'Hardly a sound could be heard in the streets except perhaps the clink of a spoon against a bottle from a room above, as some patient prepared his evening dose, or the shuffling footsteps of the old doctor as he went his daily round, and sometimes the loud rat-tat of the puff baker would awaken the echoes of the lonely streets as he called from door to door for orders in the morning.

'Strange gra.s.ses and sweet-scented wild flowers began to grow in the streets, and mushrooms and straggling carrots forced a way between the crevices of the pavements. Sprays of wild spinach hung from the lamp-posts, and the market-place became one waving jungle of broccoli.

The very sparrows, deprived of their daily crumbs, grew thin and nervy with the green diet they were compelled to subsist upon. Croaking and griding, instead of chirruping musically to their young as is their wont, they so affected the good-hearted doctor that he could never pa.s.s them without some cheering word, and never could he withstand the beseeching look in their eyes. Within doors the prospect was hardly more encouraging. Strong vegetable-marrows twined their branches and their many tendrils round the table legs and the chairs; great turnips stoutened and burst upon the stairs; spring onions bristled in the corners of the Lord Mayor's dining-hall, while his grand piano was completely hidden in the gorgeous festoons of mint that, unchecked, had run a ragged riot about the place.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PUFF BAKER]

'At last, after two months of sickness, and despite every attention and kindness on the part of the doctor, the patients began to weary of being ill and kept to their beds for so long. The Lord Mayor was the first to arise and, although very weak in the legs, he managed to crawl to the top of the stairs, and looking down, beheld, to his dismay, the dreadful state of ruin in which everything was involved. He called for his servants as loudly as his weakness would allow him, and, obtaining no reply, he scrambled down the stairs on his hands and knees, and clamoured shrilly for a cut from the joint. As, of course, there was no one to procure this for him nor, indeed, any joint from which to procure a cut, he boiled himself an egg, and was able to survey the scene more calmly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TREATED WITH DELICIOUS JALAPS]

'Presently the aldermen crawled down one by one, then the shopmen, then the bandsmen, and, finally, the rest of the inhabitants, disturbed by the weeping and yells of those already arisen, struggled downstairs, and in agony beheld the general devastation.

'Resolved not to touch another drop of the doctor's medicine, they satisfied the cravings of their hunger, which now began to be felt, on the wild marrows, turnips, and mushrooms that everywhere abounded, and by degrees regained a little of their former vigour.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Lord Mayor held a long council]

'The Lord Mayor and aldermen, already feeling a little more comfortable, held a long council, at which it was decided that it would be less expensive to burn the old town, and to build a new one on its site, than to try and clear up the old one. It was also decided to arrest the unfortunate doctor, whom they all now joined in accusing as the cause of their trouble, and bring him to trial.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AS SOME PATIENT PREPARED HIS DOSE]

'In the course of time the town was rebuilt, and the doctor was the first prisoner to stand on his trial at the new Town Hall.

'On the appointed day the Hall was crammed to its utmost, as at one time the prisoner had been much loved and looked up to by his fellow-townsmen.

'When the Lord Mayor arrived in state, between two Admirals of the Fleet, and took his seat, the foreman of the jury awakened his brother-jurors, who had been dozing off, and called for three cheers for the Lord Mayor, in which everybody joined. The Lord Mayor made no reply, except to frown severely at the foreman, and proceeded at once with the business in hand. "Lock all the doors and bring in the prisoner," cried he in a loud voice, after clearing his throat. The doors were instantly locked, but some confusion arose when it was discovered that they could not bring in the prisoner unless one were unlocked again. On this being very politely pointed out to the Lord Mayor (who did not seem quite to like being corrected), he altered his order, and cried out: "Bring in the prisoner, and lock all the doors." Immediately the band struck up the most martial music and the prisoner was brought in, tied tightly with twine, sealed with red sealing-wax, and guarded by a squad of infantry, who at once formed fours, and marked time for the rest of the afternoon.

'When the music had ceased, and the general excitement caused by the entrance of the prisoner had subsided, the Lord Mayor politely requested him to take a seat, which he very gladly did, on being untied by the policeman.

