It's really a beautiful place, for people who like that old-fashioned, queer kind of thing, with a lovely garden, full of all kinds of flowers such as you see at home, and quite tropical ones, too. There were a great many well-dressed people walking about, for the charity bazaar was on, and no doubt everybody was glad of a chance to get into the house and talk about it afterwards as if they knew Sir Evelyn and had been his guests. There were tables set out under the trees, and tea was being carried round. Suddenly I heard Miss Randolph exclaim, "There's Dad!" and at the same moment she ran ahead of us, across the grass to where a tall, big man with short, curly grey hair and a smooth-shaven face stood under a tree talking to another man whose back-which was turned to us-looked a tiny bit familiar.
At once Mr. Payne stepped forward, and said eagerly, "Lady Brighthelmston, the man Brown is here. He has got hold of Miss Randolph's father. Heaven knows what may have passed. Come with me, and confront him with a question about your son."
With a sort of gasp the poor old lady allowed herself to be hurried across the lawn, and I begged Pa to come along quick, because I didn't want to miss Mr. Payne's great moment.
Miss Randolph had got to the tall, grey-haired man, and was holding out her hands, without a word, when Mr. Payne said in a sharp voice, "Brown!" The other man turned. It was the courier I snapshotted in Blois.
"Jack!" cried Lady B. And then it was our turn to be surprised.
We supposed at first that she'd gone mad; but, my dear girl, it was true. The murderous chauffeur was the Honourable Jack! But I do believe he was ashamed of himself for the silly trick he'd played, for all he laughed and showed his white teeth, because he was as red as a beet through his brown skin, and pulled his moustache, trying to talk, when his mother interrupted him by exclaiming, and asking questions which she never gave him a chance to answer. And while he talked to his mother, attempting to brazen it out, he looked at Miss Randolph, but she kept her head turned away.
As for poor Mr. Payne, I was sorry for him. He had meant so well, and worked so hard for everybody's good, and now it had come to nothing. He did his best to make himself right with his American friend, saying, "Mr. Randolph, at all events, this man has insulted your daughter, travelling around Europe with her under false pretences. What do you intend to do about it?"
But the big man answered, in a slow, drawling way, as if he were just ready to laugh, "Well, I guess I won't do much. Mr. Winston and I met here accidentally, and talked to each other awhile before either of us knew who the other was; and when we did know, why, he was able to give me a pretty satisfactory explanation. I guess there's nothing much that's wrong; and I hope Mr. Winston will introduce me to his mother."
Aren't Americans queer? I will say, though, that the girl didn't seem inclined to take things so calmly. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes looked about twice too big for her face with anger or something like it.
Pa and I were rather out of the "durbah," for like the bat in the fable, we were neither bird nor beast, and had to stand aside while the fight between the two kinds of creatures went on. By-and-by Mr. Payne joined us, poor fellow, and I did what I could to console him, telling him that was always the way in this world, with the well-meaning, unselfish people. He was awfully grateful for my kindness, and when he heard that Pa and I had just that very minute been talking things over and deciding we'd had enough of being abroad, he asked if we'd mind his travelling with us as far as England, where he might stop for a few weeks, and drive about in his motor-car. Of course, I said we wouldn't mind; so I may bring him to the dance at Kensington Town Hall; if he isn't too big a swell for that set.