# A Gentleman's Gentleman/Chapter 8
### CHAPTER VIII THE BEST MAN LOSES

It was quite dark when I came up to the White House. Old Mr. Oakley was snoozing in his arm- chair; Sir Nicolas was with Miss Oakley in the garden. I didn't mean to tell him any thing until he went up to bed; but he heard that I was back, and he sent for me to come out to the summer-house to him. When I got there, he was standing in the doorway of the arbor, with Miss Janet hanging on to his arm, as pretty a little thing as a man might find between London and Vienna.
"Well, Hildebrand," said she, "and I hope that you've brought me something nice from the post-office?"
"And I do wish I had, to be sure, miss," said I.
"Are they talking about Saturday in the village?" she went on, giving Sir Nicolas a good squeeze with her arm, as I could see.
"Doing nothing but talk of it, miss," I said. "There's to be fine doings down there when you're gone away. Mr. Oakley's a kind-hearted gentleman, I must say."
She didn't answer me now, but turned to my master, and cried: ​
"What do you say, Pat?"—like the other, she always called him Pat, because he was an Irishman, I suppose. "What do you say? Don't you think that we ought to stop and see the fun? Doesn't the thought of a roasted ox tempt you? We could dance on the green, you know."
He answered her with a laughing look, and just touched the top of her head with his lips. Never, I think, was Sir Nicolas so far gone with any woman as he was with Janet Oakley, and I knew by his way that he'd fight strong before he gave her up.
"Did you find the letter I sent you for?" he asked me presently, and when he'd done looking at her.
"No, sir, I did not," replied I, knowing well that he meant to ask me about the telegram. "It seems to me that it's been delivered at the wrong address."
"Are we likely to get it back again?" he continued, meaning to ask me, "Are we likely to weather the mistake?"
"I fear not, sir," said I; and dark as it was I could see him bite his lip with vexation.
"What's it all mean?" cried Miss Oakley now. "Has that silly old Barker been losing your letters?"
"I fear he has," said Sir Nicolas, "or worse than losing them—he's been presenting them to other people."
"He's a dreadful person," said she, "so prim and old-fashioned. He always puts his gloves on to deliver a telegram. It's quite an event in his history. I am sure he enters it in his family Bible." ​
My master laughed at this, but it was a cold laugh, and I could see that he wasn't so easy, though he had to put the best face on it.
"It doesn't very much matter at all, Hildebrand," said he; "likely the thing will turn up in the morning. Any way, it's not worth the troubling about now."
With this he turned away, and they went together toward the dining-room, Mr. Oakley calling them from the window. I did not see Sir Nicolas again until he came up to his bedroom, and then he had drank more whiskey than was good for him. It was always a way with him when he was like that to turn round upon me; but I knew him too well to take notice, and I let him rave as much as he liked.
"If it hadn't been for that cursed brother of yours, we shouldn't be in this mess," he whimpered when he began to undress himself. "Faith, to think how near we've been to it!"
He went on like this for a long time, and then began to tell me that he wouldn't leave the house.
"If I go—hang me!" said he, hurling his boots to the other side of the room. " Is it for such a one as him that I'm to be packing again? No, by Heaven! I'll shoot him first. D'ye hear that, Hildebrand? I'll shoot the man first! Who is he, to come barking here about my business? Will you tell me that, please?"
I didn't see fit to argue with him then, and when I had got him into bed. and put the razors out of his ​reach, I left him mumbling to himself, and went back to my bedroom to pack my few clothes.
"Bigg," said I to myself, "you're going to make a journey to-morrow. It may be that you're going to Brussels, it may be that you're going to Paris—but go you must; and where the ready is to come from, you don't quite know. Nicky couldn't rake fifty together to save his life, and you haven't got a shilling to your back."
Things were now in such a state that this question of money troubled me more than any thing. Look where I would, I didn't see how we were to get enough to keep afloat for a week on the other side; and when I remembered that we should have to cut in a hurry, things seemed as bad as they could be. That we must go, I never had a doubt. Once Heresford was in the house, Sir Nicolas Steele would leave it smart enough. It remained to see if the man would come.