'Now, as every one knew that the doctor had really been the cause of all the trouble, the only point to be decided at the trial was whether he had done it intentionally or not, and the Lord Mayor addressed him accordingly, asking him if he had anything to say upon the subject. The doctor happened to be thinking of something else at the moment and, moreover, had his head turned in another direction, watching a fly on the window of the hall, so that he did not hear the question. The Lord Mayor waited about a quarter of an hour for an answer, and receiving none, he called, in an annoyed tone, for the witnesses for the prosecution.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE VERY SPARROWS GREW THIN]

'The princ.i.p.al witness for the prosecution was a Sicilian char-woman, whose evidence was translated by one of the many aldermen present to a.s.sist in case of need. It appeared that in her young days she had made the acquaintance of a young and handsome Sicilian waiter, a distant cousin, and a native of the village in which she was born. So friendly did they become in time that he had confided to her many of the secrets of his life, and, amongst others, one that had weighed very heavily upon his mind. Some time previously, when employed at a well-known refreshment hall, on the coast of Lombardy, he had waited upon a distinguished young gentleman of considerable means, and had overheard him whisper to a chance acquaintance, seated at the next table, that a friend of his, a tall dark man, had met a young lady at a whist-party, whose greatest friend had an aunt, formerly engaged to a well-meaning curate, who averred that his brother knew for certain that IT WAS DONE QUITE INTENTIONALLY BY ---- Here the waiter was called away to another client, and did not hear the rest of the sentence.

'Now the Sicilian char-woman, on hearing this from her good friend, was much puzzled, and not knowing to whom the words might refer, made a mental note of it at the time. On reading of the arrest of the doctor, however, and of what he was accused, she concluded that there must be some connection between him and the man mentioned by the brother of the well-meaning curate formerly engaged to the aunt of the greatest friend of the young lady who was met at the whist party by the tall dark friend of the young gentleman of considerable means who, as you know, was waited upon by the Sicilian waiter at the well-known refreshment hall in Lombardy, so she had hastened from Sicily to tell her tale. At the conclusion of her evidence a murmur of admiration was heard all over the court, and the Lord Mayor was so charmed with her and the really pleasant way in which she had told her tale, that he lightly threw a half-crown to her across the hall, which she very neatly caught. She then sat down, amidst the cheers of the crowd.

'The princ.i.p.al witness for the defence was a young journeyman tailor, who stated that on cleaning out the pockets of an old coat which had been left at his house for repairs by a dark gentleman of mysterious appearance, he had discovered an old envelope upon which he could just trace the figures 56--6.30 A.M. The coat was never called for, and the tailor pondered over the envelope, but could make nothing of it. He showed it to every policeman of his acquaintance, but not one could unravel the mystery, and, as a last resource, he procured an introduction to the princ.i.p.al policeman in the British Museum Library.

This great man examined the envelope very carefully, but with no result, and the only advice he could give him was to call at every house numbered 56 at 6.30 in the morning and see what would happen.

'The tailor followed this advice diligently for some time and met with many rebuffs, as he had nothing to say on the door being opened to him.

At length one morning he came to an empty house numbered 56, the steps of which were littered with straw. Gazing hopelessly at this for some time, he noticed that three pieces pointed distinctly in one direction to the corner of the street, and you may well imagine his surprise when, on following the direction indicated by the straw, he came across this postcard.'

Ptolemy Jenkinson here handed this torn postcard to the company.

[Ill.u.s.tration: POSTCARD]

Ptolemy again proceeded with his story:--

'Now the tailor, more puzzled than ever, took the card home, and, after weeks of deep thinking, decided that the card must have been completed thus.'

Ptolemy here handed the remaining portion of card, with the tailor's suggested completion, to the company.

'You may guess the surprise of every one present when the tailor produced the completed card. The Lord Mayor gazed at it in astonishment.

He turned it over and over, and suddenly noticing that there was a foreign stamp on the other side, he became more excited than ever, and asked if he might tear it off, as his son had rather a good collection.

This the tailor readily allowed him to do, and this put the Lord Mayor in a good temper for the rest of the afternoon, and gave a more cheerful aspect to the case altogether.

[Ill.u.s.tration: POSTCARD]

'After the tailor's evidence, which, of course, proved that the doctor had not intended to bring about the harm of which he had been the unfortunate cause, there was nothing for the Lord Mayor to do but to acquit the prisoner, which he did, much to everybody's relief.

'The Lord Mayor then retired, after ordering a new suit of clothes from the journeyman tailor, and inviting the Sicilian charwoman and the other witnesses to progressive whist and to be introduced to his family.

'So, Gentlemen,' said Ptolemy in conclusion, 'my uncle and myself are quite free at last, and entirely at your service.'

Such a valuable offer could not very well be refused, so, after explaining the object of the expedition to their new friends, the whole force moved joyfully on.

