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Unfortunately, there were two steps up into the shop, and she could not climb them. She collapsed like a sack of flour on the first step. Young Edward Allman ran to the door. He was wearing a black apron and fidgeting with it in his excitement. "Don't lift her up don't try to lift her up, Mr. Peel- Swynnerton!" he cried, as Matthew instinctively began to do the wrong thing.
For her, Matthew belonged to a superior race. He bore the almost sacred name of Peel. His family had been distinguished in the district for generations. 'Peel! You could without impropriety utter it in the same breath with 'Wedgwood. And 'Swynnerton' stood not much lower.
John himself had had an untroubled time since his return a little before Easter; but he had taken the precaution not to remain too long at Padley at one time; he had visited his other estates at Swynnerton and elsewhere, and had even been back again at Langley. But there had been no hint of any pursuit.
Swynnerton says it's a sheer fluke. But I've got it. Great glory for the Bursley School of Art!" "National Scholarship?" she said. "What's that? What is it?" "Now, mother!" he admonished her, not without testiness. "Don't go and say I've never breathed a word about it!" He lit a cigarette, to cover his self-consciousness, for he perceived that she was moved far beyond the ordinary.
He was seriously handicapped in the race for sustenance, being two and a half courses behind, but he drew level with speed and then, having accomplished this, he sighed, and pointedly engaged Peel- Swynnerton with his sociable glance. "Ah!" he breathed out. "Nuisance when you come in late, sir!" Peel-Swynnerton gave a reluctant affirmative. "Doesn't only upset you! It upsets the house!
Swynnerton, whose resolute and distinguished talent was never more abundantly and strikingly manifested than in her picture entitled "Midsummer", now hanging in the New Gallery.
The landlady looked in the 'P' pigeon-hole, and in the 'S' pigeon-hole. "No," she said quietly, "I see nothing for you." Taken with a swift rash audacity, he said: "Have you had any one named Povey here recently?" "Povey?" "Yes. Cyril Povey, of Bursley in the Five Towns." He was very impressionable, very sensitive, was Matthew Peel- Swynnerton. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"Very," said Peel-Swynnerton, with sincerity. "I was quite " At that moment, a tall straight woman of uncertain age pushed open the principal door and stood for an instant in the doorway. Peel- Swynnerton had just time to notice that she was handsome and pale, and that her hair was black, and then she was gone again, followed by a clipped poodle that accompanied her.
His nose did not definitely brand him as a usurer and a murderer of Christ, but it was suspicious. His clothes hung loose, and might have been anybody's clothes. He advanced with brisk assurance to the table, bowed, somewhat too effusively, to several people, and sat down next to Peel- Swynnerton.
This surprised him, for Peel, Swynnerton and Co., known and revered throughout the Five Towns as 'Peels, did not cater for cheap markets. A late guest startled the room, a fat, flabby, middle-aged man whose nose would have roused the provisional hostility of those who have convinced themselves that Jews are not as other men.
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