Mrs. Banneret, recalling her Flemington experiences on Cup Day, had arranged for a symposium on a novel and comprehensive scale—to take place after the great event of the day. Notwithstanding the widely differing conditions of the respective race-courses, she determined, with the co-operation of her husband and sons, to have something like a representative Australian function, worthy of her country’s hospitable customs and of this truly memorable occasion.
Having persuaded several of their most intimate friends to have their carriages standing fairly close to each other, a sort of ‘corral’ was arranged, within which a clear space was left free.
This gave room for tressels, upon which were placed temporary tables, rather long and narrow, but capable of holding such meats, wines, and other refreshments as are usually dispensed at races. Of course some diplomatic management was necessary to carry through an innovation foreign to the traditionary, time-honoured habitudes of English race-goers. With the help of a few extra police (the Inspector had been in Australia) and a [289] ]small army of waiters, supplied by the caterer, a reasonable compromise was arrived at. A calculation was made, by which it could be demonstrated that if even a third more than the number of expected guests arrived, they could be supplied with seats and a liberal supply of the delicacies of the season, together with a few glasses of ‘Dry Monopole,’ or, having regard to the lower temperature of Britain, with a ‘touch of the real Mackay.’
It was well that the calculation did not fail on the elastic side; for when it leaked out that Arnold Banneret, sometime of Carjagong, New South Wales, and more recently of Pilot Mount, West Australia, was entertaining his friends, had won largely, indeed, on the victory of Moifaa, it was wonderful what a number of colonists turned up. Among them were Lord Newstead and his lovely wife, the latter in her priceless Russian sables, and otherwise appropriately adorned. She was so glad to meet her husband’s kind, good friends, whose chance meeting with Percy and poor dear Southwater had been so fortunate for both. She hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Banneret and the girls would pay her a visit at Newstead. As for Mr. Reginald and Mr. Eric, if they could spare the time, they would know—young men being so scarce just now—how welcome they would be at her country house, or, indeed, any other. She believed she would really take a run over to that delightful Golden West some day—where, apparently, the precious metal was lying about in heaps, waiting to be picked up.
‘Not quite so easy a game as that,’ said his [290] ]Lordship—‘eh, Mr. Banneret? Little accidents like fever, “robbery under arms,” hunger and thirst, intervene sometimes before the discovery of Tom Tiddler’s Ground, or Pilot Mount. We both had a look-in from the fever fiend—a “close call,” too, as our Yankee friends say—and but for that tender nursing—why, bless my soul! you don’t say?—it can’t be! Well, of all the people in the world who’d have ever thought of seeing you here!’ and upon this excited exclamation, Percy, Lord Newstead, rushed forward, and accosting a pair of rather distinguished-looking persons, seized the lady by the hand, and shook it effusively, somewhat to the surprise of her companion, who had evidently never seen his Lordship before. Lady Newstead, too, looked slightly curious until her husband, almost dragging the strange lady with him, said, ‘My dear, allow me to introduce to you Mrs. Lilburne, who saved my life in West Australia, and to whom you owe your present possession of my unworthy self. There was one night on which I never thought to see England again, I assure you.’
‘My dear Percy, you needn’t be quite so demonstrative. Mrs. Lilburne looks almost alarmed. I quite agree with you in believing that we should never have met here but for her great care and kindness. Really, Mrs. Lilburne, I think I should have recognised you even without Percy’s assistance—he has so often described you to me. But I see Mrs. Banneret is laying claim to a share of your attention; so I think we had better do honour now to the lunch, to which we were all so kindly invited. [291] ]Mr. Lilburne is wondering where he comes in. I see we must make common cause. I am anxious to hear some of your adventures, which I am told are too thrilling.’
‘I should be charmed, Lady Newstead—they were rather unusual; but my wife and I have entered into a solemn compact that I am not to divulge the secrets of the prison-house. She has the copyright—if I may use the term—and to her alone belongs the right to disclose that strange passage of my life. In the meantime, we are both quite well, and more than happy. Permit me to offer to fill your glass with our mutual friends’ excellent champagne, and to wish them continued health and unclouded happiness.’
Lady Newstead accepted the invitation, and they moved over to a position nearer their hostess, who, with the aid of the head of the house and the younger branches of the family, was ably discharging her manifold duties.
Just then Mr. Banneret, whose ordinarily calm manner seemed to have acquired an accession of gaiety from the influence of the scene, had been explaining to Lady Woods, who, recently arrived from Perth, had assumed her well-known character of ‘the life and soul of the party,’ how delighted he and his wife were to find so many old friends able to keep high festival with them this day.
‘If I could (borrowing a joke from the “Goldfields Act and Regulations,” which I used to know by heart) obtain a Booth License to dispense wines and spirits, I should be inclined to [292] ]call this the “Inn of Strange Meetings”—inasmuch as the number of friends and acquaintances who have “come up” from the Under World, as Tennyson hath it, is like an army with banners. Not only from the inmost deserts, but—and here’ (his face changing suddenly as he spoke) ‘comes one from the grave itself.’