling with the chain. 

It came out of the staple; and Alloway roared, "What are you doing, youyoung rascal?"

"Oh, it's all right, " said Tinker. "Don't be frightened; I'll keep himon leash till you get a good lead. "

Alloway jumped down from the gate, on the other side of it, his angerchanged to uncertainty spiced with discomfort. 

Blazer felt the chain loosen, and darted forward, jerking Tinker afterhim. 

"I can't hold him!" yelled Tinker. 

[Illustration: "I can't hold him!"]

Alloway turned, dropped his whip, and bolted up through the village. 

Blazer dashed at the gate, clawing it; Tinker got a better grip on thechain, opened the gate, snatched up the whip as Blazer jerked himthrough; and they set off down the road after Alloway. The farmer ranbetter than ever, faster than he had run after Tinker, faster, probably, than he had ever run before in his life. 

Blazer, though Tinker dragged for all he was worth, made a very fairpace after him. But by the time they were a hundred yards beyond thevillage, the throttling drag began to tell; Blazer slowed down; andAlloway, still going hard, disappeared round the corner. 

Blazer and Tinker fell into a walk, and then stopped. 

Sir Tancred Beauleigh, on his quiet way to the village post-office, wassurprised at being nearly knocked down by one of the most respectableyoung farmers of the neighbourhood, who was running with the speed andface of a man pursued by all the tigers of Bengal. A hundred yardsfurther on he heard yells and screams, and shouts of laughter; andcoming round a corner, he saw a small boy rolling in recurringparoxysms of joy on the grass by the roadside, watched by a puzzledbull-terrier. He had no difficulty in connecting them with the flyingfarmer. 

He came up to the absorbed pair unnoticed, and standing over them, saidquietly, "What's the joke, Tinker?"

Tinker sprang to his feet, and wiping away the joyful tears, said, "Ihave been playing at hunting runaway slaves. "

"Ah, Alloway was the slave?" said Sir Tancred. 

"Yes, sir, " said Tinker. 

Sir Tancred dropped the subject; he knew by experience that the truthmight be painful hearing, and that he would probably hear it fromTinker's flying partner in the game quite soon enough. 

"What are you doing with that dog?" he said. 

"I borrowed him, " said Tinker. 

Sir Tancred looked Blazer carefully over. "He's a very good dog, " hesaid. "How would you like him for a birthday present?"

Tinker's eyes shone as a long vista of scrapes, out of which Blazer'steeth might help him, opened before his mind. 

"Ever so much!" he said quickly. 

"Come on, then, we'll go and try to buy him. " And they set out for thevillage. 

Mr. Green stood in the door of the smithy, and grinned enormously atthe sight of the returning Tinker. Sir Tancred said, "Good-morning, Green; do you care to sell this dog? I'll give you three pounds forhim. "

Mr. Green said, "Three pound, " and stared helplessly at the cottagesopposite, confused by the need to assimilate, on the spur of themoment, a new idea. 

"Three pounds?" said Tinker quickly. "Why, he only cost fifteenshillings a year ago!"

"An orfer is an orfer!" said Mr. Green quickly, his wits spurred at thesudden prospect of a lowering of the price. "And I takes it. "

As he led away Blazer, with a new proprietary pride Tinker said firmlyto Sir Tancred, "I shall go on considering him a bloodhound, sir. "

CHAPTER SIX

THE RESCUE OF ELIZABETH KERNABY

Sir Tancred paused now and again in his leisurely breakfast to scowlacross the dining room at Mr. Biggleswade, who, with his sour-lookingwife and woebegone little girl, was breakfasting at an opposite table. The Royal Victoria Hotel was second-rate. The cooking was poor, thewine was bad, and Solesgate itself was dull. But these misfortunes SirTancred would have endured cheerfully because the place suitedHildebrand Anne, who had but lately recovered from an attack of scarletfever at Farndon-Pryze, but he could not endure Mr. Biggleswade. Itwas not so much that he had reckoned up Mr. Biggleswade as a large, fat, greasy rogue, nor was it that no snub once and for all stopped Mr. Biggleswade from thrusting himself upon him with a snobbishobsequiousness; it was Mr. Biggleswade's noisy and haphazard methods ofdisposing of his food, which left small portions of each coursenestling in his straggling beard, and filled the air with the sound ofthe feeding of pigs. 

This Sir Tancred found unendurable, and the more unendurable that Mr. Biggleswade had made up his mind that he enjoyed his meals more in thepresence of a baronet, and always waited for his coming. 

Sir Tancred was eating his breakfast mournfully, therefore, reflectingon the unkindness of Fortune, who had afflicted Tinker with his feverat so inconvenient a time. For he had not been able to raise the moneyto take him to make his convalescence at one of the more expensivewatering places, whither resort millionaires and the smart, whosefondness for games of chance and skill would have kept him in carelessluxury. He had been driven to bring him to Solesgate, a town of sixbathing-machines; and there the rest of his ready money dwindled to afew shillings. A sudden cessation of the sound of the feeding of pigscaught him from his mournful reflections. He looked up quickly, to seeMr. Biggleswade staring at his newspaper with a most strikingexpression of triumphant greed. 

On the instant Sir Tancred filled with the liveliest interest; emotion, especially curious emotion, in his fellow creatures always aroused hisinterest, and not infrequently brought him profit, and Mr. Biggleswade's emotion seemed to him curiously violent to be excited bythe perusal of a newspaper. He made half a movement to show it to hiswife, caught Sir Tancred's eye, and setting it down, went on hastilywith his breakfast. He had not been so quick but that Sir Tancred hadseen that the paper was _The Daily Telegraph_, and the excitingparagraph on the first page. 

Sir Tancred brightened to the rest of his breakfast; he had littledoubt that he was on the track of some roguery or other, and hepromised himself a hunt through the paper till he found it. When theBiggleswades, having finished their breakfast, went down to the beach, he lighted a cigar, took his folding-chair and his pile of newspapers, and settled down sixty yards away from them. As he had expected, theirfirst act was to discuss the newspaper with great animation, handing itbackwards and forwards to one another. And he took _The DailyTelegraph_ from his pile, and set about seeking the source of theirexcitement. He passed over the first advertisement in the agonycolumn, the offer of a reward for the recovery of the stolen child ofKernaby, the Marmalade Millionaire, merely noting that it had beenraised to 4000 pounds, and came to the conclusion that the secondadvertisement was genuine, while the third, which set forth at greatlength the woes of a young woman parted from a young man, seemed to himto read like thieves communicating. He had begun to eliminate thesuperfluous words, when Tinker, with Blazer, his bull-terrier, camesuddenly up to him from behind, and bade him good-morning. 

Tinker had breakfasted some three hours earlier, probably in the hotelkitchen, for, as was his invariable custom, he was on the best of termswith the servants; and for all that he had spent the intervening hourson the uncovered slimy rocks, was in his usual state of spotlesscleanliness. He is the one living boy to whom dirt does not cling. 

"How have you been amusing yourself?" said his father, his stern facelighting up with a delightful smile. 

"I'm still teaching Blazer to be a bloodhound. He's slow--very slow. "

Blazer cocked an apologetic ear and sniffed. 

"It must be tiring work. "

"Yes, " said Tinker sadly, and his eyes wandered slowly along the shore. 

Sir Tancred flipped the ash off his cigar. 

"Those Biggleswades are beasts!" Tinker broke out suddenly when hiseyes fell on them. "They treat that little girl of theirs shamefully!When I went to bed last night she was crying again. She always is. Idon't believe she's their little girl at all. I believe they've stolenher. "

"The deuce!" cried Sir Tancred, and catching up his _Daily Telegraph_, he read again the Marmalade Millionaire's advertisement. It ran:

4000 POUND REWARD. 4000 POUND REWARD. 4000 POUND REWARD. 

The above sum will be paid to any person giving information leading tothe recovery of Elizabeth E. Kernaby, aged seven years. She strayed orwas stolen in Kensington Gardens between the hours of 10 and 11 a. M. , on the 19th ultimo. She is fair with blue eyes, and long flaxen hair, speaks with a lisp, and answers to the name of Bessie. Any personbringing information to Messrs. Datchett & Hobb's, 127, Lincoln's InnFields, or to Mr. Joseph W. Kernaby, 11a, Cadogan Square, will receive:

4000 POUND REWARD. 4000 POUND REWARD. 4000 POUND REWARD. 

He laid the paper on his knee, and began to consider the facts of thekidnapping, as he remembered them from the newspaper reports. Hernurse had taken her to Kensington Gardens, where she had foregatheredwith the little daughters of Sir William Uglow. The children's playhad little by little drawn them away from their gossipping nurses, right out of their sight; and when their nurses went to look for themthey found only the little Uglows; Elizabeth Kernaby had gone. Thechildren said that a tall gentleman had come to them and, telling herthat her mamma had sent him for her, had taken her away in a cab. Thenurse had thought it strange, but suspected nothing wrong till shereached home and found that Elizabeth had not returned. She did notreturn; and since that day, in spite of all the efforts of ScotlandYard and the private-detective agencies, nothing had been seen or heardof her. The reward offered for her recovery had risen from 1000 poundsto 4000 pounds. 

It had been a crime of a masterly simplicity, and Sir Tancred had beensure that the child would not be forthcoming till the reward satisfiedthe cupidity of the child-stealers. He had reason to believe that thepresent reward did satisfy the cupidity of the child-stealers; andafter a thoughtful glance at the Biggleswades, he turned to Tinker. Tinker could be of help to him. 

He turned to him and said:

"Do you remember my telling you of a little girl, Elizabeth Kernaby, who was stolen a week or two ago?"

"Elizabeth Kernaby, aged seven, blue eyes, long flaxen hair, speakswith a lisp, and answers to the name of Bessie, " said Tinker glibly, inthe manner of one reciting a lesson. 

"Quite right, " said Sir Tancred approvingly; "you'll be anotherSherlock Holmes some day. Well, I have reason to believe that thelittle girl with the Biggleswades is Elizabeth Kernaby. "

Tinker's face brightened. "Her eyes are blue, but her hair is black, and it's not very long. "

"Hair can be dyed. "

"Yes; and it doesn't match her face. "

"It doesn't, doesn't it? Well, I want to know if she lisps, and if sheanswers to the name of Bessie. You will find out?"

"Yes, I'll find out. But Mrs. Biggleswade never lets her speak toanyone. I must think it out. "

With that Tinker sat down; set his elbows on his knees, his chin on hishands; and plunged into deep thought. His father sat equallythoughtful; and their similar employment brought out extraordinarilytheir strong likeness, for all that Tinker was a fair, angel child, andhis father's face as dark and proud and stern as Lucifer's. 

For a long while neither said a word, nor moved. Sir Tancred wastrying to see how to work the affair on seven shillings, and debatingwhether to call in the help of the police. Instinct assured him thathe had no time to lose, no time to walk to Beachley and pawn his watch, that he must not lose sight of them, and in delicate matters he reliedchiefly on instinct. Mr. Biggleswade would not have looked sotriumphant, had not the 4000 pound reward satisfied him; it seemedlikely that he would leave for town that very day. On the other hand, Sir Tancred was averse to going to the police; he knew what theprovincial police were. What was excellent evidence to him would seemno evidence at all to them; and they would move too late, or, if theymoved in time, would muddle the whole business, and let theBiggleswades know they were suspected. Besides, it hurt his self-loveto seek aid from anyone. No, the proper game was to rob the robbers, and he had seven shillings to play it with. 

Suddenly Tinker stirred. "I'm going to try now, " he said. 

Sir Tancred looked at the Biggleswades. Mr. Biggleswade lay sprawledon his back, a handkerchief spread over his face; and mellowed by thedistance, the music of a long-drawn snore murmured over the sands. Mrs. Biggleswade was nodding over a book. 

Tinker rose, bade Blazer stay where he was; and walked off towards thehotel. Sir Tancred twisted round his chair, tore a hole in his _DailyTelegraph_, and watched him. Tinker fetched a circuit to within ahundred yards of the backs of the Biggleswades, threw his straw hat onthe sand, dropped on to his stomach, and began to squirm along towardsthem, taking advantage of every ridge and hollow. It was a longbusiness, but at last he lay in a hollow thirty yards away. He raisedhis head cautiously, and in a low, clear voice said, "Bessie. "

The little girl sprang to her feet, and stared about her wildly. Tinker dropped his head and lay still. Mrs. Biggleswade, roused fromher napping, caught the child by the arm, and shaking her, saidsavagely, "Sit down, you little brat! Keep quiet!"

The child sank down, and began to cry. 

Tinker lay still for a while, and then began, to squirm away. When hereached his hat, he rose to his feet, knocked the sand off his clothes, and walked slowly back to his father. 

"She answers to the name of Bessie, sir, " he said quietly. 

"Good!" said Sir Tancred, and he rose. 

They walked down to the railway station; and on the way Sir Tancredinformed Tinker that he was to take Elizabeth Kernaby up to London, to11a Cadogan Square, and, at a cost of six out of his seven shillings, bought two half third-class tickets. On their way back he learned, noless to his surprise than his joy, that Tinker was the possessor ofeighteenpence. To make assurance surer, therefore, he bought a basketof strawberries, and when the Biggleswades returned to the hotel forlunch, they found the Beauleighs in the porch, eating them. 

"Would you like some strawberries, little girl?" said Tinker as theypassed, and he held out the basket to the child. 

"Yeth, pleath, " she said, and stepped forward to take one. 

"No, no, Keziah, " broke in Mrs. Biggleswade. "You know they don'tagree with you!" And she caught her away, and hurried her into thehotel. 

"Children like sweet things; but they sometimes don't agree with them, "said Mr. Biggleswade sapiently, his loose and flabby bulk swelling yetbigger at the thought that he was speaking to a member of thearistocracy. 

"That is very true, " said Sir Tancred pleasantly. 

Surprised by this affability, but swift to seize on a conversationalopening with a baronet, Mr. Biggleswade stayed talking with him in theporch; he talked to him all lunch-time: and he talked to him on thesands after lunch. His unbridled appetite for the society of thearistocracy proved his undoing. For at a few minutes to three SirTancred proposed a stroll along the shore. They went slowly, Mr. Biggleswade rising to the great social occasion for which he had solong hankered, and proving himself, in his talk, a thorough man of theworld. 

As they passed round the promontory at the end of the little bay, andSir Tancred took out his handkerchief, Tinker was awaiting the signal, impatient, but cool; and as they passed out of sight, he began to stealup behind the drowsy Mrs. Biggleswade and presently, touching the childon the shoulder, beckoned her to come with him. 

She looked timidly at Mrs. Biggleswade whose eyes were closed, androse. Tinker drew her quietly away. They had not gone twenty yardswhen a jerking nod awoke Mrs. Biggleswade, and she missed the child. She scrambled up, turned and saw her, and cried, "Come here, younaughty girl. Come here at once!"

"Are you Bessie Kernaby?" said Tinker to the child. 

"Yeth, yeth, " she said, turning to go to her tyrant. 

Tinker gripped her arm, and cried, "Pstt! Pstt! Hold her, Blazer!Hold her!" and waved him at Mrs. Biggleswade. 

Blazer darted forward, growling with a fine show of teeth. 

Mrs. Biggleswade, like a wise woman, stood stock-still, and sent ashrill scream ringing down the shore, and another, and another, andanother. 

Tinker caught Elizabeth's hand and cried, "Come on! Come on! We'veonly just time to catch the train!" And the two children set offrunning to the station. 

On the edge of the sands Tinker stopped for a moment, whistled shrilly, brought Blazer racing after them, and ran on again. He could hear thefar-away rattle of the express. 

Mr. Biggleswade was too deeply engrossed in his talk with Sir Tancredto notice the first half-dozen screams from his wife; and they camefaintly round the promontory. Then he heard them, said, "By Jove!that's Maria!" and started to run back. Sir Tancred ran by his side. When they came round the promontory they saw Mrs. Biggleswade wavingfrantically towards the station, and half-way to it two little figuresrunning. Mr. Biggleswade showed himself a man of action. He swunground, and, with the swiftness of an accomplished boxer, dealt SirTancred an unexpected blow on the side of the head which knocked himover half-stunned, and almost in the same moment started to run afterthe children. He was half a mile from them, and they were less than aquarter of a mile from the station, but naturally he ran much faster. 

As the children reached the platform the express steamed in. Tinkerhurried his prize into an empty third-class carriage, in the forepartof the train, and pushed the ticketless Blazer under the seat. Then heput his head out of the window, and saw to his disgust Mr. Biggleswade, his coat-tails flying, two hundred yards from the station, yellinglustily, but making a very good pace indeed for his flabby bulk. Thedoors were shutting, and Tinker watched the guard breathlessly. Whenhe whistled, Mr. Biggleswade had yet fifty yards to go. At the soundhe yelled louder than ever, and made a tremendous spurt. The train waswell on the move when he rushed into the station; but he dashed at acompartment in the last carriage, wrenched the door open, scrambled onto the footboard, and tumbled in, amidst the shouts of the indignantporters. 

Tinker drew in his head with a blank face. It had been no part of hisfather's plan that Mr. Biggleswade should travel by the same train toLondon, and his heart sank a little. But remembering Blazer, hisspirits rose, and he turned to the little girl with a cheerful face. She was panting, crying, and wringing her hands in a paroxysm ofnervous excitement. He sat down beside her, thumped her on the back--away he had with tearful females--wiped away her tears with hishandkerchief, and poured comforting assurances of safety into her ears. 

[Illustration: He poured comforting assurances of safety into her ears. ]

When at last he had soothed her he began to question her, and drew fromher the story of her captivity. She had driven miles and miles withthe gentleman who had fetched her from Kensington Gardens, to a littlehouse in a long street. There she had found the Biggleswades. Mrs. Biggleswade had taken away her nice clothes, and dressed her in thesecommon things. Then she had cut off her hair. 

"I was wondering about your hair, " interrupted Tinker. 

For answer the little girl lifted up her black locks, hat and all;displayed a fuzzy little fair poll underneath them, and let them dropon it again. 

"I see, " said Tinker, and he went on with his questioning. 

She had stayed with the Biggleswades, shut up in a room upstairs, shedid not know how many days; and then they had come down to Solesgate. All the while Mrs. Biggleswade had been very unkind to her, and slappedher whenever she cried for her mother. 

The remembrance of her misfortunes set her crying again, and again, with quiet patience, he consoled her. Presently she was babblingcheerfully of her home, her mother, and her dolls, and asking manyquestions. He made the replies politeness demanded, but he lent anabstracted ear to her talk, for he was considering different plans forescaping Mr. Biggleswade, most of them useless by reason of theslowness of Elizabeth. He could only make up his mind that they mustdash for a cab as quickly as they could, and trust to Blazer forprotection. 

It seemed to him a very long journey; and even when he had made hisplan, he found it no little task to take his part in the conversation. As the train ran into London, he told her that Mr. Biggleswade was inthe train, and they must bolt for the cab. At once she was all panicand tears, and he had much ado to brace her for effort before the trainslowed down at the terminus. Before it had stopped he was out of thecarriage, helping her down. They ran towards the barrier; but theplatform was long, and Elizabeth was slow. While they were yet thirtyyards from it, Mr. Biggleswade was on them. With a savage blow he sentTinker flying, caught up the screaming Elizabeth, and dashed on, cryingloudly, "The nearest hospital! The nearest hospital! My little girl!My little girl!"

Everyone made way for him; but Tinker picked himself up, bolted afterhim, hissing on Blazer, took a flying leap on to his back, and lockedhis arms round his neck in a strangling grip, as the prompt and nimbleBlazer buried his teeth in his calf. Mr. Biggleswade dropped Elizabethand tore viciously at Tinker's hands. The passengers and porters camecrowding round, and the moment the throng was thick enough, Tinkerdropped to his feet and gripped Elizabeth by the arm, shouting, "Police! Police!"

Mr. Biggleswade struggled to choke Blazer off his leg. A policeinspector pushed through the crowd, and cried, "What's all this?"

"The young rascal has enticed away my little girl, and brought her upto London!" cried Mr. Biggleswade, who had divested himself of Blazer, and was holding him off by the collar; and with the other hand hegrabbed at Elizabeth. 

"It's a lie!" cried Tinker, as the inspector grasped his shoulder. "This is Elizabeth Kernaby! He stole her!" And on the words he jerkedoff her hat and wig. 

At the sight of the fuzzy little bare poll light slowly dawned on theinspector; but even more quickly Mr. Biggleswade had seen that the gamewas up, flung Blazer away from him, and bolted through the barrier. The Inspector rushed after him; but Blazer, who apparently had not hadenough of Mr. Biggleswade's calf, outstripped him, and pinned thefugitive on the very step of a hansom. 

When Tinker and Elizabeth, escorted by an excited and applauding crowd, came out of the station they found Mr. Biggleswade, the inspector, twoconstables, and Blazer in a tangled, battling group. Tinker saw hischance of escaping any further aid from the police, thrust Elizabethinto a hansom, gave the cabman the address, whistled Blazer out of thefight, jumped in after her, and drove off amid the cheers of the crowd. By the time the dishevelled police had Mr. Biggleswade secured, andcould turn their attention to them, the children were half a mile away. 

Tinker's hands had been torn by the savage rascal, and on the way toCadogan Square he was busy staunching their bleeding. By tearing hishandkerchief in two he managed with Elizabeth's aid to bandage both;but he was vexed that they must make such an unpleasant appearancebefore her relatives. When they reached Cadogan Square he paid thecabman, and rang the bell; but when the door opened, Elizabeth assumedthe leadership. She caught Tinker's hand, dragged him past theastonished footman, hurried him up the stairs, and burst with him intoa drawing room, where half a score of mournful people were discussingover their tea the further measures for her recovery. 

"I've come back, mamma! And this is Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh, but hisreal name is Tinker!" cried Elizabeth. 

In a breath Mrs. Kernaby had her in her arms; there were screams andpantings, and a bandying to and fro of smelling salts. Everyone washugging Elizabeth, or shaking hands with Mr. Kernaby, or slapping oneanother on the back and assuring one another that they had always saidso. Tinker watched their exuberance with some distaste, whichredoubled when Elizabeth's tangled and incoherent tale drew upon himthe embraces of half a dozen animated and highly scented ladies of thekind who haunt the houses of unprotected millionaires. When at lastquiet was restored, he told his story, omitting as many of his owndoings as were not absolutely necessary to make it clear, in a fearlest they should provoke another outburst of embraces. 

When he had clearly grasped the fact that Tinker was the son of SirTancred Beauleigh, all the warm-heartedness of his native Drumtochtybubbled up in Mr. Joseph Kernaby; he shook him warmly by the hand, andcried:

"Mah mannie; eh, but you're a braw sonsie laddie; an' aiblins ye needit, nor yoursel' nor any o' your noble an' deesteengueeshed familyshall ne'er ask the twice a wee bit bite or soop unner this humbleroof. "

Tinker, not having the Gaelic, was somewhat taken aback by the crypticutterance; but an anxious-looking younger son of an embarrassed peer, who for a considerable consideration was bear-leading the millionairethrough the social labyrinth, hurriedly interpreted it to him as astanding invitation to dinner. He thanked Mr. Kernaby, and begged thata telegram might at once be sent to his father, informing him of hissuccess and safety. 

"They tallygrams they yanners the saxpences, mah mannie, " said themillionaire with a falling face. "A poostcaird is a verra----"

But the anxious-looking younger son cut him short, said that it shouldbe sent at once, and bade the footman charged with its despatch bringalso a doctor to dress Tinker's wounded hands. 

Meanwhile Sir Tancred, as soon as he learnt that Mr. Biggleswade hadcaught the express, had hurried hot-foot in a devouring anxiety toBeachley, where dwelt a pawnbroker, raised money, and caught there atrain to town. When he reached Cadogan Square he found Tinker makingan excellent tea after his exhausting labours, and giving an account ofthe Biggleswades to a detective from Scotland Yard. When he had heardSir Tancred's story, too, the detective said that Mr. Biggleswade wouldget five years; and the event proved him right. 

There was no getting away from the grateful Kernabys, but after thecooking of the Royal Victoria hotel Sir Tancred was more than ready fora good dinner. He found in his host and hostess a strong dispositionto adopt Tinker forthwith; and before the end of dinner he found themno less inclined to adopt him, too. But it could not be. 

After dinner, disregarding the faint expostulations of theanxious-looking younger son, the millionaire rose to his feet andpronounced a glowing, fervid, but, save for the couplet, "The rank is but the guinea stamp The maan's the maan for a' that"

unintelligible eulogy on the family of Beauleigh. 

As he drove away with Tinker to the Hotel Cecil, Sir Tancred crinkledthe millionaire's cheque in his waistcoat pocket, and said, "Fourthousand pounds is a good day's work--two thousand for you--and twothousand for me. We'll move to Brighton. But I spent some of the mosthorrible hours of my life wondering if that beast had got into the samecompartment with you. None of the fools at the station could tell me. "

"I was afraid you'd be anxious, sir, " said Tinker, patting his arm. "But I think that Blazer and I could have dealt with him. "

Then he gave Blazer--who, distended by the fat of the land, was snoringheavily through happy dreams of the human calf, at the bottom of thecab--a gentle kick, and said with sad severity, "I shall never make areal bloodhound of Blazer. Bloodhounds leap at a man's throat; theydon't collar him by the leg. "

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE STOLEN FLYING-MACHINE

"You vas a vonder-child!" said Herr Schlugst. "You know dat machine asgood as me!" And his goggle eyes stared out of his round, good-naturedface at Hildebrand Anne in a wondering admiration. 

"Yes; I think I have got the hang of her, " said Hildebrand Anne withsome pride, looking up at the great cigar-shaped balloon which hungmotionless in the still air. 

"Vat for do dey call thee Tinkar? You vas not look like a tinkar; andyou vas not haf--do not haf de tinkar brain. "

"Well, I've been called Tinker ever since I can remember; and onename's as good as another, " said Hildebrand Anne indifferently. "Butyou'll let me cross over to Paris with you to-morrow, won't you?"

"I vill not! I vill not! Dere is de danger! De great danger! Wemust vant de calm dat ees dead! I take no von vith me but mine ownself! And I vas not vould go, not for nodings; but I vas vant detousand pounds. Dere is my leetle girl to be lived and educate. "

"But I do so want to be one of the first to cross the Channel in aflying-machine, " said Tinker plaintively. 

"Ach, to be vurst! to be vurst! Dat is you English top and toe! Do Ivas hunt de orchid to be vurst discoverer? Not mooch. I hunt him formoney. Do I cross de Channel in my machine to be vurst? Nein, nein. I cross him for de tousand pounds. And you I vould not take, no, notfor de oder tousand pound. Bah! You vas not at all von vonder-child;you vas von foolish! Good-night, mine young friend, good-night. " AndHerr Schlugst went into the galvanised iron hut where for the timebeing he lived, watching over his precious machine. 

The Tinker came out of the palisade which surrounded it, and walkeddown the cliff into Brighton quite disconsolate; he could not see howto get his way. He came into the Paragon Hotel and dressed for dinneras sulky as a naturally cheerful soul could be. He showed no readinessto talk, and his father presently condoled with him on his lowness ofspirits. Tinker said briefly that he had had a disappointment. 

"Ah, they are terrible things, disappointments, when one is elevenyears old, " said Sir Tancred. "Later in life they lose their edge. "

On his words there came into the dining room a rotund, middle-agedJewish gentleman, coated with dust and wearing a harassed air. 

"Look, " said Sir Tancred, "that's Blumenruth, the Jungle millionaire. "

The financier gazed gloomily round the room, looking for a table. Atthe sight of Sir Tancred, an idea seemed to strike him, his facebrightened a little, and he came to them. 

"How do you do, Sir Tancred Beauleigh?" he said, shaking hands warmly. "May I dine at your table? I want a word with you, a word which may beprofitable to both of us. "

"By all means, " said Sir Tancred in the manner he always adoptedtowards profitable financiers of Hamburg extraction, a manner extremelycondescending, without being offensive. 

The financier sat down; smudged the dust across his face with acoloured silk handkerchief; and breathed heavily. Then he looked atTinker as though he would like him sent away. 

"Anything you may say before him will go no further, " said Sir Tancred, quick to mark the meaning of the look. "Let me introduce you. Mr. Blumenruth, my son Hildebrand. "

The financier bowed, but he still looked unhappy at Tinker's presence. A waiter brought him some soup, and he began upon it hurriedly. SirTancred went on with his dinner in a tranquil indifference. Thefinancier finished his soup: looked again at Tinker, and burst out:"Well, it can't make any difference! I want your help, Sir Tancred, and you're the one man in England who can help me; you're used to thesethings. " And he smudged the dust on his face a little more. 

