# The Author of "Trixie"/Chapter 15

The Archdeacon got home about a he quarter to six. He let himself softly into the Vicarage, but not softly enough to cheat the vigilance of Mrs. Roach's ear. Even as he arrived on the first landing her bedroom door opened and she peered out saying, "Is that you, Samson? You're very late. And how did you leave dear Lady Lampeter?"
He spun her some lies about the anxious night they'd all had at Marlow. He told her that when he finally left in Lady Lampeter's motor-car, its owner was believed to be out of danger.
​"You didn't come in a motor-car just now, did you?" Mrs. Roach asked.
"No," he said; "I stopped it in the High Street and walked on. I didn't want to wake you up, my love, with the noise of a car outside your window."
"How thoughtful of you, Samson," she said. "I'm sure your presence at her bedside has been a great comfort to that poor old thing."
"Let us hope so," he said modestly. "But get back to your bed, Sophanisba. I will tell you all about it at breakfast. Meanwhile I confess that I have but one desire—to get between my sheets."
He entered his bedroom and closed the door. Three minutes later his desire was gratified.
After breakfast he went to his study and called up Chloë on the telephone.
"I feel, Chloë," he said, "that it's only right to let you know that when I told you I had not got a manuscript of 'Edgar and Lilian" in the Sloane Street Safe Deposit, I lied. In other words I have such a manuscript in that place and to it I propose to draw the attention of the Incorporated Society of Authors with the least possible delay. I am aware that this may result in your laying an information against me with the Great Western Railway, but that I can't help. You must do exactly as you please about that, of course. My love to dear Bisham," and he rang off.
He then wrote a letter, marked "Strictly Private and Excessively Confidential," to the Secretary of the Authors' Society, which said:
   The Vicarage, Old Kensington.
   Percy Turton, Esq.,
   My dear Sir,
   I venture to solicit your aid in settling a dispute which has arisen regarding the authorship of two recently-published and highly successful novels. Both parties to this dispute are well known to me, and I have induced them to submit their claims to you, in your official capacity as arbiter. The matter is so important, not only to the persons directly concerned, but to English Letters, that I feel I am justified in suggesting to you that you should associate with yourself a committee of writers—say, five in number, whose position in the World of Letters is thoroughly established and whose verdict is likely to be accepted by the public. The responsibility of making a decision in this matter is ​one which no man would willingly assume alone. I leave the composition of this committee to you entirely, for it would ill become me to suggest any names. Whomsoever you appoint will be loyally accepted, as will be their verdict. In conclusion, I must tell you that it will be necessary for you and your associates to attend at the Sloane Street Safe Deposit, where documentary evidence of a—conclusive nature will be submitted to you, and in no other place can this be done. The day and time, however, it is for you to fix in accordance with the full convenience of yourself and your associates.
   Trusting to hear from you favorably, I am, dear sir, Yours very faithfully,
   Samson Roach.
This letter he despatched at once by special messenger.
Had the letter of the Archdeacon been signed by the most obscure of names, the secretary of the Incorporated Society of Authors, Playwrights, Musicians and Continuity Fakers could hardly have declined to take upon it action of some sort. It was impossible for a Society whose business it is to keep unremitting watch over the welfare of (among other things) English letters—with a peculiarly sharp eye for the sinister activities of publishers and literary agents—it was impossible for such a Society to draw apart when its assistance was invoked in a matter so peculiarly within the sphere of its activities as a question of disputed authorship.
But when at the foot of this letter was found the signature of the universally-respected Archdeacon of Cricklewood and ​Vicar of Old Kensington, there was only one thing to be done and Mr. Turton did it.
He telephoned forthwith to Sir John Dubbs and said: "Sir John, I have a letter from Archdeacon Roach, asking me to form a committee to investigate an important question of literary authorship. Apparently the principal piece of evidence is in the Sloane Street Safe Deposit, and we are invited to attend there so as to be present at its production. It occurs to me that a certain amount of publicity can be worked in connection with this rather unusual——"
"Count on me," said Sir John at the other end of the wire. "Any day, any time, my dear Turton, and thanks for thinking of me."
"Then," said Mr. Turton, "to-morrow at midday," and rang off.
​In the course of another five telephone calls Mr. Turton had his numbers made up. His Committee consisted of himself (Chairman), Sir John Dubbs, O.B.E., I.O.U., P.P.C.; Sir Ecclesford Smee, P.T.O., C.O.D., R.S.V.P.; Sir William Keyne, O.P., L.S.W.R.; Mrs. Cutbush-Threape, S.O.S.; Miss June Badger, A.N.S.C.L.; and Miss Niobe Symkyn, Hop 2007.
Mr. Turton then telephoned to the Archdeacon and told him that the Committee would meet him at the Sloane Street Safe Deposit on the following day at twelve noon. Not an hour had elapsed since the despatch of the Archdeacon's letter from the Vicarage.
The Archdeacon then sent a note to Chloë, which read as follows:
   The Vicarage, Old Kensington.
   My dearest Chloë,
   I want you and dear Bisham to know that the Authors' Society is sending a Committee to the Sloane Street Safe Deposit to-morrow at midday to investigate my claim to be the author of "Trixie" and "Edgar and Lilian." It is only right that Bisham should have an opportunity of being present, and I cordially invite him to make one of our number. You, too, my dear, of course. My warmest love to Bisham and yourself.
   Your affectionate Father.