The Definite Object | Page 4

Jenkins is a true hartist, equally facetious and soulful, sir!"
So saying, Mr. Brimberly arose and crossed toward the telephone. But
scarcely had he taken three steps when he paused suddenly and stood
rigid and motionless, his staring gaze fixed upon the nearest window;
for from the shadowy world beyond came a sound, faint as yet and far
away, but a sound there was no mistaking--the dismal tooting of an
automobile horn.
"'Eavens an' earth!" exclaimed Mr. Brimberly, and crossing to the
window he peered out. Once again the horn was heard, but very much
nearer now, and louder, whereupon Mr. Brimberly turned, almost
hastily, and his visitor rose hurriedly.
"It's very annoying, Mr. Stevens," said he, "but can I trouble you to--to
step--er--down--stairs--with the glasses? It's 'ighly mortifying, but may
I ask you to--er--step a little lively, Mr. Stevens?"
Without a word, Mr. Stevens caught up the tray from the piano and
glided away on his toe-points; whereupon Mr. Brimberly (being alone)
became astonishingly agile and nimble all at once, diving down to
straighten a rug here and there, rearranging chairs and tables; he even
opened the window and hurled two half-smoked cigars far out into the
night; and his eye was as calm, his brow as placid, his cheek as rosy as
ever, only his whiskers--those snowy, telltale whiskers, quivered
spasmodically, very much as though endeavouring to do the manifestly
impossible and flutter away with Mr. Brimberly altogether; yes, it was
all in his whiskers.
Thus did Mr. Brimberly bustle softly to and fro until he paused, all at
once, arrested by the sound of a slow, firm step near by. Then Mr.
Brimberly coughed, smoothed his winglike whiskers, and--pulled down
his waistcoat for the third time. And lo! even as he did so, the door
opened, and the hero of this history stood upon the threshold.

CHAPTER II
OF A MOURNFUL MILLIONAIRE WHO LACKED AN OBJECT
Geoffrey Ravenslee was tall and pale and very languid, so languid
indeed that the automobile coat he bore across his arm slipped to the
floor ere Mr. Brimberly could take it, after which he shed his cap and
goggles and dropped them, drew off his gauntlets and dropped them
and, crossing to his favourite lounge chair, dropped himself into it, and
lay there staring into the fire.
"Ah, Brimberly," he sighed gently, "making a night of it?"
"Why, sir," bowed his butler, "indeed, sir--to tell the truth, sir--"
"You needn't, Brimberly. Excellent cigars you smoke--judging from the
smell. May I have one?"
"Sir," said Brimberly, his whiskers slightly agitated, "cigars, sir?"
"In the cabinet, I think," and Mr. Ravenslee motioned feebly with one
white hand towards the tall, carved cabinet in an adjacent corner.
Mr. Brimberly coughed softly behind plump fingers.
"The--the key, sir?" he suggested.
"Oh, not at all necessary, Brimberly; the lock is faulty, you know."
"Sir?" said Brimberly, soothing a twitching whisker.
"If you are familiar with the life of the Fourteenth Louis, Brimberly,
you will remember that the Grand Monarch hated to be kept
waiting--so do I. A cigar--in the cabinet yonder."
With his whiskers in a high state of agitation, Mr. Brimberly laid by the
garments he held clutched in one arm and coming to the cabinet,

opened it, and taking thence a box of cigars, very much at random,
came back, carrying it rather as though it were a box of highly
dangerous explosives, and setting it at his master's elbow, struck a
match.
As Mr. Brimberly watched his master select and light his cigar, it
chanced that Young R. raised his eyes and looked at him, and to be sure
those eyes were surprisingly piercing and quick for one so very languid.
Indeed, Mr. Brimberly seemed to think so, for he coughed again, faint
and discreetly, behind his hand, while his whiskers quivered slightly,
though perceptibly.
"You're 'ome quite--quite unexpected, sir!"
"Brimberly, I'm afraid I am, but I hope I don't intrude?"
"Intrude, sir!" repeated Mr. Brimberly. "Oh, very facetious, sir, very
facetious indeed!" and he laughed, deferentially and soft.
"I blew the horn, but I see he left his hat behind him!" sighed Young R.,
nodding languidly toward the headgear of Mr. Stevens, which had
fallen beneath a chair and thus escaped notice.
"Why, I--indeed, sir," said Mr. Brimberly, stooping to make a fierce
clutch at it, "I took the liberty of showing a friend of mine your--your
picters, sir--no offence, I 'ope, sir?"
"Friend?" murmured his master.
"Name of Stevens, sir, valet to Lord Barberton--a most sooperior
person indeed, sir!"
"Barberton? I don't agree with you, Brimberly."
"Stevens, sir!"
"Ah! And you showed him my--pictures, did you?"
"Yes, sir, I did take that liberty--no offence, sir, I--"

"Hum! Did he like 'em?"
"Like them, sir! 'E were fair overpowered, sir! Brandy and soda, sir?"
"Thanks!