Sir Tancred murmured politely, "Only too pleased. "

"I must be in Paris either to-night or to-morrow morning for an hour'stalk with Meyer before the Bourse opens. And I must leave Englandwithout anyone knowing I've left it. It may make a difference to meof--of a hundred thousand pounds. "

"Pardon me, " said Sir Tancred suavely. "I like my clients to be openwith me. It will make a difference of ruin. The Cohens have you in ahole. "

The millionaire gasped, "My goodness! how did you know? It meansruin--or--or I make a hundred thousand. "

"I see, " said Sir Tancred. "Well?"

"I left London quietly in a motor-car. Before I'd gone twenty miles, aracing Panhard, stuffed with private detectives--men I've sometimesemployed myself"--he almost sobbed at the thought--"passed me; andanother came up, and dropped back to a mile behind. They're here inBrighton. I'd given it up; I was going to dine here, sleep the night, and go back to London to fight it out--not that it's of any use unlessI can see Meyer--when I saw you. I'll give--I'll give five thousandpounds to anyone who can get me across to Paris secretly. It'shere--in my pocket. " And he tapped his breast. 

Sir Tancred thought earnestly for fully five minutes; then he said, "Itcan't be done. "

"Don't say so! now don't, " said the financier, "The money's here!Here!" and he again slapped his breast pocket. 

"It's no use, " said Sir Tancred. "I might smuggle you out of thehotel; but there isn't any sort of vessel, steamer, steam yacht, orlaunch to take you across. "

"Let's go to Dover in my car!"

"What's the use? The detectives would follow in theirs. "

The financier groaned, and some large tears ran down his face. He benthis head to hide them; and for all that he was not pleasant to lookupon, Tinker felt sorry for him. 

"Cheer up, man, " said Sir Tancred. "You can always begin again!"

But the financier would not be heartened. He made a wretched dinner;after it he followed Sir Tancred into the billiard room, and steadilydrinking brandies and sodas, watched him play pool. At eleven he wentto bed. Tinker had gone to bed long before, but his door was justopen, and he saw the financier go into his room. Five minutes later hestole across the corridor, and, without knocking, opened the door andwent in. The financier was sitting at a table, gazing through a mistof tears at a nice, new nickel-plated revolver. He had no realintention of blowing his brains out, but with the childlike, emotionalspirit of his race, he had persuaded himself that he had, and wasluxuriating in his woe. 

"What do you want?" he moaned. 

"I've come to show you a way of getting to Paris, " said Tinker, closingthe door softly. 

"Mein Gott!" cried the millionaire, relapsing into his vernacular inhis excitement. "How? How?"

"By Herr Schlugst's flying-machine. "

"A flying-machine! Is the boy mad?"

"No, I'm not. I've been with Herr Schlugst on three trial trips; andthe last two he let me work it most of the time. It's as easy aswinking, once you know how to do it, and he says I understand it aswell as he does. It's all ready for the journey. We've only got toget into it without waking him; and he sleeps like a log. "

"Mein Gott! Mein Gott! What a plan! I'm to fly in the air with alittle boy! Oh, good gracious me! Good gracious me! What am I todo?" And he stamped up and down, wringing his hands. 

"It's that or the revolver, " said Tinker sweetly. 

The financier clutched at his hair and raved: fear and avarice, conflicting, tore at his vitals. He owed his millions to no genuineforce of character, but to luck, industry, and dishonesty. In thisgreat crisis of his life he was helpless. Tinker, trained frombabyhood by his wise father to study his fellow creatures, understoodsomething of this, and began to goad him to the effort. 

"It's a lot of money to lose, " said he thoughtfully. 

"The sweat of my brow! The sweat of my brow!" groaned the financier, who had really made it by the nimbleness of his tongue. 

"And it seems a pity to blow your brains out, which hurts a good deal, before you've tried every chance, " said Tinker. 

The financier groaned. 

"At any rate, if we did come a cropper, you'd be no worse off. "

"Ah!" cried the financier, stopping short. "Why shouldn't I wake HerrSchlugst, and get him to take me?"

"Because he won't, " said Tinker quietly. "He told me that nothingwould induce him to try a flight in the night. He's all right in thedaytime, but the darkness funks him. Foreigners are like that; they'llgo to a certain point all right, but there they stop. That's what I'venoticed. I notice these things, you know. " He spoke indulgently. 

It never occurred to the financier to doubt him; he was already alittle under the influence of the cooler head. He walked up and down alittle longer; and Tinker said no more. He had been taught to leavepeople to themselves when he saw them beginning to come to his way ofthinking. 

At last, with a horrible grimace which showed the depth of his agony, the financier cried, "I'll come! I'll come! I'll trust my life--oh, my precious life--to you. After all, you rescued the Kernaby child;and you had to fight to do it! I'll risk it! Oh, my money! My money!"

"Very good, " said Tinker. "I'll come for you at half-past twelve. Puton your warmest great-coat. It'll be cold. " And he slipped gently outof the room. 

Five minutes later the distracted financier rang his bell, and ordereda bottle of 1820 liqueur brandy. It was the best thing he could havedone: a private detective, who was sitting on guard in a room lowerdown the corridor to see that he did not go downstairs again, believedhim to have thrown up the sponge, and to be drowning his sorrow, andallowed himself to become immersed in the current number of the _FamilyHerald_. 

As was his practice, Sir Tancred, on his way to bed, looked in onTinker, and found him sleeping the profound sleep of youth andinnocence. But no sooner did he hear his father in bed and still, thanhe rose from that profound sleep of youth and innocence, dressed, evento his great-coat. He took a letter from his pocket, and put itprominently on the dressing-table. It ran:

DEAR FATHER:

I have taken Bloomenroot to Parris in Herr Shlugst flyingmacheen. Bring him to meet me at the Ifell Tower. 

Your affectionate son TINKER. 

Then, with his boots in his hand, he stole across to the financier'sroom. Thanks to the brandy, the financier looked very much wound up. Tinker bade him write on a sheet of notepaper, "Don't call me tilleleven, " pinned it on the outside of his bedroom door, locked it, andtook the key. He left the sitting-room door unlocked. Then he openedthe window, and, followed by his protégé, who was already shiveringwith dread, he stepped out on to the balcony with the air of the leaderof an army. The balcony ran round the hotel, as a way of escape duringa fire; it was broad, and since the night was starry, but fairly dark, they were little likely to be seen from below by the detectiveswatching the hotel doors. They walked round to the back, came througha window into a bathroom, through the bathroom on to the servants'staircase, and went right down into the basement. 

"I get up early in the morning before the servants, and I had to find away out, " said Tinker in an explanatory whisper. 

He led the way through the kitchen into a long passage, set with thedoors of cellars on either side. At the end of the passage was a shortladder with rounded iron rungs, by which barrels were lowered, andTinker, mounting three rungs, pushed back a bolt, raised the heavy trapa little, and peered about from under it. 

"The street's clear, " he said. "Come on!"

He slipped out on to the pavement, helped the clumsy financier throughthe trap, caught his hand, and ran him across the street into a narrowlane. 

"There!" he said cheerfully. "That's the most difficult part of thebusiness! You're out of the hotel, and not a soul knows it!"

The financier's spirits brightened. Tinker had shown him his mettle, and he began to have confidence. Besides, he had drunk a good deal ofthe bottle of brandy. They hurried through the town by byways, and upon to the cliffs. As they neared the palisade, and saw the great bulkof the balloon looming through the starlight, the panting financier'sspirits sank: his teeth chattered, and his knees knocked together. 

"Oh, buck up! Buck up!" said Tinker impatiently. "You're all right!You're all right!"

It was a matter of a few seconds for him to climb the door of thepalisades, drop lightly on the other side, and open it. He steered thefinancier gingerly round the planes, past the propelling and steeringfans, and got him into the car. He set him well forward in the bows ofit, and began to let the rope unwind from the windlass which moored theflying-machine. All the while he heard the steady snores of HerrSchlugst, sleeping in his iron hut. 

The flying-machine rose slowly with very little creaking for all thegreatness of the planes; the last of the rope ran out, and the lightsof the town sank like stones in water beneath them. 

"Right away!" cried Tinker joyfully, and the financier gasped. 

When the lights of the town were a mere blur beneath them, Tinkerswitched on the electric lamps, and the millionaire saw him sitting ona wicker seat in the stern of the boat-shaped car, surrounded bylevers, instruments, and dials. Tinker bade him grip the steel railson either side of the car, and get ready for a swoop. Then he set themotor going, and steered round the flying-machine on to her course. She rose and rose, moving steadily forward at the same time, far abovethe sound of the waves of the Channel. 

Now Herr Schlugst did not rely so much on his propeller for speed as onhis skilful adaptation of the principle on which the bird swoops. Whenthe aneroid told Tinker that the car had reached the height of 3000feet, he opened a valve, and let the gas escape slowly from theballoon. The instant she began to sink he switched to a slightdownward angle the great planes, some seventy feet long, which werefixed parallel to the car. The machine began to glide downwards onthem, gathering momentum from the weight of the car, at a quicklyincreasing speed, until she was tearing through the air at the rate offorty miles an hour, and sinking a hundred feet in the mile. Thefinancier sat hunched up, gasping and shivering as the air whizzed pasthis ears and shrilled among the ropes. Tinker, with an air of cheerfulexcitement, kept the machine on her course, and watched the aneroid:his face of a seraph was peculiarly appropriate to these highaltitudes, though the millionaire was too busy with his fears toobserve the fact. 

In half an hour the machine had rushed down to five hundred feet abovethe sea: Tinker switched the planes to the same angle upwards: and themomentum drove her up the incline of the air with little diminishedspeed. Then he turned a tap and let the stored gas, compressed in analuminum cylinder, flow into the balloon, and restored the wholemachine to its former buoyancy. Moving more and more slowly the higherit rose, the flying-machine once more gained the height of 3000 feet, and once more swooped down from it. At the beginning of the upwardsweep, Tinker said, "Another swoop like that will bring us to Paris. "

The financier, who had spent the time qualifying for a place among theinvertebrates, only groaned. Tinker was disgusted; but he said, "Cheerup! You're the first man who has ever crossed the Channel in aflying-machine. You'll be in the History books!"

The car rose and rose: Tinker had just resolved to swoop from 3500 feetthis time, when of a sudden she rose out of the windless area into astiff breeze, icily chill. They learnt what had happened by theballoon bumping down on their heads with apparent intent to smotherthem, and in a breath the car was spinning round, and jerking furiouslyto and fro. The millionaire screamed and bumped about the car, andbumped and screamed. Tinker set his teeth, jammed the flying-machineinto the teeth of the wind, switched down the planes, and tried todrive her down. It was no use; she was whirled along like a piece ofthistledown. Then he opened the valve and let her sink. In threeminutes she had fallen below the wind, and was shooting swiftly on thedownward swoop. The financier was staring at him with a frenzied eye. Tinker closed the valve, and said with a joyous brightness, "She wasquite out of control for a good five minutes!"

[Illustration: "She was quite out of control for a good five minutes!"]

The financier frankly gave it up; with a rending gasp he fell back in adead faint. 

Tinker shrugged his shoulders, regulated the pace of the machine byletting gas flow from the cylinder into the balloon till it was of theproper buoyancy, then roped the senseless financier to the bottom ofthe car, and came back to the helm. 

The wind they had risen into had been blowing towards the east, so theyhad not lost ground during their tossing, but they had been drivensouth of their course, and he did not know exactly how to get back toit. On the dark earth beneath he could see towns as blurs of light onall sides of him, but no one of them was big enough to be Paris. Helet the machine swoop on down to five hundred feet, and up again. Onthe upward course, from fifteen hundred feet he saw a great blur oflight on the northern horizon: it was Paris, and he was swooping pastit. He steered the machine round without taking the way off her, andswooped down towards the city. At the end of the swoop he was alreadyover the suburbs, and he switched off the electric lamps. He took theway off the machine by switching up the planes; and then, using onlythe propeller, circled round, seeking for the Eiffel Tower. Presentlyhe saw it looming through the first dim grey light of the dawn, steeredover it, let fall a grapnel, and hooked it into the railings which ranround it; took a turn of the rope round the windlass, and wound themachine down to within twenty feet of the top. Then he went to thefinancier, unroped him, and kicked him in the ribs ungently. 

As he kicked, saying, "Get up! Get up!" an astonished voice belowcried, "Qui vive?"

Looking over the side of the car Tinker saw dimly the figure of agendarme, and said briskly, "Santos-Dumont!"

"Vive Santos-Dumont!" cried the gendarme with enthusiasm. 

Tinker went back to the financier, and kicked him again. 

"Where am I? Where am I?" he murmured faintly. 

"On the top of the Eiffel Tower, " said Tinker. 

"What? Saved! Saved!" cried the financier, for all the world asthough he had been in a melodrama; and he sat up. 

"I should like the five thousand pounds, please, " said Tinker, broughtback by the touch of earth from his aerial dreams to cold reality. 

"Five thousand pounds!" cried the financier, every faculty alert at themention of money. "No, no! How am I to get five thousand pounds?Five hundred now! Five hundred pounds is an enormous sum--an enormoussum for a little boy, or even fifty! Yes, yes; fifty!"

"That's really very tiresome, " said Tinker very gently. "I neverthought you'd be so foolish as to leave all that money in empty roomsin an hotel. Well, well, we must fly straight back and get it. I hopewe shall have as good luck as we had coming over. " And he turned tothe levers. 

"Here! here! here!" screamed the financier; tore a button off his coatin his haste to get at his breast pocket; whipped out his notecase, andwith trembling fingers took five notes from the bundle which stuffedit, and thrust them into Tinker's hand. 

Tinker counted them, made sure that each was for a thousand pounds, andput them in his pocket. Then he looked down at the gendarme, and saidin French:

"I want to drop my assistant. Will you conduct him to the bottom ofthe tower?"

"Mais oui! Avec plaisir, Monsieur le Comte!" cried the gendarme, striking himself hard on the chest to show his eager enthusiasm. 

"Merci bien, " said Tinker, lowering the rope ladder. 

The gendarme held it steady, and the financier descended gingerly. When he was off it, and the gendarme had loosed it, Tinker said "Aurevoir! and mind you wire to my father at once, and let the grapnelrope slip out of the windlass. " Lightened of the financier, themachine shot up into the air. 

Tinker's task was done: he had only to restore the machine to HerrSchlugst; but he had a long while to wait. He realised suddenly thathe was hungry and very, very sleepy. By letting some gas escape, hereduced the machine to a controllable buoyancy, and set about warmingthe coffee which the thoughtful Herr Schlugst had ready made. Thenwith brown bread, butter, and German sausage, he made an excellentbreakfast. It was light by the time he had finished; and he set aboutlooking for a sleeping-place, for he could not keep awake long. A woodon a hill some miles away seemed to him the spot he sought. He swoopedgently for it, and was soon anchored to a tree-top and sleepingpeacefully. It was past noon when a shouting awoke him. He lookeddown to find the wood full of people, four or five bold photographicspirits in the tree to which he was anchored, but nowhere near hisgrapnel, which was among the smaller branches. The roads leading tothe wood were choked with bicycles, motor-cars, and pedestrians; and astation near was disgorging a crowd of people from an excursion train. It was time to be going. 

He cut the grapnel rope, and started leisurely for Paris. He reachedit in about an hour, and circled about it, observing it from above. Then he came to the Eiffel Tower, and practised steering round it, tothe great joy of an excited and applauding crowd which thronged its topand stages. It was a great moment. He steered away over Paris, made ameal of the coffee, brown bread, and sausage left, and came back. 

He was growing tired of waiting, and was meditating crossing over thetop of the tower and pouring a little water from the ballast tank onthe sympathetic crowd, when he saw his father and Herr Schlugst forcingtheir way through it. At once he rose above the tower and let down thegrapnel. A dozen hands seized it, and drew down the machine. Tinkerlet the stored gas flow into the balloon to allow for Herr Schlugst'sextra weight; and lowered the rope-ladder. The bursting Teuton cameclambering up it, forcing down the car and planes by his weight on tothe heads of the crowd, which was forced to hold them up with athousand hands. 

"Ach, you young tevil my machine to sdeal!" he cried, tumbling into thecar. 

"You shouldn't have refused to take me with you, " said Tinker, preparing to slip over the other side on to anyone's head. 

"What haf you broke? What haf you broke?" cried Herr Schlugst, lookinground at the instruments with a practised eye, and seeing them unharmed. 

"Nothing. What should I break anything for?" said Tinker scornfully. 

"No; dere is nodings broke, schoundrel. But vere--vere is mine vontousand pound? I ask you! Vare is mine von tousand pound! You hafruined me! Ruined me!"

"Oh, that's all right!" said Tinker. "I had a passenger who paid hisfare. Here are two thousand pounds. " And he gave him two of the notes. 

Herr Schlugst opened his mouth and stared at the notes, "Doo tousandpound! Doo tousand pound!" he muttered thickly. "You vas vonvonder-child! Von vonder-child!"

Tinker bade him good-bye, and slipped out of the car, leaving him tofly to some smooth place in the environs, where he could dismantle hismachine. Sir Tancred was too thankful for Tinker's safety to be veryangry with him: and they descended the tower surrounded by gendarmes, who were put to it to preserve Tinker from the embraces of excitedpersons of either sex. One fat Frenchman, indeed, kissed him on bothcheeks, crying, "Vive le rosbif! vive le rosbif!" before he could wardhim off. 

At the bottom of the tower Mr. Blumenruth, radiant and triumphant, burst through the throng, flung himself upon them, and dragged them toa smart victoria which awaited them. He told them joyously that he hadcleared eighty-seven thousand pounds, and protested that they should behis guests at his hotel as long as they stayed in Paris. On the way toit Sir Tancred got down to buy some cigars, and he was barely in theshop when the financier said in a jerky way to Tinker, "I saw a veryneat little motor-car, which I should like to make you a present of. But I say--I don't want you to tell anyone--how--how ill I was upthere. My spirit was all right, of course; but that rarefiedair--acting on business worries--produced a state of nervousprostration. I--I wasn't quite myself, in fact. "

Tinker looked at him with intelligent interest, and, closing one of hissunny blue eyes, said thoughtfully, "Nervous prostration? Is the motora Panhard?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Blumenruth. 

"If you hadn't been so--so--upset, I've no doubt you'd have sailed themachine yourself, " said Tinker warmly. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BARON AND THE MONEY-LENDER

Sir Tancred would only stay four days in Paris with the gratefulBlumenruth, because he wished Hildebrand Anne to have the sea air, forit seemed to him that he had not yet got back his full strength afterthe scarlet fever. They returned, therefore, to Brighton, and when theweather grew hotter, removed to the more bracing East Coast. Tinkerwas for sharing the three thousand pounds he had made out of his tripin the flying-machine equally with his father; but Sir Tancred wouldnot hear of it. Chiefly to please him, however, he borrowed a thousandof it at five per cent. , and invested the rest in Tinker's name. Withthis thousand-pound note and three notes of fifty pounds, he paid offthe loan of a thousand pounds which he had borrowed from Mr. RobertLambert, a money-lender, five years before, with the balance of theinterest up to date, and found himself once more unencumbered save fora few small debts, and with plenty of money for his immediate needs. 

During August and September they stayed at different country houses;and Fortune being in a kindly mood, the money remained untouched. Inthe middle of October they came to London to their usual rooms in theHotel Cecil; and Sir Tancred was one morning at breakfast disagreeablysurprised to receive from Mr. Robert Lambert a demand for the immediatepayment of 1450 pounds. At first he thought it was a mistake, then heremembered that he had paid Mr. Lambert in notes; and that Mr. Lamberthad promised to get at once from his bank the promissory note on whichthe money had been borrowed, and send it to him. The promissory notehad not come, and the matter had passed from Sir Tancred's mind. Now, he perceived that, if Mr. Lambert chose to deny that payment, he was inno little of a plight. 

After breakfast, therefore, he took a hansom, and drove to Mr. Lambert's office. The worthy money-lender received him at once, andwith no less delay began to deny with every appearance of honestindignation that he had been paid the debt. Sir Tancred grewexceedingly disagreeable; he set forth with perfect frankness hisopinion of Mr. Lambert's character, declared that he would rather go tothat uncomfortable abode of contemptuous debtors, Holloway, than beswindled in so barefaced a fashion; and exclaiming, "You may go to yournative Jericho, before I pay you a farthing, you thieving rascal!" wentout of the office, and banged the door behind him. 

The worthy money-lender smiled an uncomfortable and malignant smile atthe banged door, and at once gave instructions to his manager to takeproceedings. Sir Tancred explained the transaction to Tinker; warnedhim against laxness in matters of business; prepared for immediateflight; and they caught the midnight mail from Euston. By the time anindefatigable bailiff had ascertained next day that they had leftLondon, they were eating their dinner, in a secure peace, at ArdrochanLodge in Ardrochan forest, which Sir Tancred had borrowed for the whilefrom his friend Lord Crosland. 

Hildebrand Anne was used to long periods unenlivened by companions ofhis own age; and he began forthwith to make the best of the forest. Some days he stalked the red deer with his father; some days weredevoted to his education, fencing, boxing, and gymnastics; and on theothers he explored the forest on a shaggy pony. It was of acomfortable size, forty square miles or thereabouts, stretches of wildheath, broken by strips of wood, craggy hills, and swamps, full ofstreams, and abounding in many kinds of animals. It was an admirableplace for Indians, outlaws, brigands, and robber barons, and Tinkerpractised all these professions in turn, with the liveliestsatisfaction. 

At first it was something of a tax on his imagination to be a wholeband of these engaging persons himself; with one companion it wouldhave been easy enough, but his imagination presently compassed thetask. And when he found his way to the Deil's Den, a low stone toweron a hill some six miles from Ardrochan, his favourite occupation wasthat of robber baron. It would have been more proper to put the towerto its old use of a lair of a Highland cateran; but, to his shame, Tinker funked the dialect with which such a person must necessarily becursed. 

The Deil's Den had earned its name in earlier centuries from the bloodydeeds of its first owners. No gillie would go within a mile of it, even in bright sunshine. Tinker's carelessness of its ghosts, aheadless woman and a redheaded man with his throat cut, had won him thedeepest respect of the village, or rather hamlet, of Ardrochan. Twicehe had constrained himself to wait in the tower till dusk, in the hopethat his fearful, but inquiring, spirit would be gratified by the sightof one or other of these psychic curiosities. 

It was a two-storied building, and its stone seemed likely to last aslong as the hills from which it had been quarried. In some thoughtthat it might be used as a watch-tower by his keepers, Lord Croslandhad repaired its inside, and fitted it with a stout door and twoladders, one running to the second story and another to the roof. Fromhere the keen eyes of Hildebrand Anne, Baron of Ardrochan, scannedoften the countryside, looking for travelling merchants or wanderingknights; while his gallant steed Black Rudolph, whose coat was drab anddingy, waited saddled and bridled below, and Blazer the bloodhoundsniffed about the burn hard by. Blazer had a weakness for rats quiteuncommon in bloodhounds. 

Tinker cherished but a faint hope that Fortune would ever send him aprisoner, even a braw, shock-headed lad, or sonsie, savage lassie ofthe country. But he did not do justice to that goddess's love ofmischief. It was she who inspired into Mr. Robert Lambert the desireto shine in the Great World; and it was she who gave him the idea oftaking for the season Lord Hardacre's house and forest of Tullispaith, in lieu of the cash which he would never get. Thither he invitedcertain spirited young clients, who had practically only the choice ofbeing Mr. Lambert's guests at Tullispaith or King Edward's at Holloway. Thither he came, a week beforehand, to make ready for them. 

At once he set about becoming an accomplished deer-stalker. For threedays he rode, or tramped, about the forest of Tullispaith, in search ofred deer which, in quite foolish estimate of their peril, insistedalways on putting a hill between themselves and his rifle. On thefourth day he rested, for though his spirit was willing, his legs wereweak. This inactivity irked him, for he knew the tireless energy ofthe English sportsman; and at noon Fortune inspired him with the mostdisastrous idea of all, the idea of taking a stroll by himself. Hetook his rifle and a packet of sandwiches, and set out. Now to theunpractised eye any one brae, or glen, or burn of bonnie Scotland isexactly like any other brae, or glen, or burn of that picturesque land. He had not gone two miles before he had lost his way. 

He did not mind, for he was sure that he knew his direction. He waswrong; he may have been like his Oriental ancestors in some of hisqualities, but he lacked their ingrained sense of orientation; and hewas walking steadily away from the house of Tullispaith. He restedoften and he looked often at his watch. He passed over the border ofTullispaith into the forest of Ardrochan, and wandered wearily on andon. The autumn sun was moving down the western sky at a disquietingspeed, when at last he caught sight of the Dell's Den, and with a newenergy hurried towards it. 

At about the same time Hildebrand Anne, the robber baron of Ardrochan, caught sight of him, mounted Black Rudolph, and rode down to meet him, ready to drag or lure him to his stronghold. The angel face of Tinkerhad never looked more angelic to human being than it looked to theweary money-lender. He had never seen him before; therefore, he had noreason to suppose that that face was not the index to an angelicnature. Unfortunately, Tinker knew by sight most of his father'sfriends and enemies, and at the first glance he recognised the squatfigure, the thick, square nose, and muddy complexion of Mr. RobertLambert. 

"My lad, " said the money-lender, failing to perceive that he wasaddressing one of the worst kind of man in all romance, "I've lost myway. I want to get to the house of Tullispaith. Which is the road?"

"There is no road; and it's eight miles away, " said Tinker, knittinghis brow into the gloomy and forbidding frown of a robber baron. 

"Eight miles! What am I to do? Where is the nearest place I can get aconveyance?"

"It would be a twenty-mile drive if you got a cart, and there's no cartnearer than Ardrochan, and that's six miles away. "

"Well, then, a horse, or a pony, and a guide?"

"You could get a pony at Hamish Beg's; and one of his sons could guideyou. "

"Where does he live? How can I get there?"

"Three miles the other side of that tower. "

"Will you show me the way? I'll give you--I'll give you half-a-crown. "

"Hildebrand Anne of Ardrochan is not the hired varlet of everywandering chapster, " said Tinker with a splendid air. 

"I'm not a wandering chapster, " said the money-lender. "I'm agentleman of London. I'll give you five shillings--half a sovereign--apound!"

"The offer of money to one in whose veins flows the proudest blood ofthe North is an insult!" said Tinker in a terrible voice. 

"No offence! No offence!" said Mr. Lambert, cursing what he believedto be the penniless Highland pride under his breath. 

Suddenly Tinker saw his way. "From the top of yon tower I can show youthe path to Hamish Beg's. Follow me, " he said, turned his pony, andled the way up the hill with a sinister air. 

With a groan, the money-lender, quite unobservant of the sinister air, breasted the ascent. He set down his rifle by the door of the tower, and followed Tinker up the ladders. 

"You see those two pine trees between those two far hills?" said Tinker. 

Mr. Lambert drew round his field-glasses, and after long fumbling, focussed them on the pines. "Well?" he said. 

There was no answer; he turned to his angel guide, and found himselfalone on the tower. He ran to the top of the ladder and looked down. At the bottom stood Tinker regarding him with an excellent sardonicsmile: "Ha! ha!" he cried in a gruff, triumphant voice, "Trapped--trapped!" And he turned on his heel. 

The money-lender heard the door slam and the key turn in the lock. Heran to the parapet, and saw Tinker mounting his pony with an easy graceand the air of one who has performed a meritorious action. 

"Hi! Hullo! What are you up to?" cried Mr. Lambert. 

"Foul extortioner! Your crimes have found you out! You have consignedmany a poor soul to the dungeon, it is your turn now, " said Tinker withadmirable grandiloquence. Then, dropping to his ordinary voice, headded plaintively: "Of course it's not really a dungeon; it ought to beunderground--with rats. But we must make the best of it. "

"Look here, my lad, " said Mr. Lambert thickly. "I don't want any ofyour silly games! I shall be late enough home as it is. You unlockthat door, and show me the way to this Beg's at once! D'ye hear?"

