“Why, my lord, that’s just what I’ve been saying all along, but you gave
me to understand you were going to do nothing.”
“I cannot account for such an idea arising in your mind. I think you
must have jumped at conclusions, Mackeller. Still, as long as I can
convince you that I am really a practical man, everything will be all
right between us.”
The butler placed before Lord Stranleigh the book containing copies of
the telegrams sent the day before, and his lordship handed it gracefully
to Mackeller.
“Nothing like documentary evidence,” he said, “to convince a stubborn
man. I think even you will admit that I have risen to the occasion.”
Mackeller turned the leaves of the book, reading as he went along. His
eyebrows came lower and lower over his gloomy eyes, and a faint smile
moved the lips of his lordship as he sat there watching him. Finally, he
snapped the book shut, and put it down with a slap on the table.
“Twenty-four dozens of champagne; fifty dozens of claret, burgundy,
bock, Scotch whisky----”
“Oh, and Irish whisky, too,” interrupted his lordship eagerly. “I
haven’t forgotten anything, you know. You see, I have some Irish
blood in my veins, and I occasionally touch it up with a little of the
national brew.”
“I don’t think your blood needs any stimulation,” said Mackeller
dejectedly. “Here you have ordered tobacco by the hundredweight, pipes
by the score, cigars and cigarettes by the thousand. I suppose you think
there’s something funny in handing me these messages. Are you never in
earnest, my lord?”
“Never more so than at the present moment, Mackeller. I am disappointed
that you failed to detect genius in the commissariat.”
“Are you going to fight this band of ruffians, my lord, by popping
champagne corks at them, or smothering them in tobacco smoke?”
“I have told you once or twice, Mackeller, that I don’t intend fighting
any one at all, but if the band of ruffians should come to dine with me
aboard the yacht, I’d like the hospitality shown them to do me credit.”
“Very well, your lordship,” said Peter with resignation. “You have
reminded me that my time is not my own, but yours, so if it gives you
any pleasure to befool me, don’t allow consideration for my feelings to
retard you.”
“Ah, you got in a good left-hander on me there, Peter. That’s where
you score. Now, the proper time having elapsed after a meal when a man
should talk business, even if, like me, he does not understand it,
he can at least pretend to be wise, no matter how foolish, he is in
reality. What is the name of that river of yours again?”
“The Paramakaboo.”
“Thanks. Well, as I understood you, it reaches the sea by several
channels. Is our property on the main stream?”
“The streams are all about the same size, so far as I was able to
learn.”
“How far back from the coast are the mountains?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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