The Duke in the Suburbs

"Of course," Hank went on, "I don't exactly know what the Duke will say – but I can guess."

"What the Duke says," said Sir Harry loftily, "will not affect my plans."

"I should imagine, though," said Hank thoughtfully, "that he won't take much notice of your notice."

"What!" said Sir Harry, "take no notice – good heavens, sir, are you aware that there's a law in this country?"

"There is a rumour to that effect," said the American cautiously, "but I reckon that a little thing like that won't worry him – you see he's a Duke."

The awe in his voice impressed even Sir Harry.

"Duke? Duke! Rubbish! Bosh! Nonsense! Duke?" snapped Sir Harry. "We don't share your worship of titles, sir. What is a title? A mere handle, a useless appendage, a – "

Then he recollected.

"Of course," he qualified, "there are titles – er – to which respect is due; titles – er – bestowed by a grateful country upon its – um – public men, philanthropists, et cetera; upon citizens who have identified themselves with – er – national movements – "

"Such as Jubilee almshouses," said the approving Hank.

Sir Harry turned very red.

"Exactly," he agreed with some embarrassment, "I – er – myself have had such a mark of the sovereign's favour. But as to the Duke – well the Duke you know – in fact I'm no believer in hereditary titles. Our family have never countenanced them, never desired them, claimed no relation – "

"The cadet branch of the Howards," murmured Hank.

"That is a different matter," spluttered Sir Harry; "we have had no ancestors of recent years – I mean we do not – in fact – " he blazed wrathfully, "you've got to get out of No. 64, whether you like it or not!" Hal had been an interested listener. Somewhat unwisely he now took a hand.

"The fact of it is, my friend – " he began, Hank turned on him with extravagant dignity.

"Say," he said in an injured tone, "there's no necessity for you to butt in: I don't mind Sir Harry readin' the Riot Act, I do object to him callin' out the militia."

Hal's reply was arrested by the arrival of a servant bearing a telegram.

Without any apology to his visitor Sir Harry opened and read it. He read it twice like a man in a dream, and handed it to Hal who read it aloud.

"To TANNEUR, Hydeholme.

"Just got your notice to quit: most interesting document: am framing it. – DE MONTVILLIER."

"The Duke's home," commented Hank, and his brows knit in a troubled frown. "I wonder whether I ordered enough sausages?"

IV

"I have asked you to come to see me, Mr. Nape," said the Duke, "because I feel I owe you an apology."

The criminologist nodded stiffly.

He thought that under the circumstances the Duke might have very well come to him, but he was not prepared to labour the point.

"We all make mistakes," said the Duke generously, "I for instance have been mistaken in you."

Mr. Nape made another stern acknowledgment.

"I thought your methods were unconventional; I mistrusted the new type of detective; I have been trained in the old school where the man who murders the banker is never the burglar who robs the safe, but the good bishop who calls for the missionary subscription; where the villain who steals the Crown jewels is not the impecunious soldier of fortune, but the heir apparent."

Mr. Nape stood rigidly at attention and waited. It pleased him to see evidence of a great remorse upon the tanned young face before him, to observe deep shadows under his eyes, and – he had not noticed them before – a sprinkling of grey hairs at his temple. Mr. Nape drew his own conclusions.

"Now," said the Duke with a self-depreciating wave of his hand, "I know that the old method is obsolete, that from the first the guilty party is the obvious – "

"Obvious to all who employ the process of elimination," corrected Mr. Nape severely.

"Exactly," agreed the Duke. "I now know, that if you catch a man with his hand in your pocket, you eliminate everybody whose hands do not happen to be in your pocket, and by this process arrive at the culprit."

Mr. Nape looked a little dubious.

"My confidence in your ability being established," the Duke went on, "I wish you to accept a commission from me."

Mr. Nape regarded him with cold suspicion.

"It isn't by any chance connected with electric bells?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not at all."

"Or digging holes in a garden?"

The Duke shot a reproachful glance at him.

"As to that unfortunate incident," he said, "you have yourself to blame. But for the completeness of your disguise – "

"Which you penetrated," said Roderick gloomily.