You may imagine that I didn't get much sleep that night. It was six o'clock in the morning before I closed my eyes, and then I overslept myself by an hour, not going into Sir Nicolas' room until half-past eight. The others were already up, and what should I see from the staircase window but Reubens, the constable, talking to Mr. Oakley and his daughter on the grass by the lake.
"Hallo!" said I; "what's brought you here? No good to us, I'm sure." And with that to give me a twinge, I went into my master's bedroom. ​
He was already out of bed, waiting to be shaved; but I could see that he wasn't himself, for his hand trembled when I gave him his clothes, and he spoke very cool and calm like.
"Well," said he, "is it any letter you're bringing me?"
"Not a half a one, sir," said I.
"Then there's no talk down stairs as yet?" he went on.
"I haven't heard any," said I, "but Reubens, the constable, is on the lawn with Mr. Oakley, and they're busy talking."
"What can that be now?" he asked mighty eagerly.
"That's what I'm going to find out presently," exclaimed I. "There's a young chap in the village with more paper for us; perhaps he's come about him."
"So the hawks have scented us again," cried he, sitting in the chair to be shaved; "well, I don't care a crack for them. 'Tis this Heresford that's troubling me. If he's to come, Hildebrand, there should be word or message from him this morning."
"That's so, sir," said I; "if you hear nothing when the gong for lunch goes, you may make your mind easy."
"Otherwise, I suppose there's only one way."
"Only one, sir," said I.
He gave a great sigh, and let me shave him without a word. When I had done that, he bethought ​him all of a sudden of something that had troubled me the whole night through.
"Hildebrand," said he, "it's badly off for money I am, let me tell you. I've not fifty in the world. I was looking for Oakley's check to his daughter to get through Saturday."
Now, when he said this, something came quickly into my head that was not there before; and when I'd thought of it a minute, I told him.
"One thing you're forgetting, sir," said I; "there's the things which Mr. Oakley give you—you wouldn't be leaving them behind."
"What things do you mean?" said he; "not the girl's wedding presents?"
"Well, not exactly those, sir, but the things given to you. Gifts are gifts, and not to be taken back, I think."
"You scoundrel," said he, springing up from his chair with his fist clenched, "would you make a housebreaker of me?"
"I don't know," said I, quite calmly; "but one thing I would do, Sir Nicolas——"
"And what is that, pray?" cried he, standing white with passion.
"Keep you out of the hands of the police!" I replied, while I turned to put his things away.
What he did when he heard this I don't know, since I had my back to him. But he said nothing for a long time, and when he spoke there was no more bluster about him. ​
"Hildebrand," cried he, quite quietly, "if you could find out what the constable's here for, it would help us, don't you think?"
"I'm going down to do that now, sir," said I; "there'll be time enough to pack your bag while you're at breakfast."
"To pack my bag—what do you want to do that for?" cried he.
"Against accidents," said I; "and while I'm talking about it, let me say that you'd be wise not to go far from home to-day."
He heard me out, and then turned away to the window. I could see that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, and I thought it was fortunate that one of us at least had more than the heart of a woman. But it wasn't the time to say that to him, and I went down stairs to find out, if I could, why the constable had come up to the house, and whether there was any message from Heresford. Lucky enough, I met Mr. Oakley on the landing, and I knew from his manner that we were all right so far.
"Ha, Hildebrand!" said he, "you're the very man I want to see. Reubens, the constable, has been trying to frighten me about those wedding presents down stairs. He seems to think there is a person in the village who is to be suspected. I tell him it is all nonsense. As if any one would rob my house!"
"Reubens has got hold of the wrong end of the stick this time, Mr. Oakley," said I, seeing in a ​moment what was coming; "the man he's troubled about is clerk to Sir Nicolas' lawyer, I'm thinking."
He laughed very hearty at this, and leaned over the banisters to tell Miss Janet what I'd said.
