"I thought those horrid men were making a lot of noise," said Mrs. Ukridge.
Ukridge preserved a gloomy silence. Of all the disasters of that stricken field, I think the one that came home most poignantly to him was the loss of the whisky. It seemed to strike him like a blow.
"Isn't it about time to collect these men and explain things?" I suggested. "I don't believe any of them know you've come back."
"They will!" said Ukridge grimly, coming out of his trance. "They soon will! Where's Beale! Beale!"
The Hired Retainer came running out at the sound of the well-remembered voice.
"Lumme, Mr. Ukridge, sir!" he gasped.
It was the first time Beale had ever betrayed any real emotion in my presence. To him, I suppose, the return of Ukridge was as sensational and astonishing an event as a re-appearance from the tomb. He was not accustomed to find those who had shot the moon revisiting their ancient haunts.
"Beale, go round the place and tell those scoundrels that I've come back, and would like a word with them on the lawn. And, if you find any of them stealing the fowls, knock them down!"
"I 'ave knocked down one or two," said Beale, with approval. "That Charlie—"
"Beale," said Ukridge, much moved, "you're an excellent fellow! One of the very best. I will pay you your back wages before I go to bed."