"I confess," said the Duke, with pleasing frankness, "that I spotted the false whiskers – or was it a moustache? I said to Hank, 'Who on earth can it be?' and Hank couldn't think of anybody. 'It's a detective,' said Hank, 'but what detective?' We thought of everybody till Hank – you know what a penetrating devil he is – said 'By Jove! It must be Jacko – I mean Nape!'"

Mr. Nape looked important.

"And the commission you wish me to accept?" he asked.

"It will be necessary," said the Duke slowly, "to take you into my confidence. I am in a deuce of a mess: I have incurred the enmity of a great and powerful man, who has invoked the machinery of the law and threatened me with its instrument – in fact," he said in an outburst of candour, "brokers." Mr. Nape who had visions of something a trifle more heroic, said "Oh."

"Not only this," the Duke went on, "but he has unscrupulously, pertinaciously and several other words which I cannot at the moment recall, brought to his aid the most powerful factor of all – the Press."

The Duke picked up a long newspaper cutting that lay at his side.

"Read that," he said.

Mr. Nape obeyed.

It was headed "The Duke in the Suburbs," "meaning me," said the Duke complacently, "read on."

Mr. Nape skimmed the leading article – for such it was – rapidly:

"Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than any or all epithets."

"He boned that out of a book of familiar quotations," explained the Duke admiringly, "go on."

"It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration…"

"Title worship is unworthy of a great people… Especially foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and decencies of social intercourse."

"I can't quite place that last bit," said the Duke, "it is probably employed to round off the sentence – proceed, Mr. Nape."

"With every desire to preserve intact the admirable relationships that exist at the present moment between ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land."

"That's rather involved," commented the Duke, "but I gather the sense of the stricture – pardon me."

Mr. Nape continued.

"The English laws are just and equitable; they are the admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on one famous occasion said – "

"Skip that bit," interrupted the Duke.

"The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the dictum – "

"And that bit too," said the Duke; "go on to the part that deals with the lawless alien."

"Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord's position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited instruments."

Hank, a silent and interested listener, moved uneasily in the depths of his big chair.

He removed his cigar to ask a question.

"Is she the writ of ejection or the notice to quit?" he asked soberly.

"I gather that she's the court bailiff," said the Duke reverently.

"We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are addressed, – in the friendliest spirit – that there is a power behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the might of armed force."

"That's the militia," said the Duke, "Captain Hal Tanneur of the North Kent Fencibles! Hank, we're up against the army. We're an international problem: you heard the reference to the friendly relations? We're the fly in the Entente Cordiale ointment."

"And a possible causus belli," murmured Hank.

"And a causus belli," repeated the Duke impressively.

There was a silence as Mr. Nape carefully folded the cutting and placed it on the table. A continued silence when he leant back in his chair, with his finger-tips touching and his eyes absently fixed on the ceiling.

"Well?" said the Duke.

Mr. Nape smiled.

The solution of the problem was simple.

"You want me to find the man who wrote that article?" he said languidly. "It will not be particularly difficult. There are certain features about this case which are, I admit, puzzling. The reference to Baron Pollock and the Lord Chief Justice show me that the writer was a lawyer, the – "

"Oh, I know who wrote the article," said the Duke cheerfully, and Mr. Nape was disconcerted and annoyed.

Then an idea struck him and he brightened.

"I see," he said, "you want me to discover the circumstances under which they were written. You have a secret enemy who – "

"On the contrary," said the Duke, "I know all the circumstances and I know the name, address, age and hobbies of the enemy."

Mr. Nape's exasperation was justified under the circumstances.

"May I ask," he demanded coldly, "why I have been called in?"

"That seems fair?" The Duke appealed to Hank, and Hank nodded. "It seems a deucedly fair question."

He turned to the young man —

"Mr. Nape," he said solemnly, "we want an editor for the Brockley Aristocrat."

Mr. Nape saw light.

"I of course know the paper," he said – there was little that Mr. Nape did not know – "but I have only seen it once – or twice," he corrected carefully.

