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Page 101
The earl looked a little dazed, as if he were unequal to the
intellectual pressure of the conversation.
"Now, my dear Baxter," said the earl impatiently, "please tell me
once again why you have brought me in here. I cannot make head or
tail of what you have been saying. Apparently you accuse this
young man of keeping his shoes in a closet. Why should you
suspect him of keeping his shoes in a closet? And if he wishes to
do so, why on earth should not he keep his shoes in a closet?
This is a free country."
"Exactly, your lordship," said Ashe approvingly. "You have
touched the spot."
"It all has to do with the theft of your scarab, Lord Emsworth.
Somebody got into the museum and stole the scarab."
"Ah, yes; ah, yes--so they did. I remember now. You told me.
Bad business that, my dear Baxter. Mr. Peters gave me that
scarab. He will be most deucedly annoyed if it's lost. Yes,
indeed."
"Whoever stole it upset the can of red paint and stepped in it."
"Devilish careless of them. It must have made the dickens of a
mess. Why don't people look where they are walking?"
"I suspect this man of shielding the criminal by hiding her shoe
in this closet."
"Oh, it's not his own shoes that this young man keeps in
closets?"
"It is a woman's shoe, Lord Emsworth."
"The deuce it is! Then it was a woman who stole the scarab? Is
that the way you figure it out? Bless my soul, Baxter, one
wonders what women are coming to nowadays. It's all this
movement, I suppose. The Vote, and all that--eh? I recollect
having a chat with the Marquis of Petersfield some time ago. He
is in the Cabinet, and he tells me it is perfectly infernal the
way these women carry on. He said sometimes it got to such a
pitch, with them waving banners and presenting petitions, and
throwing flour and things at a fellow, that if he saw his own
mother coming toward him, with a hand behind her back, he would
run like a rabbit. Told me so himself."
"So," said the Efficient Baxter, cutting in on the flow of
speech, "what I wish to do is to break open this closet."
"Eh? Why?"
"To get the shoe."
"The shoe? . . . Ah, yes, I recollect now. You were telling me."
"If your lordship has no objection."
"Objection, my dear fellow? None in the world. Why should I have
any objection? Let me see! What is it you wish to do?"
"This," said Baxter shortly.
He seized the poker from the fireplace and delivered two rapid
blows on the closet door. The wood was splintered. A third blow
smashed the flimsy lock. The closet, with any skeletons it might
contain, was open for all to view.
It contained a corkscrew, a box of matches, a paper-covered copy
of a book entitled "Mary, the Beautiful Mill-Hand," a bottle of
embrocation, a spool of cotton, two pencil-stubs, and other
useful and entertaining objects. It contained, in fact, almost
everything except a paint-splashed shoe, and Baxter gazed at the
collection in dumb disappointment.
"Are you satisfied now, my dear Baxter," said the earl, "or is
there any more furniture that you would like to break? You know,
this furniture breaking is becoming a positive craze with you, my
dear fellow. You ought to fight against it. The night before
last, I don't know how many tables broken in the hall; and now
this closet. You will ruin me. No purse can stand the constant
drain."
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