"You should be a better judge than I."

"Some--someone had been knocking a gamekeeper on the 'ead, but I'll swear it wasn't me. I was very much misjudged in them days, Mr.

'arland. 'Owsomever, I suppose all that is forgotten years ago, and when I left Duddenham, Mr. 'arland, I went to America, and then I found myself in the City of the Saints."

"The City of the Saints?"

"In Salt Lake City, Mr. 'arland. I got on in my modest way; I certainly got on. But I soon saw that there was one way of getting on which was better than any other."

"And that was?"

"Marrying. Not as you understand it over here, marrying one young woman and getting done with it; but marrying in the wholesale line. In them days no man came to much in Salt Lake City who 'adn't got at least a dozen wives. I always 'ad 'ad an eye for a female. I'd got no objection to a dozen, nor yet a score. So I looked about to see 'ow I could get 'em."

Mr. Bindon coughed modestly behind his handkerchief. He took a chair.

He continued to tell his tale with the aid of his fingers.

"First of all I looked at 'ome. There was Jane Cooper; I knew she was in a little trouble; I asked 'er to come. There was Louisa Brown; she was in a little trouble too, so I asked 'er. Then there was Susan Baxter over at Basingthorpe. I always 'ad been sweet on Susan; I asked 'er too. There was one or two other gals about the countryside for whom I'd 'ad a liking, so I asked 'em all."

"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Bindon, that all these young women came to you, each knowing that the other one was coming?"

"Well--not exactly. They didn't know that they all was coming till they all was there."

"And then?"

"Well, there was little differences just at first. But they settled down; they settled down. They 'ad a way in Salt Lake City, in them days, of getting the women to settle down. Well, Mr. 'arland, I got on! I got on! I got wives and children, and then more wives and more children. Some of the wives was widdies, and they brought children of their own. So we grew and multiplied, and all went well--till persecution came."

"Persecution?"

"You know, Mr. 'arland, we always 'ad 'ad enemies--the Saints! They was against the Peculiar Inst.i.tootion."

"Wholesale marrying?"

Mr. Bindon only sighed.

"By degrees things got warm for us, especially for me. I was a prominent member of the Church, and they went for me special because they said I had so many wives."

"May I ask, Mr. Bindon, how many wives you had?"

"That's more than I can say, Mr. 'arland, more than I can say. It's a little complicated. There's some you're married to, and some you're sealed to, and some you're on the point of being sealed to, and there you are. When I first went out, marrying was the surest way of getting on. But, by degrees, marrying didn't pay. There was a talk of bigamy.

There was threats of bringing me before the Gentile courts."

Mr. Bindon paused. He drew his silk handkerchief two or three times across his brow. Again he sighed.

"Ah, Mr. 'arland, there 'adn't never been in my 'ousehold that perfect peace there ought to have been. There was complications. It's a long story, and it's no use going into it now, but there they was. I kep'

'em under--with great care, I kep' 'em under until persecution came.

Then keep 'em under I could not, try 'ow I might. There was, Mr.

'arland, I tell you plainly, there was ructions. I've been struck, Mr.

'arland, struck! by my own wives. They knocked me down one day, some on 'em, and stamped on me. It ain't all beer and skittles, married life, especially when you don't know 'ow many wives you 'as, and most of 'em 'as tempers."

Again Mr. Bindon paused to wipe his brow. It needed it. As he continued to unfold his narrative he was in a constant state of perspiration.

"What with Gentile persecution, and what with family ructions, I got desprit. Them byes and gals was at the bottom of the shindies, so I made up my mind to ship 'em off, and I ships 'em."

"Without their mothers' knowledge?"

"There was bound to be little deceptions, Mr. 'arland, there was bound to be--or I couldn't 'ave lived. I daresay I should have managed"--Mr.

Bindon sighed--"if it 'adn't been for another little marriage what I made."

"Another!"

"It was this way, Mr. 'arland. My partner, he died, J. B. G. Dixon. He left three wives. These 'ere three wives, they wanted to withdraw his capital. I couldn't stand that, anyhow. So I married 'em, just to give 'em satisfaction. Three more or less didn't seem to make no odds. So I took 'em for a little wedding trip. My managing clerk--'e was a regular villain--I knows it now, but I didn't then. 'E 'ad a eye on Dixon's wives 'imself, 'e 'ad. So when I married 'em 'e thought 'e'd take it out of me. That very day I married 'em I was going to ship off an a.s.sorted lot of sons to your academy. That there villain of a clerk 'e pretended 'e'd misunderstood my instructions. 'E went and shipped off them eight gals of J. B. G. Dixon's, instead of my a.s.sorted lot of sons. My crikey! when them wives of Dixon's found it out, wasn't there a shindy! They made out it was a regular plot of mine to rob 'em of their gals. I couldn't stand it, I tell you straight. So I've come over 'ere to fetch 'em back again--nothing else would suit them women but that I should. If you'll 'and 'em over, Mr. 'arland, I'll pay you what is doo, and I'll take 'em away with me round by the back if you don't mind."

"About the ladies in the drawing-room, Mr. Bindon?"

"There's been a little family difference, Mr. 'arland. When they 'eard that I'd taken on with Dixon's wives they didn't seem to like it, some of 'em. They'd found out where their byes 'ad gone to, or they thought they 'ad, so they came over 'ere to look for 'em--mind you, without saying a word to their 'usband, which was me. They came by one steamer, I came by another, and if they was to know that I was 'ere they'd want to take my life, some of 'em--I give you my word they would."

"Give me the key of the door."

"Mr. 'arland."

"I wish to give instructions for the Misses Dixon to be sent to the study."

"That's all? No games! It's serious, you know."

"Don't be absurd, sir. Give me the key."

"Mr. 'arland!"

Mr. Bindon yielded the key. His demeanour betokened agitation. He stood trembling as Mr. Harland unlocked the door. When the schoolmaster threw it open he gave a positive start. Mr. Harland stepped into the pa.s.sage.

"Sarah!" He called for the housemaid in a tone of voice which must have been audible at some considerable distance.

"Not so loud, Mr. 'arland! You don't know what ears them women's got."

Mr. Harland rather raised his voice than otherwise. "Tell your mistress that Mr. Bindon's here. You understand--Mr. Bindon."

"Mr. 'arland!"

"And send the Misses Dixon into the study."

"You've done it, Mr. 'arland!"

"Done what, sir?"

"They've 'eard you--I'll bet my boots they 'ave."

Mr. Harland turned again and shouted, "Tell your mistress at once that Mr. Bindon's here!"

"They're coming!"