Tinker laughed a good scornful laugh. "Lambert of London, " he said, returning to the romantic vein, "to-night reflect on your misdeeds. To-morrow we will treat of your ransom. Hans Breithelm and JorganSchwartz, ye answer for this caitiff's safe keeping with your heads! Icharge ye watch him well. To horse, my brave men. We ride toArdrochan!" And he turned his pony. 

[Illustration: "To-night reflect on your misdeeds. To-morrow we willtreat of your ransom. "]

The money-lender broke into threats and abuse; then, as the pony drewfurther away, he passed to entreaties. Tinker never turned his head;he rode on, brimming with joyous triumph; he had a real prisoner. 

Mr. Lambert shouted after him till he was hoarse, he shouted after himtill his voice was a wheezy croak. Tinker passed out of sight withouta glance back, and, for a while, that iron-hearted, inexorable man ofmany loans, sobbed like a child with mingled rage and fear. Then hescrambled down the ladder, and tried the door. There was no chance ofhis bursting it open; that was a feat far beyond his strength; andthough he might have worked the rusted bars out of the window, he couldnever have forced his rotundity through it. Then he bethought himselfof passers-by, and hurried to the top of the tower. There was no onein sight. He shouted and shouted till he lost his voice again; theechoes died away among the empty hills. He leaned upon the parapetwaiting, with the faintest hope that the diabolical boy would tire ofhis joke, return, and set him free. Again and again he asked himselfwho was this boy who had recognised him in this Scotch desert. 

The dusk gathered till he could not see a hundred yards from the tower. Then he came down, struck a match, and examined the bottom room; it wasbeing borne in upon him that he was destined to spend the night in it. It was some twelve feet square, and the stone floor was clean. In onecorner was a pile of heather; but there was no way of stopping up thewindow, and the night was setting in chill. 

He went back to the top of the tower; it was dark now. He shoutedagain. The conviction of the hopelessness of his plight was taking astrong hold upon him, and he was growing hungry. He stamped wearilyround the top of the tower to warm his chilling body, pondering ahundred futile plans of escape, breaking off to consign to perditionthe deceptive angel child, and meditating many different revenges. Atthe end of an hour he went down the ladder, and flung himself on thepile of heather in a paroxysm of despair. 

Till nearly ten o'clock he went now and again to the top of the tower, and shouted. He was beginning to grow very hungry. At ten o'clock heburied himself in the heather, and slept for an hour. He awoke coldand stiff, and his sensitive stomach, used to the tenderest indulgence, was clamouring angrily. He was learning what the cold and hunger, which, by a skilful manipulation of the laws of his adopted country, hehad been able to mete out to many foolish innocents with no grudginghand, really were. He went to the top of the tower, and shoutedfruitlessly; he warmed himself by stamping up and down; then he cameand slept again. This was his round all the night through: snatches ofuneasy sleep, cold and hungry awakenings, shoutings, and stampingsround the top of the tower. 

Meanwhile Tinker had ridden joyously home, and shown himself in suchcheerful spirits during dinner that Sir Tancred had observed him withno little suspicion, wondering if it could really be that he had foundopportunities of mischief even in a deer-forest. After dinner Tinkerwent into the kitchen, where he found Hamish Beg supping. He talked tohim for a while, on matters of sport; then he said, "I say, you told meabout the headless woman and the red-headed man with his throat cut, atthe Deil's Den, but you never told me about the man in brown who shoutsand waves from the top of the tower, and when you come to it, it'sempty. "

Hamish, the cook, and the two maids burst into a torrent ofexclamations in their strange language. "Yes, " said Tinker, "a man inbrown who shouts and waves from the top of the tower, and when you cometo it, no one's there. "

He kept his story to this, and presently came back to his father, assured that the more loudly Mr. Lambert yelled, and the more wildly hewaved, the further would any inhabitant of Ardrochan fly from theDeil's Den. He went to bed in a gloating joy, which kept him awake awhile; and it was during those wakeful moments that a memory of "MonteCristo" suggested that he should gain a practical advantage from whathad so far been merely an act of abstract justice. 

It was past eleven when Tinker came riding over the hills at the headof his merry, but imaginary men. Horribly hungry, but warmed by thesun to a quite passable malignity, the money-lender watched his comingfrom the top of the tower, pondering how to catch him and thrash himwithin an inch of his life. He did not know that far more active menthan he had cherished vainly that arrogant ambition, but Tinker'scheerful and confident air afforded little encouragement to his purpose. 

"Halt!" cried the robber baron, reining up his pony. "Hans and Jorgan, is your captive safe? Good. Bring him forth. " He turned to hisinvisible band. "To your quarters, varlets! I would confer alone withthe usurious"--he rolled the satisfying word finely off histongue--"rogue. "

Hand on hip he sat, and watched his merry figments dismount and leadaway their horses. 

He turned, and frowned splendidly on the prisoner. "What think ye ofour hospitality, Lambert of London?" he said. 

Mr. Lambert scowled; his emotion was too deep for words. 

Suddenly Tinker dropped the robber baron, and became his frank andengaging self: "I'm sorry to be so late, " he said with a charming airof apology, "but I had to send a message to Tullispaith to say that youwould not be back till Saturday, or perhaps Monday. "

"What!" screamed Mr. Lambert. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't want them to hunt for you. I'm going to keep you heretill you do what I want, " said Tinker with a seraphic smile. 

"You young rascal! You mean to try and keep me here!" screamed Mr. Lambert, jumping about in a light, but ungainly fashion. "Oh, I'llteach you! I'll make you repent this till your dying day! You thinkyou can keep me here! You shall see. The first shepherd, the firstkeeper who passes will let me out. And I won't rest"--and he swore anoath quite unfit for boyish ears--"till I've hunted you down!"

"No one will come within a mile of the Deil's Den, " said the unruffledTinker. "It's haunted by a headless woman and a redheaded man with histhroat cut. But perhaps you've seen them. Besides, I've told themthat there's a man in brown who shouts and waves, and then disappearswhen anyone comes to the tower. Why, if they see you, they'll run fortheir lives. " He spoke with a convicting quietness. 

Mr. Lambert doubled up over the parapet in a gasping anguish. 

"You're not going to leave here till you give me a letter for yourclerk, telling him to hand over Sir Tancred Beauleigh's promissorynote, " said Tinker. 

Mr. Lambert rejected the suggestion in extravagant language. 

"You bandy words with me!" cried the Baron Hildebrand Anne ofArdrochan. "Lambert of London, beware! Think, rash rogue, on yourgrinders! Hans and Jorgan, prepare the red-hot pincers! You have aquarter of an hour to reflect, Lambert. "

He flung himself off his pony, tethered it, strode down to the springwhich trickled out of the hillside some forty yards away, and came backbearing a big jug full of water. 

Mr. Lambert watched him in a bursting fury, at whiles scanning theempty hills with a raging eye. Suddenly light dawned on him: "Are youthe boy who stole the flying-machine?" he cried. 

"You mind your own business!" said Tinker tartly; it was his cherishedbelief that he had borrowed the flying-machine. 

Mr. Lambert understood at last with whom he had to deal; and theknowledge was not cheering. His angry stomach clamoured at him to cometo terms, but his greed was still too strong for it. 

"The time is up, Lambert of London!" said Tinker presently, verysternly. "Will you ransom your base carcase?"

The money-lender turned his back on him with a lofty dignity. 

"Ha! ha! Hunger shall tame that proud spirit!" said the Baron ofArdrochan. 

Suddenly the money-lender heard the door opened, and he dashed for theladder. He scrambled down it in time to hear the key turn again, butthe jug of water stood inside. He took it up and drank a deep draught. He had not known that he was so thirsty, never dreamed that water couldbe so appetising. He heard Tinker summon his men, and when he cameback to the top of the tower, he was riding away. He watched him gowith a sinking heart, and, since he was so empty, it had a good depthto sink to. Twice he opened his mouth to call him back, but greedprevailed. 

The day wore wearily through. His spoilt stomach was now raving at himin a savage frenzy. Now and again he shouted, but less often as theafternoon drew on, for he knew surely that it was hopeless. 

As the dusk fell, he found himself remembering Tinker's words about theheadless woman and the redheaded man, and began to curse his folly innot having come to terms. At times his hunger was a veritable anguish. This night was a thousand times worse than the night before. Hishunger gave him little rest, and he awoke from his brief sleep in fitsof abject terror, fancying that the redheaded man was staring inthrough the window; he saw his gashed throat quite plainly. He grewcolder and colder, for he was too faint with hunger to stamp about thetop of the tower. Later he must have grown delirious, for he saw theheadless woman climbing up the ladder to the second story. It musthave been delirium, for the figure he saw wore an ordinary nightrail, whereas the lady of the legend wore a russet gown. Some years later, as it seemed to him, the dawn came. It grew warmer; and he huddledinto the pile of heather and slept. 

He was awakened by a shout of "Lambert of London, awake!" and totteringto the window, groaning, he beheld a cold grouse, a three-pound chunkof venison, two loaves, and a small bottle of whiskey neatly set out ona napkin. His mouth opened and shut, and opened and shut. 

"The letter, rogue! Are you going to give me the letter?" shouted theBaron Hildebrand Anne fiercely. 

Mr. Lambert tore himself from the window, and flung himself down on theheather, sobbing. "Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!" he moaned, "Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!--and costs!" Suddenly his witscleared . . . What a fool he'd been! . . . Why shouldn't he give theboy the letter, and wire countermanding his instructions? . . . Oh, hehad been a fool!

He hurried to the window, and cried, "Yes, yes, I'll give it you! Giveme the paper. I've got a fountain pen!"

"You'd better have a drink of whiskey first; your hand will be tooshaky to write your usual handwriting, " said the thoughtful Tinker, handing him the bottle along with the note-paper. 

Mr. Lambert took a drink, and indeed it steadied his hand. Sure thathe could make it useless, he wrote a careful and complete letter, lyingat full length on the floor, his only possible writing table. 

He scrambled up, and thrust it through the window, crying, "Here youare! Let me out!"

Tinker spelled the letter carefully through, and put it into anotherletter he had already prepared to send to Sir Tancred's solicitors. Then he handed the money-lender a thick venison sandwich, cut while hehad been writing. 

The tears ran down Mr. Lambert's face as his furious jaws bit into it. 

"Don't wolf it!" said Tinker sternly. "Starving men should feedslowly. "

Mr. Lambert had no restraint; he did wolf it. Then he asked for more. 

"In a quarter of an hour, " said Tinker, and he gave him nothing soonerfor all his clamorous entreaties. 

After a second sandwich the money-lender was another man, and Tinker, seeing that he was not ill, said, "I must be going; I have a long rideto post this letter"; and he began to hand in the rest of the foodthrough the window. 

"Be careful not to eat it all up at once, " he said. "It's got to lastyou till to-morrow. "

"What's this! What's this!" cried Mr. Lambert. "You promised torelease me when you got the letter!"

"When I get the promissory note, or when my father's solicitor gets it. I've told him to wire. "

The money-lender snarled like a dog; his brilliant idea had proved ofno good. He stormed and stormed; Tinker was cheerful, but indifferent. He thrust a rug he had brought with him through the window, summonedhis phantom band, and rode away. 

Mr. Lambert spent a gloomy, but, thanks to the soothing of his stomach, a not uncomfortable day. He was very sad that he had lost the chanceof swindling Sir Tancred Beauleigh out of 1450 pounds; and his sadnessand an occasional twinge of rheumatism filled him with thoughts ofrevenge. Slowly he formed a plan of disabling Tinker by an unexpectedkick when he opened the door, thrashing him within an inch of his life, riding off on his pony, and leaving him helpless, to starve or not, according as he might be found. This plan was a real comfort to him. He passed an unhaunted night; and next morning Tinker brought him morefood. For some hours he played at robber baron, and now and again heldconversations about the money-lender with his band. None of themcontained compliments. Mr. Lambert watched him with a sulky malignity, and matured his plan. 

The next morning he awoke late, but very cheerful at the prospect offreedom and revenge. He came to the window rubbing his hands joyfully, and saw a little parcel hanging from the bars. He opened it, and foundthe key of the door, a little compass, and a letter. Swearing at hisvanished chance of revenge, he opened it; it ran:

Fly at once. Steer N. E. For Tulyspathe. Hamish believes you areuncanny, and has molded a silver bullet out of a half crown to lay yourresless spirrit with. His rifel is oldfashuned, but he will not missand waist the half crown he is so thriffty. 

A SEKRET WORNER. 

Mr. Lambert steered N. E. At once; he went not like the wind, but asmuch like the wind as his soft, short legs would carry him. He scannedevery bush and gully with fearful eyes; he gave every thicket a wideberth, and every time he saw Hamish, and he saw him behind a thousandbushes and boulders, he shouted: "I'm Mr. Lambert from London, I'm nota spirit!"

It was, indeed, a wasted and dirty money-lender who reached Tullispaithlate in the day. He had but one thought in his mind, to flyimmediately after dinner from this expansive and terrifying country. He wired to his guests not to come; he discharged his servants; and ashe crossed the border next day, he bade farewell to the stern and wildCaledonia in a most impressive malediction. 

When Sir Tancred Beauleigh received his lawyer's letter containing thepromissory note, he was not a little bewildered; Tinker was quick toenlighten him; and he heard that angel child's explanation of hisapplication of mediaeval German methods to a modern monetary difficultywith a grateful astonishment. 

CHAPTER NINE

TINKER INTERVENES

Sir Tancred lingered on at Ardrochan Lodge, for he saw that in thatstrong air Tinker was losing the last of the delicacy which had beenthe effect of his attack of scarlet fever. And when Lord Crosland andtwo other men joined him there, he was very well contented. The othersshared his content; Tinker, more and more the Baron Hildebrand ofArdrochan, was quite happy, and there they stayed till the Scotchwinter came down on them in all its fell severity. 

Then they moved southwards to Melton Mowbray, and hunted till the frostput an end to that sport. On the third night of the frost, as theywere cutting for partners for a fresh rubber of bridge, Lord Croslandsaid: "I tell you what, Beauleigh, the sooner we get out of thisweather the better. Let's be off to Monte Carlo, make up a pool, andtry that system of yours. "

"It's a very good idea, " said Sir Tancred. "The only question iswhether the English winter isn't good for Tinker. It's hardening, youknow. "

"Always Tinker, " said Lord Crosland with a smile. "I tell you what, Nature ought to have made you a woman: what a splendid mother you'dhave made!"

"I think she'd have found she'd made a pretty bad mistake, " said SirTancred. 

"Besides, " said Lord Crosland, "the Admirable is as hard as a tenpennynail as it is. I've never seen the little beggar tired yet; and I'veseen him at the end of some hardish days. "

"Well, we'll see, " said Sir Tancred. "We're partners. " And the gamewent on. 

Next morning he asked Tinker if he would like to go to the south ofFrance, or stay and be hardened. Tinker thought a while, made up hismind that his father would like to go to the South of France, and said, "I think I'm hard enough, sir, --to go on with. Besides, "When the wind is in the East It's neither fit for man nor beast. 

In fact it shrivels me up. I should like some sunshine. "

"Then we will go, " said Sir Tancred. 

Accordingly, the middle of the next week found them lodged at the Hôteldes Princes, Monte Carlo, enjoying the nourishing sunshine of theRiviera. At least Tinker was enjoying it; the demands of a systemrequired his father and Lord Crosland to spend most of their day in thedarker, though hardly cooler air of the Temple of Fortune. But thesystem went well, and they did not repine. 

The first time he dined in the restaurant of the hotel, Sir Tancred wasdisagreeably surprised to see sitting at a neighbouring table hisloathed uncle, Sir Everard Wigram. They had met now and again duringthe past nine years; but as such a meeting had always resulted in somesevere wound to the Baronet's dignity, he shunned his nephew like thepest, and abused him from a distance. At the same table sat acharming, peach-complexioned English girl. After a careful scrutiny ofher, Sir Tancred decided that she must be his cousin Claire, SirEverard's eldest child, and admitted with a very grudging reluctancethat even the rule that thorns do not produce grapes is proved byexceptions. The third person at their table was a handsome young man, with glossy black hair, a high-coloured, florid face, and a rovingblack eye. Sir Tancred's gaze rested on him with a malicioussatisfaction; he knew all about Mr. Arthur Courtnay. 

Presently Lord Crosland's eye fell on that table. "Hullo!" he saidsharply. "How on earth comes that bounder Courtnay to be dining withthe Wigrams?"

"Like to like, " said Sir Tancred with a surprising, cheerful animation. 

A few mornings later Sir Tancred, Tinker, and Lord Crosland weresitting in the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, and on a bench hard bysat Claire and Courtnay. He was bending over her, talking volubly, ina loverlike attitude, exceedingly offensive in so public a place. ToSir Tancred's shrewd eyes he seemed to be deliberately advertisingtheir intimacy. She was gazing dreamily before her with happy eyes, over the sea. Lord Crosland grew more and more fidgety; and at last hesaid hotly, "You ought to interfere!"

"Not I!" said Sir Tancred. "I'm not going to interfere. I have enoughto do to keep Tinker out of mischief without acting as dry-nurse to thechildren of Uncle Bumpkin. "

"But hang it all, the man's a regular bad hat!" said Lord Crosland. "He was advised to resign from the Bridge Club, and I happen to knowthat he is actually wanted in London about a cheque. "

"And in Paris, Berlin, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda-Pesth. Men whospeak French as well as he does always are, " said Sir Tancred. "Whichreminds me, Tinker, your accent is getting too good. The honestEnglish tongue was never made to speak French like a Frenchman. Let upon it a little. "

"Yes, sir, " said Hildebrand Anne. 

"But you ought to do something, don't you know?" said Lord Crosland. "The child's very pretty, and nice, and sweet, and all that. It wouldbe no end of a shame if she came to grief with that bounder Courtnay. "

"I won't stir a finger, " said Sir Tancred firmly, "for two reasons. One, Bumpkin Wigram helped my stepmother spoil my early life; two, ifthis bounder Courtnay has got round Bumpkin words would be wasted. Bumpkin is as dense and as obstinate as any clodhopper who ever chawedbacon. "

"But she's a pretty child and worth saving, " said Lord Crosland. "Whatdo you think, Tinker?"

"I should think she was rather inexperienced, " said Hildebrand Anne, with admirable judgment. 

"Solomon, va!" said Lord Crosland, clutching the boy's ribs, anddrawing from him a sudden yell. 

"Well, come along; we have a hard day's work before us, " said SirTancred; and the two of them rose and strolled off towards the Templeof Fortune. 

They left Tinker sitting still and thoughtful, the prey of a case ofconscience. He knew the story of his father's marriage, his separationfrom his wife by the action of Lady Beauleigh and Sir Everard. He hadbeen trained to detest them, and to believe any revenge on them a mereact of justice. But his dead mother was but a shadowy figure to him, and this girl was very charming, and sweet, and kind, for he had had along talk with her one evening, and she had shared a box of chocolateswith him. Did those chocolates constitute the tie of bread and saltbetween them which his father had taught him was so binding? He wishedto help the girl, therefore he made up his mind that they did. With asigh of satisfaction he rose, sauntered up to the absorbed lovers, andbegan to parade up and down before them. His nearness put something ofa check on the eloquence of Mr. Arthur Courtnay, and every timeTinker's shadow fell on them he looked up and frowned. 

At last he said, "Go away, my lad, and play somewhere else. "

"I don't want any cheek from a hairdresser's assistant, " said Tinkerwith blithe readiness. 

There is nothing so wounding as the truth, and Courtnay knew that hewas weak about the hair; he never could bring himself to keep itproperly cropped; it was so glossy. His florid face became quicklyflorider, and he cried, "You impudent young dog!"

"Do not speak to me until you've been introduced. You're alwaysforcing your acquaintance upon someone, Roland Macassar, " said Tinker. 

It was again the wounding truth; and Courtnay sprang up and dashed forhim. Tinker bolted round a group of shrubs, Courtnay after him. Finding him unpleasantly quick on his feet Tinker bolted into theshrubs. Courtnay plunged after him right into a well-grown specimen ofthe flowering cactus. It brought him up short. He began to swear, andthough he could have sworn with equal fluency and infelicity in French, German, or Italian, in the depth of his genuine emotion he returned tothe tongue of his boyhood, and swore in English. When he came out ofthe shrubs, adorned on one side of his face and both hands with neatlittle beads of blood, he found that Claire had risen from her seat, and was looking shocked, surprised, and worst of all, disgusted. Hedid not mend matters much by mixing his apologies with threats ofvengeance on Tinker; but his temper, once out of control, was noteasily curbed. He made a most unfortunate impression on her; the beadsof blood scarcely excited her pity at all. 

Meanwhile Tinker had taken advantage of his pursuer's meeting with thecactus to leave the terrace swiftly. He went back to the Hôtel desPrinces, and took out Blazer for a walk, and as he walked, hisseraph-like face glowed with the pleasantest complacency. Blazer didnot like Monte Carlo at all; for him there was no sport and littleexercise in it; Tinker liked it very much. He had made many friends init, and enjoyed many amusements, the chief a pleasant, perpetual waragainst the heavy, liveried guardians of the gambling rooms. It washis opinion that people came to Monte Carlo to gamble; it was theopinion of the Société des Bains de Mer de Monte Carlo that childrenought not to be admitted to the tables. They asserted their opinion;and Tinker asserted his, with the result that his bolt into the Sallesde Jeu and his difficult extrication from them by the brawny, butliveried officials was fast becoming one of the events of the day. Sometimes Tinker would make his bolt from the outermost portal;sometimes, with the decorous air of one going to church, he would jointhe throng filing into the concert room, and bolt from the midst of it. The process of expulsion was always conducted with the greatestcourtesy on either side; for his bolt had become an agreeable varietyin the monotonous lives of the guardians; they never knew when or inwhat fashion it would come next. 

Now he had another occupation, the shadowing of Mr. Arthur Courtnay. That florid Adonis never grew used to hearing a gentle voice singingsoftly:

 "Get your hair cut! Get your hair cut!"

or, "Oh, Tatcho! Oh, Tatcho! Rejoice, ye bald and weary men! You'll soon be regular hairy men! Sing! Rejoice! Let your voices go! Sprinkle some on your cranium! What, ho! Tatcho!"

The poetry was vulgar; but long ago his insight into the heart of manhad taught Tinker to attack the vulgar with the only weapon effectiveagainst them, vulgarity. 

Sooner or later, whether he was walking, or sitting with Claire, thosevulgar strains would be wafted to Mr. Arthur Courtnay's ears, and theyinjured his cause. They kept alive in the girl's mind an uneasy doubtwhether her father was right in asserting Arthur Courtnay to be one ofthe nicest fellows he had ever met, a veritable gentleman of the oldschool, an opinion founded on the fact that Courtnay was the only manwho had ever given two hours' close attention to his views onProtection. 

But, for all this lurking doubt, Courtnay's influence over her wasgrowing stronger and stronger. He was forever appealing to her pity bytelling her of the hard and lonely life he had lived since his father, a poor gentleman of good family, had died in exile at Boulogne. Really, his father, a stout but impecunious horse-dealer of the name ofBudgett, certainly in exile at Boulogne owing to a standing differencewith the bankruptcy laws of his country, was alive still. But Arthurwas very fond of himself, and once in the mood of self-pity, he couldinvent pathetic anecdote after pathetic anecdote of his privationswhich would have touched the heart of a hardened grandmother, much moreof a susceptible girl. She fell into the way of calling him "KingArthur" to herself. 

He devoted himself to winning her with an unrelaxing energy, for shehad forty thousand pounds of her own. 

But he cared very little for her, and sometimes he found hislove-making hard work. She was not the type of girl whom he admired;her delicacy irritated him; he preferred what the poet has called "anarmful of girl, " buxom and hearty. Often, therefore, when she had goneto bed, he would refresh himself by a vigorous flirtation with MadameSéraphine de Belle-Île, a brisk and vivacious young widow, who affectedalways gowns of a peculiarly vivid and searching scarlet. And thisself-indulgence proved in the end the ruin of his fine scheme ofestablishing himself in life on a sound monetary basis. 

Tinker was about to get into bed one evening, and found himself slowabout it. His conscience was worrying him about some duty left undone, and he could not remember what the duty was. Of a sudden his terribleomission flashed into his mind: in his patient application to the taskof shadowing and annoying Mr. Arthur Courtnay he had forgotten hisdaily bolt into the gambling rooms. Reluctant, but firm, he slipped onhis pumps and went downstairs. Four minutes later the feverishgamblers in the Salles de Jeu were gratified by the sight of aseraph-like child in blue silk pyjamas who flew gaily round the tablespursued by two stout and joyfully excited Southern Europeans in livery. The pursuit was lively, but short, for Tinker ran into the arms of awily croupier who had slipped from his seat, and unexpectedly joinedthe chase. He was handed over to his pursuers and conducted from therooms, amidst the plaudits of the gamblers. He bade good-night to hisliveried friends on the threshold of the Casino, congratulating them ontheir increasing efficiency in "Le Sport, " and warm, but happy with thesense of one more duty done, he strolled into the gardens to cool. 

[Illustration: The pursuit was lively, but short. ]

He was noiseless in his pumps, and coming quietly round a clump ofshrubs, he caught Mr. Arthur Courtnay in the act of trying to kissMadame de Belle-Île with a fervour only justified by the most romanticattachment. 

"Oh!" said Tinker reproachfully; and even more reproachfully he beganto sing:

"Coupez vos cheveux! Coupez vos cheveux!"

With an execration which was by no means muttered, Mr. Arthur Courtnaysprang up. Tinker darted away, and Courtnay followed. They peltedthrough the gardens, Courtnay gaining; but as he passed a couple ofgendarmes standing in front of the Casino, Tinker yelled: "Gare levoyou! Gare le voyou!" Instinctively the gendarmes flung themselvesbefore Courtnay, and his impetus brought the three of them to theground with some violence. 

With one fleeting glance behind, Tinker scudded on to the hotel, andonce safely in his room abandoned himself without restraint toconvulsions of inextinguishable delight. When he recovered hishabitual calm, he saw that Fortune had given him a weapon with which hemight save his cousin. 

Mr. Arthur Courtnay and the gendarmes picked themselves up; he made hisexplanations, and wisely compensated them for the bruises they hadreceived in his fall. Then giving no more thought to Madame deBelle-Île, who sat awaiting him eagerly, he returned gloomily to hishotel, reflecting on the carelessness which had delivered him into thehands of an indefatigable imp of mischief. The upshot of hisreflection was a resolve to press his wooing to an immediateconclusion. The next day and the day after, therefore, he redoubledhis lamentations that the smallness of his means prevented him fromgoing, as his natural honesty dictated, straight to Claire's father, and asking for her hand, and protested that he dare not risk the lossof her, which would work irreparable havoc in his life. It was onlyanother step to suggest that, once they were married, her father'sstrong liking for him would soon bring about their forgiveness. Hepressed and pressed these points, pausing at times to declare thevastness of his affection for her, until at last, against her betterjudgment, and in spite of a lurking distrust of him, of which she couldnot rid herself, she yielded to his persistence and the overwhelminginfluence of his stronger personality, and consented to elope with him. 

Two days later, as Tinker, Sir Tancred, and Lord Crosland were atdéjeuner, Claire and Courtnay passed them on their way to the gardens. 

"I shouldn't wonder if those two ran away together, " said LordCrosland; and his cheerful face fell gloomy. 

"They have the air, " said Sir Tancred coolly. 

"Look here, you ought to interfere, don't you know? You ought, really, " said Lord Crosland, who had fallen under the fascination ofClaire's fresh charm. 

"Why don't _you_?" said Sir Tancred. 

"Well, " said Lord Crosland uncomfortably, "I did go to Sir Everard, andtell him to keep an eye on Courtnay; and he as good as told me to goto--Jericho. "

"Just like Bumpkin, " said Sir Tancred contemptuously. "I'll bet you afiver they bolt to-night--by the train _des décavés_. "

"I don't want to bet about it, " said Lord Crosland very gloomily. 

Their talk made Tinker thoughtful. It would have been easy enough tosettle the matter by revealing Courtnay's injudicious display ofaffection towards Madame de Belle-Île, but that was not Tinker's way. He had a passion for keeping things in his own hands, and a pretty eyefor dramatic possibilities. Besides, he had taken a great dislike toCourtnay, and was eager to make his discomfiture signal. 

At half-past four in the afternoon he knocked at the door of Madame deBelle-Île's suite of rooms, and her maid conducted so prominent afigure in Monte Carlo society straight to her mistress. 

