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Are you celebrating an escape from the nursing home?" The Submarine man closed the case with a little snap and handed it back to Mouldy Jakes. "We're just celebrating Mouldy's acquisition of that bauble," he explained. "He's been having the time of his life at Buckingham Palace all the morning." "Not 'arf," confirmed the hero modestly. "Proper day-off, I've been having!" He raised his voice.
"No," was the reply. The Midshipman watched his line in silence for a little while. "Do you think you sank that submarine last night?" he asked presently. Mouldy Jakes closed his eyes and gave a grunt with an affirmative intonation. "It must have been a topping show. Weren't you awfully bucked, sir?" Another grunt. "I suppose you didn't get a wink of sleep all night?" A vague confirmatory noise.
There was nothing to be done of course; he closed the door, went back and prayed with all his might for the young man who was somewhere in this huge building, in his agony. Mr. Jakes came up himself within half an hour to see if all was well; but said nothing of his dreadful employment or of Mr. Stewart; and Sir Nicholas did not like to ask for fear of getting Mrs. Jakes into trouble.
The speaker sighed heavily and passed his hand across his forehead. "I think we must have had tea too," he added meditatively. The Young Doctor looked round the laughing circle of faces. "Where is he? Did you bring him along with you?" Mouldy Jakes shook his head and reached out for his soda water. "No ... he went to sleep...." The Young Doctor sat down on the fender beside the speaker.
J. B. C." The other was as follows: "In game between Railway Giants and Country Jakes here to-day, visiting team wins. Score, 9 to 0. Barslow, catcher, disabled. Crick in neck looking at high buildings. Have Mrs. B. prepare porous plaster for Saturday next. Sell Halliday stock short, and buy L. & G. W. And in name all things good and holy don't tell Giddings!
Behind them formed the procession of little boys, little girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men of Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow of light and color round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under bizarre wigs and barbaric paint.
"But that's just what makes me mad; to see this fellow, after deserting us there in unknown seas, win credit and rank at home here for being the first man who ever sailed back through the Straits. What had he to do with sailing back at all! As well make the fox a knight for being the first that ever jumped down a jakes to escape the hounds. The fiercer the flight the fouler the fear, say I."
Ay, reader, whither had it gone? The outcry brought Philip and old Jakes running down to the lake. They found Angela standing alone on the brink and laughing her wildest.
I trace it to that attack of influenza she had in Paris when she met Miss Jakes. Franklin's thoughts were turned from himself. He looked grave. 'I'm afraid she's delicate, he said. 'There is nothing sickly about her, but she is fragile, said Miss Buchanan. 'She can't stand wear and tear. It might kill her. Franklin looked even graver.
He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. Better be careful not to get these trousers dirty for the funeral. He went in, bowing his head under the low lintel. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. The king was in his countinghouse. Nobody.
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