"It doesn't exist yet," said his serene grace, "it's a new paper that Hank and I are going to run, and we need an editor."

"I see," said Mr. Nape, industriously blowing his nose to hide his confusion…

"We want an editor of fearless independent character, who will do as he's told, and ask no questions."

"Yes, yes," approved the detective.

"A man of judgment, of keen discernment and possessed, moreover, of a knowledge of men and things."

Mr. Nape nodded thoughtfully.

"Some one we can depend upon to carry out a policy without striking out on some silly idea of his own – there's the job, will you take it?"

"I have had some experience," began Mr. Nape, but the Duke interrupted —

"Pardon me," he said, "but it is not experience that's required. An experienced editor would not do the things we shall expect our editor to do. We shall expect him to – er – rush in where the Times would fear to tread."

Mr. Nape had a dim idea that the turn the Duke gave to this requirement was not as complimentary as it might have been.

"I have a feeling," the Duke continued, "that in Nape we have discovered a local Delane."

He spoke ostensibly to Hank, as though oblivious of the new Editor's presence. Mr. Nape rather enjoyed the experience than otherwise.

"Or a Horace Greely," suggested the patriotic American.

The Duke assented gravely.

"There are certain conditions of service to be laid down," the Duke went on, "a definite policy to be followed, a – "

"I am a conservative." Mr. Nape paused to observe the effect of his declaration. In the absence of an outburst of wild enthusiasm Mr. Nape hedged his bet, "but" he went on carelessly, "I am open to conviction."

The Duke nodded.

"We shall expect you to uphold the best traditions of current journalism," he said, "and I do not doubt but that you will succeed. You must be prepared to jump with the cat – you follow me?"

"Yes," said Mr. Nape, who had not the least idea what cat was referred to.

"You must be careful not to give offence to the friendly nations. I will supply you with a revised list of them from week to week – and deal lightly with the Borough Council. You may have a whack at the Czar now and again, but whatever you do, be careful that you do not annoy the advertisers. Keep an eye upon the Balkans, the shipbuilding programme of Germany, and the London County Council."

"And Sir Harry Tanneur," added Hank.

"Sir Harry Tanneur!"

Mr. Nape was surprised.

"You know him?"

The detective became instantly his mysterious self.

"He was a client of mine," he said briefly.

Having so brusquely dismissed the subject in a manner that arrested all further investigation he regretted the fact. For he would have liked to explain the reading of the cutting at the concert, would have been delighted to accept recognition as the Duke's good fairy.

But the Duke did not pursue the subject.

He rose from his chair and held out his hand.

"Can you see me to-morrow?" he asked, "I have to arrange an office and a printer."

Mr. Nape bowed.

"In the meantime," said his grace, "you had better think out some leaders.

"I have already thought of one," said the resourceful editor. "It is entitled Noblesse Oblige.

"A most excellent title," said the Duke admiringly, "I'll write the article myself."

Mr. Nape went home deep in thought.

The adoring little maid of all work, who met him at the door ventured to report.

"I've done up the laboratory, sir; them bloodstains have come from the butcher's, and the plumber's fixed up the microscope all right."

Mr. Nape stared at her vacantly.

"Remove the rubbish," he said shortly.

Emma gasped.

"Beg pardon, sir?" she stammered.

"The rubbish!" cried Roderick impatiently stamping his foot, "microscope and bloodstains and human hair – take them away."

A thought struck him.

"Run down to the stationers and get that book How to Correct Printers' Proofs– it's sixpence."

The dazed girl accepted the coin.

"Shall I bring it to your laboratory?" she asked feebly.

Roderick turned a stern face upon her.

"Sanctum," he thundered, "there is no more laboratory, sanctum sanctorum– did they teach you Latin at school, Emma?"

"No, sir," she confessed, "that's the thing you do with compasses, ain't it?"

Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly to the greenhouse.

V

As an unprejudiced observer of the fight that was destined to shake Brockley to its very depths, to set the blameless citizens at each other's throats, to divide families, and in one case (when the engagement of a certain A.M. and B.Y. was broken off in consequence) to alter the very destinies of the human race – an unprejudiced observer, I repeat, of Sir Harry Tanneur's attempt to purge Brockley of the foreign yoke – I quote the Lewisham and Lee Mail– I am free to confess that the honours lay with the ducal party.

