Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Love stories; Nobility -- Fiction
"You don't mean to say that the servants have left the place?" she
cried.
"Yes, my lady. They were natives, you know."
"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Deppingham.
"I'm afraid you don't understand the situation," said Mr. Bowles
patiently. "You see, it's really a triangular controversy, if I may be
so bold as to say so. Lady Deppingham is one of the angles; Mr. Browne,
the American gentleman, is another; the native population is the last.
Each wants to be the hypothenuse. While the interests of all three are
merged in the real issue, there is, nevertheless, a decided disposition
all around to make it an entirely one-sided affair."
"I don't believe I grasp--" muttered Deppingham blankly.
"I see perfectly," exclaimed his wife. "The natives are allied against
us, just as we are, in a way, against them and Mr. Browne. Really, it
seems quite natural, doesn't it, dear?" turning to her husband.
"Very likely, but very unfortunate. It leaves us to broil our brains out
down here on this pier. I say, Mr.--er--old chap, can't you possibly
engage some sort of transportation for us? Really, you know, we can't
stand here all day."
"I've no doubt I can arrange it, my lord. If you will just wait here
until I run back to the bank, I daresay I'll find a way. Perhaps you'd
prefer standing under the awning until I return."
The new arrivals glowered after him as he started off toward the bank.
Then they moved over to the shelter of the awning.
"Did he say he was going to run?" groaned his lordship. The progress of
Bowles rivalled that of the historic tortoise.
It was fully half an hour before he was seen coming down the street,
followed by a score or more of natives, their dirty white robes flapping
about their brown legs. At first they could not believe it was Bowles.
Lord Deppingham had a sharp thrill of joy, but it was shortlived. Bowles
had changed at least a portion of his garb; he now wore the tight red
jacket of the British trooper, while an ancient army cap was strapped
jauntily over his ear.
"It's all right, my lord," he said, saluting as he came Up. "They will
do anything I tell 'em to do when I represent the British army. This is
the only uniform on the island, but they've been taught that there are
more where this one came from. These fellows will carry your boxes up to
the château, sixpence to the man, if you please, sir; and I've sent for
two carts to draw your party up the slope. They'll be here in a jiffy,
my lady. You'll find the drive a beautiful if not a comfortable one."
Then turning majestically to the huddled natives, he waved his slender
stick over the boxes, big and little, and said: "Lively, now! No
loafing! Lively!"
Whereupon the entire collection of boxes, bags and bundles figuratively
picked itself up and walked off in the direction of the château. Bowles
triumphantly saluted Lord and Lady Deppingham. The former had a longing
look in his eye as he stared at Bowles and remarked:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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