"Janet, Janet," cried he, "Reubens' burglar is a lawyer's clerk. Did you ever hear such a thing? I mast tell that at the breakfast on Saturday."
"Was he thinking, then, of taking the gentleman in charge, sir?" I asked.
"Indeed and he was. And that's not all. He wants me to send the valuable things over to the bank at Melbourne, lest they should be stolen by what he is pleased to call a gang from London. Bosh! say I; there's no gang from London that will get in here in a hurry."
"That I'm sure they wouldn't, sir," said I, thinking it precious lucky that I'd hit upon such a good lie. It would never have done to let him be frightened into sending the presents away.
"I'm glad you're of my opinion, Hildebrand," said he next; "we're too busy for burglars just now. Is Sir Nicolas up yet?"
"He's coming down in a minute, sir."
He left me, and began to climb the stairs two at a time, like a man of twenty, and I could hear him muttering "Lazy dog! lazy dog!" because, I suppose, my master was late for breakfast. But I went on into the servants' hall, saying to myself that I'd never had a luckier thought than the one about that writ-server. If Mr. Oakley had listened to Reubens, and sent the ​diamonds away, we'd have been in a pretty pickle. As it was, I knew he would leave them in the drawing-room, and, so long as they were there, we were not likely to want a railway fare.
It was now about a quarter-past nine o'clock. The morning post had come in, and I was sure there was no letter or telegram from Heresford—a thing I couldn't understand at all. "This man can't be so blind that he doesn't read the meaning of that telegram," I said; and yet it was strange that the morning passed and not a sign of any trouble could we see. Nicky himself, always ready to go up or down in spirits like a thermometer, was half-wild with joy about twelve o'clock, and you could hear his laughter all over the house. Then he went riding with Miss Janet, and when he came back at two o'clock, and there was still no word from Heresford, he looked like a man who had lost twenty of his years in an hour.
I shall never forget that day if I live until I'm a hundred. The times I walked to the lodge gates to see if any one was coming up the road; the starts I got every time the dogs barked and the bells rang. I was that bad by six o'clock that I couldn't sit a minute anywhere; and well as the thing looked, I positively dared not believe in our luck. "It can't be, it can't be," I kept saying to myself; "he must come; he will be here in five minutes, in ten; he will drive up before the clock strikes again." And this went on all the afternoon until six o'clock, the ​hour when I had arranged to drive down to Melbourne to bring a few of our things up from the station; and still we were safe.
It was a relief to me to get away from the house, and to find myself alone. They always lent me the old dog-cart when I wanted to go to the town, and I said that night that I'd go by myself, for I had so many bags to bring back with me. We used to take about twenty minutes to drive into Melbourne in the ordinary way, but I shook the old mare up a bit on that occasion, for it was a quarter-past six when I passed the lodge, and I meant to get back a little after seven to help Sir Nicolas to dress. It seemed strange to me to find myself on a Derbyshire road at all, for I looked to be on the way to Paris long before then; and even as I drove along, I kept asking myself if it was me that sat there or another. I'd thought so much about the whole thing that I was almost stupid with it.
"It can't be; it can't be!" I said over and over again. "Heresford would walk a hundred miles to put a spoke in Nicky's wheel. He's sworn to hunt him out of every city in Europe, and he's a man of bis word. He must come."
I had made up my mind to this before I'd left the White House a mile behind, and I hadn't gone two miles down the road before time proved me to be right. It came about in this way. I had just turned into the lane which they call the chestnut-grove, and had given the old mare a cut with the ​whip to send her along a bit, when, looking through the trees into the meadow, whom should I see but Lord Heresford himself, walking across the fields straight toward the White House. The thing was so sudden that for a minute I thought I had seen a ghost. But it was only for a minute. While my heart was beating like an engine, and something was singing away in my ears, I kept my wits; and almost by a sort of instinct I reined the mare back, so that she stood almost upon her hind-legs.
