pgw.uneasymoney-第19部分

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cratched　him；　being　suspicious；'　said　Wrench；　'of　his　_bona　fides_。'　He　scrutinized　the　ceiling　with　a　dull　eye。　'Whereupon；'　he　continued；　'he　seized　her　tail　and　threw　her　with　considerable　force。　He　then　removed　himself　to　the　sink　and　began　to　hurl　eggs　at　the　scullery…maid。'
　Lady　Wetherby's　mental　eye　attempted　to　produce　a　picture　of　the　scene；　but　failed。
　'I　suppose　I　had　better　go　down　and　see　about　it；'　she　said。
　Wrench　withdrew　his　gaze　from　the　ceiling。
　'I　think　it　would　be　advisable；　m'lady。　The　scullery…maid　is　already　in　hysterics。'
　Lady　Wetherby　led　the　way　to　the　kitchen。　She　was　wroth　with　Eustace。　This　was　just　the　sort　of　thing　out　of　which　Algie　would　be　able　to　make　unlimited　capital。　It　weakened　her　position　with　Algie。　There　was　only　one　thing　to　doshe　must　hush　it　up。
　Her　first　glance；　however；　at　the　actual　theatre　of　war　gave　her　the　impression　that　matters　had　advanced　beyond　the　hushing…up　stage。　A　yellow　desolation　brooded　over　the　kitchen。　It　was　not　so　much　a　kitchen　as　an　omelette。　There　were　eggs　everywhere；　from　floor　to　ceiling。　She　crunched　her　way　in　on　a　carpet　of　oozing　shells。
　Her　entry　was　a　signal　for　a　renewal　on　a　more　impressive　scale　of　the　uproar　that　she　had　heard　while　opening　the　door。　The　air　was　full　of　voices。　The　cook　was　expressing　herself　in　Norwegian；　the　parlour…maid　in　what　appeared　to　be　Erse。　On　a　chair　in　a　corner　the　scullery…maid　sobbed　and　whooped。　The　odd…job　man；　who　was　a　baseball　enthusiast；　was　speaking　in　terms　of　high　praise　of　Eustace's　bined　speed　and　control。
　The　only　calm　occupant　of　the　room　was　Eustace　himself；　who；　either　through　a　shortage　of　ammunition　or　through　weariness　of　the　pitching…arm；　had　suspended　active　hostilities；　and　was　now　looking　down　on　the　scene　from　a　high　shelf。　There　was　a　brooding　expression　in　his　deep…set　eyes。　He　massaged　his　right　ear　with　the　sole　of　his　left　foot　in　a　somewhat　_distrait_　manner。
　'Eustace！'　cried　Lady　Wetherby；　severely。
　Eustace　lowered　his　foot　and　gazed　at　her　meditatively；　then　at　the　odd…job　man；　then　at　the　scullery…maid；　whose　voice　rose　high　above　the　din。
　'I　rather　fancy；　m'lady；'　said　Wrench；　dispassionately；　'that　the　animal　is　about　to　hurl　a　plate。'
　It　had　escaped　the　notice　of　those　present　that　the　shelf　on　which　the　rioter　had　taken　refuge　was　within　fortable　reach　of　the　dresser；　but　Eustace　himself　had　not　overlooked　this　important　strategic　point。　As　the　butler　spoke；　Eustace　picked　up　a　plate　and　threw　it　at　the　scullery…maid；　whom　he　seemed　definitely　to　have　picked　out　as　the　most　hostile　of　the　allies。　It　was　a　fast　inshoot；　and　hit　the　wall　just　above　her　head。
　''At…a…boy！'　said　the　odd…job　man；　reverently。
　Lady　Wetherby　turned　on　him　with　some　violence。　His　detached　attitude　was　the　most　irritating　of　the　many　irritating　aspects　of　the　situation。　She　paid　this　man　a　weekly　wage　to　do　odd　jobs。　The　capture　of　Eustace　was　essentially　an　odd　job。　Yet；　instead　of　doing　it；　he　hung　about　with　the　air　of　one　who　has　paid　his　half…dollar　and　bought　his　bag　of　peanuts　and　has　now　nothing　to　do　but　look　on　and　enjoy　himself。
　'Why　don't　you　catch　him？'　she　cried。
