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assault me so brutally?”
“You’re quite sure it was Rayburn?”
Pagett appeared to be perfectly convinced of that. It was the only part of the story that
he wasn’t vague about.
“There’s something very queer about all this,” he said. “To begin with, where is
Rayburn?”
It’s perfectly true that we haven’t seen the fellow since we came onshore. He did not
come up to the hotel with us. I decline to believe that he is afraid of Pagett, however.
Altogether the whole thing is very annoying. One of my secretaries has vanished into
the blue, and the other looks like a disreputable prizefighter. I can’t take him about with
me in his present condition. I shall be the laughingstock of Cape Town. I have an
appointment later in the day to deliver old Milray’s
billet-doux,
but I shall not take
Pagett with me. Confound the fellow and his prowling ways.
Although I am decidedly out of temper. I had a poisonous breakfast with poisonous
people. Dutch waitresses with thick ankles who took half an hour to bring me a bad bit of
fish. And this farce of getting up at 5 am on arrival at the port to see a blinking doctor
and hold your hands above your head simply makes me tired.
Later.
A very serious thing has occurred. I went to my appointment with the Prime Minister,
taking Milray’s sealed letter. It didn’t look as though it had been tampered with, but
inside was a blank sheet of paper!
Now, I suppose, I’m in the devil of a mess. Why I ever let that bleating old fool Milray
embroil me in the matter I can’t think.
Pagett is a famous Job’s comforter. He displays a certain gloomy satisfaction that
maddens me. Also, he had taken advantage of my perturbation to saddle me with the
stationery trunk. Unless he is careful, the next funeral he attends will be his own.
However in the end I had to listen to him.
“Supposing, Sir Eustace, that Rayburn had overheard a word or two of your
conversation with Mr. Milray in the street? Remember, you had no written authority
from Mr. Milray. You accepted Rayburn on his own valuation.”
“You think Rayburn is a crook, then?” I said slowly.
Pagett did. How far his views were influenced by resentment over his black eye I don’t
know. He made out a pretty fair case against Rayburn. And the appearance of the latter
told against him. My idea was to do nothing in the matter. A man who has permitted
himself to be made a thorough fool of is not anxious to broadcast the fact.
But Pagett, his energy unimpaired by his recent misfotunes, was all for vigorous
measures. He had his way, of course. He bustled out to the police station, sent
innumerable cables, and brought a herd of English and Dutch officials to drink whiskies
and sodas at my expense.
We got Milray’s answer that evening. He knew nothing of my late secretary! There was
only one spot of comfort to be extracted from the situation.
“At any rate,” I said to Pagett, “you weren’t poisoned. You had one of your ordinary
bilious attacks.”
I saw him wince. It was my only score.
Later.
Pagett is in his element. His brain positively scintillates with bright ideas. He will have
it now that Rayburn is none other than the famous “Man in the Brown Suit.” I dare say
he is right. He usually is. But all this is getting unpleasant. The sooner I get off to
Rhodesia the better. I have explained to Pagett that he is not to accompany me.
“You see, my dear fellow,” I said, “you must remain here on the spot. You might be
required to identify Rayburn any minute. And, besides, I have my dignity as an English
Member of Parliament to think of. I can’t go about with a secretary who has apparently
recently been indulging in a vulgar street brawl.”
Pagett winced. He is such a respectable fellow that his appearance is pain and
tribulation to him.
“But what will you do about your correspondence, and the notes for your speeches, Sir
Eustace?”
“I shall manage,” I said airily.
“Your private car is to be attached to the eleven-o’clock train tomorrow, Wednesday,
morning,” Pagett continued. “I have made all arrangements. Is Mrs. Blair taking a maid
with her?”
“Mrs. Blair?” I gasped.
“She tells me you offered her a place.”
So I did, now I come to think of it. On the night of the Fancy Dress ball. I even urged
her to come. But I never thought she would. Delightful as she is, I do not know that I
want Mrs. Blair’s society all the way to Rhodesia and back. Women require such a lot of
attention. And they are confoundedly in the way sometimes.
“Have I asked anyone else?” I said nervously. One does these things in moments of
expansion.
“Mrs. Blair seemed to think you had asked Colonel Race as well.”
I groaned.
“I must have been very drunk if I asked Race. Very drunk indeed. Take my advice,
Pagett, and let your black eye be a warning to you, don’t go on the bust again.”
“As you know, I am a teetotaller, Sir Eustace.”
“Much wiser to take the pledge if you have a weakness that way. I haven’t asked
anyone else, have I, Pagett?”
“Not that I know of, Sir Eustace.”
I heaved a sigh of relief.
“There’s Miss Beddingfeld,” I said thoughtfully. “She wants to get to Rhodesia to dig
up bones, I believe. I’ve a good mind to offer her a temporary job as a secretary. She can
typewrite, I know, for she told me so.”
To my surprise, Pagett opposed the idea vehemently. He does not like Anne
Beddingfeld. Ever since the night of the black eye, he has displayed uncontrollable
emotion whenever she is mentioned. Pagett is full of mysteries nowadays.
Just to annoy him, I shall ask the girl. As I said before, she has extremely nice legs.
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