5

Mr. Firkin had told Dido the way to Petworth. It lay first down an exceedingly steep descent, on which Dapple slipped and snorted and complained. Above, on the misty hillside, dim glimpses of great beech trees in their flaming autumn colors reminded Dido of red-hot embers hidden under a layer of ash.

The road then twisted through a small hamlet of thatched houses: Duncton, Mr. Firkin had said this was called.

Growing accustomed, by the time they had left Duncton behind them, to Dapples jerky trot, Dido rode thoughtfully, pondering about Tegleaze Manor and its inhabitants, and the conversation they had overheard between Colonel FitzPickwick and the other man, Miles Tuggles. What was all that about? Tobit had not seemed in the least interested, but Tobit was a totty-headed boy; wouldn't know an egg from an Austrian. Nonetheless it seemed to Dido that the talk concerned Tobit quite closely; so far as she could make out, Colonel FitzPickwick had been doing something he shouldn't, stealing money from old Lady Tegleaze, like as not—maybe that was why she never had any luck with her bets, maybe they never got placed at all—and the other fellow had got to know about this somehow and was threatening FitzPickwick with exposure unless he assisted in some further plot, something connected with Tobit and Lady Tegleaze and the Manor itself—otherwise, what had he meant by "the place—to get all this I'd commit any crime?"

Havey-cavey goings-on, without any doubt whatsoever.

Goodness knows what all the talk of rollers and motive power was about; but at that point the two men had been a little farther away; perhaps Dido had misheard them.

Well, she thought, if Yan, Tan, Tethera, and their mates will take the Cap'n's Dispatch to London so that's off my mind, I reckon I oughta do something about old gravel-voice Miles Tuggles. Dear knows what, though. Tell the Bow Street officers? That'd mean going to Bow Street; can't do it till the Cap's better. Warn Tobit? No use, he'd only start on about pirates or peashooters. Warn Lady Tegleaze? She'd never heed me. Maybe the lawyers in Petworth, the ones as looks after the heirloom, maybe they'd have some sense? Might be worth talking to them. Anyways, I'd like to see old Sir Tobit's luck-piece.

It had taken her the best part of an hour to reach Petworth; as she rode up the long straight track that led into the little walled, red-roofed town, she wondered at the lack of people; all the houses seemed shut and empty. But when she reached the sloping central market place this fact was explained: a fair was in full swing there.

It was mostly a farming fair: stalls around the sides of the square and overflowing into the streets nearby offered every kind of produce—eggs, butter, cheeses, apples, red and gold, bunches of late roses and purple daisies, farming tools and equipment; there were pens of cattle and sheep, crates of poultry; girls with pails offered their services as dairymaids, Dido saw shepherds with smocks and crooks and carters with whips. But as well as these there were various entertainments and peep shows, a band playing country dances, and a central merry-go-round, which had horses gorgeously painted in red, gold, and white.

"Better-looking than you, poor old Dapple," Dido told her steed. "Guess we'd better find somewhere to leave you out of all this mollocking."

Following Gusset's directions she located The Fighting Cocks Inn at the end of Middle Street, and asked permission to tie up Dapple in its stable-yard. Then she returned to the central square on foot, for at one side of it she had seen a shop window containing scythes, fowling pieces, wooden hayrakes, stools, ladles, and copper cooking pots. Sure enough, when she approached it more closely, she found a small painted sign over the door which read: Godwit & Son, Ironmongers & Conspirators.

"Humph," said Dido, considering this. "Well, I reckon the two things does go together, so it's kind of handy having 'em under the same roof; I spose they can fettle you up a riot, weapons, trimmings, and all, at wholesale rates."

She walked in, and demanded of a thin, wizened little man in rimless spectacles if he had any crutches in stock. He did have a pair, slightly too long for Captain Hughes (whose measurements Dido had taken before setting out); he promised to shorten them, put leather padding on the arm rests, and have them ready for her in an hour's time.

"I daresay you can amuse yourself at the fair meanwhile," he said with a meager smile.