Madame de Belle-Île, having just changed from a bright scarlet costumeinto a brighter, was taking her afternoon tea before returning to thetables. 

"Bonjour, Monsieur le Vaurien, " she said with a bright smile. "Haveyou at last succeeded in gambling?"

"No; it would be no pleasure to me to gamble unless your bright eyeswere shining on the table, " said Tinker with a happy recollection of acompliment he had overheard. 

"Farceur! Va!" said the lady with a pleased smile. 

"I came to ask if you would like to sup with Mr. Courtnay to-night?"said the unscrupulous Tinker. 

"Ah, le bel Artur!" cried the lady. "But with pleasure. Where?"

"Oh, in the restaurant of the hotel, " said Tinker. 

The lady's face fell a little; she would have preferred to sup in aless public place, one more suited to protestations of devotion. 

"At about eleven?" she said. 

"At half past, " said Tinker. "And I think he'd like a note from youaccepting--it--it would please him, I'm sure. He--he--could take itout, and look at it, you know. " It was a little clumsy; but, though hehad thought it out carefully, it was the best that he could do. 

"You think so? What a lot we know about these things!" said Madame deBelle-Île with a pleased laugh; and she went forthwith to theécritoire, and in ten minutes composed the tenderest of billets-doux. Tinker received it from her with a very lively satisfaction, and aftera few bonbons, and a desultory chat with her, escorted her down to theCasino. 

The rest of the day seemed very long to his impatience, while toClaire, harassed by vague doubt and real dread, it seemed exceedinglyshort. When the hour for action came, she braced herself, by aneffort, to play her part; but it was with a sinking heart that shestole, thickly veiled, and bearing a small hand-bag, out of the hoteland down to the station. She was far too troubled to notice that shewas followed by two guardian angels in the shape of a small boy and abrindled bull-terrier. 

Courtnay met her on the top of the steps which lead down to thestation; and when she found him in a most inharmonious mood of triumph, she began, even so early, to repent of her rashness. Then went down tothe station as the train _des décavés_, the train of the stony-broke, steamed in; and they settled themselves in an empty first-classcompartment. Her heart seemed to sink to her shoes as she felt thetrain move. Then the door opened, and, hauling the panting Blazer bythe scruff of his neck, Tinker tumbled into the carriage. 

Claire gave a great gasp of relief: the sight of him gave her a fainthope of escape; his presence was a respite. Tinker lifted Blazer on tothe seat between him and Courtnay, crying cheerfully, "I thought I'djust missed you! I've got a note for you from Madame de Belle-Île, andI knew she'd never forgive me if I didn't give it to you!"

Courtnay's florid face had already lost a little colour at the mereintrusion of his inveterate persecutor that alone presaged disaster; athis words his eyes displayed a lively, but uncomfortable tendency tostart out of his head. "I don't know what you mean!" he stuttered. "Idon't know Madame de Belle-Île!"

"You don't know Madame de Belle-Île!" cried Tinker in well-affectedamazement and surprise. "Why, only three nights ago I saw you tryingto kiss her in the gardens!"

"It's a lie!" roared Courtnay. 

"The Beauleighs don't lie, " said Tinker curtly. 

For the moment, breathless with rage, Courtnay could find no words, andClaire, very pale, stared from one to the other with startled, searching eyes. 

"At any rate, here's her letter, " said Tinker stiffly, holding it outover Blazer's back. 

Claire stooped swiftly forward and took the letter. "I am the personto read that letter, " she said with a spirit Courtnay had never dreamedof in her. "It is my right!"

She tore it open, and had just time to read "Mon Artur adoré, " whenCourtnay, with a growl of rage, snatched it from her, and tore it intopieces, crying, "I will not have you victimised by this mischievousyoung dog! It's an absurd imposition! I claim your trust!"

But the doubt of him which had lurked always in the bottom of Claire'sheart had sprung to sudden strength; she looked at him with eyes thatwere veritably chilling in their coldness, and, turning to Tinker, shesaid, "Is it true?"

"It is--on my honour, " said Tinker. 

There was a quivering movement in Claire's throat as she choked down asob: she rose, and walked down the carriage to the seat oppositeTinker, farthest from Courtnay. Slowly collecting his wits, Courtnaygrew eloquent and ran through the whole gamut of the emotions proper tothe occasion: honourable indignation, and passion so deep as to beready to forgive even this heart-breaking distrust. She listened tohim in silence with an unchanging face, her lips set thin, her sombreeyes gazing straight before her. 

Suddenly despair seized Courtnay, and he gave the rein to the furywhich he had been repressing with such difficulty. "At any rate, I'llbe even with you, you young dog!" he cried savagely. "I'm going tothrow you out of the train!"

"Oh, no; you're not!" said Tinker pleasantly. "By the time you'vethrown Blazer out there won't be enough of you left to throw me out. "

Courtnay jumped up with a demonstrative hostility; Tinker hissed; withan angry snarl Blazer drew in his tongue and put out his teeth, andCourtnay sat down. For a while he was silent, seeking for an object tovent his rage on; they could hear him grinding his teeth. Then heburst out at Claire, taunting, jeering, and abusing. 

"That's enough!" cried Tinker angrily. "Pstt! Pstt! At him, Blazer!At him!"

For a few seconds Courtnay tried fighting, but his upbringing in Francehad not fitted him to cope with a heavy bull-terrier. When the trainran into the station at Nice, he was out on the footboard, on thefurther side, yelling lustily. 

"Come on quick, before there's a fuss!" cried Tinker, catching upClaire's handbag, and opening the door. They jumped down, Tinkerwhistled Blazer, and the three of them bustled along the platform. 

"I've no ticket!" gasped Claire, who every moment expected Courtnay tobe upon them. 

"I thought of that! I've got one for you!" said Tinker; and beforeCourtnay had quite realised that the train had stopped, they were outof the station. 

Tinker hurried his charge along the line of fiacres, and stopped at avictoria and pair. 

"Holà, cocher!" he said. "From the Couronne d'Or? Wired for to drivea lady and a boy to Monte Carlo?"

"Oui, monsieur!" cried the driver, gaily cracking his whip. 

They scrambled in; and the horses stepped out. Tinker knelt on theseat, looking back over the hood. They were almost out of sight of thestation when he fancied that he saw a hatless figure run out of it intothe road. It might have been only fancy; they were so far off he couldnot trust his sight. Three minutes later he dropped down on the seatwith a sigh of relief. "That's all right!" he said. 

"Oh, " said Claire, "how can I ever thank you? You've saved me--oh, what haven't you saved me from!"

"A bad hat--a regular bad hat, " said Tinker gravely. 

"You wonderful boy!" she cried, threw her arms around his neck andkissed him. 

Tinker wriggled uncomfortably. He often wished that there were notquite so many women in the world who insisted on embracing him. 

"Well, you're a kind of cousin, you see, " he said by way of defence. 

After a while Claire cooled from her excitement to the coldunderstanding of her folly. Then she grew, very naturally, bitterlyunhappy, and to his horror Tinker heard the sound of a stifled sob. 

"I think, if you'll excuse me, " he said hurriedly, "I'll go to sleep. "And, happily for his comfort, his pretence at slumber was soon areality. It was no less a comfort to Claire: she had her cry out, andfelt the better for it. 

When the carriage drew up before the Hôtel des Princes, they found anexcited group about the doorway. Sir Everard Wigram was the centre ofit, raging and lamenting. He had missed his daughter, and with hisusual good sense was taking all the world into his confidence. LordCrosland and Sir Tancred stood on one side; and it is to be feared thatSir Tancred was enjoying exceedingly the distress of his enemy. 

"Leave the bag to me! I'll give it to you to-morrow, " whispered Tinkeras the horses stopped. "Say we've been for a drive. I shan't split!"

As Claire stepped out of the carriage, her father rushed up to her, crying, "What does this mean? Where have you been? What have you beendoing?"

"Oh, " said Claire coolly, raising her voice that all the curious groupmight hear, "I've been for a drive with Cousin Hildebrand. I couldn'tfind you to tell you I was going. " And taking out her purse, shestepped forward to pay the coachman. 

Tinker, keeping the bag as low as he could, slipped through the group. Lord Crosland hurried after him, and caught him by the shoulder. "Where have you really been?" he said. "What happened? Where'sCourtnay?"

"I've been for a drive with my cousin, " said Tinker, looking up at himwith eyes of a limpid frankness. 

"Ah, let's see what you've got in that bag. "

"Can't. It's locked, " said Tinker shortly. 

"Well, never mind. I owe you fifty pound, " said Lord Crosland joyfully. 

Tinker stopped short and his face grew very bright. "Do you?" he said. "I think I should like it in gold--a fiver at a time. "

CHAPTER TEN

TINKER'S FOUNDLING

On the following afternoon Tinker met Madame de Belle-Île hurrying outof the hotel in a scarlet travelling costume. 

At the sight of him she stopped short and cried, "Have you heard thesad news?"

"No; what sad news?" said Tinker. 

"About poor Monsieur Courtnay! He has had an accident; he is laid upat Nice, ill among strangers! I go; I fly to nurse him!"

"Nurse that brute!" said Tinker quickly. "That--that is a waste ofkindness. "

Madame de Belle-Île's face fell, and then flushed with anger. "You area horrid and detestable boy!" she cried angrily. 

"Oh, no! I'm not! It's quite true, " said Tinker quietly, and helooked at her seriously. He wanted to warn her; then he saw that hecould not do so without revealing Claire's secret. "I wish I couldtell you about him, " he went on. "But I can't. He really is a sweep!"

"You are an impertinent little wretch!" she said, and left him. 

"Au revoir, " said Tinker gently. 

But she only tossed her head, and hurried on. Yet Tinker's honestexpression of opinion had impressed her: she had a belief in theinstinct of children generally and, like most people who came intocontact with him, she had a strong belief in the instinct of Tinker. She tried to forget his words; but they kept recurring to her, and inspite of herself, unconsciously, they put her on her guard. 

Tinker watched her out of sight, then he had half a thought of tellingClaire that she had gone to Courtnay, doubtless at his summons. But hesaw quickly that there was no need, and dismissed the thought from hismind. Also, he kept out of his cousin's way for some days; he had afeeling that, --however grateful she might be to him, the sight of him, reminding her of how badly Courtnay had behaved, would be unpleasant toher. 

However, he watched her from a distance, and saw that she was pale andlistless. Then he saw with great pleasure that Lord Crosland contrivedto be with her a good deal, that he even neglected the system for her. But for all this pleasure, he was not quite easy in his mind; theknowledge that he had done his grand-uncle Bumpkin the service ofsaving him from such a son-in-law as Courtnay was a discomfort to him:he felt that this was a matter which must be set right, and he kept hiseyes open for a chance. He looked, too, for the return of Courtnay andMadame de Belle-Île; but the days passed and they did not return. 

One morning he found himself in an unhappy mood. It seemed to him thathis wits had come to a standstill; for three days no new mischief hadcome the way of his idle hands, and his regular, dally, mischievouspractices had grown so regular as almost to have acquired thetastelessness of duties. The peculiar brightness and gaiety of MonteCarlo life had begun to pall upon him. Loneliness was eating into hissoul; for of all the French boys who paraded the gardens of the Templeof Fortune, he could make nothing. Their costumes, which were ofvelvet and satin and lace, revolted him; their lack of spirit, theirdistaste for violent movement, their joy in parading their revoltingcostumes filled him with wondering contempt. As for the little Frenchgirls, he was at any time uninterested in girls; and thesespindle-shanked precocities walked on two-inch heels, and tried tofascinate him with the graces of mature coquettes. His carefulpoliteness was hard put to it to conceal his distaste for theirconversation. Possibly he was hankering after a healthier life; but atany rate he, who was generally so full of energy, had mooned listlesslyabout the gardens all the morning, with a far-away look in his eyes, and the air of a strayed seraph. 

During his mooning about he had passed several times a little girl wholooked English. She sat on a seat in the far corner--a strange, shy, timid child, watching with a half-frightened wonder thestrikingly-dressed women and children who strolled up and down, chattering shrilly. He gave her but indifferent glances as he passed;but, thanks to his father's careful training of his natural gift ofobservation, the indifferent glance of that child of the world took inmore of a fellow-creature than most men's careful scrutiny. He sawthat she was frail and big-eyed, that her frock was ill-fitting andshabby, her hat shabbier, her shoes ready-made, that she wore nogloves, and that her mass of silky hair owed its unsuccessful attemptsat tidiness to her own brushing. He summed her up as that archetype ofpatience, the gambler's neglected child. 

Just before he went to his déjeuner, he saw that she was sitting therestill. He took that meal with his father and Lord Crosland; andinstead of hurrying off, directly he had eaten his dessert, to somepressing and generally mischievous business, he sat listening to theirtalk over their coffee and cigars, and only left them at the doors ofthe Casino. He strolled along the terrace, moody and disconsolate, able to think of nothing to amuse him, and, as he came to the end ofthe gardens, he saw a group of French children gathered in front of theseat on which the little girl was sitting, and, coming nearer, he heardjeering cries of "Sale Anglaise! Sale Anglaise!"

In a flash Tinker's face shone with a very ecstasy of pure delight, andhe swooped down on the group. The child was clutching the arm of theseat, and staring at her tormentors with parted lips and terrifiedeyes. For their part, they were enjoying themselves to the full. Theyhad found a game which afforded them the maximum of pleasure, with theminimum of effort; and just as Tinker swooped down, a cropped andbullet-headed boy in blue velvet threw a handful of gravel into herface. She threw up her hands and burst into tears; the children'slaughter rose to a shrill yell; and with extreme swiftness Tinkercaught the bullet-headed boy a ringing box on the right ear and anotheron the left. The boy squealed, turned, clawing and kicking, on Tinker, and, in ten seconds of crowded life, had learned the true significanceof those cryptic terms an upper-cut on the potato-trap, a hook on thejaw, a rattler on the conk, and a buster on the mark. He lay down onthe path to digest the lesson, and his little friends fled, squealing, away. 

The little girl slipped off the seat and said "Thank you, " between twosobs. 

Tinker's face was one bright, seraphic smile as he took off his hat, and, with an admirable bow, said, "May I take you to your people?"

The bullet-headed boy rose to his feet and staggered away. 

"Uncle's still in that big house, " said the little girl, strivingbravely to check her sobs. 

"That's a nuisance, " said Tinker thoughtfully; "for we can't get athim. "

"I think he's forgotten all about me. He often does, " said the littlegirl, without any resentment; and she dusted the gravel off her frock. 

"I might bolt in and remind him. "

"They won't let us in--only grown-ups, " said the little girl. "Uncletried to get them to let me in; but they wouldn't. "

"They're used to letting me in, " said Tinker--"and hauling me outagain, " he added. "It brightens them up. You tell me what he's like. "

Being a girl, the child was able to describe her uncle accurately: butwhen she had done, Tinker shook his head:

"He must be just like a dozen other Englishmen in there, " he said. "And they wouldn't give me time to ask each one if he were your uncle. "

The little girl sighed, and said, "It doesn't matter, thank you, " and, sitting down again on the seat, resumed her patient waiting, droopingforward with eyes rather dim. 

Tinker studied her face, and his keen eye told him what was wrong. 

"Have you had déjeuner?" he said sharply. 

"No-o-o, " said the little girl reluctantly. 

"Then you've had nothing since your coffee this morning?"

"No, but it doesn't matter. Uncle is rather forgetful, " said thelittle girl, but her lips moved at the thought of food as a hungrychild's will. 

"This won't do at all! Come along with me. It's rather late, butwe'll find something. "

Her face brightened for a moment; but she shook her head, and said, "No, I mustn't go away from here. Uncle might come back, and he wouldbe so angry if he had to look for me. "

Tinker shrugged his shoulders, turned on his heel, and was gone. Shelooked after him sadly. She would have liked him to stay a littlelonger; it was so nice to talk to an English boy after ten days in thisstrange land; and he seemed such a nice boy. But she only drooped alittle more, and stared out over the bright sea with misty eyes, composing herself to endure her hunger. 

Tinker went swiftly to the restaurant of the Hôtel des Princes, wherethe waiters greeted him with affectionate grins, and, addressinghimself to the manager, set forth his new friend's plight, and hiswishes. The manager fell in with them on the instant, only too pleasedto have the chance of obliging his most popular customer; and, in fiveminutes, Tinker left the restaurant followed by a waiter bearing a trayof dainties, all carefully chosen to tempt the appetite of a child. They took their way to the gardens, and the little girl brightened upat the sight of the returning Tinker. But when the waiter set the trayon the seat, she flushed painfully, and though she could not draw herhungry eyes away from the food, she stammered, "T-t-thank you verym-m-much. B-b-but I haven't any money. "

Tinker gave the waiter a couple of francs, and bade him come for thetray in half an hour. Then he said cheerfully, "That's all right. Thefood's paid for; and whether you eat it or not makes no difference. Infact, you may as well. "

The child looked from his face to the food and back again, wavering;then said, with a little gasp, "Oh, I am so hungry. "

Tinker took this for a consent, put some aspic of pâté de foie gras onher plate, and watched her satisfy her hunger with great pleasure, which was not lessened by the fact that, for all her hunger, she atewith a delicate niceness. He had feared from her neglected air thather manners had also been neglected. After the aspic, he carved thebreast of the chicken for her, helped her to salad, and mixed the icewater with the _sirop_ to exactly the strength he liked himself; afterthe chicken, he helped her to meringues, and after the meringueslighted the kirsch of the _poires au kirsch_, which he had chosenbecause it always pleased him to see the kirsch burn, and ate one ofthe pears himself, while she ate the others. When she had finished herlittle sigh of content warmed his heart. 

He put the tray behind the seat, and settled down beside her for atalk. Now that she was no longer hungry, she was no longer woebegone, and her laugh, though faint, was so pretty that he found himself makingevery effort to set her laughing. They talked about themselves withthe simple egoism of children; and he learned that her name was ElsieBrand; that she was ten years old--nearly two years younger thanhimself--that her mother had died many years ago, and that she hadlived with her father in his Devonshire parsonage by the sea till lastyear, when he, too, had died. Then her Uncle Richard had taken heraway to live with him in London. Her story of her life in Londonlodgings set Tinker wondering about that Uncle Richard, and piecingtogether the details Elsie let fall about his late rising, his lategoing to bed, his morning headache and distaste for breakfast, he cameto the conclusion that he was a bad hat who lived by his somewhatinferior wits. 

At the end of her story he tried to persuade her to come to the seawith him and seek amusement there. But he failed; she would not leavethe seat. He gathered, indeed, from her fear of vexing her uncle thatthat bad hat was in the habit of slapping her if she angered him, and, for a breath, he was filled with a fierce indignation which surprisedhim; she looked so frail. But he did not ask her if it were so, forhis delicacy forewarned him that the question would provoke a strugglebetween her loyalty and her truthfulness. He entertained her, therefore, with his reminiscences, and enjoyed to the full theadmiration and wonder which filled her face as he talked. Absorbed inone another, they paid no heed to the passing of the hours; and thesudden fall of twilight surprised them. 

They began to speculate whether Uncle Richard had had enough of hisgambling, and would come and fetch her. But, even now, Elsie was notimpatient, so inured had she been to neglect. She only looked anxiousagain. Tinker, on the other hand, was impatient, very impatient, withUncle Richard, whom he was disposed to regard as a gentleman in greatneed of a kicking. Moreover, the chill hour after sunset, so dangerouson that littoral, was upon them, and he considered with disquiet thethin stuff of the child's frock. 

Presently he said abruptly, "I've promised my father to wear anovercoat during the fever hour. I must be off and get it, and a wrapfor you. You won't be frightened, if I leave you alone?"

"No, " Elsie said bravely, but her tone belied the word. 

"Well, walk up and down quickly, so that you don't get a chill. If youkeep near the seat, your uncle can't miss you if he comes. "

"Very well, " said Elsie, rising obediently. "Only--only--if you couldget back soon. "

"I will, " said Tinker, and he bolted for the hotel. 

Elsie walked up and down, trying to feel brave, but the odd shapeswhich the bushes assumed in the dim light daunted her not a little, andshe strove to drive away the fancy that she saw people lurking amongthem. Tinker was gone a bare seven minutes; but to the timid child itseemed a very long while, and she welcomed his return with a gasp ofrelief. 

He wore a smart, close-fitting brown racing overcoat, which reached tohis ankles; and for her he brought his fur-lined ulster. 

"Here I am, " he said cheerfully. "Get into this, " and he held out theulster. 

She put her arms into the sleeves, and he drew it around her andbuttoned it up. 

"You are a kind boy, " she said, with a little break in her voice. Asudden strong but inexplicable impulse moved Tinker; he bent forwardand kissed her on the lips. 

While you might count a score the children stood quite still, staringat one another with eyes luminous in the starlight. Elsie's face wasone pink flush, and Tinker was scarlet. 

"That--that was a very funny kiss, " she said in a curious voice. 

"Oh, what's a kiss?" said Tinker, with forced bravado, consumed withboyish shame for the lapse. 

"I--I--liked it, " said Elsie. "No one has kissed me since fatherdied. " And her breath seemed to catch. 

"Girls like kissing, " said Tinker in a tone of a dispassionateobserver. Then he seemed to thrust the matter away from him with someeagerness: and, slipping her arm through his, he said, "Come on, let'swalk up and down. "

They walked up and down, chattering away, till eight o'clock. Then hesaid, "My father will be expecting me; he dines at eight. Won't youcome too?"

"No, no, thank you. I must wait for Uncle Richard; I must really. "But her arm tightened round his involuntarily. 

Tinker thought a while. The gardens were brighter now. The stars wereshining with their full radiance, and the lamps were alight, so thateven their retired corner was faintly bright. 

"Well, you go on walking up and down. You won't feel so lonely assitting still, and I'll be back as soon as I can;" he said, and off hewent. 

He found his father and Lord Crosland beginning their soup, and, sitting down, he told them of Elsie's plight. They were dulysympathetic; and his father at once gave him leave to take some dinnerto her, and dine with her. Thereupon, after a brief but seriousconference with the manager, Tinker departed, again followed by awaiter with a tray. Elsie had not looked for his return for a longwhile; and she was indeed pleased to be so soon freed from the struggleagainst her timidity. 

They ate their dinner with great cheerfulness and good appetite, andfor an hour after it they chattered away happily. Then Elsie grewdrowsy, very drowsy, indeed, and presently, nestled against Tinker, shefell asleep. Fortunately, the southern night was warm, and, in thefur-lined ulster, she could take no harm. He sat holding her to him, listening to her breathing, looking out over the sea, and revolvingmany memories and more schemes, till, at last, the lights began todance before his eyes, and he, too, fell asleep. 

He knew no more until he was awakened by someone shaking his arm, andfound his father and Lord Crosland standing over them. 

The lamps of the Casino and the gardens were out; only the dimstarlight lighted the scene. The two children sat up and stared aboutthem--Elsie sleepily, Tinker wide awake. 

"We've found you at last. Hasn't your little friend's uncle come forher?" said Sir Tancred. 

"No one has come, " said Tinker. 

Sir Tancred and Lord Crosland looked at one another. 

"Desertion, " murmured Lord Crosland softly. 

"Well, come along, " said Sir Tancred cheerfully. "We must put her upfor to-night. "

The children slipped off the seat; Tinker put Elsie's arm through his, and, holding her up when she stumbled over the long ulster, followedhis father and Lord Crosland. 

There were some empty bedrooms in their corridor, and Elsie was settledfor the night in one of them. 

Tinker awoke next morning, very cheerful at the thought of having acompanion to join in his amusements. He made haste to knock at Elsie'sdoor, and bid her come out for a swim before their coffee. She wassoon dressed and found him waiting for her. She flushed a little asshe greeted him, and he greeted her with a seraph's smile. 

"I thought you'd like a bathe before our coffee, " he said. 

"It would be nice, " said Elsie wistfully. "But my hair--it is such atrouble, even without being wetted by sea-water. "

Tinker looked at the fine silky mass of it, and said with sympatheticseriousness, "I saw it was beyond you; but we'll manage. "

He caught her hand, they ran down the stairs, out of the hotel, andmost of the way to the beach. Then he took her to a lady'sbathing-tent, and instructed the attendant to provide Elsie with theprettiest costume she had; changed himself, and in five minutes theywere in the sea. To his joy, he found that she could swim nearly aswell as he. But he was very careful of her, and the moment she lookedcold he took her ashore. 

They came back to the hotel very hungry; and Tinker led the way throughthe passages at the back of the hall, down into the hotel kitchen, where he was welcomed with affectionate joy by the kitchen staff. Theend of a long table had been laid with the finest napery and plate ofthe hotel; they sat down at it, and were forthwith served with anexquisitely cooked dish of fresh mullet, wonderful hot cakes, andsteaming cups of fragrant _café au lait_. As he breakfasted, Tinkerconversed with the chattering staff with a cheerful kindliness and athorough knowledge of all their private concerns, keeping Elsieinformed of the matters under discussion by such phrases as "It'sAdolphe's wife; she beats him;" or, "Lucie has consulted afortune-teller, who says she is going to marry a millionaire;" or, "Jean's eldest daughter has just made her first communion; they say shelooked like a pretty little angel. " But he did not tell her of thechaffing congratulations heaped on him on the prospect of his settlingdown with his beautiful blonde demoiselle. He accepted them with asmile of angelic indulgence. 

When they had done they went upstairs; and, on the way, Tinker said, "Imust have a shot at that hair of yours; it--it really gets on mynerves. "

"It's no use, " said Elsie with her ready flush. "I brush it as well asI can; but I can't do it very well, there's such a lot of it. "

"Well, I'll do what I can, " said Tinker, and he measured withthoughtful eye the silken mass, tangled and matted by the sea-water. 

He led the way into his room, and set her in a chair, took off hiscoat, turned up his sleeves, took his hair brushes, and began upon it. It was his first essay as coiffeur, but his natural and traineddeftness stood him in good stead. He kept a watchful eye on her facein the glass, and whenever it puckered, brushed more gently; but, attimes, in his absorption in his task, he so far forgot himself as tohiss like a groom cleaning a horse. In the middle of it Sir Tancredcame in, and it was significant that he saw Tinker's occupation withouta smile, made no joke upon it, but seemed to take it as the mostnatural thing in the world that his son should be discharging afunction of the lady's maid. He greeted the children gravely, satdown, and watched the brushing with a respectful attention. Now andagain he asked Elsie a question, which seemed too idle to beimpertinent, but her answers told him all he wished to know; andpresently he felt, with Tinker, that her uncle was a gentleman in greatneed of kicking. 

[Illustration: It was his first essay as coiffeur. ]

At last Tinker had finished; Elsie rose with a luxurious sigh, and helooked at his work with fond pride. It was very beautiful, fine hair;and its sheen of changing light well repaid him for his trouble. SirTancred proposed that they should stroll down to the Casino, and findher uncle. Lord Crosland joined them in the hall and went with them. When they came to the Casino, they found a little crowd alreadygathered about its doors, waiting for them to open. 

But Richard Brand was not in it, and at once Elsie's face grew anxious. As soon as the doors opened, Sir Tancred went in to ask if her unclehas made any inquiries about Elsie, or left word where she might findhim. In ten minutes he came out again and said, "No; he has made noinquiries. Suppose you stroll with Elsie along towards the Condamine, Crosland; that is the way he would come. Tinker and I will wait here. "

Lord Crosland looked at his face, said, "Come along, missie, " andstrolled off with the anxious child. 

When they were out of hearing, Sir Tancred said, "I'm afraid the childis in a bad mess. This disgusting uncle of hers lost every penny atroulette last night; and the authorities, with their usual kindness, took his ticket to London, and put him in the train with twenty-fivefrancs in his pocket. "

"What a cad!" said Tinker shortly. 

"Well, she is on our hands, and we must look after her till we can makearrangements--deposit her in a home or something. "

Tinker said nothing for a while; he seemed plunged in profound thought. He kicked a little stone ten yards away; then raised his eyes to hisfather's face and said, in the firm voice of one whose mind is made up, "I should like to adopt her. "

"Adopt her?" said Sir Tancred with some surprise. 

"Yes; I should like to, very much. "

"Well, thanks to your industry in the matter of flying-machines andstolen children, you have a nice little income, so we needn't considerthe question of expense. You can afford it. But in what capacitywould you adopt her--as father, uncle, guardian, or what? Theformalities must be observed. "

"I think as a brother, " said Tinker. 

