Dr Brandram drove back to Yeld in a dazed condition of mind. He was tempted to telegraph to the Duke and the county generally; to set a body of police to prevent any one entering the Maxfield gates; to shut the two miscreants up in the coal-cellar; to run away, and not return till next week.
But after an hysterical consultation with himself, he decided that it was too late to do anything but cast in his lot with the other victims, and go dressed in all his best to Miss Oliphant’s “At Home,” and do what he could to steer her and her graceless brother out of their predicament.
As the fateful hour approached, Tom began to be a little nervous. He had not anticipated the vast number of small details demanding his personal attention.
For instance, there was the cooking of the herrings. Jill had nobly undertaken that task at the drawing-room fire, which was the most capacious. But then, if they ran it too fine, the guests might arrive while the fish were still fizzling on the tray. If, on the other hand, they were cooked too soon, they would be lukewarm by the time the guests came to sit down to them. Again, there were the starlights and Roman candles to get into position outside, and arrangements had to be made for their protection from the damp November mist. Then, too, the faithless Grenadiers had not turned up, which necessitated Jill deserting her herrings and privately practising the Goblin polka, in view of possible emergencies. Further, the table had to be laid, and every guest’s “go” of buns, and cocoa-nut, and coffee-ice, doled out in readiness. And at the last moment there arose a difficulty in raising the requisite number of knives, forks, spoons, and plates. Then he discovered that the covers were still on the drawing-room chairs and the dust-cloth on the floor, and much time and trouble was necessary for their removal. Finally, he and Jill had to dress to receive their guests.
“I think it will be a jolly evening,” said he somewhat doubtfully, as they hurried to their rooms.
“I’m sure it will,” said Jill, whose mind had not once been clouded by a doubt. “The herrings will be cold, that’s the only thing. But they may think that’s the newest fashion.”
“Look sharp and dress, anyhow,” said Tom, “because you’ve got to cut them in fours and stick them round on the plates, and it’s half-past six already.”
Half an hour later a grand carriage and pair drove up to the door, and Raffles solemnly announced—
“His Grace the Duke of Somewhere, and the Ladies Marigold.”
Miss Oliphant’s evening party had begun!