Dido, who had decided that he was a soapy-faced fellow, replied that she had plenty of errands to occupy herself, and asked if he could direct her to an apothecary's, and also to the lawyers who had charge of the Tegleaze heirloom? At which Mr. Godwit (for it was he) raised his thin gray eyebrows and darted a very sharp glance at her indeed through the rimless glasses, but told her, still smiling gently, that she would find Wm. Pelmett, Chymist & Chirurgeon, on one side of his shop, downhill, and Messrs. Pickwick, FitzPickwick, and Wily, Solicitors and Attorneys-at-Law, on the other side, uphill.

Dido did not care for the sound of this. Still, I guess as it's to be expected they'd all be cousins or kindred in a small place like Petworth, she reflected.

She went downhill first, and bought some ointment which the doctor had recommended for the Captain's wound, and a roll of bandage, since, even in Mrs. Lubbage's exceedingly dusty house, the supply of spiderweb was running low. Wm. Pelmett, Chymist, bore a strong and unprepossessing resemblance to Pelmett the footman.

Next Dido turned uphill toward the lawyers' office, but before she reached the doorway she was startled to observe, set in a glass-fronted case in the wall of the building, what must surely be the Tegleaze luck-piece itself.

"But that could never have hung in a dolls' house," she thought. "It's far too big." Then she realized that the whole front of the case was in fact a powerful magnifying glass; the oval picture painted on a piece of ivory mounted in the case, though appearing to be about the size of a man's face, was really not much bigger than a gull's egg.

"It's a right naffy bit o' work, I will allow," Dido thought, studying it with interest. "I still don't see how it could be worth such a deal of dibs, but whoever done it put plenty of elbow grease into the job, I can see that, special considering how tiny it is. Musta been at it for hours."

The picture showed a very high tower, encircled by a spiral ramp. Hundreds of little people were rushing up and down the ramp, were occupied in building the tower, climbing ladders, at work with trowels and buckets of mortar; others were setting bricks, wheeling barrows, or consulting plans; but many others were just arguing, or even fighting, presumably about how the tower should be built; and in any case the tower had been struck by lightning and was falling down, so a great many people were trying to escape from it and trampling over each other in the process; some devils, down below, were finding the whole affair very funny indeed, and some angels, up above, seemed sad about it. The picture was painted in very bright, beautiful colors, reds and greens, browns and yellows; it seemed even gayer than the merry-go-round horses. The faces of all the little people were done with wonderful skill, no two the same, each with something strange, unexpected, yet lifelike about it; the painter's name, E Bruegel, was neatly written in one corner.

"Fancy just leaving it there, where anybody might bust the glass and walk off with it," Dido murmured wonderingly.

"Oh, there's no risk of that. For one thing, the glass is specially strong: you'd need a diamond to cut it; for another, everybody round here thinks it's unlucky; no one would buy it from the thief."

Dido looked around in surprise at this unexpected reply; for a moment she thought that it was Cris standing behind her; then she recognized Tobit in what he plainly considered to be disguise; he had abandoned his black velvet and ruffles; instead he wore a frieze coat and pantaloons. The lower half of his face was concealed by a red muffler.

"Tobit! What the plague are you doing here?"

Dido was not best pleased to see him; his presence would make it difficult to go into the office of the family lawyers and say she suspected a plot against the family; they would probably think it was just some of Tobit's romancing.

"Anyway, how in the world did you get leave of your gran?"

"Oh, I took French leave," said Tobit boastfully. "Pelmett told me Petworth fair was on, and I didn't see why, as I'm not going to the coronation, I shouldn't at least come to this; so I put a lot of minced-up Joobie nuts in Grandmother's gruel, and she's gone to bed with one of her headaches; and now I'm going to have a fine time, I can tell you."

"Did Sannie know?"

"She kicked up a bit of a dust, but I didn't pay any heed. After all, I'm nearly of age."

"How did you get here?"

"Came with Frill in the trap; he's doing some errands for Colonel FitzPickwick. Come on—let's go and look at the shows." He grabbed her hand.