Sir Tancred thought a while, then he said, "You will find it a greatresponsibility. "

"Yes; but I don't mind. I--I like her, don't you know!"

Sir Tancred's stern face relaxed into one of his rare and charmingsmiles. "Very good, " he said. "You shall adopt her. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Tinker, and his smile matched his father's. "And may I have some money to dress her? Her clothes are dreadful. "

"They are, " said Sir Tancred; and, taking out his notecase, he gave hima thousand-franc note. 

"Thank you, " said Tinker, beaming. "I'll break it to her about heruncle. "

He hurried off towards the Condamine, and overtaking Elsie and LordCrosland, told her that it was all right, that they had arranged totake care of her for a few days, and carried her away to fetch Blazer, for his morning walk. It is to be feared that he gave her theimpression that her uncle had been a party to the arrangement, but by aflood of talk he diverted successfully her mind from the matter. Froman unworthy jealousy Blazer was at first disposed to sniff at Elsie, but when he found that she joined heartily in the few poor amusementsthe place afforded an honest dog, he became more gracious. Thechildren made their déjeuner with Sir Tancred and Lord Crosland, andafter it, having restored the reluctant Blazer to his lodging in thebasement of the hotel, they took the train to Nice. 

Tinker hired the largest commissionaire at the station and bought asmall trunk, which he gave him to carry. Then he went straight toMadame Aline's and, having insisted on seeing Madame herself, explainedthat the bright and elaborate fashions affected by the little Frenchgirls would not suit Elsie. 

Madame agreed with him, but said, "Simplicity is so expensive. "

Tinker waved away the consideration, and showed Madame thethousand-franc note. At once she fell a victim to his irresistiblecharm, and set about meeting his taste with the liveliest energy, withthe result that in less than an hour Elsie was provided with an eveningfrock of an exquisite shade of heliotrope, an afternoon frock of noless exquisite shade of blue, and a hat, stockings, and gloves tomatch. They were packed in the trunk, and with them two pairs ofshoes, which Madame sent for from a no less expensive bootmaker, andvarious other garments. 

When they came out of her shop, Tinker considered for a while the holehe had made in the thousand-franc note, and said, "The time has come tobe economical. "

He examined the shops with a keen eye till he came to one which seemedmore of the popular kind, and there he bought a frock of serge andthree of dark-blue linen, stouter shoes, slippers, and two hats. Herehe waited while Elsie changed, and when she came out, looking anothercreature, he said with a sigh of relief, "I knew you'd look all rightif you had a chance. "

They had ices at a café, and caught a train back to Monte Carlo. Elsieseemed dazed with her sudden wealth, while Tinker was full of a quiet, restful satisfaction. But it was in the evening that the great triumphcame. When she came out of her room in her evening frock, Tinkerregarded her for a moment with a satisfaction that was almost solemn, then he turned her round and said, "We match. "

"Do you really think so?" said Elsie in an awed voice, with humid eyes. 

"There's no doubt about it, " said Tinker, with calm, dispassionate, andjudicial impartiality. 

When they came into the restaurant there was a faint murmur ofdelighted surprise from the tables they passed; and one stout, butsentimental baroness cried, "Violà des séraphin!"

And truly, if you can conceive of a seraph in an Eton suit, a low-cutwhite waistcoat, and a white tie, there was something in what she said. 

At the sight of them Sir Tancred smiled, and Lord Crosland said, "Icongratulate you on your taste, young people. "

"It was Tinker's, " said Elsie; and she looked at him with a world ofthankfulness and devotion in her eyes. 

After dinner Tinker was uncomfortable. He felt bound to break to Elsieher uncle's desertion, and he was afraid of tears. With a vague notionof emphasising the difference between her uncle's _régime_ and his own, he led the way to the corner of the gardens where they had first metand, standing before the seat on which she had waited so long andhungrily, he said, "I say, don't you think we could do without youruncle?"

"Do without uncle?" said Elsie surprised. 

"Yes; suppose, instead of living with your uncle and his looking afteryou, you lived with us, and I looked after you? Suppose you were to bemy adopted sister?"

"For good and all?" said Elsie in a hushed voice. 

"Yes. "

For answer she threw her arms round his neck, kissed him, and cried, "Oh, I do love you so. "

By a splendid effort Tinker repressed a wriggle. 

"We'll consider it settled, then, " he said. 

Elsie loosed him. With a little deprecating cough, and a delicatetentativeness, he said, "About kissing, of course, now that you're mysister you have a right to kiss me sometimes; and--and--of course it'sall right. But don't you think you could manage with once a day--whenwe say good-night?"

"In the morning, too, " said Elsie greedily. 

"Well, twice a day, " said Tinker with a sigh. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TINKER FROM THE MACHINE

By Elsie's coming into it, Tinker's life was changed. At first she wasnot only a companion, she was an occupation. A score of littlearrangements to secure her greater comfort had to be made, each of themafter careful consideration. He was no longer dull: they were togetherfrom morning till night; and he found in her a considerable aptitudefor the post of lieutenant--to a Pirate Captain, a Smuggler, a BrigandChief, or a South African Scout. She kept him out of mischief as faras he could be kept out of mischief: the demands her welfare made uponhis intelligence prevented his devoting it to the elaboration ofingenious schemes for the discomfiture of his fellow-creatures; and hehad to think twice before he flung himself into any casual piece ofmischief which presented itself, lest he should involve her indisastrous consequences. On second thoughts he generally refrainedwith regret. The one practice he did not suffer to fall into desuetudewas his daily bolt into the Salles de Jeu; of that she could always bea secure and interested spectator. 

For her part, she was entirely happy; she had been so long starved ofcare and affection that, now she had them, she wanted nothing more;they filled her life. 

Taking his responsibility thus seriously, Tinker was greatly exercisedin mind whether he should get her a maid or a governess; he could notafford both. Elsie, with absolute conviction, declared that she neededneither; that all she wanted was someone to brush her hair, and she wassure that he did that far better than anyone else would. 

Tinker shook his head. "One has to be educated, don't you know?" hesaid. "Look at me. "

It was one of his weaknesses to cherish the conviction that in thematter of learning he lacked nothing, though had he been confronted byeven the vulgarest fraction, he would have been quite helpless. 

Having at last made up his mind, he sought out Sir Tancred, and saidwith a very serious air, "I've been thinking it over, sir, and I'vecome to the conclusion that I ought to get Elsie a governess. "

"My dear Tinker, " said his father, "if you add to our household at yourpresent rate, I foresee myself buying a caravan, and traversing Europein state. "

"Like a circus, " said Tinker, brightening. "It would be great fun--fora while. I think, " he added thoughtfully, "that I could brightenEurope up a bit. "

"I do not doubt it, " said Sir Tancred politely. 

"Well, you see, sir, it's like this, " said Tinker. "When I adoptedElsie you said that I was to take all responsibility; and I think Iought to look after her education; it's no good adopting sisters byhalves. "

"You are right, of course, " said Sir Tancred. "But I'm sorry for you. For a boy of nearly twelve, your knowledge of the things taught bygovernesses is small. Your spelling, now, it is--shall we sayphonetic?"

"I don't think a gentleman ought to spell too well any more than heought to speak French with too good an accent, " said Tinker firmly. 

"There's a good deal in what you say, " said Sir Tancred. "But I'mafraid that when Elsie has learnt geography, say, the position ofSchleswig-Holstein and Roumania and Leeds, and other such places towhich we should never dream of going, she might look down on you foronly knowing the towns on the great railways of Europe and America, andthe steamer routes of the world. "

"She might. But I don't think she's like that, though, of course, witha girl you never can tell. I think it's more likely she would want toteach me where they are. But she ought to be educated, and I mustchance it. "

"Well, if you ought, you must, " said Sir Tancred. "But one thing I dobeg of you; do not have her taught the piano--the barrel-organ if youlike, but not the piano. "

"No; I won't. A piano would be so awkward to move about--it would wanta van to itself. "

"I was thinking, rather, of the peculiar noises it makes in the handsof the inexperienced, " said Sir Tancred. 

"I know, " said Tinker in a tone of genuine sympathy. 

Tinker went to Elsie, whom he had left in the gardens of the Casino, and told her that his father had given him leave to get her agoverness. On hearing that the matter was so near accomplishment, herface fell, and she said, "Don't--don't you think I ought to help chooseher?"

"It wouldn't be regular, " said Tinker firmly. 

After déjeuner he caught a train to Nice, and went straight to MadameButler, that stay of those who seek maids, companions, nurses, orgovernesses on the Riviera. He sent in his card, and was straightwayushered into the office where she received her clients. She wassitting at a desk, and by one of the windows sat a very pretty younglady, who looked as if she were waiting to interview a possibleemployee. A certain surprise showed itself on the face of MadameButler at the sight of Tinker; she had plainly expected a client ofmore mature years. 

Tinker bowed, and sat down in the chair by the desk in which clientssat and set forth their needs. 

"You wished to see me--on business?" said Madame Butler with somehesitation. 

"Yes, " said Tinker. "I want a governess for my sister--my adoptedsister. I'm responsible for her, and I've decided that she must beeducated. I told my father, Sir Tancred Beauleigh, and he gave meleave to get her a governess. So I came to you. "

"Yes, " said Madame Butler, smiling, "and what kind of a governess doyou want?"

The pretty young lady, who had been regarding Tinker with smilinginterest, turned away with the proper delicacy, and looked out of thewindow. 

Tinker's face wore a very serious, almost anxious, air. "I've workedit out carefully, " he said. "Elsie's ten years old, two years youngerthan I am, and there is no need for her governess to have degrees orcertificates or that kind of thing. She will only have to teach her towrite nicely and do sums--not fractions, of course--useful sums, andsome needlework, and look after her when I'm not about. So I want alady, young, and English; and I should like her to be a bit of asportswoman, don't you know. I mean, " he added in careful explanation, "I should like her to be cheerful and good-natured, and not fussy aboutthe things that really don't matter. "

"I think I know the kind of governess you want, " said Madame Butler. She ran her eye over two or three pages of her ledger and added, "ButI'm very much afraid that I haven't one of that kind on my books atpresent. "

"That's a pity, " said Tinker. "Should I have long to wait?"

"I'm afraid you might. People chiefly want ladles with certificatesand degrees, so the others don't offer themselves. "

The pretty young lady turned from the window with the quickness of onesuddenly making up her mind. 

"How should I do?" she said in a charming voice. 

Madame Butler turned towards her quickly with raised eyebrows, but saidnothing. Tinker turned, too, and his face lighted up with an angelicsmile. He looked at the pretty young lady carefully, and then at thepretty young lady's tailor-made gown, and the smile faded out of hisface. 

"I'm afraid, " he said sorrowfully, "you would be too expensive. "

"What salary were you thinking of giving?" she said with a brisk, businesslike directness. 

"Thirty pounds a year, " said Tinker; and then he added hastily, "Ofcourse it's very little; but really the work would be quite light, andwe should try and make things pleasant for her. "

"But surely, for a governess without certificates, that is a very goodsalary; isn't it, Madame Butler?"

"It is, indeed, " said Madame Butler. 

"It can't be, really, " said Tinker. "But I suppose people are mean. "

"Well, it would satisfy me, " said the pretty young lady. "Butunfortunately I am an American, and you want an Englishwoman. "

"I only don't want a foreigner, " said Tinker. "I should be awfullypleased if you would take the post. "

"The pleasure will be mine, " said the pretty young lady. "And aboutreferences? I'm afraid I cannot get them in less than ten days. "

"Pardon, " said Tinker. "Your face, if you will excuse my saying so, isreference enough. "

The pretty young lady flushed with pleasure, and said, "That is verynice of you, but your father might think them necessary. "

"This is my show--I mean, this matter is entirely in my hands; I lookafter Elsie altogether. And I think we might consider it settled. Myname is Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh. "

"Oh, you are the boy who borrowed the flying-machine!"

Tinker was charmed that she should take the right view of the matter;he found that so many people, including the bulk of the English, American, and Continental Press, were disposed, in an unintelligentway, to regard him as having stolen it. 

"Yes, " he said. 

"My name is Dorothy Rayner. "

"Rayner, " said Tinker with sudden alertness. "There is an Americanmillionaire called Rainer. "

"I spell my name with a _y_, " said Dorothy quickly. 

Madame Butler once more raised her eyebrows. 

"Well, when will you come to us? We are staying at the Hôtel desPrinces at Monte Carlo. "

"To-day is Wednesday. Shall we say Saturday morning?"

"Yes, that will do very well. Oh, by the way, I was quiteforgetting--about music. "

"I'm afraid, " said Dorothy, and her face fell, "I can't teach music. "

"That's all right, " said Tinker cheerfully. "My father was terriblyafraid that anyone I got would want to. "

He explained to Dorothy their nomadic fashion of life, paid MadameButler her fee, bade them good-bye, and went his way. 

On his return he found Elsie full of anxious curiosity, but his accountof his find set her mind at rest. He ended by saying, "It will beawfully nice for you, don't you know? She looked as though she wouldlet you kiss her as often as you wanted to. "

"But I shall kiss you just the same, night and morning, " said Elsiefirmly. 

"Of course, of course, " said Tinker quickly, and by a manful effort hekept the brightness in his face. 

He told his father that he had found a governess. 

"References all right?" said Sir Tancred. 

"Yes, she carries them about with her, " said Tinker diplomatically. 

"I suppose I ought to see them, don't you think?"

"You will, " said Tinker. 

On her arrival on Saturday morning Dorothy found the children awaitingher on the steps of the hotel; and to Tinker's extreme satisfaction, she at once kissed Elsie. When she had been taken to her room, whichwas next to Elsie's, and her trunks had been brought up, it was time togo to déjeuner, and Tinker conducted her to the restaurant. They foundSir Tancred and Lord Crosland already at table; they rose at the sightof Dorothy, and Tinker introduced them to her gravely. Sir Tancred wasnaturally surprised at being suddenly confronted by a startling visionof beauty, when he had expected an ordinary young fresh-coloured, good-natured Englishwoman. But for all the change worked in his faceby that surprise he might have been confronted by a vision of corkscrewcurls. Lord Crosland, however, so far forgot the proper dignity of apeer as to kick Tinker gently under the table. Tinker looked at himwith a pained and disapproving air. 

Dorothy was even more surprised by the sight of Sir Tancred. She hadgiven the matter little thought, but had supposed that she would findTinker's father a sedate man of some fifty summers. When she found hima young man of thirty, and exceedingly handsome and distinguished atthat, she was invaded by no slight doubt as to the wisdom of indulgingthe spirit of whim which had led her to take the post of Tinker'sgoverness, without going a little more into the matter. Thisuneasiness made her at first somewhat constrained; but Sir Tancred andLord Crosland contrived soon to put her at her ease, and presently shewas taking her part in the talk without an effort. 

When she went away with the children, Lord Crosland lighted acigarette, and said thoughtfully, "Well, Tinker has made a find. Sheis a lady. "

"I should be inclined to say gentlewoman, " said Sir Tancred. "Lady isa word a trifle in disrepute; there are so many of them, and sovarious, don't you know. "

"Gentlewoman be it, " said Lord Crosland. "But he's a wonderful youngbeggar for getting hold of the right thing. What a beautiful creatureshe is!"

"She is beautiful, " said Sir Tancred grudgingly. 

"Woman-hater! Va!" said Lord Crosland. 

Dorothy found herself admitted to a frank intimacy in this littlecircle into which whim had led her. She spent most of her time withthe children. She gave Elsie two hours' lessons a day, and, since shehad a knack of making them interesting, Tinker often enjoyed thebenefit of her teaching. After lessons she shared most of theiramusements, and learned to be a pirate, a brigand, an English sailor, aBoer, and every kind of captive and conspirator. Since she occupiedsome of Elsie's time, Tinker had once more leisure for mischief; andDorothy rarely tried to restrain his fondness for pulling the legs ofhis fellow-creatures, for she found that he had the happiest knack ofchoosing such fellow-creatures as would be benefited, morally, by theoperation. But she was a check upon his more reckless moods, and kepthim from one or two outrageous pranks. 

For his part, he found the responsibility of looking after her andElsie not a little sobering; and he was quite alive to the fact that atMonte Carlo, that place of call of the adventurers of the world, one'swomankind need a protecting male presence. Quietly and unobtrusivelySir Tancred seconded him in this matter; if Dorothy had the fancy totake the air in the gardens after dinner, she found that he or LordCrosland, or both of them, deserted the tables till she went back tothe hotel, and strolled with her and the children. She was growingvery friendly with the two men, and beginning to take a far deeperinterest in Sir Tancred than she would have cared to admit even toherself. His face of Lucifer, Son of the Morning, his perfectthoughtfulness, his unfailing gentle politeness, his melancholy and hisvery coldness, attracted her; and always watching him, she had now andagain a glimpse of the possibilities of energy and passion whichunderlay the mask of his languor. At times, too, her woman's intuitionassured her that, for all his dislike, or rather distaste, of women, she attracted him. 

Unfortunately, but naturally, Sir Tancred and Lord Crosland were notthe only men who found her beautiful. Monsieur le Comte Sigismond dePuy-de-Dôme, hero of many duels and more scandals, and darling of theNationalist Press, also saw her beauty. With him to see was to act, and he never passed her without a conquering twirl of his waxedmoustache, and a staring leer which he fondly believed to be a glanceteeming with passion. Since even he, conscious as he was of hisextraordinary fascination, could hardly mistake her look of annoyancefor the glow of responsive passion, he resolved on more masterlyaction. He kept a careful watch, and one afternoon followed her andTinker and Elsie on one of their walks. They went briskly, and at theend of a mile he was maintaining a continuous, passionate monologue intones charged with heartfelt emotion on the subject of his tight butpatent-leather boots. 

A mile and a half on the way to Mentone they turned aside down a roadinto the hills. He followed them for a while over the loose stones andalong the ruts of the roadway with considerable pain, and was on thevery point of abandoning the pursuit when he came on Dorothy and Elsiesitting in a shady dell by the roadside, from which the wooded slopesof the hills rose steeply. Careless of his boots and of the fact thatthey had suffused his face with an unbecoming purple, he strodegallantly up to them, and set about making Dorothy's acquaintance. Hebegan by talking, with an airy graciousness, of the charm of the spotin which he had found her, and of how greatly that charm was enhancedby her presence. But soon, seeing that she took not the slightestnotice of him, that her eyes, to all seeming, looked through him at thetrees on the further side of the dell, he lost his gracious air, andbegan to halt and stumble in his speech. Then he lost his head andplunged into a detailed account of the passion with which Dorothy'sbeauty had inflamed his heart, wearing the while his finest air of aconqueror dictating terms. 

Dorothy surveyed him with a contemptuous wonder, over which her senseof the ludicrous was slowly gaining the mastery; Elsie stared at him. At last he ended the impassioned description of his emotions with a yetmore impassioned appeal to Dorothy to fly with him to a far-off shoreforever shining with the golden light of love; and Dorothy laughed agentle laugh of pure amusement. 

Count Sigismond flushed purpler; his eyes stood well out of his head;he drew himself up with a superb air--a little spoiled by a wince ashis left boot deftly reminded him that he was wearing it, and cried, "Ha! You laugh! You laugh at Sigismond de Puy-de-Dôme! Mon Dieu!You shall learn!" And with a sudden spring he grabbed at her. 

She jerked aside, sprang up, and away from him. But he was between herand the exit from the dell; he crouched with the impressivedeliberation of a villain in a melodrama for another spring, and Elsiescreamed, "Tinker! Tinker!"

Count Sigismond heard a rustling in the bushes above, and looked up tosee them parted by an angel child, in white ducks, bearing a bunch oflilies in his hand, who gazed at him with a serious, almost painedface, and leapt lightly down. 

With a "Pah! Imbecile!" addressed to himself for delaying, the Countsprang towards Dorothy, was conscious of a swift white streak, and thehead of the angel child, impelled by wiry muscles and a weight ofseventy-six pounds, smote as a battering ram upon the first and secondbuttons of his waistcoat. He doubled up and sat down hard in onemovement; then turned on his side, and gasped and gasped. 

[Illustration: As a battering ram upon the first and second buttons ofhis waistcoat. ]

"Come along!" cried Tinker in a most imperative tone. "A row is ahorrid nuisance when there are women in it!" And he caught hischarges, either by an arm, and bustled them out of the dell and downthe road. 

Dorothy laughed as she ran; never before had she seen vauntingarrogance brought low in so sudden and signal a fashion. At last shestopped, dabbed away the tears of mirth, and said, "Oh, Tinker, I am somuch obliged to you! It's all very well to laugh now; but it mighthave been horrid!"

"It was the simplest thing in the world, " said Tinker. Then, rubbinghis head ruefully, he added, "I wish those foreigners would not weargold buttons on their white waistcoats in the daytime. They have nomore notion of how to dress than a cat--the men haven't. "

They hurried along, looking back now and again to see if they werefollowed. They were not, for Count Sigismond was now sitting up in theshady dell, staring round it with fishy eyes, and wondering dullywhether he owed his disaster entirely to an angel child, or whetherMont Pelée had affected the neighbourhood. He gasped still. 

As they drew near the town, Tinker grew thoughtful. Suddenly hestopped, and said seriously, "Now, look here, both of you, we mustn'tlet my father know about this, or he'll certainly thrash that boundingFrenchman; and that wouldn't be good enough, don't you know. "

"It would be very good for him, " said Dorothy with some vindictiveness. 

"Yes, but not for my father, " said Tinker very earnestly, indeed. "Forall that he looks like a swollen frog, Le Comte de Puy-de-Dôme isawfully dangerous with the pistol. He's hurt two men badly in duelsalready. "

"Has he?" said Dorothy quickly, and the colour faded in her cheeks. "Then we must, indeed, say nothing about it. "

"Swear, " said Tinker, raising his right hand. 

"We swear, " said Dorothy and Elsie in one voice, raising their righthands. It was a formality which had to be gone through many times whenthey played at being conspirators; their words and action weremechanical. 

"That's all right, " said Tinker with a sigh of relief. 

Count Sigismond returned to his hotel in a very hot fury. His outragedpride clamoured for vengeance, and he sought for someone on whom to berevenged. He was surprised at the end of two days to hear nothing ofhis discomfiture; but his fury lost nothing by growing cool, and on thethird night he picked a quarrel with Sir Tancred. 

Next morning Sir Tancred asked Dorothy to take the children to Nice fora few days, since he had heard that there was some fever at one of thesmaller hotels. He watched over their departure himself, and Tinkerwas aware of an indefinable something in his manner which puzzled him. It was, perhaps, that something which gave him a curious, unsettledfeeling, as if they were going on a much longer journey. As they leftthe hotel, Lord Crosland came up from the Condamine carrying a squarecase under his arm; it did not escape Tinker's observant eye; but inthe bustle of their removal he gave it but scant attention. In theevening Dorothy noticed that he was restless and absent-minded, andasked him what was the matter. 

"I don't know, " he said; "I have a funny feeling as though somethingwas going to happen, and I can't think of anything. It's just as ifI'd missed something I ought to have noticed. It always makes meuncomfortable. Yet I can't think what it can be. "

She made many suggestions, but to no purpose, and he went to beddissatisfied. He awoke once or twice in the night--a very rare thingwith him; possibly, so close was their kinship, his father's disturbedspirit in some obscure and mysterious fashion was striving to warn him, or prepare him for calamitous tidings. In the early morning he sleptsoundly, and awoke rather later than was his wont; and, even as heawoke, the square case which Lord Crosland had carried sprang into hismind, and he knew it to be a case of pistols. In a flash everythingwas clear to him; his father was going to fight Count Sigismond, andhad sent him to Nice to be out of the way. 

He sprang out of bed, and dashed for his watch; it was two minutes pastseven. They would fight at eight; he had nearly an hour. In threeminutes he was dressed, and racing down the stairs. He met Dorothycoming up. 

"What's the matter?" she cried at the sight of his white face. 

"My father--he's fighting Le Comte de Puy-de-Dôme, and he's got us outof the way!"

He did not see her turn pale, and clutch the banisters; he was racingout of the hotel. He ran to the coach-house, wheeled his bicycle intothe courtyard, mounted, and rode down the street. He went at amoderate pace through the town, but once on the Corniche road, he drovethe machine as hard as he could pedal. 

He was well on his way before his mind cleared enough for him to thinkwhat he was doing; and then his heart sank; he could do nothing. Hecould not interrupt a duel; that was the last enormity. And if he didinterrupt it, it would be but for a few minutes; it would take placeall the same. As the sense of his helplessness filled him, two orthree great tears forced themselves out of his eyes. He dashed themaway with a most unangelic savageness; then, conscious only of adevouring desire to be near his father in his perilous hour, he droveon the machine as hard as he could. 

The Corniche is a good road, but all up hill and down dale; and he knewhow much more time he lost by jumping off and running his bicycle up ahill than he made by letting it rip down the descent. As he drew nearMonaco a kind of hopelessness settled on him. He almost wished, sincehe could not stop it, that he might find the duel over. Now and againa dry sob burst from his overloaded bosom. 

It was ten minutes to eight when he came up the slope from theCondamine. His legs were leaden, but they drove on the machine. Atlast he came to the path which leads to the half glade, half rockyamphitheatre, in which the gentry of the principality, and of the restof the world who chance to be visiting it, settle their affairs ofhonour, slipped off his machine, and ran down it as fast as his stifflegs would carry him. A few yards from the end of it he turned asideinto the bushes, came to the edge of the glade, saw his father andCount Sigismond facing one another some forty yards away; saw a whitehandkerchief raised in Lord Crosland's hand, and in spite of himself, his pent-up emotion burst from him in one wild eldritch yell. 

It still rang on the quivering air when the handkerchief fluttered tothe ground, and the pistols flashed together. 

Now to those who enjoy an intimacy with Tinker, an eldritch yell isneither here nor there. Piercing as this one was, it barely reachedSir Tancred's consciousness; but it smote sharply on Count Sigismond'stense nerves, and deflected the barrel of his pistol just so much assent the bullet zip past Sir Tancred's ear, as he received SirTancred's bullet in his elbow, and started to traverse the glade in aseries of violent but ungainly leaps, uttering squeal on squeal. 

Tinker turned and bolted, sobbing, gasping, and choking in therevulsion from his hopeless dread. He seized his bicycle, ran it alongthe road some fifty yards, turned in among the bushes, flung himselfdown, and sobbed and cried. 

There was confusion on the scene of the duel. Count Sigismond'sseconds had to chase him, catch him, and hold him while the doctordressed his wound. Then they fell to a discussion as to whether theeldritch yell had been uttered by the Count or by someone in the woodround the glade; it had fallen upon very ragged nerves, and for thelives of them they could not be sure. Lord Crosland threw no light atall upon the matter, though he did his best to help their dispute growacrimonious. Sir Tancred preserved the discreet silence of a principalin a duel; the Count Sigismond only moaned. 

At last they turned their attention to him, and carried him to the topof the path. Sir Tancred and Lord Crosland started for the town tosend up a cab for him. 

When they were out of hearing, Lord Crosland said, "Most likely, thatyell saved your life, old chap. "

"I should say that there wasn't a doubt about it; but, really, in thecase of a sweep like Puy-de-Dôme, I can't say that I mind a littleirregularity. Besides, my conscience is quite clear. Heaven knows Idid my best to keep Tinker in the dark and at a distance. "

"It can't be done, " said Lord Crosland with conviction. 

Tinker heard their voices, and by a violent effort, which did him good, hushed his hysteric sobbing. After a while he heard the cab rattle up, and rattle away. 

Twenty minutes later he mounted his machine, and, passing through theback streets of Monte Carlo, rode slowly back to Nice. On his way backhe washed his face at a spring, and when he mounted his machine again, he said to himself firmly, "I'm _not_ ashamed--not a bit. "

As he wheeled his bicycle into the coach-house of the hotel, Dorothyran into it, caught him by the arm, and cried, "Did they fight? Isyour father hurt?"

He looked at her white, strained face, and said with a dogged air, "Myfather's all right. What do you mean about fighting? I--I've been fora ride--on my bicycle. "

"Then you did stop it!" cried Dorothy; and before he could ward her offshe had kissed him. 

"Look here, " said Tinker firmly, but gently, "these things won't beartalking about. They won't really. "

CHAPTER TWELVE

TINKER BORROWS A MOTOR-CAR

A few days later, early in the afternoon, Sir Tancred was leaning onthe wall of the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, smoking a cigarette, and looking down on the Mediterranean in a very thoughtful mood. Tinker was by his side, also looking down on the Mediterranean, alsosilent, out of respect to his father's mood. 