　The　odd…job　man　came　out　of　his　trance。　A　sudden　realization　came　upon　him　that　life　was　real　and　life　was　earnest；　and　that　if　he　did　not　wish　to　jeopardize　a　good　situation　he　must　bestir　himself。　Everybody　was　looking　at　him　expectantly。　It　seemed　to　be　definitely　up　to　him。　It　was　imperative　that；　whatever　he　did；　he　should　do　it　quickly。　There　was　an　apron　hanging　over　the　back　of　a　chair。　More　with　the　idea　of　doing　something　than　because　he　thought　he　would　achieve　anything　definite　thereby；　he　picked　up　the　apron　and　flung　it　at　Eustace。　Luck　was　with　him。　The　apron　enveloped　Eustace　just　as　he　was　winding　up　for　another　inshoot　and　was　off　his　balance。　He　tripped　and　fell；　clutched　at　the　apron　to　save　himself；　and　came　to　the　ground　swathed　in　it；　giving　the　effect　of　an　apron　mysteriously　endowed　with　life。　The　triumphant　odd…job　man；　pressing　his　advantage　like　a　good　general；　gathered　up　the　ends；　converted　it　into　a　rude　bag；　and　one　more　was　added　to　the　long　list　of　the　victories　of　the　human　over　the　brute　intelligence。
　Everybody　had　a　suggestion　now。　The　cook　advocated　drowning。　The　parlour…maid　favoured　the　idea　of　hitting　the　prisoner　with　a　broom…handle。　Wrench；　eyeing　the　struggling　apron　disapprovingly；　mentioned　that　Mr　Pickering　had　bought　a　revolver　that　morning。
　'Put　him　in　the　coal…cellar；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　Wrench　was　more　far…seeing。
　'If　I　might　offer　the　warning；　m'lady；'　said　Wrench；　'not　the　cellar。　It　is　full　of　coal。　It　would　be　placing　temptation　in　the　animal's　way。'
　The　odd…job　man　endorsed　this。
　'Put　him　in　the　garage；　then；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　The　odd…job　man　departed；　bearing　his　heaving　bag　at　arm's　length。　The　cook　and　the　parlour…maid　addressed　themselves　to　forting　and　healing　the　scullery…maid。　Wrench　went　off　to　polish　silver；　Lady　Wetherby　to　resume　her　letters。　The　cat　was　the　last　of　the　party　to　return　to　the　normal。　She　came　down　from　the　chimney　an　hour　later　covered　with　soot；　demanding　restoratives。
　Lady　Wetherby　finished　her　letters。　She　cut　them　short；　for　Eustace's　insurgence　had　interfered　with　her　flow　of　ideas。　She　went　into　the　drawing…room；　where　she　found　Roscoe　Sherriff　strumming　on　the　piano。
　'Eustace　has　been　raising　Cain；'　she　said。
　The　Press…agent　looked　up　hopefully。　He　had　been　wearing　a　rather　preoccupied　air。
　'How's　that？'　he　asked。
　'Throwing　eggs　and　plates　in　the　kitchen。'
　The　gleam　of　interest　which　had　e　into　Roscoe　Sherriff's　face　died　out。
　'You　couldn't　get　more　than　a　fill…in　at　the　bottom　of　a　column　on　that；'　he　said；　regretfully。　'I'm　a　little　disappointed　in　that　monk。　I　hoped　he　would　pan　out　bigger。　Well；　I　guess　we've　just　got　to　give　him　time。　I　have　an　idea　that　he'll　set　the　house　on　fire　or　do　something　with　a　punch　like　that　one　of　these　days。　You　mustn't　get　discouraged。　Why；　that　puma　I　made　Valerie　Devenish　keep　looked　like　a　perfect　failure　for　four　whole　months。　A　child　could　have　played　with　it。　Miss　Devenish　called　me　up　on　the　phone；　I　remember；　and　said　she　was　darned　if　she　was　going　to　spend　the　rest　of　her　life　maintaining　an　animal　that　might　as　well　be　stuffed　for　all　the　liveliness　it　showed；　and　that　she　was　going　right　out　to　buy　a　white　mouse　instead。　Fortunately；　I　talked　her　round。
　'A　few　weeks　later　she　came　round　and　thanked　me　with　tears　in　her　eyes。　The　puma　had　suddenly　struck　real　mid…season　form。　It　clawed　the　elevator…boy；　bit　a　postman；　held　up　the　traffic　for　miles；　and　was　finally　shot　by　a　policeman。　Why；　for　the　next　few　days　there　was　nothing　in　the　papers　at　all　but　Miss　Devenish　and　her　puma。　There　was　a　war　on　at　the　time　in　Mexico　or　somewhere；　and　we　had　it　backed　off　the　front　page　so　far　that　it　was　over　before　it　could　get　back。　So；　you　see；　there's　always　hope。　I've　been　nursing　the　papers　with　bits　about　Eustace；　so　as　to　be　ready　for　the　grand…stand　play　when　it　esand　all　we　can　do　is　to　wait。　It's　something　if　he's　been　throwing　eggs。　It　shows　he's　waking　up。'
