The Duke in the Suburbs. Edgar Wallace

totally at variance with his disrespectful language.

      The vicar looked at him sharply.

      "Oh yes!" said the Duke eagerly, "of course. I picked him up."

      There came to the vicar's mind a recollection that this young man had been "of some service to me." He smiled.

      This broke the ice, and soon there was a three-cornered conversation in progress, which embraced subjects, as far apart as cattle ranching, and gardening.

      "Now look here, you people," said the vicar, growing serious after a while, "I've got something to say to you—why have you come to Brockley?"

      The two men exchanged glances.

      "Well," said the Duke slowly, "there were several considerations that helped us to decide—first of all the death-rate is very low."

      "And the gravel soil," murmured Hank encouragingly.

      "And the gravel soil," the Duke went on, nodding his head wisely, "and the rates, you know——"

      The vicar raised his hand laughingly.

      "Three hundred feet above sea level," he smiled, "yes, I know all about the advertised glories of Brockley—but really?"

      Again they looked at each other.

      "Shall I?" asked the Duke.

      "Ye-es," hesitated Hank; "you'd better."

      The young man sighed.

      "Have you ever been a duke on a ranch," he asked innocently, "a cattle punching duke, rounding in, branding, roping and earmarking cattle—no? I thought not. Have you ever been a duke prospecting silver or searching for diamonds in the bad lands of Brazil?"

      "That's got him," said Hank in a stage whisper.

      The vicar waited.

      "Have you ever been a duke under conditions and in circumstances where you were addressed by your title in much the same way as you call your gardener 'Jim'?"

      The vicar shook his head.

      "I knew he hadn't," said Hank triumphantly.

      "If you had," said the young man with severity, "if your ears had ached with, 'Here, Duke, get up and light the fire,' or 'Where's that fool Duke,' or 'Say, Dukey, lend me a chaw of tobacco'—if you had had any of these experiences, would you not"—he tapped the chest of the vicar with solemn emphasis—"would you not pine for a life, and a land where dukes were treated as dukes ought to be treated, where any man saying 'Jukey' can be tried for High Treason, and brought to the rack?"

      "By Magna Charta," murmured Hank.

      "And the Declaration of Rights," added the Duke indignantly.

      The vicar rose, his lips twitching.

      "You will not complain of a lack of worship here," he said.

      He was a little relieved by the conversation, for he saw behind the extravagance a glimmer of truth, "only please don't shock my people too much," he smiled, as he stood at the door.

      "I hope," said the Duke with dignity, "that we shall not shock your people at all. After all, we are gentlefolk."

      "We buy our beer by the keg," murmured Hank proudly.

      * * * * *

      There were other callers.

      There is, I believe, a game called "Snip, Snap, Snorum," where if you call "Snap" too soon you are penalised, and if you call "Snap" too late you pay forfeit. Calling on the duke was a sort of game of social snap, for Kymott Crescent vacillated in an agony of apprehension between the bad form of calling too soon, and the terrible disadvantage that might accrue through calling too late and finding some hated social rival installed as confidential adviser and Fides Achates.

      The Coyters were the first to call, thus endorsing the Crescent's opinion of Mrs. C.

      Coyter fired off his three stories:—

      (1) What the parrot said to the policeman.

      (2) What the County Court judge said to the obdurate creditor who wanted time to pay (can you guess the story?).

      (3) What the parson said to the couple who wanted to be married without banns.

      Duke and Co. laughed politely.

      Mrs. C., who had a reputation for archness to sustain, told them that they mustn't believe all the dreadful stories they heard about her, and even if she did smoke, well what of it?

      "Ah," murmured the Duke with sympathetic resentment of the world's censure, "what of it?"

      "There was a lady in Montana," said Hank courteously, "a charming lady she was too, who smoked morning, noon and night, and nobody thought any worse of her."

      The lady basked in the approval. Of course, she only smoked very occasionally, a teeny weeny cigarette.

      "That woman," said Hank solemnly, "was never without a pipe or a see-gar. Smoked Old Union plug—do you remember her, Duke?"

      "Let me see," pondered the Duke, "the lady with the one eye or——"

      "Oh, no," corrected Hank, "she died in delirium tremens—no, don't you remember the woman that ran away with Bill Suggley to Denver, she got tried for poisonin' him in '99."

      "Oh, yes!" The Duke's face lit up, but Mrs. C. coughed dubiously.

      Mr. Roderick Nape called. He was mysterious and shot quick glances round the room and permitted himself to smile quietly.

      They had the conventional opening. The Duke was very glad to see him, and he was delighted to make the acquaintance of the Duke. What extraordinary weather they had been having!

      Indeed, agreed the Duke, it was extraordinary.

      "You've been to America," said Mr. Roderick Nape suddenly and abruptly.

      The Duke looked surprised.

      "Yes," he admitted.

      "West, of course," said the young Mr. Nape carelessly.

      "However did you know?" said the astonished nobleman.

      Young Mr. Nape shrugged his shoulders.

      "One has the gift of observation and deduction—born with it," he said disparagingly. He indicated with a wave of his hand two Mexican saddles that hung on the wall.

      "Where did they come from?" he asked, with an indulgent smile.

      "I bought 'em at a curiosity shop in Bond Street," said the Duke innocently, "but you're right, we have lived in America."

      "I thought so," said the young Mr. Nape, and pushed back his long black hair.

      "Of course," he went on, "one models one's system on certain lines, I have already had two or three little cases not without interest. There was the Episode of the Housemaid's brooch, and the Adventure of the Black Dog——"

      "What was that?" asked the Duke eagerly.

      "A mere trifle," said the amateur detective with an airy wave of his hand. "I'd noticed the dog hanging about our kitchen; as we have no dogs I knew it was a stranger, as it stuck to the kitchen, knew it must be hungry. Looked on its collar, discovered it belonged to a Colonel B——, took it back and restored it to its owner, and told him within a day or so, how long it was, since he had lost it."

      Hank shook his head in speechless admiration.

      "Any time you happen to be passing," said young Mr. Nape rising to go, "call in and see my little laboratory; I've fixed it up in the greenhouse; if you ever want a blood stain analysed I shall be there."

      "Sitting in your dressing gown, I suppose," said the Duke with awe, "playing your violin and smoking shag?"

      Young