"Bigg," said I, "this is just a tight place. You've got to think, and lose no time about it. It's a race, Bigg, and the best man wins. He can't get up to the house in less than twenty minutes; you should be up in six. Cut for it, man; cut for it!"
I said this, and with the words on my lips, I whipped the mare round, and sent her flying up the road like a racehorse. I've handled some horses, but I never, to my way of thinking, put a beast along so fast as I put the mare that night. She was dripping wet when I drove her into the yard, and tossed the reins to William.
"William," said I, when he came out, "I've news for my master that won't wait. Keep the mare to. It won't be three minutes before I'm on the road again."
He opened his mouth at this, but I ran into the house, and bumping against the butler in the hall, I asked him where Sir Nicolas was. ​
"He's knocking the balls about in the billiard-room."
"And Mr. Oakley?"
"Oh, he's dressing!"
It couldn't have been luckier. I found Sir Nicolas bending over the billiard table; he laid his cue down when I burst in, and said:
"Well, what's fresh now?"
I told him in ten words.
"Good God!" said he; "and what are we to do?"
"Just this," said I, "get your hat and slip down to the bottom of the paddock. You can strike the road to Nottingham there. I shall be by in the cart in two minutes, and I'll pick you up."
"Is there no other course?" he stammered.
"Unless you wish to spend the night in jail," said I, "you must do what I say. You haven't ten seconds to choose—he's almost at the gate."
For a minute he stood to curse and stamp, while his face was as white as the paper I write on. Then he did as I told him; and when I had watched him cross the lawn, I slipped back into the hall and listened at the drawing-room door. The place was quite empty; of that I was sure, and there being no one about, for the others were dressing for dinner, I entered the room and looked round for the stuff.
"Gifts are gifts," said I, "and we've as much right to them as he has, especially to the shiners, which will go into my pocket. He may keep the ​plate, and welcome—but I don't leave those stones behind."
It doesn't take long for a man to fill his pockets with diamonds. I was all bulging out with what I'd got; and almost before I'd realized the whole thing, I was back in the dog-cart again.
"Do ye bring bad news?" cried old William, tossing me the reins.
"Precious bad," said I, "and likely to be worse before morning. I'm driving to the doctor's. Let her go, William."
He gave her a slap with his hand and we bounded down the drive; the last thing I saw of the White House being the pretty face of Janet Oakley as she stood before the glass in her dressing-room. I wonder to this day that I didn't cannon the lodge gates, so fast I went; but luck was with me, and directly I was out on the road I looked for Sir Nicolas. He was standing there all right, but I had another shiver when I saw that Heresford himself had just come up to the stile, and was getting ove'r it. The two men were face to face an instant after, and then Heresford turned on him.
"You hound!" said he; "so you've come to kennel here? Indeed, it's lucky for them that I heard of you, Sir Nicolas Steele."
He was going to say more, and Sir Nicolas, I think, was about to hit him, for the man had a hand at his collar. Then I thought it time to act. Raising my whip suddenly, I struck Heresford across the face ​with it, and he reeled back, half blinded, across the road. In the same moment my master made a spring for the step, and no sooner was he on it than I gave the mare a vicious cut, and she galloped like a wild thing down the road. But we could hear Heresford calling for help long after we had left him, and we never let the mare trot until dark had come down.
It was daylight next morning when the two of us walked into Nottingham, and so struck the Midland main line. We had left the cart a mile out of the town, turning the mare's head back toward Derbyshire, and letting her go where she pleased.
"Say what you like, sir," said I, "we've got to separate. You track north to Hull, where you'll get steamer to Southampton and so to Havre. I go direct to Paris, where we'll look to meet in a week."
"You think that they will follow us, then?"
"No. Oakley will hush it up for his daughter's sake."
"I could cut my throat every time I think of her," said he.
"You'll be better when you're on the sea, sir," said I; "and don't forget that the job's been worth a thousand to us."
"Will the stuff bring that?" he cried eagerly.
"Every penny of it," said I.
And with this I put him into the train for Hull.