This L. & L. Mail– Hank invariably and wickedly introduced aspirates into the abbreviation – was remarkably outspoken.

There will appear nothing extraordinary in this fact, when it is realized that Sir Harry had, on the very day the Duke returned, purchased the paper for a considerable sum in order to further his candidature in the division – and for other purposes.

For two weeks the advantage was all with the knight. His phillipics thundered from his hireling press for two consecutive issues, his content bills scarred the faces of nature.

Then came the Duke's turn.

One morning Sir Harry, passing through the main road of Lewisham, saw a huge announcement that covered one hoarding:

"THE BROCKLEY ARISTOCRAT."No. 1 ready on Saturday. One Penny"CHANGE FOR A TANNER,"BYTHE DUC DE MONTVILLIER

Sir Harry grew apoplectic.

"The ruffian!" he spluttered, "the vulgar punning ruffian!"

In a fury he drove to Kymott Crescent.

His car stopped at 64 and he sprang out shaking with rage.

His noisy knock brought the sedate servant.

"Where's the Duke," he demanded.

The silent servant led the way.

Sir Harry burst in upon a council of three.

The Duke, Hank and Mr. Nape sat at a table strewn with papers, and his grace saluted his visitor with a smile.

"Look here, sir!" bellowed Sir Harry. "This damn foolishness has got to stop – you clear out of my house as soon as ever you can: by heavens, sir, I'll take you to the courts, I'll – "

The Duke raised his hand.

"Sir Harry," he said serenely, "as one aristocrat to another, let me beg of you to remember the restrictions imposed by birth. It ill becomes men of our ancient lineage – "

"Confound you, sir! I will not have you pulling my leg! I'm dead serious – There's a law in this land – "

"There is a law also in America," said the Duke calmly, "I believe there is even a law in China. It is one of the disadvantages of the century that no spot on earth is left where there is no law."

"You won't put me off with your blarney," blazed the knight. "I know you, I've met men like you before."

"Don't boast," begged the Duke.

"I'll clear you out neck and crop – "

"Neck perhaps," corrected the Duke, "but crop no; not being a fowl of the air, and being to a great extent anatomically ordinary, your illustration lacks point."

"As to Alicia," said the knight with deadly earnestness. "I absolutely forbid her to have anything further to do with you."

The Duke was silent. He looked at the elder man a little curiously, and Sir Harry, interpreting the silence in quite the wrong way, pursued his mistaken advantage. "You must understand that she is in a sense my ward – "

"Mr. Nape!"

The Duke addressed his editor.

"Would you be kind enough to see me later in the day – what I have to say to Sir Harry is no fit thing for a young editor to hear."

He said this gravely, and Mr. Nape made a reluctant exit.

"Now that that child has gone," said the Duke, "will you permit me to say a few words? I am," he confessed, "rather fond of hearing myself speak. Sir Harry, I would rather you left your niece out of the conversation."

"You would rather!" jeered the master of Hydeholme.

"I would rather," said the Duke politely, "if you have no objection. You see, Sir Harry, I know all about your relationship with the father of my fiancée. I know how you lured him and his money into your rotten financial quicksands, how you left him to ruin."

"That's a lie, a horrible lie," gasped Sir Harry, pale with rage.

In justice to him it may be said in passing, that he really thought that it was. The Duke diplomatically passed the comment.

"Coming nearer home," he went on, "I know that you conspired with certain individuals to rob a most worthy young nobleman – to wit myself – of his mineral wealth."

"That's another lie: by Gad, sir? if you dare print this – !"

"I did think," said the Duke carefully, "I must confess that I did think of using the material for a humorous poem, but if you would rather I didn't – "

Sir Harry Tanneur made an admirable effort to recover his temper and his lost dignity.

"If you cannot behave like a gentleman," he said, "it is useless for me to prolong this interview. To-day," he turned at the doorway, "to-day I shall take action."