Dido went with some reluctance; she glanced back toward the offices of Pickwick, FitzPickwick, and Wily; but at this moment the heavy black outer door opened and two very elderly gentlemen came out, followed by one somewhat younger; the first two were so extremely old and frail that they could get along only by leaning against one another; they looked like ancient hairless mice; while the younger one, presumably Mr. Wily, had such an extremely villainous, untrustworthy countenance that Dido at once decided there would be no sense in going for advice and entrusting her suspicions to him.

"All in whatever it is, hand and glove together, like as not," she thought.

Tobit did not wish to go on the roundabout; he said it would most likely make him sick; but he spent a good deal of money at the shooting gallery and the houp-la stall; it did not seem to occur to him to treat Dido, who had no cash for such amusements, but he liked her to watch him.

"This time I really will get it over—you'll see—I am a prime shot, once my eye is in! Oh, confound it! All the stands are just too big for the hoops, if you ask me. That wasn't my fault. Can I have another six shots for ninepence?"

"How did you come by all the mint sauce?" Dido asked, noticing his pockets heavy with coins.

"Frill lent me some; said he'd just been paid. He's a good-natured fellow. Now—this time I'll certainly get it over—you just watch, you'll see."

But he did not. Presently he became bored with the houp-la and moved on to a skittle stall.

Dido, tiring of his unjustified optimism, wandered along to the next booth, which was a kind of Punch-and-Judy show, apparently. A crowd was collecting in front of it. Weird and melancholy music was being played on a hoboy, somewhere behind the booth, by an unseen performer; to Dido there was something tantalizingly familiar about this music, but she could not name it.

"Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen: watch M-Miles M-Mystery's amazingly M-Mysterious Mannikins; what m-makes them move about? See the g-grandest show of its kind in the world—the only show of its kind in the world! And it's all f-free—free, gratis, not a penny to pay. Watch the M-Mystery of the Miller's Daughter; the M-Macbeth Murder case; the Strange Tale of the Loch N-Ness Monster; see the dragon s-swallow St. George!"

Since the show was free, Dido stood on the outskirts of the group and waited. After a while the red-and-yellow curtain was pulled up, letting out a cloud of tobacco smoke, and revealing the little stage, lit by a baleful greenish light. There were some bits of painted wooden scenery and a backcloth representing a millhouse with a large water wheel.

"The Mystery of the Miller's Daughter! Ladies and gentlemen, you will now be the first spectators of this amazingly blood-curdling drama, the only one of its k-kind!"

The hoboy played a melancholy and off-key version of the "Miller of Dee."

"L-ladies and gentlemen, if any of you should have the m-misfortune to suffer from weak nerves, p-palpitations, sympathetic vibrations, digestive disorders, heartburn, high t-tension, low spirits, vapors, or m-melancholy, you will be p-pleased to hear that soothing refreshments are on s-sale, at the extremely reasonable price of sixpence a packet."

Sure enough, a boy was going around with a tray containing little paper twists. Dido had not sixpence to spare, nor did she suffer from any of the ailments mentioned, but she looked with curiosity to see what the refreshments could be that would cure so many different troubles: so far as she could make out, each packet contained a small quantity of Joobie nuts.

The Mystery of the Miller's Daughter was heralded by an extra-loud flourish of hoboy music; then two puppets came hopping on to the stage: Rosie, the Miller's Daughter, and her sweetheart.

"Why," Dido thought scornfully, "they ain't but glove puppets; I can see what makes 'em move."

She had to admit, though, that they were unusually large, lifelike glove puppets, with something eye-catchingly strange and wild about their appearance. "I know what it is: the bloke as made them had been studying that picture, Grandpa Tegleaze's luck-piece."

The play was very comical at first: all about the efforts of Rosie and her sweetheart to escape the vigilance of her stern father, the Miller; they hid in all sorts of ingenious places—behind the mill wheel, up the apple tree, in the copper—while the Miller, completely bamboozled, rushed about the stage hunting for them, puffing and panting with fury.

