WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW.

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 13 April 1927, Page 8

WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW.

CHAPTER XX. • SIR JAMES OX THE TRAIL. At the. under-butler's words, Mr. Bumpu,s gave u start which nearly threw* him forward out of the rockingchair. “Young mian,” he admonished. “1 have long since discovered that you have no respect for quality. I had hoped, however, that you would at least have a little for age. Do you know, Hargreaves, that I am nearly seventy ?” “And what’s it feel like,” inquired Hargreaves, “to know that life is drawing near to.- its close ?” “1 don’t quite understand you,” answered Bumpus somewhat heavily. “In any case, I wish you wouldn’t be blasphemous. 1 don’t like people joking about death. . . . Meanwhile, I left nearly a glass of Madeira here when I went to sleep—where’s it goner”’ “Conscious to the last!” muttered Hargreaves. “I’ve had it, old bird.’ “Well, be so good as to go to the cellar and fetch a little brandy. Then perhaps you’ll tell me what you’re getting at. I haven’t educated you as under-butler without getting to know you during the process. You have something on your mind.” “Right,”, agreed Hargreaves, as he took the cellar key down from its nail. “I'll tell you when I come back.” •He returned with two wineglasses full of Napoleon brandy. Hargreaves and Bumpus rarely used liqueur glasses—not that they disliked imitating quality, but that liqueur glasses were 'small. Hargreaves then proceeded to tell Mr. Bumpus of the disappearance of Miss Romanic, and of the fact that Sir James Fairfield proposed to see him in the morning. Air. Bumpus coughed noisily. _ “A little went down the wrong way,” ho explained. “Let’s hope you don’t get anything to disagree with you more,” said Hargreaves portentously, watching Bumpus narrowly as he spoke. Meanwhile, the head butler had regained his composure. “ You say that Miss Bomaine has disappeared. Well, young man, what has that got to- do with me?”. Hargreaves let his eyes travel from head to foot of the reclining butler’s form. Then lie replied : “No, 1 don’t suppose it’s had much to do with you. but you might know something about it, all the same.” “Don’t be ridiculous!” answered Mr. Bumpus, taking up his glass of brandy and holding :it between himself and the light. “It doesn’t go off, does it?”

“ ‘Napoleon’ never did,” replied Hargreaves tersely.

Air. Bumpus sat in silence for la few moments whilst he revelled in the joys of a vintage long past. Presently thoughts returned to. the new® which Hargreaves had imp’arted. “Apart from Aliss Romaine,”. he said, “I should like to know exactly what you mean when you say that Sir James wishes to see me in the morning. 1 hope he isn’t going to refer to my face being like a, steak.” “He might do !”. answered Hargreaves cheerfully, “but I should think he’s going deal with a far more serious subject.”

All the time Hargreaves kept a steely eye on his -superior, for, much as the under-lnit-ler knew, he never could be quite sure what knowledge had been acquired by the portly, somnolent Bum-pus. This was not the first time upon which lie had tried to draw the head-butler; in fact it had become with him almost a habit to watch every word of Air Bumpus, in the hope of -gaining some little- information which he lacked. N T ot that he thought for a moment that Mr. Bumpus knew anything lat all, but that the latter’s

placid attitude had naturally lett him thinking. “The trouble about Rumpus as ho once .said to himself, “is that lie .sits there like a pudding and appears to have no more sense than a pudding. What I say, and mil at l will maintain is that Mr. Bum pus knows a thing or two.” Hargreaves would have given much to replace with knowledge his surmise regarding -Bumpus. The affairs of the Romaine family were developing to .such an extent that Hargreaves, like a venturous swimmer, was wondering whether or not. he were out of his depth, and whether or not he should turn back and at least swim into somewhat safer waters. Yet Bumpus helped him not. Whether the butler knew anything or .<;t was a question which greatly exercised the mind of Hargreaves, but none save Bumpus could set his mind at rest, and at the moment Mr Bumpus vouchsafed nothing likely to add to the peace of mind of Samuel Hargreaves. “Yeung man,” observed Mr. Bumpus at length, “you are developing inquisitiveness—l can see it in your eye, and hear it in your voice, but mark you, young man, 1. have not served quality—in particular the Duke of Burneside—-all these years without knowing how to keep my mouth shut. That’s one of the first duties of a gent'email’s servant. It surprised me that it’s a duty you yourself haven’t yet learnt.” For a moment, Hargreaves was inclined to take Mr Bumpus’s remarks awry. The old man seemed to. have a penetrative tongue which did not come well tQ a- man with, so much on his mind as preksent occupied that of Mr Hargreaves. “I .should be most pleased to .see Sir James to-morrow,’.’ blandly continued Bumpus. “There are many things which L may toll him.” Suddenly-his voice changed. “But doijjLjxyou tear, Samuel,” ho continued, tgyshall say nothing to get you into twßble. And now, good-night, Samuel, l must go to bed.” SO l saying, be marched out of the butler’s pantry and left- Hargreaves in a is bate of mild bewilderment. The following morning was occupied by various conversations between the relatives of the late Sir John Fairfield. lii all those conversations there reigned the ruling spirit of Mr Naylor. The London solicitor, perhaps, with much lack of diplomacy, failed to appreciate a. fellow-member of his profession in Mr Gales, with the result that the ’oly Mr Gales, as Hargreaves termed hitii, was in .something of a quandary. Fully believing that- lie was the heir to Sir John’s wealth—and, for that matter, there was none to contradict him, he suffered insults by the score from Mr Naylor, for to offend Naylor ■light be to prejudice his chances at the moment. It took hut a few hours of .sharp-spoken conference to prove to Sir James Fairfield the futlity of liis remaining at Beggar’s End. The will was lost, and apparently none could find it; in any case, Jimmie himself was at- a loss as to its whereabouts, although he had received Hargrcave’s mass-production story of its contents. He decided to go to London and have a word with Scotland Ya.rd regarding the disappearance of Billie Romaine. Accordingly, he bade adieu to liis cousins, on the pretext of urgent work in town, saying that lie would see them again in a day or so. when the inquest was resumed. He had a few private words with Hargreaves on his departure. “I don’t quite understand you, -Slippery,” he said, “but- I think you’re straight. You know rather a jot—T mean, about Miss Romaine, not about the will; he hanged to that. You promised to keep things to yourself, and you promised to let me know of any discoveries. Don’t fail me. and you can he sure I won’t fail you.” Hargreaves almost committed himself to an outburst of loyalty as he bowed good-day to Jimmie and the latter was driven away in a dog-cart hv the venerable Cleasby. (To he co 11 t-i n ued.)