"From my knowledge of you," retorted the Duke, "I should imagine that you would take anything that happened to be lying about."

Sir Harry was attended to the door by the sedate servant.

"A nice household!" he said meaningly.

The sedate servant bowed.

VI

"How to describe the meeting between Alicia and the Duke!" the painstaking author would think. Should she rise with heightened colour, her fingers convulsively clutching that portion of the anatomy under which, as it is popularly believed, a fluttering heart thrills at the familiar footstep? Should she run to him hysterically, falling upon his neck and sobbing for very joy? It is a style which has exponents amongst the very best authors.

Happy am I, that I am not called upon to invent so difficult a scene. It is the glorious privilege of the reporter that he need not invent. Unless he draws a very high salary indeed, to record events, not as they happened, but as they ought to have happened.

In truth she rose with a heightened colour when the Duke was announced, but she offered him her hand conventionally, and – when the door had closed behind the reluctant servant – he took her in his arms and kissed her again and again.

I do not know how many times because I was not present, but I should say quite six times.

(Six of course is merely an estimate covering their first greeting.)

"So you're back?" she smiled.

He held her hands in his.

(It would be absurd and presumptuous in me to pretend to give anything that professed to be an exact account of this meeting. I repeat that I was not present.)

"I was so horribly afraid," she said earnestly, "I thought when that dreadful man disappeared that possibly he might have followed you, and…"

Let us, as the mid-Victorian novelists said, when they found their powers of description failed, draw a veil over that happy meeting, far too sacred … and too difficult…

VII

Sir Harry called a Council of War.

His Man of Affairs – Smith by name – attended, as also did the Editor of the Lewisham and Lee Mail.

Mr. R. B. Rake (Member of the Institute of Journalists, as his visiting card testified) was and is, one of the most remarkable personages in Catford.

A literateur of no indifferent quality, an authority on postage stamps (I find on referring to Webster's Dictionary that such an expert is called a philatelist), a vegetarian and a gentleman with pronounced views. Mr. R. B. Rake can be described in one word – tremendous.

He had a tremendous voice and a tremendous style, and he quoted the ancient classics inaccurately. He had some Greek, thus he referred to Sir Harry, as of the [Greek: demioergoi], and the Duke as a [Greek: métoikoi]. I have my doubts as to the latter description, and I more than suspect that Mr. Rake, in referring to his grace, thus misapplied the phrase of "privileged alien."

Mr. Smith, whose duty it was to supervise Sir Harry's "rents," was a deferential little man, with a garbled knowledge of the law relating to property.

"Now, gentlemen," said Sir Harry briskly, "we've got to do something about this Duke man."

"Quite so," said Rake, "it is perhaps unparalleled in the constitutional history – "

"One moment, Rake," interrupted the knight testily, "let me talk. I want to make it very clear to you why it is absolutely necessary for the Duke to be cleared out – did you speak, Smith?"

Mr. Smith did speak: he had an important statement to make and saw his opportunity. Unfortunately his introduction was not happily framed. "I said the lore – if a man acts cont'ry to the lore he's done himself," said Mr. Smith solemnly, "you can't take liberties with the lore, duke or no duke. If you catch hold of the lore by the collar it'll turn round and bite you. Now it happens – "

"Be good enough to withhold your comments until I have completed my remarks," said Sir Harry with asperity, "I know all that it is necessary to know concerning the legal situation: I did not," he added pointedly, "ask you to meet me to discuss an aspect of the situation upon which I have been already advised – by competent authorities."

"Now that is very true," commented Mr. R. B. Rake in a tone of wondering surprise, as though Sir Harry's remark had come in the light of a revelation.

"I know," said Sir Harry, "that I cannot eject this person without complicated legal proceedings, and I had thought that by the aid of our good friend Rake we might have shamed him out of the district – but he is meeting us on our own grounds. He is starting a newspaper."

"I give it a month," said Mr. Rake with conviction, "I've seen these mushroom growths: there was the Blackheath Eagle– run by a man named Titty – lasted two issues; there was the Brockley Buzzard– lasted one; Catford and Eltham Indicator– never came out at all!"