But Dido soon became more interested in watching the audience than the play. The people in front nearly split their sides at the funny scenes; they staggered about and bumped into each other, bawling advice to the Miller which he always followed just too late. In their enthusiasm most of them had swallowed down all their Joobie nuts, and the boy with the tray, going around again, did a brisk sale; the sixpenny packets, Dido noticed, had been replaced by slightly larger ones which cost a shilling. Having swallowed a few more, the audience became almost hysterical with excitement, shouting, clapping, and screaming, as if they had before them the finest actors in the world. It seemed as if they saw more than was actually taking place on the stage and Dido, remembering what she had seen after merely tasting a Joobie nut, was not surprised.

She glanced at the church clock, set high on a tower, just visible over the red roofs: ten minutes to four. Time to go and meet Mr. Gusset's boy Yan.

Tobit, luckily, was absorbed in front of a stall where the game was to swing an iron ring hanging on a long cord so as to hook it over a peg on a panel at the back. It looked easy enough, but was evidently not so, judging by his lack of success. The prizes were goldfish, swimming in little semi-transparent bags made of pigs' bladder filled with water and tied up with twine. Wonder if Cap'n Hughes would like a goldfish to keep him company, Dido thought. But then I dessay it'd hate the coach trip up to London presently. Anyway, Tobit's happy enough and he won't notice if I skice off; hope Frill takes him home afore he notices the puppet show and starts stuffing down Joobie nuts.

She made her way back to The Fighting Cocks Inn, and, following Gusset's instructions, turned under a low archway at the side, around a corner, and up a steep and narrow cobbled alley. This brought her into a little courtyard, where twenty or thirty men were standing in a circle, apparently waiting for a cockfight to begin. Two, in the middle, were taking their birds out of baskets, looking them over, strapping them into their fighting gear, and talking to them encouragingly, while the crowd laid bets and shouted advice. Dido had seen cockfights in London and did not like them, but this one made a good excuse for loitering in the court, so she stood at the back of the crowd and pretended to be examining her purchases.

In a minute she heard a familiar voice.

"Arternoon, maidy! Larmentable thick weather, 'tis!"

"Right fretful," Dido agreed politely.

The speaker was a well-set-up young fellow in a shepherd's smock; he had curly dark hair, cut rather short, a brown weathered complexion, and very bright observant brown eyes; he gave Dido a friendly grin and jerked his head, indicating that she should follow him in an inconspicuous manner. Everyone's attention was fixed on the cockfight, now starting, so they slipped away. He did not lead her back into the street; they went up a flight of steps from the alley into a big, bare, barnlike upper chamber, where there were two or three long trestle tables and a quantity of benches and stools.

"'Tis the inn banquet hall, Yan explained. "My uncle Jarge, he owns the inn. There'll be grand junketings here, come Coronation Day."

He sat down on a stool and Dido perched on another; she noticed that he smelt powerfully of clove pinks and orange blossom.

"It be the perfume," he explained apologetically, noticing her sniff. "Do what us may, some of it leaks out. And the mischief is that they Bush officers are training special hounds, now, to goo arter it; like truffle hounds they be."

"Couldn't you disguise it with onions or summat? Or strew pepper, to go up their noses?"

"Pepper costs terrible dear, lovie; but 'tisn't a bad notion. I can see my old gaffer's right—a nim, trustable little maid you be. So now, how can us Wineberry Men help ee?"

One look at Yan Wineberry in daylight had assured Dido that here was the right person to help her; she explained that she needed a letter taken to the First Lord of the Admiralty.

"Oh, no trouble about that, my duck. Us takes grog to old Lord Forecastle regular. Next trip Sunday night. He'll get it Tuesday maybe, Wednesday for sartin."

"Not before?"

"Us travels slow, you see, love; for one thing it 'on't do to joggle the grog, the old Crozier of Winchester created turble one time when the sediment got shook up in his pipe o' port wine; then there's deliveries along the way—us has a private way, slow and sure, what the Bush officers don't know about."

"Oh well, guess the Cap'll be agreeable, so it's Wednesday for sure. Could you come and see my old Cap? Just so he'll feel easy about it?"

"I'll need to wait till arter dark, then, lovie. I'll come Saturday night—Dog kennel Cottages, ben't it? Owd Mis' Lubbage, therealong, be a terrible untrustworthy woman, no friend o' mine. Dunked in Black Pond she'd a bin, long agone, done she hadn't bin so thick wi' the Preventives and the Hanoverians."