Suddenly Sir Tancred turned towards him, and said abruptly, "What didyou say you paid your governess?"

"Thirty pounds a year, " said Tinker. 

"She dresses well, " said Sir Tancred. 

Tinker turned his head and eyed his father with a trifle of distrust. "She does dress well, " he said gravely, "and I can't quite make it out. Sometimes I think that her people must have lost their money, and shebought her gowns before that happened. Sometimes I really think she'sonly being a governess for fun. "

"For fun?" said Sir Tancred. "But I thought her references were allright. Yes; you told me she carried them about with her. "

"Well, she has the nicest kind of face, " said Tinker; and his own wasout of the common guileless. 

"Oh! her face was her reference, was it?" said Sir Tancred quickly. 

"You can forge references, but you can't forge a face, " said Tinkerwith the air of a philosopher. 

Sir Tancred laughed gently. "My good Tinker, " he said, "I look forwardto the day when you enter the diplomatic service. The diplomacy ofyour country will be newer than ever. But don't be too sure that awoman can't forge her face. "

"There'd be a precious lot of forgery, if they could forge faces likeDorothy's, " said Tinker with conviction. 

"You seem a perfect well of truth to-day, " said Sir Tancred. 

They were silent a while, gazing idly over the sea; then Tinker said, "I'm beginning to think that Dorothy is rather mysterious, don't youknow. She gets very few letters, but lots of cablegrams, from America. She has lots of money, too, and she spends it. Sometimes I have totalk to her seriously about being extravagant. "

"You do? What does she say?"

"Oh, she laughs. That's what makes me think she's only a governess forfun. I never knew a girl so ready to laugh--though she did cry thatmorning. " He spoke musingly, half to himself. 

"What morning was that?" said Sir Tancred quickly. 

"It was a few mornings ago, " said Tinker vaguely; and he added hastily, "I think I'll go after her and Elsie; they've gone down the Cornichetowards Mentone. "

"Was it the morning I had an affair with M. Le Comte de Puy-de-Dôme?"

"Ye-e-s, " said Tinker with some reluctance, and he prepared fortrouble. Hitherto his father had said nothing of that timely buteldritch yell. Now, by his careless admission about the tears ofDorothy, he had opened the matter, and let himself in for a rating. 

But Sir Tancred was silent, musing, and Tinker returned to his idleconsideration of the Mediterranean. 

Presently he said, "She would make you a nice little wife, sir. "

Sir Tancred started. "There are times, " he said, "when I feel youwould take my breath away, if I hadn't very good lungs. "

"I thought that that was what you were thinking about, " said theingenuous Tinker. 

"If you add thought-reading to your other accomplishments, it will betoo much, " said Sir Tancred with conviction. 

Of a sudden there came bustling round the right-hand horn of the bay amost disreputable, bedraggled-looking vessel. By her lines a yacht, her decks would have been a disgrace to the oldest and most batteredtin-pot of an ocean tramp. Her masts had gone, there were gaps in herbulwarks, and the smoke of her furnaces, pouring through a hole in herdeck over which her funnel had once reared itself, had taken advantageof this rare and golden opportunity to blacken her after-part to a veryfair semblance of imitation ebony, and to transform her crew to an evenfairer imitation of negroes dressed in black. 

"She is in a mess!" said Tinker. 

"Of the Atlantic's making, to judge by its completeness, " said SirTancred. "Whose yacht is it?"

"I don't know, " said Tinker, staring at it with all his eyes. 

"You ought to, " said Sir Tancred with some severity. "You've been onit. It's Meyer's. "

"So it is, " said Tinker, mortified. "I am stupid not to haverecognised it!"

"Your new clairvoyant faculty must be weakening your power ofobservation. I shouldn't give way to it, if I were you. "

Tinker wriggled. 

A hundred yards from the jetty the yacht's engines were reversed; andthe way was scarcely off her, when her only remaining boat fell smartlyon the water, and was rowed quickly to the steps. 

"They seem in a hurry, " said Sir Tancred. 

For a while they busied themselves in conjectures as to what errand hadbrought the yacht to Monaco; Sir Tancred lighted another cigarette, andthey watched the crew of the yacht set to work at once to wash thedecks. 

Some twenty minutes later a little group hurried into the gardens, themanager of the Hôtel des Princes, a tall, bearded, grimy man, and astout, clean-shaven, grimy man. They came straight to Sir Tancred andTinker, and the bearded man said quickly, "My name is Rainer, SeptimusRainer. I've just learnt that my daughter Dorothy is governessing yourlittle girl. Where is she?"

Sir Tancred bowed, and said languidly, "Miss Rainer is the governess ofmy son's adopted sister. He is her employer, not I. Here he is. "

Tinker stepped forward, and bowed. 

Septimus Rainer stared at him with a bewildered air, and said, "Well, if this don't beat the Dutch!" Then he added feverishly, "Where isshe? Where's my little girl? Where's Dorothy?"

"She went with Elsie--that's her pupil--down the Corniche towardsMentone after déjeuner, " said Tinker. 

"Take me to her! Take me to her at once, will you? She's not safe!"said Rainer quickly. 

"Not safe! Come along!" said Sir Tancred; and his languor fell fromhim like a mask, leaving him active and alert indeed. 

"It's like this, " said Rainer as they hurried through the gardens. "Aweek ago I got a cable from Paris saying that a kidnapping gang wereafter Dorothy. I'm a millionaire, and the scum are after ransom. Icabled to McNeill, my Paris agent, to come right here with half a dozenof the best detectives in France, scooped up Mr. Buist of the New Yorkpolice, "--he nodded towards the short, clean-shaven, grimyman--"borrowed a yacht, and came along myself. Being in a hurry, wehad trouble with the Atlantic of course; but I've done it seven hoursquicker than steamer and train. Have McNeill and the detectives come?"

"No, they haven't, " said Tinker. 

"Sure?" said Rainer. 

"Quite, " said Tinker. "I've seen no one watching over Dorothy; and shehas gone about outside the town, in the woods, and down by the sea, just as usual. She knew of no danger, I'm sure. "

"Perhaps McNeill didn't want to frighten her, and just set his men towatch over her from a distance, " said Rainer. 

"Perhaps McNeill is in it, " said Sir Tancred drily. 

"I'm glad I came right here, " said Rainer. 

They came out of the gardens, and as they passed the Hôtel des Princes, Tinker said, "Go on down the Corniche! I'll catch you up!" and boltedinto it. 

He ran upstairs into his father's room, and took from a drawer thepocketbook which held their passports; ran into his own room, andthrust into his hip-pocket the revolver he could use so well, intoother pockets five hundred francs in notes and gold. Then, sure thathe had provided against all possible emergencies, he ran smiling downthe stairs. 

As he came out of the front-door, his eyes fell on a lonely, desertedmotor-car. In a breath he had pitied its loneliness, seen its use, andjumped into it. He set it going, and in three minutes caught up hisfather, Rainer, and the detective. Sir Tancred jumped into the seatbeside him, Rainer and the detective into the back seat. 

"Whose car is this? How did you get it?" said Sir Tancred. 

"I commandeered it, " said Tinker firmly. "And I was lucky too; it's agood car. "

"I suppose there'll be a row about it. But we've got to use it, " saidSir Tancred. 

"Oh, no! there won't, " said Tinker cheerfully. "When we come back, everyone but me can get out. I'll take it back, and explain things. "

For a mile Tinker sent the car along at full speed. Then he sloweddown, and pulling up at every opening into the hills or down to theshore, sent a long coo-ee ringing down it. No answer came back. Atthe end of two miles his face was growing graver and graver, and itsgravity was reflected in the faces of the three men. At the end of twomiles and a half he stopped the car, and said, "They can't have gonefurther than this. "

"Just too late, " muttered Septimus Rainer; and they looked at oneanother with questioning eyes. 

"Well, there's no time to be lost, " said Sir Tancred. "Mr. Buist hadbetter hurry back to Monte Carlo, to the Hôtel des Princes, in casewe've missed them. We will go on hard, and he can wire to us, if theycome back to the hotel, at Ventimiglia. "

"That's all very well, " said the detective with a sudden air ofstubbornness. "But I don't like the look of the business. It's acurious thing that Miss Rainer, the daughter of a millionaire, shouldbe a governess in your family. I don't understand it. There is achance, and I'm bound to consider it, of your being mixed up with thiskidnapping gang. What's to prevent you kidnapping Mr. Rainer?"

Sir Tancred's eyes flashed, and he looked as though he could notbelieve his ears. Tinker laughed a gentle, joyful laugh. 

"I mean no offence, sir, " said the detective with some haste, at thesight of Sir Tancred's face. "But I'm bound to look at it all ways. "

"Just as you like, " said Sir Tancred quietly. "Let Mr. Rainer go back, or both of you go back. Only be quick!"

The millionaire had watched the faces of father and son with very keeneyes while the detective had been speaking: "Off you go, Buist!" hebroke in. "I know where I am! Go, man! Go!"

The detective jumped out of the car, and Sir Tancred said, "Go to M. Lautrec at the Police Bureau at Monte Carlo. He's the best man to setthings moving. Tell him to wire as far as Genoa: there's nothing likebeing on the safe side. " And Tinker started the car. 

Two miles further on they came upon a peasant woman tramping slowlyalong, with a heavy basket on her head. Tinker stopped the car, andSir Tancred asked her if she had seen a lady and a little girl walkingon the Corniche between that spot and Monte Carlo. She said she hadnot seen a lady and a little girl walking, but a mile out of MonteCarlo she had seen a lady and a little girl in a carriage with twogentlemen; and the horses were galloping: oh, but they did gallop; theyhad nearly run over her. The young lady had cried out to her as theypassed. She had not caught what she said; she had thought it a joke. 

"It looks very like them: we had better follow this carriage. What doyou think, Mr. Rainer?" said Sir Tancred. "Of course they may be backat the hotel by now, and we may be on a wild-goose chase. "

"I guess we can afford to be laughed at; but we can't afford to lose achance, " said the millionaire. 

"They passed this woman a mile out of Monte Carlo, and we're four milesand a half out, " said Tinker. "She doesn't walk above three miles anhour with that basket: they're an hour and twenty minutes ahead. "

"You're smart, sonny, " said the millionaire. 

"Right away!" said Sir Tancred: and he tossed a five-franc piece to thewoman. 

Tinker set the car going, and began to try his hardest to get her bestspeed out of her. 

The millionaire leaned forward, and said to Sir Tancred, "The scum arehardly up-to-date to use a carriage instead of a motor-car. "

"What I don't see is how they are going to get them across thefrontier. It looks--it looks as if the Italian police were in it, "said Sir Tancred, frowning. 

"Do you mean to tell me that the Italian police would connive atkidnapping?" said the millionaire. 

"No: but some rascal of a detective, who could pull a good manystrings, might be in it. At any rate if they get them across thefrontier undrugged, the authorities are squared or humbugged. What I'mafraid of is that they're making for that rabbit-warren, Genoa. Ifthey get them there, we may be a fortnight finding them. "

"I guess I'll squeal before that, " said the millionaire; "yes, if Ihave to put up a million dollars. "

The car had reached a speed at which they could only talk in a shout, and it seemed no more than a few minutes before Tinker slowed down forMentone, and stopped at a gendarme. Before saying a word Sir Tancredshowed him a twenty-franc piece; and the gendarme spoke, he was evenvoluble. Yes, he had seen a carriage, rather more than an hour before. It had galloped through the town. It carried fever-patients for thehospital at Genoa, ill of the bubonic plague. The police and thecustom-house officials had been warned by wire from Monte Carlo andGenoa not to delay it. There were relays of horses every twenty milesto Genoa: the wires had said so. 

"That was how they crossed the frontier, was it? What fools theseofficials are!" said Sir Tancred, and he gave the gendarme hisNapoleon: and bade him tell his superior officer that the police hadbeen humbugged. 

"If they're really bound for Genoa, we can catch them and to spare--baraccidents, " said Tinker cheerfully. "Besides, M. Lautrec will havewired to look out for them. " And he set the car going. 

"Oh, they're bound for Genoa, sure enough, " said Sir Tancred. "Butthey won't enter it in that carriage, or much before daybreak. Stillthe rascals don't know that you've come, Mr. Rainer, and that we'realready on their track. That ought to spoil their game. "

The car ran through Mentone, and into Ventimiglia, but as it drew nearthe custom-house, Sir Tancred cried, "By Jove, we're going to bedelayed! The guard's turned out!" And sure enough, a dozen soldiersbarred the road. 

Tinker stopped the car: and a sergeant bade Sir Tancred and Mr. Rainercome with him to the officer in command. Tinker gave his father thepocketbook which contained their passports; the two of them got out ofthe car, and followed the sergeant into the custom-house. 

Tinker jumped down, and sure that he had plenty of time, looked at themachinery and filled up the petrol tank from a gallon tin in the backof the car. Then he went back to his seat. 

He could hear a murmur of voices from the custom-house, and it grewlouder and louder; he caught disjointed scraps of angry talk. Of asudden his father's voice rose loud in apparent fury, and he cried inItalian, "Spies! We're nothing of the kind!" and then in English, "Bolt!"

In a flash the car was moving, and half a dozen soldiers sprangforward, crying, "Stop! Stop!"

"It's running away!" screamed Tinker in Italian, and switched it on tofull speed. 

It jerked forward; and the soldiers ran heavily after it. 

"Hold it back! Hold it back!" screamed Tinker, and with theunquestioning obedience of the perfectly disciplined man, a simpleyoung soldier caught hold of the back of the car, and threw all hisheart and strength into the effort to stop it, only to find himselfrunning fast. At sixty yards he was running faster and shoutingloudly. At eighty yards, he stopped shouting, let go, and fell down. Tinker looked back, and saw him sitting up in the dust and shaking hisfist, while forty yards beyond him his fellow-soldiers dancedgesticulating in the middle of the road. 

[Illustration: "Hold it back!" screamed Tinker. ]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TINKER MEETS HIS OLD NURSE

Tinker let the car rip on, the while he considered what he should do. He was excited, determined, he accepted readily enough theresponsibility which had fallen upon him, but he was hardly happy. Hecould see no hope of rescuing Dorothy and Elsie by himself, even if hecaught the carriage; and since he reckoned that it would take hisfather two or three hours to turn the Riviera upside down, andextricate himself and Mr. Rainer from the extremely neat and effectivetrap into which they had fallen, he could look for no help from themtill far into the night. For a while he suffered from the sense thathe had bitten off, or rather had had thrust into his mouth, more thanhe could chew. Then of a sudden he saw that the really importantthing, the dogging the kidnappers, was in his power, and he regainedhis cheerfulness. 

He drove on the car at full speed for ten miles, and inquired of apeasant walking beside a cart loaded with bags of grain, if he had seenthe carriage. The peasant had seen it; he was vague as to how longago, and how far away, but Tinker was sure that he had seen it. Accordingly, he drove on the car at full speed again. In this way, going at full speed, and now and again slowing down to inquire, he gotover a good many miles. He was frightened when he went through a townlest the police should try to stop him, but it seemed that they hadreceived no such instructions from Ventimiglia. All the while he wasdrawing nearer the carriage, for all that, somewhere or other, it hadplainly changed horses. 

At last he made up his mind that he would overtake it in the next sevenmiles; and he bucketed the car along for all she was worth. At the endof the seven miles he had not overtaken it, nor was there anyappearance of it on the road before him, a level stretch of two miles. However, he ran on another five miles, and there was no sign of it, norhad anyone he passed or met, seen it. Plainly he had overshot it. 

He turned the car, and came back, stopping to examine branch roads forits wheel-tracks, losing the ground he had made up. Some seven milesback, he came to a road leading to a great gap in the hills. A littlegirl was feeding a few lean sheep at the corner of it. No: she hadseen no carriage; she had only been here a little while: the road ranup to Camporossa. Tinker considered it, and it invited his search. Itwent high into the hills, and he saw little towns here and there ontheir sides. He sent the car slowly down it. For seventy yards theroadway was hard, or stony; then came a patch of dust, smooth andunmarked by a wheel-track. Any vehicle going along the road must havepassed over it, and a wave of disappointment submerged Tinker's spirit;the road had seemed so very much the right one. He stopped the car, and stared blankly at the patch of dust. Suddenly his quick eye caughta curious marking on its surface. He jumped down, and bent over it:sure enough, the patch had been brushed and smoothed with a bough. 

He hurried the car back to the corner of the road, and by entreaties, persuasion, cajoling, a five-franc piece, and even--greatconcession!--a kiss, he wrung from the little shepherdess a promisethat she would wait till dark if need were, stop every motor-car thatcame from the direction of the frontier, and say, "The kidnappers havegone up this road. " He was assured that his father would borrow orhire a motorcar, and follow in it. 

Then he turned the car for Camporossa. Three hundred yards up the roadhe came to another patch of dust, and saw the wheel-tracks of thecarriage deep and plain. He sent along the car as hard as he dared, for, as the road grew steeper along the hillside, it grew stonier andstonier, thanks to its serving, like most Italian hill roads, as awatercourse to carry off the rain from the hills. A very slow andpainful jolting brought him among the olive groves of Camporossa andinto that little town. 

He stopped before the little Inn, and was served with milk and breadand fruit. As he ate and drank, he was all affability and informationto the group of the curious who gathered round the car. He was anEnglish boy; his family had gone on in front in a carriage, and he wasfollowing them in the car. He learned at once that the carriage hadgone on to Dolceacqua, and was less than an hour ahead. 

He paid for his food and milk, and without delay sent the car up thesteep hillside. He had to nurse and coax it up the steepest parts. After another long jolting he reached Dolceacqua, vexed all the time bythe knowledge that the carriage was going as fast as he over suchroads. The magnificent view of the Mediterranean from the rose-gardensof Dolceacqua afforded him no pleasure at all; it made only too clearto him the risk he would run, if he recovered Dorothy and Elsie and hadto descend that steep at any pace. At Dolceacqua he learned that thecarriage was little more than half an hour ahead, on the road toIslabona. He was pleased to hear that, for all the badness of theroad, he had gained upon it: plainly the horses were tiring. 

Another steep climb brought him up to Islabona, to learn that thecarriage had turned to the right along the road to Apricale. To hissurprise and satisfaction he found this road smooth, and once more, after long crawling, sent the car along at full speed. It was time tomake haste, for the sun was setting. A mile from Apricale he saw acloud of dust ahead of him, and he knew that he had the kidnappers insight. He slowed down, for he did not wish to be seen by them. Thenwhen the dust-cloud vanished into the straggling town, he hurried onagain, for if they pushed on through the darkness, he would have tofollow by the sound of their wheels. 

He came through Apricale at a moderate speed. Then a mile beyond it, as he came to the top of a little hill, he saw the carriage movingslowly down an avenue, to a house on the left, some hundred yards fromthe road. He stopped the car with a jerk, backed it a little way downthe hill, and from the brow watched the carriage drive up to the house. Then the sun set, and the swift twilight fell. 

He set about filling up the petrol tank, and making sure that the lampwas ready to light. Then he backed the car into a clump of trees, andset out across the fields for the house. It was the dark hour aftersunset, and he found most of the bushes thorny. Presently he came intoa deserted garden, overgrown with rank weeds and unclipped shrubs. Hehoped devoutly that the scorpions and tarantulas would await thepassing of the sunset chill in their lairs. To all seeming they did, for he pushed through the garden without mishap, and came to the house. It was a four-square, two-storied building, with something of the airof a fortress, a useful abode in those once brigand-ridden hills, someold-time gentleman's country-seat; a mat of creepers covered it to itstiled roof. The side near him was dark; and from the back came thevoices of three stablemen about their business. He stole round to thefront; and that too was dark. But on the further side two rooms werelighted, one on the ground floor, one above. 

A chatter of excited voices came from the lower windows; and Tinkercame to within ten yards of it, and looked in through the heavy bars. Three men were dining at the table: a freckled redheaded man with thehigh cheekbones of the Scot, a dissipated young Italian of a mostromantic air, and a small, round, vivacious man, ineffably French. 

"I'm going to marry the girl, say what you will!" the Italian cried. "Where would your scheme have been without my aid? Where would youhave found a house like this, out of the world, secure from search, ina country where everyone is as silent as the grave in my interests?"

"Pardon, my dear Monteleone, " said the Frenchman; "_I_ am going tomarry the lady. Without me, there would have been no scheme for you tohelp. I made it. I rank first. I marry the young lady. "

"What's all this talk about marrying the girl?" roared the Scotchman, in French. "We agreed on a ransom of a million and a half francs, fivehundred thousand francs each!"

"The lady's beauty has changed all that, " said the Frenchman. "I amgoing to marry her. "

"No, no: it's me; it's me, " said the Italian. 

"Have done with this foolish talk!" roared the Scotchman, banging thetable. "If either of you marries her, the poor young thing will be awidow in a fortnight. I know Septimus Rainer; he'll shoot such ason-in-law at sight!"

"Shoot me! Shoot me! This American mushroom shoot a Monteleone formarrying his daughter!" cried the Italian. "Why, the Monteleones wereCrusaders! He'll be proud of the alliance!"

"Very proud--very proud he'll be will Septimus Rainer--when he's shotye, " jeered the Scotchman. 

A movement overhead drew Tinker's attention; he looked up, to seeDorothy leaning out of the window above. He uttered the short clickwhich served him as a signal when he played the part of chiefconspirator. She looked straight down at him, but did not move oranswer, and he knew that there was someone, an enemy, in the room withher. The kidnappers still disputed vehemently; and he stole up to thewall, and began to climb the vine which covered the side of the house. He disturbed a number of roosting small birds; but Dorothy's suitorswere putting forward their pretensions to her hand with a clamour whichdrowned the flutter of wings. He climbed up and up, and Dorothy neverstirred; and at last he looked under her arm into the room. Elsie, with her elbows on the table, was staring miserably at the grim, forbidding face of an elderly woman who sat on a chair backed upagainst the door. 

Tinker looked at the woman and could scarcely believe his eyes, then helaughed gently, slipped over the window-sill, and said cheerfully, "Hullo, Selina, how are you?"

The grim woman started up with a little cry, stared at him, ran acrossthe room, and began to hug him furiously, crying, "Oh, Master Tinker!Master Tinker! What a turn you did give me!"

"Drop it, Selina! Drop it!" said Tinker, struggling out of herembrace. "You know how I hate being slobbered over!"

Then he dodged Dorothy and Elsie, who advanced upon him with one accordand one purpose of kissing him, and cried, "No, no! This is no timefor foolery!"

"But I don't understand, " said Dorothy. 

"Oh! Selina's my old nurse. What are you doing here, Selina? I neverexpected you to turn kidnapper at your age!"

"Nothing of the kind, Master Tinker! I'm paid to help save these poorlambs from them Popish Jesuits, and I'm going to do it!"

"Let's hear about this, " said Tinker, sitting down on the table. 

"It's my poor husband's cousin, Mr. Alexander McNeill. He engaged meto come here to act as maid to a young lady he was helping get awayfrom those Jesuits who were trying to force her into a convent to gether money, " said Selina. 

"You've been humbugged, then. What you are doing is helping to kidnapmy adopted sister Elsie, and Miss Dorothy Rainer, the daughter of anAmerican millionaire, " said Tinker joyfully. 

Dorothy started and flushed. "How did you learn that?" she saidquickly. 

"Your father's come from America, and he and my father are looking foryou, though where they are there's no saying. I left them atVentimiglia arrested as spies, " said Tinker. 

"Arrested as spies?" cried Dorothy. 

But Selina, whose face had undergone a slow but violent change, brokein, "So Alexander's humbugged me, has he? He's brought me all the wayfrom Paris here by a lie about Jesuits having tried to bury this younglady in one of their nasty convents, to do his dirty kidnapping work, has he? I'll kidnap him! I'll teach him to play these tricks on me!"

"Do!" said Tinker with warm approval. "You let him have it! Thinkthat you're pitching into me like you used to! Come along, all of you!Selina's simply tremendous when her back's up!"

Selina opened the door, and went down the stairs with all the outragedmajesty of a Boadicea. The three of them followed her quietly, and atthe bottom Tinker bade Dorothy and Elsie unbar the door of the houseand himself kept close behind Selina. She opened the door of the room;and at the sight of her the sustained shriek in which the Italian andthe Frenchman were conversing died suddenly down, and the threekidnappers stared at her. 

"You nasty, body-snatching scum!" said Selina, glowering at them. 

"Eh! What? You're daft, woman! What's the matter?" said McNeill. 

"Don't you woman me, Alexander McNeill!" said Selina. "Daft, am I?Daft to listen to your lies about Jesuits and the young lady! Daft tobelieve you when you told me not to listen to her, for the Jesuits hadgot round her, and she didn't know what was good for her! But I'vefound you out! I'm going to take the young lady straight back to herfather, and send the police here for you. "

"Woman, you're mad!" said McNeill, rising with a scared face. 

"Don't you woman me, you low Scotchman! You ought to be ashamed ofyourself, mixing yourself up with these foreign rascals! You that'shad a Christian up-bringing!"

"You do what you're paid to do!" roared McNeill. 

"Il faut agir!" said the Frenchman, with the true Napoleonic grasp ofthe situation, and he bounced in a lithe, over-confident manner atSelina. 

In a flash she had her left hand well gripped in his abundant hair, andwas clawing his face with her right. He screamed and writhed; and thestruggle gave Tinker his chance. He slipped the key out of the insideof the door, thrust it into the outside; as the Frenchman tore himselfaway yelling, he cried, "Outside, Selina!" strengthened the command bya strong drag on her arm; got her outside; slammed to the door, andlocked it almost before the kidnappers had realised that he was there. He wrenched the key out of the lock just as Dorothy had got thefront-door open; ran down the hall; caught Elsie's hand, and crying, "Come along! Come along!" ran down the avenue, followed by Dorothy andSelina as fast as they could pelt. 

Three minutes brought them to the car; and he bundled his breathlesscharges into it, drove it out of the clump of trees, and sent it harddown the road. Just before Apricale he bade them crouch down in thecar that they might not be seen, and rushed through the ill-lightedstreet at full speed. A mile beyond the town he lighted the lamp anddrove her at full speed again, along the smooth road to Islabona. 

Beyond Islabona he was forced to go very slowly down the joltingdescent; if he had tried to go at any pace, the car on those loosestones might at any moment have taken its own steering in hand andsmashed itself against the rocky banks. Dorothy and Elsie tookadvantage of the slowness to pour into his ears the tale of how thekidnappers had seized them on the Corniche a mile outside the town, thrust them into the carriage, and kept them quiet by threats. Now andagain he hushed them, to listen for pursuing horses. He had not muchfear of pursuit. The kidnappers would be some time breaking out of theroom in which he had locked them; and when they were out they wouldscour the neighbourhood on foot. He had kept well out of sight behindSelina; and they would hear nothing of the car before they began topursue. When they did pursue, it would be on the sure-footed hillhorses; they would come three yards to the car's one. 

At last they reached Dolceacqua, and pushed steadily and carefullydownwards. Half-way between that town and Camporossa, they came rounda bend in the road, to see half a mile below them the flaring lamp of amotor-car. 

"Here's my father, or the police!" said Tinker with a sigh of relief. 

In five minutes Dorothy was kissing her father; and Tinker waspresenting the new-found Selina to Sir Tancred with a joyful account ofher delinquencies. 

It had taken Sir Tancred little more than two and a half hours to getfree of the Italian authorities; and as Tinker had expected he hadhired a motor-car, and came straight and hard for Genoa, to be turnedaside on to the right track by Tinker's shepherdess. 

When they had exchanged stories, Mr. Rainer was for going on and takingvengeance on the kidnappers. But Sir Tancred dissuaded him, pointingout that there was no need to have every gossip in Europe talking aboutDorothy. If the police, who were in a bustle from Mentone to Genoa, caught them, it must be endured. But Dorothy had escaped unharmed, andthe less fuss made about the matter the better. 

Mr. Rainer listened to reason; Dorothy got into the car with SirTancred and her father; and they continued the descent. Once on thehighroad they set out for Monte Carlo as hard as they dared go atnight. It was past midnight when they reached the hotel, where Buistwas awaiting them in great anxiety. The sight of them set his mind atrest; but to this day he is inclined to believe that Sir Tancred had ahand in the kidnapping of Dorothy, and that Selina was an accomplice. To his intimates he speaks of him with great respect as "a mastermindof crime. "

They were all very hungry and they supped at great length, in very goodspirits. As they were going upstairs to bed, Tinker succeeded inkeeping Dorothy back. 