[Ill.u.s.tration: tailpiece]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RESPECTABLE GENTLEMAN AND THE BOY SCOUT]

[Ill.u.s.tration: headpiece]

THE RESPECTABLE GENTLEMAN AND THE BOY SCOUT

In due time the gallant army arrived at the little town of Killgruel, a very respectable place indeed, at which they spent the pleasantest of week-ends, entertained at 'At Homes,' soirees, and receptions, to any number of which every member of the expedition was invited during their brief stay. Bill and the King were the guests of the very respectable and Right Honourable Hesketh Fitzgreynib, the Mayor of Killgruel, who entertained them with the extremest gentility imaginable. So respectable and genteel was their host, that it had been said of him that never had he been known to don the same suit twice, having at the very least a new one every day; nor had he ever been seen to remove his lavender gloves even at meal times. It was also reported that, not content with bowing most politely to every one he met in the street, he behaved in a like genteel manner to all the pillar-boxes and lamp-posts that he pa.s.sed upon his way, and that he always walked sideways down the street with his back to the wall, in order that he should not be compelled to turn it upon the pa.s.sers-by. Whether these reports are true or not, it is certain that he was the most gentlemanly gentleman in all Killgruel, a town which could boast more elegant and refined people than any other town in the whole world.

He was indeed the pride of Killgruel, and so respected by his fellow-townsmen, who valued him greatly for his exceptional gentlemanliness, that he was not allowed to soil his hands by so much as a stroke of work, but only to be respectable from morning to night. An intelligent boy scout was employed to look after him, and even to think for him, with orders never on any account to leave him, so that in time this respectable gentleman became very respectable indeed, and relying for almost everything on the intelligence and affection of the boy scout, who now performed for him even his duties as Mayor of Killgruel, the good man was enabled to devote his whole thoughts to the cultivation of his respectability.

His good wife, the Lady Lilian Leankettle, who was extravagantly devoted to her husband, shone in the same brilliant manner, and was quoted as a model of gentility by all the good wives of the little community, while Bildith, their charming and handsome daughter, gave every promise of inheriting their interesting ways.

But delightful as all this was to the band of warriors, on Monday morning they were compelled to resume their journey. It was, however, so early when they were ready to start that the gates of the town were not unlocked, so the Honourable Hesketh, with whom, as Mayor of Killgruel, the keys were always left at night, allowed the scout to take the keys and let the wanderers out. After a charmingly polite farewell from the Right Honourable Hesketh and others of their entertainers who had gathered by the town hall to see them off, the gallant band marched down the high street towards the only gate of the town, headed by the intelligent boy scout. From the first the King showed symptoms of being rather unmanageable, and Bill had great difficulty in getting him past the shops, which were now all taking down their shutters, and when they arrived at the sweet-stuff shop there was nothing for it but to go in and buy him some cocoanut ice.

At length they managed to get clear of the gates, which were then closed with a bang behind them, and the last they saw of the intelligent boy scout was with the great town keys held firmly between his teeth, in order that he might hold with one hand the top of the wall to which he had hastily climbed, while with the other he waved a fond good-bye to the departing wanderers.

With a great gurgling cry, which all took to be one of grief at their departure, the affectionate lad suddenly disappeared and the brave fellows resumed their march.

Their road now took them across the mountains at the foot of which nestled the little town of Killgruel. Towards evening the n.o.ble fellows were crossing the highest peaks of the range, weary, and looking forward to their supper and a good night's rest, both of which they proposed to take in the woods on the other side of the mountains. Every one now began to notice that the old King seemed worried about something or other, and the further they marched the more fidgety he became, until at last, when they had nearly descended to the woods on the other side, the old aggravator called his general to him and said:--'Bill, did you happen to notice in the window of the princ.i.p.al sweet-stuff shop in the Killgruel high street, three fine fat sticks of liquorice leaning against the bottle containing the pear drops? Well, I can't get them out of my mind.' Bill tried to persuade him to forget them, and talked of many other things, in order to distract him from such thoughts.

Presently he appeared to grow easier, and as he did not for some time again refer to the liquorice sticks, Bill was pleased to think that he had been successful in directing the old boy's thoughts into another channel. However, as they were unpacking their things in the woods at which they had now arrived and were lighting fires, preparatory to cooking their suppers, the truly exasperating creature again called Bill to him. 'Bill,' said he, with the most miserable face in the world, 'it's no good. I can't forget 'em, try as I will. I don't want any of that nasty porridge I know they are about to prepare for supper. I must have some of those liquorice sticks.'

Hiding his annoyance as much as he could, Bill tried to convince him how nice porridge really is and how good for him, but the discontented old man, who no doubt had been very much spoilt as a boy, would hear nothing of it. 'I don't want to be done good to,' cried he, 'and if I don't have those liquorice sticks to-night before I go to bed I know I shall get the fidgets and not be able to sleep a wink.'

Bill now pointed out the difficulty of obtaining the liquorice, the distance being so great that it would be impossible to have it brought to the camp before midnight at the very earliest.