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I could see that he suddenly became limp in Mr. Bundercombe's grasp. His eyes were fixed on the jewels and his amazement was undeniable. Mr. Bundercombe winked at me over his head. "What is the meaning of this, Lord Porthoning?" I demanded as sternly as I could. My courage was failing me. I felt that the joke, after all, had been a severe one.
Bundercombe's expression as he looked at me was the expression of an appealing child. I bit my lip. "A minute or two later I tumbled to the whole situation," he went on. "Dimsdale and Pelham weren't jays at all. It was a gang of four and they raked me in for the mug. After I'd tumbled to that I must confess I took some interest in the game.
"In this district in this whole district, mind there is not a single farmer who has heard of Bundercombe's Reapers!" "I farm a bit myself," I reminded him, "and I had never heard of them." Mr. Bundercombe went to the sideboard and mixed himself a cocktail with great care.
"We've done it!" he muttered. "They're after the car! They'll catch Dolly!" "He'll bluff it out!" she whispered. "Sure! Don't let your hands tremble like that, you little fool! We're safe, I tell you! Get on with your work." Now the two were three or four yards away from the cubicle in which I was, but almost within a couple of feet of Mr. Bundercombe's.
The napkin was soon procured and I rubbed myself dry. The restaurant keeper returned to the desk at Mr. Bundercombe's side. "All I can say," Mr. Bundercombe declared, as he drew away from the note, which he had been examining, "is that I do not wonder you were deceived, Mr. Giatron. This note is the most perfect imitation I have ever seen in my life. A wicked piece of work, sir!"
Bundercombe, who was sitting very upright at the table, with her bony fingers stretched out and a good deal of gold showing in her teeth as she talked with Eve in a high nasal voice concerning the absurd food invariably offered in English restaurants. Then suddenly her flow of language ceased the bomb-shell fell! Mrs. Bundercombe's face became unlike anything I have ever seen or dreamed of.
Perhaps he'll tell you about it afterward." We heard a door slam and Mr. Bundercombe's voice. "He is asking for you," Eve whispered. "Hurry along and come back as soon as you've got this business over." I found Mr. Bundercombe exceedingly chastened, but in all other respects his usual self. "We are calling for Mr. Wymans," he said, "in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and afterward we are going round to Mrs.
Lord Porthoning had staggered to a chair and was sitting there with his face buried in his hands. He was a stricken man. I turned to my father-in-law. "This is too much of a good thing, sir," I whispered angrily. "The brooch was all right enough, so far as it went, and he deserved a lesson; but these other things " A look in Mr. Bundercombe's face suddenly froze the words upon my lips.
Bundercombe's left arm shot out like a piston-rod and the unfortunate victim of his blow remained on the carpet, with his hand to his cheek. "Quite in order, of course," Mr. Bundercombe remarked, "but absolutely useless. Boxing was my only sport when I was a young man, to say nothing of my remarkably athletic young companion. It won't do, Rodwell! You'd better hand over the jewels.
"I don't follow the sales now, so I can't tell you what he's doing; but we've an agent here and any country that doesn't buy Bundercombe's Reapers is off the line as regards agriculture!" "What are you going to do about it?" I asked. "Do!" Mr. Bundercombe toyed with his wine glass for a moment and then set it down. "What I have done," he announced, "is this: I have wired to my agent.
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