"It's all very well your being the daughter of a millionaire, " he saidwith some severity. "But an employer has his rights. I can't lose agoverness who suits Elsie so well, straight off. I shall expect amonth's notice. "

"But I've no intention of resigning that excellent post, " said Dorothy, smiling. 

Tinker looked at her gravely, thinking, and then he said gloomily, "Your father will never let you be a governess. I suppose you expectme to back you up against him. "

"That's just what I do expect, " said Dorothy. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TINKER TAKES SEPTIMUS RAINER IN HAND

On awaking next morning Dorothy's first thought was how would herfather's coming affect her relations with Sir Tancred; and she at oncechanged it to how would it affect her relations with the whole of thelittle circle into which a fortunate whim had led her. She was an honestsoul, and now she tried to be as honest with herself as a woman can bringherself to be. She did not hide from herself that of late she and SirTancred had been more and more drawn together; she even went to thelength of admitting that her feeling for him was something stronger thanfriendship. Indeed, she was full of pity for him. She had learned fromTinker something of the story of his earlier life, and like a good womanshe wished she might give him the happiness he had missed. She did notknow how strongly she longed to give him that happiness, much less wasshe able to distinguish where pity merged into love. Now she was in agreat dread of her father's millions. She knew well enough that withmany, indeed, with most men of Sir Tancred's class they would have beenprimroses, very large primroses, on the path of love; she feared that ifhe was the man she thought him, and she would not have him any other, they would prove barriers on that path, hard indeed to surmount. Shedressed in no very good spirits, and came downstairs to find her fatherawaiting her in the hall, ready to stroll out and hear how the world hadgone with her. 

Sir Tancred also awoke with the sense of something unpleasant havinghappened. But at first he could not for the life of him remember what itwas. Then he began to consider the change which would be brought aboutby the irruption of the millionaire. He resented it. He found theprospect of Tinker's losing Dorothy's services exceedingly disagreeable. For a while he ascribed that resentment to the fact that she would ceaseto be the excellent influence with Tinker she certainly was; and then hegrew resentful on his own account. It was hard, indeed, that he shouldsuddenly be deprived of the presence of so charming a creature at histable, of so delightful a companion of his evening stroll in the gardensof the Casino. If it hadn't been for those confounded millions--there hechecked himself sternly; the millions were there, and there was no moreto be said, or thought. But his temper was none the better for theconstraint. 

After his late hours the night before, Tinker did not get up as early asusual, and he and Elsie decided to forego their bathe in the sea, butwent straight to breakfast in the kitchen of the hotel. He found thestaff greatly concerned about the trouble which was likely to befall himfor borrowing the motor-car. It seemed that on finding it gone, itsowner, a M. Cognier, had displayed a wrath of the most terrible. Ofcourse an Argus-eyed busy-body had seen Tinker depart in it; and M. Cognier, an Anglophobe, had declared his intention of punishing thisinsolence of Perfidious Albion by handing him over to the police. Tinkerheard all their prophecies of evil with his wonted tranquillity; but hehad no little difficulty in setting their minds at rest. 

M. Cognier had been impressive. 

The two children had finished their breakfast, and were about to set outin search of adventure, when Selina found them and began to set forth apetition. She wished to be allowed to enter Tinker's service again. Shewas, she said, alone in the world once more, for her husband, havingspent all her savings, had with determined Scotch thriftinessincontinently died, and left her to shift for herself. She had beenmaking a mean living as an ironer in a Parisian laundry, when AlexanderMcNeill had sent for her to Apricale to help him deliver a young ladyfrom the Jesuits; and she saw in her curious meeting with Tinker, at thecountry seat of the young Monteleone, the finger of Providence pointingthe way back to her old situation. Would he lay the matter before hisfather, and support her petition?

Tinker was somewhat taken aback, and said, "But I'm too old for a nurse. "

"Oh, there are lots of things I could do, Master Tinker. There arereally, " said Selina. "You want a housekeeper when you're at the Refuge, a housekeeper who could get up your linen and Sir Tancred's as they can'tdo it at Farndon-Pryze. You want someone to look after you, when you'vegot a cold. You never did take any care of yourself. " She was wringingher hands in her earnestness. 

"You'd be a sort of valet-housekeeper then, " said Tinker, pondering thematter. 

"Yes, and I should want very little wages. All I want is to be in yourservice again. I never ought to have left it. I never had no real peaceall the time I was married, what with wondering how you were being lookedafter, and whether you was ill or not. I always took in _The MorningPost_, though Angus did grumble at the expense, all the time I was inParis, on purpose to see where you was; and every day I looked at theBirths, Deaths, and Marriages first, to see if anything had happened toyou. "

She stopped; and Tinker was silent a while, thinking; then he said, "Doyou think you could act as maid to Elsie?"

"Why, of course I could, Master Tinker!"

"She wants someone to brush her hair most, " said Tinker thoughtfully. 

"I don't want a maid. And I don't want anyone to brush my hair but you, "said Elsie firmly. "No one could do it so well. "

"Oh, you'll soon get used to Selina's doing it, " said Tinker cheerfully. "And you'll find it so much more--so much more important having a maid ofyour own. You'll feel so grown-up, don't you know? I tell you what, we'll go upstairs, and Selina can have a try at it, while I talk to myfather. "

Elsie shook her head doubtfully; but she came. Tinker left them at thedoor of Elsie's room, and went to his father. He found him dressing, andafter bidding him good-morning, came at once to the matter in hand. "Selina wants to come back to us, " he said. "She thinks she could beuseful as valet-housekeeper and maid to Elsie. She's awfully keen on it. "

"If she wants to come back, she most certainly can, " said Sir Tancred. "I owe Selina a debt I can never pay--and so do you, for that matter. Idon't pretend to know what the functions of a valet-housekeeper are, butdoubtless Selina knows her own capabilities best. Besides, as you arelosing your governess, you will want some woman about Elsie. "

"But I don't intend to lose my governess!" cried Tinker. 

Sir Tancred looked at him with unaffected interest. "Am I to understandthat you propose to retain the daughter of a millionaire as your adoptedsister's governess?" he said. 

"Yes, " said Tinker firmly. "Dorothy's a very good governess: she suitsElsie and she suits me. "

"That sounds like a reason, " said Sir Tancred. "But I shall beinterested to see if Mr. Rainer listens to it. "

"I think, " said Tinker thoughtfully, "we shan't have much trouble withMr. Rainer. "

"Of course, if you've made up your mind--but millionaires are kittlecattle. "

Tinker went to Selina and Elsie, looked carefully into the matter ofhair-brushing; gave Selina a few hints on the process, and then told herthat her request was granted. He fled from the room to escape her joyfulgratitude; and went down into the hall to await the conclusion of theprocess, and Elsie's coming. 

Of a sudden there descended on him an exceedingly animated Frenchgentleman of forty, who cried, "Tell me then a little, good-for-nothing!Why did you steal my motor-car yesterday?"

Tinker was suavity itself; he protested that he was desolated, grievedbeyond measure that the necessity of borrowing the motor-car had beenforced on him; but he had borrowed it in the service of a lady; and hetold briefly the story of the kidnapping. The aggrieved Frenchmanlistened to it with a face in which amazement battled with incredulity;but fortunately, towards the end of it, Dorothy and her father came intothe hotel from walking in the garden of the Casino; and Tinker introducedthe Frenchman to them. At the sight of Dorothy's beauty, he forgot hisrighteous wrath; forgot that it was an international matter, anotherinstance of the cunning insolence of Perfidious Albion; protested hisdelight that his car should have been of use to her; would not listen toSeptimus Rainer's proposal to fit it out with fresh tires, declaring thatthe tires on it, worn in her service, had become one of his mostcherished possessions; and in the end turned upon Tinker withoutstretched arms, and cried, "Embrace me! I have called you agood-for-nothing! But you are a hero!"

With infinite quickness Tinker seized the nearest hand, wrung it warmly, and ducked out of the way of the embrace. Then he explained that unlessthe police caught the kidnappers, they desired to let the matter drop, for the gossip would be unpleasant to Dorothy. The Frenchman understood;and assured them that as far as he was concerned, it should be buried inthe most secret depths of his bosom. 

With that he took his leave of them; and on his heels came two Italiandetectives to inquire into the kidnapping. Sir Tancred was summoned tothe conference; and for all that their questioners assumed a good deal ofthe air of inquisitors with all the horrors of the torture-chamber behindthem, he and Tinker saw to it that they went away very little wiser thanthey came. 

At déjeuner Septimus Rainer told them that now he was in Europe heproposed to stay in Europe, and enjoy a little of his daughter's society. He could carry on all of his business he wanted to by cablegram andletter. One thing, however, he must have, and that was clothes, for inhis haste he had come away with a gripsack and nothing more. Sir Tancredsuggested that Tinker, who knew his Nice, should take him over there, andput him in the hands of the right tailor, hatter, hosier, and bootmaker;and Septimus Rainer accepted the offer gratefully. 

Accordingly the two of them caught a train early in the afternoon, andwent to Nice. Septimus Rainer had supposed the getting of clothes to bea simple and tiresome affair of a few minutes; you went to a tailor andsaid, "Make me suits of clothes, " or to a bootmaker and said, "Make mepairs of boots. " He was vastly mistaken. He found himself embarked upona serious business. 

He awoke to the seriousness of it in the train, when he found Tinker, whohad taken his commission to heart, regarding him with a cold, calculatingair, very disquieting. He endured it as long as he could, then he saidcautiously, "You aren't measuring me for my coffin; are you, sonny?"

"Oh, no!" said Tinker with a reassuring smile of a seraphic sweetness. "I was only thinking how you ought to be dressed. "

"Oh, anything will do for me, " said Septimus Rainer carelessly. 

"I'm afraid not; you see I'm responsible, " said Tinker seriously. "And Iwas thinking that, getting your clothes here in Nice, I shall have tokeep a very sharp eye on them, or they'll go dressing you like a FrenchAmerican--you know, an American who is dressed by a Paris tailor. Andthat wouldn't do at all. "

"No: of course not, " said Septimus Rainer quickly. 

But it was not till they came to the tailor's that he realised the fullseriousness of the business before them. At first he supposed that hewas to have his say in the matter; but at the end of ten minutes, with ahalf-humorous abandonment, he put himself entirely in the hands of theconscientious Tinker, and indeed had he not done so, there is no sayingthat he might not have gone about the world parading a velvet collar on agrey frock coat. It was Tinker who decided, after weighty consideration, upon the colour and texture of the stuff of each suit, chose the verybuttons for it, and forced upon the reluctant Niçois his ideas of the wayeach separate garment should be cut. Septimus Rainer was franklybewildered at the end of half an hour; he was used, in the way ofbusiness, to carrying a multiplicity of details in his head, but thesedetails it could not carry. When he found that Tinker had them at hisfinger ends, he was filled with admiration and respect. 

From the tailor's they went to the hatter's; and there Septimus Rainerfound himself trying on hats by the score. But, strangely enough, he didnot grow weary: Tinker's absorbed interest in his task was catching tothe point that at the hosier's the millionaire found himself discussingthe shade of his socks with real enthusiasm. 

When they came out of the last shop Tinker said, with the deep breath ofone relieved of a heavy responsibility, "There--I think you'll look allright--as far as a French tailor can do it. "

"I ought to, after all the trouble you've taken, sonny, " said SeptimusRainer, smiling. 

"You have to take trouble about dressing a man. A woman is easy enough. I got Elsie her clothes in about an hour. But a man is much moredifficult. And clothes are so important, " said Tinker gravely. 

"I suppose they are--over here, " said Septimus Rainer. 

"I'm glad you don't take them really seriously, " said Tinker, approvinghis tone, "because you'll soon get into the way of wearing them whenyou've got them. It's very funny, but well-dressed Americans--men, Imean--don't often wear their clothes properly; they look as if they feltso awfully well-dressed. I don't think you will. "

"Now you've told me about it, I'll try not to. "

"I think you'll want a good man, though, to keep you up to the mark. Youmight get slack, don't you know?"

"No, no; I can't have a valet, and I won't, " said Septimus Rainer firmly. 

"Ah, we shall have to see what Dorothy says about that, " said Tinker witha smile of doubtful meaning. 

"That's playing it rather low down on me, isn't it?" said Septimus Rainerreproachfully. "It's--it's coercion. "

"Oh, if you have to wear clothes, you may as well do it thoroughly. Yousee, it's been put into my hands, and I must go through with it, " saidTinker apologetically. 

The millionaire gazed at him ruefully. 

"And now, " Tinker went on, regarding him with another cold, calculatingair, that of a proprietor, "I think I'll take you to a hair-dresser, andhave your hair and beard dealt with. "

"Crop away! crop away!" said the millionaire. 

Tinker took him to a hair-dresser, and told the man exactly how he wantedthe hair and beard cut. "He'd make you a French American, too, if I lethim, " he said to Septimus Rainer. 

When the hair-dresser had done, the millionaire looked at himself in theglass with approval, and said, "Well, I do look spick and span, thoughgritty; yes--sir. "

"You'll look better when you have your clothes, " said Tinker. "And, now, I think you must want a drink. "

"That is so, sonny. This is dry work, this getting clothes. "

Tinker took him to a café, adorned with an American bar. Septimus Rainerlighted a cigar and refreshed himself with the whiskey sour of his nativeland; Tinker ate ices. Over these agreeable occupations they talked; andthe millionaire derived considerable entertainment and no littleinstruction from his young companion's views of life on the Mediterraneanlittoral, illustrated from the passing pleasure-seekers. 

[Illustration: Over these agreeable occupations they talked. ]

When they got into the railway carriage on their return, he lightedanother cigar, and lay back in the seat with the content of a man who haddone a hard day's work. But presently he roused himself and said, "I'vebeen thinking about those kidnapping scum. They were going to ransomDorothy for three hundred thousand dollars, you said. "

"Yes, a million and a half francs, " said Tinker. 

"Well, sonny, I've been thinking I must pay you fifty thousand dollarsover that business. You took a big risk holding up a gang like that. "

"It wasn't me: Selina held them up, " said Tinker quickly. 

"Selina did her share, and I shan't forget it. But it was your show. Ithink fifty thousand dollars would be fair. "

Tinker's face went very grave. "Thank you very much, " he said slowly, "but I couldn't take any money for helping Dorothy out of a mess. WhenI've taken money for helping people, they've been strangers--like theKernabies and Blumenruth. But Dorothy is different--quite different. "

Septimus Rainer pulled at his beard, and said in a grumbling voice, "That's all very well, sonny; but where do I come in? You get my littlegirl out of a tight place--a very tight place--and you save me threehundred thousand dollars. Business is business, and I ought to pay. "

"It is rather awkward for you, " said Tinker, looking at him with apuzzled face and knitted brow. "But I think the thing is that it wasn'tbusiness. I like Dorothy--I like her very much. She's a friend. Andthere can't be any business between friends, don't you know?"

"Shake, sonny, " said the millionaire, holding out his hand. "I'm gladyou and she are friends. "

Tinker shook his hand gravely. 

When they came back to the hotel, at the sight of her father, Dorothycried, "Oh, papa, what have you been doing? You look ten years younger. And what a nice shape your head is!"

"Yes, " said Septimus Rainer, "I pride myself on the shape of my head. But it's all your young friend's doing. "

"Wait till his clothes come, " said Tinker with modest pride. 

"I shall look fine in those clothes, I tell you--fine, " said SeptimusRainer, and his air was almost fatuous. 

"I think he ought to have a valet, " said Tinker. "You can't learn aboutclothes all out of your own head. Either you must have always worn theright clothes, or you want someone to teach you. "

"Of course, you must have a valet, papa, " said Dorothy. 

"I can't--I can't have a man messing about me, " said Septimus Rainer in atone of almost pathetic pleading. 

"I'm afraid there's no way out of it, " said Tinker firmly. 

"I'm sure there isn't if Tinker says so. He knows all about thesethings, " said Dorothy. "You must be brave, papa: you really must. "

"I'll find him one, " said Tinker. 

Septimus Rainer yielded with a gesture of hopeless resignation. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TINKER ASSERTS THE RIGHTS OF THE EMPLOYER

Septimus Rainer was very soon admitted to the frankest intimacy of thelittle circle. An American of the best type, he had enjoyed theadvantage in his childhood of the stern and hardening training of lifeon a little farm, and the supreme advantage of a good mother. He hadfought his way to fortune with clean hands, winning always his battlesby sheer superiority of brain, never by laxity of principle; no mancould lay to his charge that he had dealt him a foul blow. He hadcome, therefore, through that demoralising fight with a clean heart, his native shrewdness increased a thousand-fold, his native simplicityunabated. It was this combination of shrewdness and simplicity whichhad caused him to send Dorothy, bitter as it had been to part with her, to Europe to finish her education. His gorge had risen at theintolerable snobbishness which is corroding the wealthy sections ofAmerican society; he had made up his mind that she had a better chanceof obtaining the necessary social acquirements, while remaining agentlewoman, in Europe; and had acted with great success on theconviction. 

After a few days' natural restlessness he found himself developing anadmirable capacity, very rare in millionaires, of being for a whileidle. This agreeable circumstance was the natural effect of thesurroundings in which he found himself; not so much of the place, forat Monte Carlo pleasure is a somewhat strenuous affair, but of the factthat his new friends had a trained power of taking life easily. Tinker, Sir Tancred, and Lord Crosland would have admitted him to theirintimacy for the sake of Dorothy; but simple souls themselves, theyrecognised in him a kindred simplicity, and admitted him to theirfriendship. He possessed, to a great degree, the Americanadaptability; and it is not surprising that he fell into their way oftaking life easily. It was only for the time being. The millionaireis a good deal of the Sindbad, and he must bear the burden and go theway of the golden Old Man of the Sea he has made for himself. ButSeptimus Rainer enjoyed this respite from the tyranny of his millionswith the whole-hearted pleasure of a child. He enjoyed the brightnessand glitter of the place; he enjoyed the pleasant meals and pleasanttalks with pleasant companions; he enjoyed a little gambling at thetables; and he enjoyed with a childlike zest playing with Dorothy andthe children, displaying latent and unsuspected talents for piracy, brigandage, and conspiracy, which were no less a glory than a surpriseto him. Indeed, at times he was very like a young schoolboy let looseafter many hours' school. 

Tinker was of perpetual interest to him, and he listened with greedyears to the wisdom of the world of that sage, on the rare occasionswhen some matter or other set it flowing from his lips. On the otherhand, he found in him an absorbed listener to the stories of his lessinvolved financial battles, and spared no pains to make them clear tohim. Sir Tancred interested him little less, and he was alwaysdeploring the loss the splendid army of millionaires had suffered byhis excellent abilities not having been forced to flow in a businesschannel. 

He was distressed, too, about the waste of Tinker, and adjured hisfather to hand him over to him to be made a millionaire of. 

But Sir Tancred turned a deaf ear to his petition, and said, "Ofcourse, if Tinker went into business he would become a millionaire. And it's a fashionable occupation, and I've nothing to say against it. But over here, with some of us, there are still other things besidesmoney--not that there will be long--and for my part I shall be contentif he grows up a gentleman, as he will. Business might spoil that; andat any rate I won't chance it. And, after all, my step-mother won'tlive to much more than eighty, so that he will have thirty thousand ayear before he's forty-five. "

"That's a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, " said Septimus Rainerthoughtfully, and he pressed the point no more. 

He was far too shrewd not to perceive the attraction Sir Tancred andDorothy had for one another, and he regarded it with entire content. Whatever he might have said against Sir Tancred's manner of life, hehad a genuine respect for his qualities; and he had learned fromDorothy something of the causes of his falling into that manner oflife. He had a strong belief that once married to her he would change;he thought it likely that he might even embark on the career ofpolitics, which he understood to be, in England, a quite respectablepursuit. He was aware, of course, that he could easily buy her anEnglish peer or a foreign Prince for husband. But Sir Tancred's rankand birth satisfied his simple tastes; and he was quite sure that hemight ransack the English peerage and the Courts of Europe withoutfinding her as good a husband. He did not perceive that his millionsbarred Sir Tancred's path. 

Dorothy perceived it only too soon. She found the growth of herintimacy with Sir Tancred checked; it did not lessen, indeed, but itdid not increase. A shadow had fallen across it, and he no longertalked to her in the tone of half-affectionate familiarity he had grownto use with her, he was more reserved. She chafed at it, but she wasnot greatly downcast; she only wished that the kidnappers had had thegrace to leave her in her part of the penniless governess, a few weekslonger. She felt that, then, all the millions in the world would nothave barred Sir Tancred's way. Indeed, she had no reason to be greatlydowncast. This sudden setting of her out of his reach had inevitablyincreased her attraction for Sir Tancred; it had deepened his liking toa far stronger feeling. He cursed the unkindly Fates, and told himselfthat his only course was to fly; that the more he saw of her, the morepainful would that flight be. But he could by no means constrainhimself to forego the delight of her presence; and, though he never leta word of his love escape his lips, his eyes and the tones of his voicetold her of it often enough. 

Tinker was not long providing Septimus Rainer with a carefully chosenEnglish valet, whom he found a pleasant, unassuming fellow, very easyto get on with. Then the millionaire began to talk of engaging asecretary, for his millions were beginning to make themselvestroublesome; and he begged Tinker, since he had found him sounembarrassing a valet, to keep his eyes about him for a secretaryalso; but Tinker said that Monte Carlo was no place to find secretarieswho understood business. 

One morning he saw Madame Séraphine de Belle-Île drive up to the hotel. She wore a mournful air; and he perceived at once that she was nolonger clad in a bright scarlet costume, but in one of a dull crimson, more in keeping with her air of mournfulness. She cut him deliberatelyas she passed into the hotel. 

He was exceedingly angry; no human being had ever cut him before, andhe flushed with mortification. He walked down to the gardens ponderingthe affront; and his anger grew. Then of a sudden it flashed on himthat she had found out Mr. Arthur Courtnay, and that the warning he hadgiven her had had something to do with that discovery. She had cut himby way of showing her gratitude in a truly womanly fashion. With thesmile of an angel indulgent to human frailty he forgave her, and thrustthe matter out of his mind. 

That night at dinner, or rather at dessert, Lord Crosland informed themthat he was engaged to Claire Wigram; and when they had donecongratulating him, he told them that in a few days he would be leavingfor England with the Wigrams. 

"Well, " said Sir Tancred, "the season here is coming to an end; and, atany rate, the weather for the last few days has been too hot to dothese children any good. I think we will move northward, too. "

"It will be the break-up of a very pleasant party, " said SeptimusRainer with a sigh, and Dorothy's face fell. 

"Why should it break up?" said Lord Crosland. "You'd better all come. "

"No; I'm not coming to England, yet, " said Sir Tancred. "After allthis heat it would be too great a risk to face straight away the bitterEnglish summer. I thought of moving northward gently to Biarritz, or Ihave a fancy for Arcachon. Wednesday would be as good a day as any. "

There was a pause; then Tinker said thoughtfully, "Wednesday is rathersoon, sir. " And, turning to Dorothy, he said, "Do you think that youcould pack by Wednesday? Of course, it doesn't really matter, for youcould come on after us; but I don't want Elsie to lose a day's work. "

Septimus Rainer, Sir Tancred, and Lord Crosland looked a little takenaback; it struck them all three with the same sense of oddness that asmall boy should direct the movements of the daughter of a millionaire. 

"Oh, I can easily pack up by Wednesday, " said Dorothy, as if it were amatter of course that he should direct her movements. 

"That's all right, " said Tinker. 

"But I don't understand, " said Septimus Rainer. "Has Dorothy boundherself to do as you tell her?"

"Well, I suppose she has, as far as teaching Elsie goes. And Iexplained when she took the post that we travelled about a good deal, "said Tinker carelessly. 

"But I can't have this, " said Septimus Rainer. 

"Well, she can always give me a month's notice, and then the engagementends, " said Tinker. He was prepared for the discussion, and resolvedthat his father and Dorothy should not be separated as long as he couldprevent it. 

"Do you mean she isn't free for a month from now? But--but it'sabsurd!" said Septimus Rainer. 

"That's what the papers call the rights of the employer, " said Tinkerwith a singularly sad sweetness. 

"Oh, you wouldn't insist on that right, not if you were asked nicely, would you?" said Lord Crosland. 

"Oh, yes, I should!" said Tinker cheerfully. "You see, I'm responsiblefor Elsie, and she will never get such a good governess as Dorothyagain. So she must have as much of her as possible. "

"Thank you; it's nice to be appreciated, " said Dorothy, smiling at him. 

"Ah, " said Septimus Rainer with the air of one who has found a solutionof the problem, "but Dorothy can always forfeit a month's salary inlieu of notice. "

"Oh, I couldn't think of it, papa!" cried Dorothy. "I should lose--Ishould lose five pounds!"

"This beats the Dutch! This is avarice! I allow you four thousanddollars a month!" said Septimus Rainer. 

"Ah, but this is my own earned money!" Dorothy protested, flushing andsmiling. 

Suddenly there came a twinkle into Septimus Rainer's eye. "Well, " hesaid, "if you're ground down under the heel of a grasping employer, you're ground down, and you must go to Arcachon. But I shall come, too. "

"Of course, " said Tinker. "You're--you're one of the family. "

"Thank you, " said Septimus Rainer. "I'm told that you English are slowabout it. But when you make a man at home, you do make him at home. And I've always wanted to be adopted. "

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TINKER DISOWNS HIS GRANDMOTHER

On the eve of their departure for Arcachon, Tinker and Elsie weresitting in the gardens of the Temple of Fortune, taking a well-earnedrest after a farewell bolt into the Salles de Jeu, in which Elsie alsohad played a gallant and successful part, for the somewhat obscurereason that it was the last bolt: so strengthening to her character hadbeen companionship with Tinker. She was receiving, with modest pride, his congratulations on having penetrated deeper than himself, to theinnermost shrine, the Trente et Quarante table, in fact, when they sawcoming towards them a large, majestic, white-haired lady, a small, subdued, mouse-haired lady, and a man of doubtful appearance. 

Without causing him to pause in his congratulations, Tinker's activemind had placed the two women as a wealthy Englishwoman and hercompanion, and was hesitating whether to place the man in the class ofContinental Guides or private detectives, when he pointed to the twochildren, and said something to the majestic lady. 

"That's the little boy, is it? Then you two go and sit on the nextseat while I talk to him, " said the majestic lady in a voice which lostin pleasantness what it gained in loudness; and she came to the seat onwhich Tinker and Elsie sat, while her attendants walked on. 

Now to call him a little boy was by no means the quickest way toTinker's heart, and he watched her draw near with a cold eye. But allthe same when she made as if to sit down, he rose and raised his hatwith a charming smile. She sat down and looked him over with a coolconsideration which provoked his fastidiousness to no admiration of herbreeding. Then she said:

"Are you Sir Tancred Beauleigh's little boy?"

"I am Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh, " said Tinker in a faintly correctivetone quite lost on her complacent mind. 

"Hildebrand Anne! Hildebrand Anne! She called you Hildebrand Anne, did she? The impudence of these minxes!" said the majestic lady, andshe sniffed like a lady of the lower-middle classes. 

At once Tinker knew that she was Lady Beauleigh, and that she wasspeaking of his mother. But his face never changed; only the pupils ofhis eyes contracted a little; and he drew a quiet, deep breath ofsatisfaction. He had always hoped for an interview with her, hisfather's step-mother, and he knew that he had the advantage; for he wasarmed with a very fair knowledge of her, imparted to him by his father, who thought it well to put him on his guard; and of him she knewnothing. 

"Who's this little girl?" said Lady Beauleigh, surveying Elsie with herinsolent stare. "Send her away. I want to talk to you alone. "

"This is my adopted sister, Elsie. You may talk before her; it doesn'tmatter how confidential it is. I always tell her everything, " saidTinker in a tone of kindly but exasperating patronage. 

"I don't care! Go away, little girl!" said Lady Beauleigh, and Tinkerwas pleased to see the colour rise in her cheeks. 

He stayed Elsie, who was rising to go, with a wave of his hand and saidgently, "Is it important talk?"

"Yes; it is!" snapped Lady Beauleigh. 