　The　door　opened　and　Lord　Wetherby　entered。　He　looked　fatigued。　He　sank　into　a　chair　and　sighed。
　'I　cannot　get　it；'　he　said。　'It　eludes　me。'
　He　lapsed　into　a　sombre　silence。
　'What　can't　you　get？'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　cautiously。
　'The　expressionthe　expression　I　want　to　get　into　the　child's　eyes　in　my　picture；　〃Innocence〃。'
　'But　you　have　got　it。'
　Lord　Wetherby　shook　his　head。
　'Well；　you　had　when　I　saw　the　picture；'　persisted　Lady　Wetherby。　'This　child　you're　painting　has　just　joined　the　Black　Hand。　He　has　been　rushed　in　young　over　the　heads　of　the　waiting　list　because　his　father　had　a　pull。　Naturally　the　kid　wants　to　do　something　to　justify　his　election；　and　he　wants　to　do　it　quick。　You　have　caught　him　at　the　moment　when　he　sees　an　old　gentleman　ing　down　the　street　and　realizes　that　he　has　only　got　to　sneak　up　and　stick　his　little　knife'
　'My　dear　Polly；　I　wele　criticism；　but　this　is　more'
　Lady　Wetherby　stroked　his　coat…sleeve　fondly。
　'Never　mind；　Algie；　I　was　only　joking；　precious。　I　thought　the　picture　was　ing　along　fine　when　you　showed　it　to　me。　I'll　e　and　take　another　look　at　it。'
　Lord　Wetherby　shook　his　head。
　'I　should　have　a　model。　An　artist　cannot　mirror　Nature　properly　without　a　model。　I　wish　you　would　invite　that　child　down　here。'
　'No；　Algie；　there　are　limits。　I　wouldn't　have　him　within　a　mile　of　the　place。'
　'Yet　you　keep　Eustace。'
　'Well；　you　made　me　engage　Wrench。　It's　fifty…fifty。　I　wish　you　wouldn't　keep　picking　on　Eustace；　Algie　dear。　He　does　no　harm。　Mr　Sherriff　and　I　were　just　saying　how　peaceable　he　is。　He　wouldn't　hurt'
　Claire　came　in。
　'Polly；'　she　said；　'did　you　put　that　monkey　of　yours　in　the　garage？　He's　just　bitten　Dudley　in　the　leg。'
　Lord　Wetherby　uttered　an　exclamation。
　'Now　perhaps'
　'We　went　in　just　now　to　have　a　look　at　the　car；'　continued　Claire。　'Dudley　wanted　to　show　me　the　mutator　on　the　exhaust…box　or　the　windscreen；　or　something；　and　he　was　just　bending　over　when　Eustace　jumped　out　from　nowhere　and　pinned　him。　I'm　afraid　he　has　taken　it　to　heart　rather。'
　Roscoe　Sherriff　pondered。
　'Is　this　worth　half　a　column？'　He　shook　his　head。　'No；　I'm　afraid　not。　The　public　doesn't　know　Pickering。　If　it　had　been　Charlie　Chaplin　or　William　J。　Bryan；　or　someone　on　those　lines；　we　could　have　had　the　papers　bringing　out　extras。　You　can　visualize　William　J。　Bryan　being　bitten　in　the　leg　by　a　monkey。　It　hits　you。　But　Pickering！　Eustace　might　just　as　well　have　bitten　the　leg　of　the　table！'
　Lord　Wetherby　reasserted　himself。
　'Now　that　the　animal　has　bee　a　public　menace'
　'He's　nothing　of　the　kind；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。　'He's　only　a　little　upset　to…day。'
　'Do　you　mean；　Pauline；　that　even　after　this　you　will　not　get　rid　of　him？'
　'Certainly　notpoor　dear！'
　'Very　well；'　said　Lord　Wetherby；　calmly。　'I　give　you　warning　that　if　he　attacks　me　I　shall　defend　myself。'
　He　brooded。　Lady　Wetherby　turned　to　Claire。
　'What　happened　then？　Did　you　shut　the　door　of　the　garage？'
　'Yes；　but　not　until　Eustace　had　got　away。　He　slipped　out　like　a　streak　and　disappeared。　It　was　too　dark　to　see