Aristocracy (Social class) -- Fiction; Europeans -- United States -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
Lord Fenlew lost no time in putting his grandsons on the grill. He
grilled them properly; when they left his presence they were scorched to
a crisp, unsavoury mess. Indeed, his lordship went so far as to complain
of the stench, and had the windows of Fenlew Hall opened to give the
place a thorough airing after they had gone forth forevermore. With
characteristic energy and promptness, he went to the head of the War
Office, and laid bare the situation. With equal forethought and acumen
he objected to the slightest publicity being given the vindication of
Eric Temple. He insisted that nothing be said about the matter until the
maligned officer returned to England and to the corps from which he had
resigned. He refused to have his grandson's innocence publicly
advertised! That, he maintained, would be to start more tongues to
wagging, and unless the young man himself were on the ground to make the
wagging useless, speculation would have a chance to thrive on winks and
head-shakings, and the "bally business" would be in a worse shape than
before. Moreover, he argued, it wasn't Eric's place to humiliate himself
by _admitting_ his innocence. He wouldn't have that at all.
Instead of beginning his search for the young man through the "lost,"
"wanted" or "personal" columns of an international press, he went to
Scotland Yard. He abhorred the idea of such printed insults as these:
"If Lord Eric Temple will communicate with his grandfather he will learn
something to his advantage" or "Will the young English nobleman who left
London under a cloud in 1911 please address So-and-So"; or "Eric: All is
well. Return at once and be forgiving"; or "£5,000 reward will be paid
for information concerning the present whereabouts of one Eric Temple,
grandson of Lord Fenlew, of Fenlew Hall"; etc., etc.
"And now, Lord Temple," said Mr. Alfred Chambers, after a minute and
unsparing account of his own travels and adventures, "your grandfather
is a very old man. I trust that you can start for England at once. I am
authorized to draw upon him for all the money necessary to--"
Lord Temple held up his hand. His eyes were glistening, his breast was
heaving mightily, and his voice shook with suppressed emotion as he
said, scarcely above a whisper:
"First of all, I shall cable him tonight. He'd like that, you know.
Better than anything."
"A word direct from you, dear," said Jane softly, happily. "It will mean
more to him than anything else in the world."
"As you please, sir," said Mr. Chambers. "The matter is now entirely in
your hands. I am, you understand, under orders not to return to England
without you,--but, I leave everything to you, sir. I was only hoping
that it would be possible for me to get back to my wife and babies
before,--er,--well, I was about to say before they forget what I look
like, but that would have been a stupid thing to say. They're not likely
to forget a mug like mine."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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