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Page 103
At this point the maid, who disliked Muriel, stopped and made a
noise like an exploding pop bottle, at the same time taking a
little run in Muriel's direction and kicking at her with a
menacing foot. Muriel, wounded and startled, had turned in her
tracks and sprinted back up the staircase at the exact moment
when the Honorable Freddie, who for some reason was in a great
hurry, ran lightly down.
There was an instant when Freddie could have saved himself by
planting a number-ten shoe on Muriel's spine, but even in that
crisis he bethought him that he hardly stood solid enough with
the authorities to risk adding to his misdeeds the slaughter of
his aunt's favorite cat, and he executed a rapid swerve. The
spared cat proceeded on her journey upstairs, while Freddie,
touching the staircase at intervals, went on down.
Having reached the bottom, he sat amid the occasional china, like
Marius among the ruins of Carthage, and endeavored to ascertain
the extent of his injuries. He had a dazed suspicion that he was
irretrievably fractured in a dozen places. It was in this
attitude that the rescue party found him. He gazed up at them
with silent pathos.
"In the name of goodness, Frederick," said Lord Emsworth
peevishly, "what do you imagine you are doing?"
Freddie endeavored to rise, but sank back again with a stifled
howl.
"It was that bally cat of Aunt Ann's," he said. "It came legging
it up the stairs. I think I've broken my leg."
"You have certainly broken everything else," said his father
unsympathetically. "Between you and Baxter, I wonder there's a
stick of furniture standing in the house."
"Thanks, old chap," said Freddie gratefully as Ashe stepped
forward and lent him an arm. "I think my bally ankle must have
got twisted. I wish you would give me a hand up to my room."
"And, Baxter, my dear fellow," said Lord Emsworth, "you might
telephone to Doctor Bird, in Market Blandings, and ask him to be
good enough to drive out. I am sorry, Freddie," he added, "that
you should have met with this accident; but--but everything is
so--so disturbing nowadays that I feel--I feel most disturbed."
Ashe and the Honorable Freddie began to move across the
hall--Freddie hopping, Ashe advancing with a sort of polka step.
As they reached the stairs there was a sound of wheels outside
and the vanguard of the house party, returned from church,
entered the house.
"It's all very well to give it out officially that Freddie has
fallen downstairs and sprained his ankle," said Colonel Horace
Mant, discussing the affair with the Bishop of Godalming later in
the afternoon; "but it's my firm belief that that fellow Baxter
did precisely as I said he would--ran amuck and inflicted dashed
frightful injuries on young Freddie. When I got into the house
there was Freddie being helped up the stairs, while Baxter, with
his face covered with soot, was looking after him with a sort of
evil grin. What had he smeared his face with soot for, I should
like to know, if he were perfectly sane?
"The whole thing is dashed fishy and mysterious and the sooner I
can get Mildred safely out of the place, the better I shall be
pleased. The fellow's as mad as a hatter!"
CHAPTER X
When Lord Emsworth, sighting Mr. Peters in the group of returned
churchgoers, drew him aside and broke the news that the valuable
scarab, so kindly presented by him to the castle museum, had been
stolen in the night by some person unknown, he thought the
millionaire took it exceedingly well. Though the stolen object no
longer belonged to him, Mr. Peters no doubt still continued to
take an affectionate interest in it and might have been excused
had he shown annoyance that his gift had been so carelessly
guarded.
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