And it was at that moment, even as the phantom of the unfortunate lady faded before his eyes and Mr. Dunn let out an appalling yell, that the owl on the fountain hooted thrice with marvellous dolour and fled, to be lost almost on the instant among the lofty shadows of the Regent’s Palace Hotel.
Amateurs of history and students of privilege should note that additional point is lent to this already interesting chronicle by the fact that the late Lord Vest was the first Australian marquess to be hanged by the neck in the year of grace 1924. A vast concourse attended outside the prison gates on the morning of the execution, some of whom were photographed by pressmen in the act of gnashing their teeth, which is to be explained by the fact that they had brought their breakfast with them in the form of sandwiches. The executioners were Lovelace, Lovibond and Lazarus. The drop given was sixteen feet. The criminal died unrepentant, thus denying his soul the grace of salvation and directing it with terrible velocity and unerring aim to the fires of eternal damnation, where he will no doubt continue to burn miserably as a warning for all time to gentlemen who will not dance with their wives.
VIII: THE GENTLEMAN FROM AMERICA
I
IT is told by a decayed gentleman at the sign of The Leather Butler, which is in Shepherd’s Market, which is in Mayfair, how one night three men behaved in a most peculiar way; and one of them was left for dead.
Towards twelve o’clock on a night in the month of November some years ago, three men were ascending the noble stairway of a mansion in Grosvenor Square. The mansion, although appointed in every detail—to suit, however, a severe taste—had yet a sour and sensitive atmosphere, as of a house long untenanted but by caretakers.
The first of the men, for they ascended in single file, held aloft a kitchen candlestick: whilst his companions made the best progress they could among the deep shadows that the faulty light cast on the oaken stairway. He who went last, the youngest of the three, said gaily:
“Mean old bird, my aunt! Cutting off the electric-light just because she is away.”
“Fur goodness’ sake!” said the other.
The leader, whose face the candle-light revealed as thin almost to asceticism, a face white and tired, finely moulded but soiled in texture by the dissipations of a man of the world, contented himself with a curt request to his young friend not to speak so loud.