"Then I'd rather she stopped. My father says you should always have awitness to important talk, " said Tinker, and he smiled at her. 

"Stuff and nonsense! I'm your grandmother!" cried Lady Beauleighangrily. 

"Ah, then your name is Vane, " said Tinker sweetly. 

"Vane! Vane!" Lady Beauleigh gasped rather than spoke the hated name. "It's nothing of the kind! It's Beauleigh! I'm Lady Beauleigh!"

"I'm afraid there must be some mistake. You can't be my grandmother onmy father's side. My father's mother is dead, " said Tinker in a tonewhich almost seemed to apologise for her error. 

"You must be very stupid, or very ignorant!" cried Lady Beauleigh. "I'm your grandfather's second wife, as you ought to know!"

"Oh, I know, now, " said Tinker; and his face shone with his suddenenlightenment. "You keep a bank. "

"I--keep--a--bank?" said Lady Beauleigh in a dreadful voice. 

"Oh, not a roulette bank or baccarat bank, " said Tinker withwell-affected hastiness. "One of the shop kind--where they sellmoney--with glass doors. "

"My father was a banker, if that's what you mean, " said Lady Beauleigh. "But a bank isn't a shop. "

"Oh, I always think it a kind of shop, " said Tinker with thedispassionate air of a professor discussing a problem in the HigherMathematics. "It's as well to lump all these--these commercial thingstogether, isn't it?" And he was very pleased with the word commercial. 

"No: it isn't! A bank isn't a shop, you stupid little boy!" cried LadyBeauleigh hotly. 

"Well, just as you like, " said Tinker with graceful surrender. "I onlycall it a shop because it's convenient. "

"A boy of your age ought not to think about convenience. You ought tohave been taught to keep things clear and distinct, " said LadyBeauleigh in a heavy, didactic voice. 

"Oh, it's quite clear to me, really, that a bank's a shop; but we won'ttalk about it, if you're ashamed of it. After all, one doesn't talkabout trade, does one?" said Tinker with a return to his kindly butexasperating patronage. 

"Ashamed of it? I'm not ashamed of it!" said Lady Beauleigh in theroar of a wounded lioness. 

"No, no; of course not! I only thought you were! I made a mistake!"said Tinker quickly, with an infuriating show of humouring her. 

"I'm proud of it! Proud of it!" said Lady Beauleigh thickly. "Andwhen you grow up and understand things, you'll wish your father hadbeen a banker, too!"

"I don't think so, " said Tinker; and he smiled at her very pleasantly. "I'm quite satisfied with my father as he is. I'd really rather thathe was a gentleman. "

"A banker is a gentleman!" cried Lady Beauleigh. 

"Yes, yes, of course, " said Tinker, humouring her again. "He's--he's acommercial gentleman. "

Lady Beauleigh could find no words. Never in the course of herdomineering life had she been raised to such an exaltation ofwhole-souled exasperation. She could only glare at the suave disposerof her long-cherished, long-asserted pretensions; and she glared with afury which made Elsie, who had edged little by little to the extremeedge of the seat, rise softly and take up a safer position, standingthree yards away. 

Tinker took advantage of Lady Beauleigh's helpless speechlessness tosay thoughtfully, "But about your being my grandmother? If you're notmy father's mother or my mother's mother, you can't really be mygrandmother. You must be my step-grandmother. 

"I should think, " Tinker went on, and his thoughtfulness became athoughtful earnestness, "that you must be what people call a connectionby marriage; not quite one of the family. "

The thoughtfulness cleared from Tinker's brow, and he said with apleasant smile, "But that's got nothing to do with what you came totalk about. You said it was important. What did you want to say?"

Lady Beauleigh remembered suddenly that she had come on an errandconnected with her promotion of the glory of the Beauleighs. Sheswallowed down her fury, wiped her face with her handkerchief, and saidin a hoarse and somewhat shaky voice, "I came to make you an offer. "

Tinker beamed on her. 

"You must be tired of this beggarly life, going about from pillar topost, living in wretched Continental hotels, with no pocket money. "

Tinker raised his eyebrows. 

"I know what your father's life is, just a mere penniless adventurer's. "

Tinker beamed no more. 

"And I came to offer to take you to live with me at Beauleigh Court. It's a beautiful big house in the country with woods all around it, andhunting and fishing and shooting and tennis-courts and fruit-gardens, and a cricket-ground, everything that a boy could want. "

"And you, " said Tinker in the expressionless tone of one adding an itemto a catalogue. 

"Yes; and me to look after you. You should have a bicycle. " And shepaused to let the splendour of the gift sink in. 

[Illustration: And she paused to let the splendour of the gift sink in. ]

"I have a bicycle, " said Tinker. 

"Well--two bicycles--and a pony----"

"I don't like ponies--they're too slow, " said Tinker in a weary voice. "I always ride a horse. "

"Well, you should have a horse--a horse of your own. "

"What's the hunting like? But, there, I know; it can't be up to much;it never is in those southern counties. I always hunt inLeicestershire. I've got used to it. "

"You hunt in Leicestershire?" said Lady Beauleigh with some surprise. 

"Oh course. Where does one hunt?" said Tinker, echoing her surprise. 

"But--but--where does your horse come from? I know your father can'tafford to keep horses!"

"Sometimes he can, " said Tinker. "And if he has had to sell them, adozen people will always mount us. "

Lady Beauleigh paused; and then she made the last, lavish bid. "And Iwould allow you a hundred a year pocket-money. Why--why, you would bea little Prince!"

"A little Prince! And learn geography! No, thank you!" said Tinker, startled out of his calm. "Besides, " he added carelessly, "I've madefive thousand in the last year. "

"Five thousand what?"

"Pounds. "

"Come, come, " said Lady Beauleigh, shaking her head, "you mustn't tellme lies. "

"It isn't a lie! Tinker never tells lies, " broke in Elsie hotly. 

"Hold your tongue, you impertinent little minx!" said Lady Beauleighsharply. "Who asked you to speak?"

"I think you're a horrid----" said Elsie, and was checked by Tinker'supraised hand. 

"And when I died, " Lady Beauleigh went on, turning again to Tinker, "Ishould leave you thirty thousand a year--think of it--thirty thousand ayear!"

"It all sounds very nice, " said Tinker in a painfully indifferent tone. "But I'm afraid it wouldn't do. "

"Wouldn't do? Why wouldn't it do? To live in a beautiful big house inthe country, and have everything a boy could want! Why wouldn't itdo?" cried Lady Beauleigh, excited by opposition to a feverish desireto compass the end on which her heart had been set for many months. 

"Do you really want to know, " said Tinker very gently, but with adangerous gleam in his eyes. 

"Yes; I insist on knowing!" cried Lady Beauleigh. 

"Well, " said Tinker slowly, pronouncing every word with a verydeliberate distinctness, "we shouldn't get on, you and I. I don't knowhow it is; but I never get on with people who keep shops or banks. I'mafraid you're not quite--well-bred. "

Stout Lady Beauleigh sprang to her feet. 

"Ah, well, " said Tinker quietly, "you treated my father and mother verycruelly, you've just said rude things about both of them, and you'vebeen rude to Elsie. The fact is, I don't see that I want astep-grandmother at all; and I can't be expected to want an ill-bredone anyway. So--so--I disown you. "

Lady Beauleigh's face quivered with rage; she gathered herself togetheras if to box Tinker's ears; thought better of it, and hurried away. 

Tinker and Elsie looked at one another, and laughed softly. 

"Horrid old woman, " said Elsie. 

"A dreadful person, " said Tinker. 

As Lady Beauleigh strode out of the gardens, she came full upon SirTancred and Dorothy. He raised his hat, she tried to glare throughhim, and glared at him. 

"That's my step-mother, " said Sir Tancred. "I wonder what's the matterwith her. She looks upset. "

"Upset! Why, she looked furious--malignant!" said Dorothy. 

Then they saw Tinker and Elsie coming towards them. 

"I see, " said Sir Tancred softly. 

"Oh, if she's met my young charges!" said Dorothy, and she threw outher hands. 

"Have you been doing anything to your grandmother, Tinker?" cried SirTancred. 

"Well--I disowned her, " said Tinker. 

"Disowned her!"

"Yes; I had to, " said Tinker with a faint regret. "She was rude, andshe was wearing a gown which would have stood up by itself if she hadgot out of it--at Monte Carlo--in April--it's impossible!"

He shrugged his shoulders. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TINKER AND THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE

Dorothy sat gazing over that charming gulf, charming alike for itsscenery and its oysters, the Gulf of Arcachon. She gazed on it withoutseeing it; her beautiful face was clouded, and her brow was puckered ina wondering perplexity. 

Tinker sat on the ground near her, his chin on his knees, observing herwith a sympathetic understanding which would have disquieted her not alittle, had she not been too busy with her thoughts to notice it. 

They were still and silent for a long while, until she sighed; then hesaid, with unfeigned sadness, "I'm beginning to think he never will. "

"Who never will what?" said Dorothy, awaking from her reflections, andextremely disconcerted by the exactness with which Tinker's remarkechoed them. 

"My father--ask you to marry him, " said Tinker succinctly. 

"Tinker!" cried Dorothy faintly, and she flushed a very fine red. 

"It's all very well to say 'Tinker!' like that, " he said, shaking hishead very wisely. "But it's much better to look at things straight, don't you know? You often get a little forrarder that way. "

"You are a dreadful little boy, " said Dorothy with conviction. 

"Yes, yes; I'm not blind, " said Tinker patiently. "But the point is, that my father is ever so much in love with you, and he'll never askyou to marry him, because you're too rich. I'm sure I've given youevery chance, " he added with a sigh. 

"You have?" said Dorothy, gasping. 

"Yes; I'm always seeing that no one makes a third when you and he aretogether--on moonlit nights and picnics, and so on, don't you know?"

Dorothy laughed, in spite of her discomfort, at this frank discussionof her secret. "But this is inveterate match-making, " she said. "Whydo you do it?"

"Oh, I think it would be a good thing. You both want it badly, andyou'd get on awfully well together. Besides, you're neither of you ascheerful as you used to be, and I don't like it; it bothers me. "

"It's very good of you to let it, " said Dorothy, smiling. 

"Not at all. And Elsie and I would have a settled home, too. It'svery funny; but sometimes I get tired of living in hotels. "

"I'm sure you do, " said Dorothy with sympathy. 

"Well, have you got any idea how it can be worked?"

"No!" cried Dorothy, shocked, and flushing again; "I haven't! Iwouldn't have!"

"That's silly, when it would be such a good thing, " said Tinker with adisapproving air. "However, I suppose I can work it myself. Igenerally have to when I want anything done. "

"What are you going to do?" cried Dorothy in great alarm. "Oh, I dowish I hadn't said anything, or listened to you!"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. These affairs of the heart arealways difficult, " said Tinker with the air of a sage who has observedmany generations of unfortunate lovers. 

"I won't have you do anything; I forbid it!" cried Dorothy. 

"You shouldn't order your employer about, " said Tinker with a smilewhich, on any face less angelic, would have been a grin. "Besides, I'mresponsible, and I must do what's good for you. And, after all, Ishan't give you away, don't you know?"

"Oh, do be careful!" said Dorothy plaintively. 

"I will, " said Tinker; and he rose and sauntered off along thepromenade. 

Dorothy looked after him with mingled feelings, dread of what he mightdo, vexation, and a little shame that he should have so easilysurprised her secret; though, indeed, she preferred that Tinker shouldhave discovered it rather than anyone else in the world. Then her sureknowledge of his discretion eased her anxiety, and the consideration ofhis able imagination and versatile ingenuity set a new and strong hopespringing up in her. 

Tinker strolled along to the Café du Printemps, and found his fathersitting before it on the usual uncomfortable little chair before theusual white-topped table. He saw that his father's face wore the sameexpression as Dorothy's had worn before he had insisted on coming toher aid. Then he saw, with something of a shock, that a glass ofabsinthe stood on the table. Things must, indeed, be in a bad way ifhis father drank absinthe at half-past ten in the morning. 

However, he hid his disapproval, and sitting down on anotheruncomfortable chair, he said gently, "What does it mean when a lady iscompromised, sir?"

"It means that some accident or other has given malignant fools achance of gossipping about her, " said Sir Tancred in an unamiable tone. 

"And the man has to marry her?"

"Of course he has, " snapped Sir Tancred. 

"Ah!" said Tinker with supreme thoughtful satisfaction. 

His father looked at him for a good minute with considerable suspicion, wondering what new mischief he was hatching. But Tinker looked like aguileless seraph pondering the innocent joys of the Islands of theBlessed, to a degree which made such a suspicion a very shameful thingindeed. Partly reassured, Sir Tancred returned to his brooding: he wasangry with himself because he felt helpless in an _impasse_. On theone hand, he could not bring himself to fly from Dorothy; on the other, he could not bring himself to abate his pride, and ask her to marryhim. She was so rich; Septimus Rainer had talked of settling fivemillion dollars on her. He looked again at the pondering Tinker; andhis helpless irritation found the natural English vent in grumbling. 

"Look here, " he said, half querulously, half whimsically, "I told youthat if you went on adding to our household, I should be travellingabout Europe with a caravan. You began by adopting Elsie as a sister, and I said nothing. Then you added Miss Rainer as her governess, and Iwarned you. Miss Rainer added her father, a millionaire, and he addeda maid, a valet, two secretaries, a courier, and a private detective. All these people, I know them well, will marry; and I shall be apatriarch travelling with my tribe. It must stop. "

Tinker sighed. "We are a large household--twelve of us, with Selina, "he said thoughtfully. "But you might make it more compact, sir. "

"More compact--how?"

"You might marry Dorothy; and then you and she could count as one. "

A sudden light of exasperation brightened Sir Tancred's eyes, and hemade a grab at Tinker's arm. His hand closed on empty air; Tinker wasflying like the wind along the promenade. 

"Tinker!" roared Sir Tancred; but Tinker went round a corner at themoment at which only the T of his name could fairly be expected to havereached him. Sir Tancred ground his teeth, and then he laughed. 

Tinker made a circuit, and came down to the sea, where he found Elsieplaying with two little English girls staying at Arcachon with theirmother. At once she deserted them for him, and when he had withdrawnher to a distance, he said, "I've hit on a way of getting them married. "

"No! Have you? You are clever!" she cried with the ungrudgingadmiration she always accorded him. 

"Clever? It only wants a little common-sense, " said Tinker with somedisdain. 

"I shall be glad. "

"So shall I. It'll be a weight off my mind, don't you know?" saidTinker with a sigh. 

"I'm sure it will, " said the sympathetic Elsie. 

"It must be awfully nice to be in love, " she added with conviction. 

"Now, look here, " said Tinker in a terrible voice, "if I catch youfalling in love, I'll--I'll shake you!"

"But--but, I may be in love--ever so much, for anything you know, " saidElsie somewhat haughtily. 

"You are not, " said Tinker sternly. "Your appetite is all right. Don't talk any more nonsense, but come along, we've got to get readyfor the picnic. "

At half-past eleven the two children went on board the _Petrel_, alittle steam yacht of a shallow draught adapted to the shoals of theGulf, which Septimus Rainer had hired from a member of the BordeauxYacht Club. They found Dorothy and Sir Tancred already on board, andwere told that a cablegram from New York had given her father, hissecretaries, and the telegraph office of Arcachon a day's work, andprevented him from coming with them. Tinker had known this fact allthe morning, but he did not say so. His manner to his father showed aserene unconsciousness of any cloud upon their relations. 

The _Petrel_ was soon crossing the Gulf in an immensely important way, at her full speed of eight knots an hour. In pursuance of his policyTinker took Elsie forward, and left Dorothy and his father to entertainone another on the quarter-deck. The two children amused themselvesvery well talking to Alphonse, the steersman, and Adolphe, theengineer, thick-set, thick-witted men, who combined the picturesquenessof organ-grinders with the stolidity of agriculturalists; Nature hadplainly intended them for the plough, and Circumstance had pitched theminto seafaring. 

An hour's steering brought them across the Gulf. They landed, and madetheir déjeuner at a little auberge, or rather cabaret, affected byfishermen, and the folk of the _Landes_, off grey mullet, fresh fromthe Bay of Biscay, grilled over a fire of pine-cones, with a secondcourse of ring-doves roasted before it. 

After their coffee Tinker suggested that they should cross over to thestrip of sand which at that point separates the Gulf from the Bay, andthe others fell in with his humour. They crossed over and landed inthe yacht's dinghy. Tinker insisted on taking two rugs, though bothDorothy and his father objected that the sand was quite dry enough tosit on. However, when they came to the beach of the Bay, Sir Tancredspread them out, and he and Dorothy sat on them. The two childrenwandered away, and presently Elsie found herself holding Tinker's hand, and running hard through the pines towards the landing-place. 

In answer to Tinker's hail, Alphonse fetched them aboard in the dingey, and the honest, unsuspecting mariners accepted his instructions to takethem for a cruise, and come back later for his father and the lady, without a murmur. But no sooner was the _Petrel_ under weigh, than hestrode to the middle of the quarter-deck, folded his arms, scowleddarkly in the direction of his father and Dorothy, so heedless of theirplight, and growled in his hoarsest, most piratical voice:

"Marooned! Marooned!"

Slowly he paced the deck, with arms still folded, casting the piercingglances of a bird of prey across the waters; then of a sudden he roaredonce more with the true piratical hoarseness, "All hands on deck tosplice the main brace!"

Alphonse and Adolphe did not understand his nautical English; but whenElsie came from the cabin with a bottle of cognac and two glasses, their slow, wide grins showed a perfect comprehension. Tinker gavethem the cognac, and took the wheel. Then he became absorbed insteering, and sternly rejected all further consideration of his gift;he would have neither hand nor part in hocussing Frenchagriculturalists posing as mariners. 

But for all his absorption in his steering, and his care to look pastthem as they sat in more than fraternal affection on the deck, with thebottle between them, it was somehow forced on him, probably by thenoise they made, that they proceeded from a gentle cheerfulness througha wild and songful hilarity, broken by interludes in which eitherdescribed to the other with eloquent enthusiasm the charms of the lasswho loved him best, to a tearful melancholy, from which they were raptaway into a sodden and stertorous slumber. 

At the third snore Tinker turned to Elsie, who sat by him lookingrather scared by the changing humours of the agricultural mariners, andsaid with a sardonic and ferocious smile, "The ship is ours. "

At once they divested themselves of the hats of civilisation, and tiedround their heads the red handkerchiefs proper to their profession;then he gave her the wheel, and going to the cabin, came back with ablack flag neatly embroidered in white with a skull and crossbones, Dorothy's work, and sternly bade an imaginary quartermaster run up theJolly Roger. Then, as quartermaster, he ran up that emblem of hisdreadful trade himself; became captain once more, and, with folded armsand corrugated brow surveyed it gloomily. Then he went down to theengine-room, put the yacht on half-speed, and, as well as he could, stoked the fires. 

For the next three hours the _Petrel_ forgot all the innocenttraditions of her youth as a pleasure boat, and traversed the Gulf ofArcachon a shameless, ravening pirate, while Captain Hildebrand, theScourge of the Spanish Main, issued curt, sanguinary orders to animaginary but as blood-dyed a gang of villains as ever scuttled anIndiaman. The Jolly Roger and three or four blank shots from thelittle signal gun drove three panic-stricken fishing boats from theirfishing-ground as fast as oars and sails could carry them, to spreadabroad a legend of piracy in the Gulf which would last a generation. 

It was nearly sunset before Captain Hildebrand returned to the seriousconsideration of his business as Cupid's ally. Then he set the_Petrel_ going dead slow, ran her gently on to a sandbank, and let fallthe anchor, which was hanging from her bows. This done, again apirate, he looked at the recumbent and still stertorous Alphonse andAdolphe with cold, cruel eyes, and said, "It's time these lubberswalked the plank. "

[Illustration: It's time these lubbers walked the plank. ]

"Ay, ay, sir!" said Elsie cheerfully; and then she added, in a doubtfulvoice, "But won't the poor men get drowned?"

"Not in four feet of water, " said Captain Hildebrand; and he setbriskly about the preparations for the fell deed. With Elsie's help hebrought a plank to the gangway; and then, either taking him by an arm, they dragged the grunting Adolphe slowly down the deck, and arrangedhim on the plank. With a capstan bar, and many a hearty "Yo, heaveho!" they levered the plank out over the side till Adolphe's weighttilted it up, and he soused into the water. 

For a moment he disappeared, then he rose spluttering and choking, sankagain, found his footing, and stood up, roaring like a flabbergastedbull. Captain Hildebrand lay quietly down on the deck, and writhed andkicked in spasms of racking mirth; but his trusty lieutenant, afterlaughing a while, looked grave, and said, "The poor man will take cold. "

"I have no sympathy with drunkards, " said Captain Hildebrand with coldseverity; but he rose, and, going forward, by kicking Alphonse hard andfreely in the ribs, roused him from his dream of the lass who loved asailor, and said, "Adolphe has fallen overboard. "

It took some time for the information to penetrate Alphonse's skull. When it did, he was all vivid alertness, staggered swiftly aft to thegangway, and in rather less than five seconds, with no conspicuousagility, had precipitated himself into Adolphe's arms. They rose, clinging to one another, and both roared like bulls, while theshrieking Tinker danced lightly round the deck. 

Presently he recovered enough to throw them a rope, and they climbed onboard: no difficult feat, seeing that the deck was not two feet abovetheir heads. Before they thought of the yacht they went to theforecastle and changed their wet clothes, while the dusk deepened. Tinker went to the galley, and made tea. He had brought it to thecabin, and he and Elsie were making a well-earned and hearty meal, anddiscoursing with gusto of their blood-dyed career during the afternoon, when Alphonse, very sad and glum, came and told them that the yacht wasaground, and Adolphe was getting up full steam to get her off. Tinkerwith great readiness said he would come up and help. 

In half an hour he heard the rattle of the propeller, and, coming ondeck, said he would go to the bows while Alphonse took the wheel, andAdolphe worked the engines. 

He went right forward, and peered into the darkness. Adolphe set theengines going full speed, reversed, and Tinker cried, "She's moving!"

He saw the anchor chain slowly tauten, then the _Petrel_ moved no more. The propeller thrashed away, but to no purpose, and to his great joy hewas sure that the anchor held her. However, he cheered them on topersevere, and for nearly half an hour the propeller thrashed away. Then they gave it up, sat down gloomily on the hatch of the engineroom, and lighted their pipes. Tinker and Elsie went back to thecabin, rolled themselves in rugs, and were soon enjoying the innocentsleep of childhood. 

It was twelve o'clock when Tinker awoke, and at once he went on deckand found that Alphonse, by way of keeping watch, had gone comfortablyasleep in the bows, while Adolphe snored from the forecastle. Hekicked Alphonse awake, and said, "Don't you think you could get her offif you hauled up the anchor?"

For a minute or two Alphonse turned the idea hazily over in his apologyfor a mind; then, with a hasty exclamation, he ran to the side, and sawdimly the taut anchor chain. He blundered below, lugged Adolphe out ofhis berth and on deck, and for five excited minutes they explained toone another that the anchor was embedded in the sandbank, and that itheld the _Petrel_ on it. Then soberly and slowly they got to work onthe capstan, and hauled up the anchor. A dozen turns of the propellerdrew the _Petrel_ off the bank and into deep water. In three minutesthey had her about and steamed off towards the marooned, while Tinkerin the galley was heating water for coffee and making soup. 

In the meanwhile Dorothy and Sir Tancred, ignorant of their plight, hadspent a delightful afternoon exploring with a never-tiring interest oneanother's souls. For a long time she chided him gently for his aimlessmanner of living; and he defended himself with a half-mocking sadness. At about sunset they rose reluctantly, sighed with one accord that thepleasant hours were over, looked at one another with sudden questioningeyes at the sound of the sighs, and looked quickly away. They walkedslowly, on feet reluctant to leave pleasant places, through the pines, silent, save that twice Sir Tancred sent his voice ringing among thetrees in a call to Tinker. They came to the landing-place, to find anempty sea, and looked at one another blankly. 

"The children must have persuaded the men to take them for a cruise, "said Sir Tancred. 

"But they're late coming back, " said Dorothy. 

For a while their eyes explored the corners and recesses of the Gulfwithin sight, but found no _Petrel_. Then Sir Tancred said, "Well, wemust wait"; and spread a rug for her at the foot of a tree. He pacedup and down before her, keeping an eye over the water and talking toher. 

The dusk deepened and deepened, and at last it was quite dark. 

"We're in a fix, " said Sir Tancred uneasily. "Of course, if we stayhere they will come for us sooner or later, but goodness knows when. If we set out to walk to civilisation we shall doubtless in time strikeit somewhere, but goodness knows where. "

"If we went along this strip and turned eastward at the end of itshouldn't we come to the railway?" said Dorothy. 

"I don't know that we should. We should get into the _Landes_, andthey're by way of being trackless. Anyhow it would mean walking forhours; and it is less exhausting for you to sit here. The _Petrel_must turn up sooner or later. "

Remembering her talk with Tinker in the morning, Dorothy believed thatit would be later--much later; but as she could hardly unfold herreasons for the belief, she said nothing. 

For a long time they were silent. Listening to the faint thunder ofthe Bay behind them, the lapping of the water at their feet, and thestirring of the pines, she filled slowly with a sense of theiraloofness from the world, and a perfect content in being out of italone with him. For his part, Sir Tancred was ill at ease; he foresawthat unless the _Petrel_ came soon a lot of annoying gossip mightspring from their accident, and he was distressed on her account. Onthe other hand, he, too, found himself enjoying being alone with herout of the world. 

At last she said softly, "I feel as though we were on a desolate, far-away island. "

"I wish to goodness we were!" he cried, with a fervour which thrilledher. 

"You'd find it very dull, " she said, with a faint, uncertain laugh. 

"Not with you, " he said quietly. 

She was silent; and he took another turn up and down before he said, half to himself, "It would simplify things so, we should be equal. "

"Equal?"

"Oh, not from the personal point of view!" he said quickly. "You'dalways be worth a hundred of me. But on a desolate island moneywouldn't count. "

"Oh, money!" she said with a faint disdain. "What has money to do withanything?"

He sighed, and continued his pacing. 

"Money is always an obstacle, " he said presently. "Either there is toolittle of it, and that's an obstacle; or there is too much of it, andthat's an obstacle. "

"I don't think papa would agree with you about too much money, " saidDorothy. 

"I'm wondering what he will say if we don't turn up before morning, "said Sir Tancred gloomily. 

"I suppose he'll say that it was an unfortunate accident. "

"Yes; but then, I ought to have protected you against unfortunateaccidents. I'm afraid there'll be a lot of gossip. "

"Well, it wasn't your fault, " said Dorothy carelessly. 

Sir Tancred grew more and more unhappy. His watch told him that it wasnearly ten o'clock, and there was no sign of the _Petrel_. Moreover, the sense of their aloofness from the world had taken a firmer hold onhim, and it drew him and Dorothy nearer and nearer together. Thefeeling that the world, of which her money had grown the symbol, wouldagain come between them, grew more and more intolerable. 

At last it grew too strong for him, and he stopped before her and said, in a voice he could not keep firm, "About that wasted life of mine, Dorothy. Do you think you could do anything with it?"

Dorothy gasped. "I might--I might try, " she said in a whisper. 

He stooped down, picked her up, and kissed her. Then, with a profoundsigh of relief and content, he sat down beside her, drew her to him, and leaned back against the tree; she was crying softly. 

They were far away from the world, and for them time stood still. Theydid not see the approaching lights of the _Petrel_, or hear the throbof her screw; only the roaring hail of Alphonse awoke them from theirdream. 

When they came on board, the observant Tinker saw the flush which cameand went in Dorothy's cheeks, and the new light in his father's eyes;he saw her genuine surprise at finding herself so hungry. He observedthat his father was quite careless about the cause of the _Petrel's_long absence, and his angel face was wreathed with the contented smileof the truly meritorious. 

After supper his father went on deck to watch the steering of theyacht; Elsie fell asleep; and Dorothy sat, lost in a dream. 

"Is it all right?" said Tinker softly. 

"I don't know what you mean. You're a horrid scheming little boy, "said Dorothy with shameless ingratitude. 

"Yes; but _is_ it all right?" said Tinker. 

"I shan't let you scheme like that when--when I'm your mother, " saidDorothy with virtuous severity, and she blushed. 

"So it _is_ all right, " said Tinker, and he chuckled. 

THE END