The Little Warrior | Page 5

nothing of her. A month ago he had
known nothing of her himself. It would, he perceived, as far as the
benevolent approval of Lady Underhill was concerned, have been an
altogether different matter had his choice fallen upon one of those
damsels whose characters, personality, and ancestry she knew.
Daughters of solid and useful men; sisters of rising young politicians
like himself; nieces of Burke's peerage; he could have introduced
without embarrassment one of these in the role of bride-elect. But
Jill . . . Oh, well, when once his mother had met Jill, everything was
sure to be all right. Nobody could resist Jill. It would be like resisting
the sunshine.
Somewhat comforted by this reflection, Derek turned to begin one
more walk along the platform, and stopped in mid-stride, raging.
Beaming over the collar of a plaid greatcoat, all helpfulness and
devotion, Freddie Rooke was advancing towards him, the friend that
sticketh closer than a brother. Like some loving dog, who, ordered
home, sneaks softly on through alleys and by-ways, peeping round
corners and crouching behind lamp-posts, the faithful Freddie had
followed him after all. And with him, to add the last touch to Derek's
discomfiture, were those two inseparable allies of his, Ronny Devereux
and Algy Martyn.
"Well, old thing," said Freddie, patting Derek encouragingly on the
shoulder, "here we are after all! I know you told me not to roil round
and so forth, but I knew you didn't mean it. I thought it over after you

had left, and decided it would be a rotten trick not to cluster about you
in your hour of need. I hope you don't mind Ronny and Algy breezing
along, too. The fact is, I was in the deuce of a funk--your jolly old
mater always rather paralyzes my nerve-centers, you know--so I roped
them in. Met 'em in Piccadilly, groping about for the club, and
conscripted 'em both, they very decently consenting. We all toddled off
and had a pick-me-up at that chemist chappie's at the top of the
Hay-market, and now we're feeling full of beans and buck, ready for
anything. I've explained the whole thing to them, and they're with you
to the death! Collect a gang, dear boy, collect a gang! That's the motto.
There's nothing like it!"
"Nothing!" said Ronny.
"Absolutely nothing!" said Algy.
"We'll just see you through the opening stages," said Freddie, "and then
leg it. We'll keep the conversation general, you know."
"Stop it getting into painful channels," said Ronny.
"Steer it clear," said Algy, "of the touchy topic."
"That's the wheeze," said Freddie. "We'll . . . Oh, golly! There's the
train coming in now!" His voice quavered, for not even the comforting
presence of his two allies could altogether sustain him in this ordeal.
But he pulled himself together with a manful effort. "Stick it, old
beans!" he said doughtily. "Now is the time for all good men to come to
the aid of the party!"
"We're here!" said Ronny Devereux.
"On the spot!" said Algy Martyn.
3.
The boat-train slid into the station. Bells rang, engines blew off steam,
porters shouted, baggage-trucks rattled over the platform. The train

began to give up its contents, now in ones and twos, now in a steady
stream. Most of the travellers seemed limp and exhausted, and were
pale with the pallor that comes of a choppy Channel crossing. Almost
the only exception to the general condition of collapse was the
eagle-faced lady in the brown ulster, who had taken up her stand in the
middle of the platform and was haranguing a subdued little maid in a
voice that cut the gloomy air like a steel knife. Like the other travellers,
she was pale, but she bore up resolutely. No one could have told from
Lady Underhill's demeanor that the solid platform seemed to heave
beneath her feet like a deck.
"Have you got a porter, Ferris? Where is he, then? Ah! Have you got all
the bags? My jewel-case? The suit-case? The small brown bag? The
rugs? Where are the rugs?
"Yes, I can see them, my good girl. There is no need to brandish them
in my face. Keep the jewel-case and give the rest of the things to the
porter, and take him to look after the trunks. You remember which they
are? The steamer trunk, the other trunk, the black box . . . Very well.
Then make haste. And, when you've got them all together, tell the
porter to find you a four-wheeler. The small things will go inside. Drive
to the Savoy and ask for my suite. If they make any difficulty, tell them
that I engaged the rooms yesterday by telegraph from Mentone. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, m'lady."
"Then go along. Oh, and give the