"What are the Hanoverians doing mixed up with the Preventives?" Dido asked, puzzled. "I thought as how the Preventives were government revenue officers? And the Hanoverians are agin the government, surely? My pa used to be one; he was in a plot to blow up Battersea Castle; but he got found out and run off and no one's seen him since."

"Oh, it be simple enough," Yan said. "Nobody likes the Preventives—always clapping gurt dratted taxes on grog and twistycorks that honest folk has taken trouble to fetch over from France; and nobody likes the Hanoverians either, alius a-trying to blow up poor old King Jamie, and now his son, that's a-going to be Dick Four. So as nobody liked either lot, they just nature-ally set up together."

"I see. Now, how about the letter—will I give it you tomorrow night?"

"That'll be best," he agreed. "Now—if you wants to get in touch with me afore then—do ee know the Cuckoo Tree?"

"Yes I do."

"Well, if you wants me, just ee stick a twistycork in the Cuckoo Tree trunk and come back there the next noon or midnight arter—someone'll meet ee. Right?"

"Right."

"Us'd best leave by onesomes—I'll goo first and when you hear me whistle, you follow."

He gave her ear a friendly tweak and slipped down the narrow steps, quieter than a shadow. Dido waited until she heard his soft all-clear whistle from the street, then silently followed him.

Even more silently, when she had gone, a tiny figure unfolded itself from under one of the trestle tables and stole away in a different direction: Tante Sannie, aged, bent, frail as a bunch of cobwebs, quick as a spider.

Dido went back to Godwit & Son, Ironmongers & Conspirators. Mr. Godwit had the crutches ready, neatly tied up with cord so that she could sling them on her back. She paid, and was leaving his shop when she heard a disturbance from the upper end of the square, where Miles Mystery had his Mysterious Mannikins. People were shouting, "Stop thief!" and a portion of the crowd had broken away and was racing up a small cobbled lane that led in the direction of the church.

"What's it about?" Dido asked a fat man.

"Some lad nicked a couple o' goldfish off of the goldfish stall. Got caught red-handed—or rather, wet-pocketed," the man said, with a loud laugh at his own wit. "They're arter him now—they'll catch him soon enough." Too fat to run himself, he filled his lungs with air and shouted, "Stop thief! Catch the pesky ragamuffin. Stop thief!"

By now all the upper portion of the square had emptied; Mr. Mystery's theatre was empty and unattended. Dido took the opportunity for a quick examination of the puppets, which had been left, lolling and lifeless, on the stage. "They ain't bad," she thought critically, "but they're no better than what Pa used to make, when I was little."

She turned back in the direction of Middle Street; the ground hereabouts was white with the little twists of paper in which Joobie nuts had been wrapped. Suddenly her eye was caught by something familiar in the look of one of them: she picked it up and read her own handwriting: "Dere Simon. I doo hop yore ... I am all rug ... an hadd Grate Times." The paper had been torn into four; scuffling with her foot she found another piece. So much for the shravey Jem! No wonder her letter had not been answered. It had traveled no farther than Petworth Square. But how had it come to be wrapped around a packet of Joobie nuts?

"I jist hope Yan, Tan, and co are a bit more trustable," she thought, greatly cast down by this discovery.

She walked on feeling thoroughly uneasy, she could not think why. After all there was no reason to suppose that the boy who had stolen the goldfish—

But as she reached the top of New Street the hue and cry, which had swung in a circle around past the church and back toward the center of the town, came surging in her direction.

Ahead of the crowd, but only just, she was horrified to see Tobit, gasping and wild-eyed. Half a dozen yards from Dido he tripped and fell, as a tall man sprang forward and tackled him.

"Got the little varmint!" shouted the crowd.

Tobit was on his feet again, fighting frenziedly.

"I didn't take it, I tell you I didn't!"

"Ah, how did it come to be in your pocket, then? Why did you run off?"

"Little Tommy Tittlemouse
Went to the skittle-show
Lined his breeches
With other men's fishes!"

somebody sang derisively.

"Someone must have slipped it in my pocket."

"A likely tale! Tell that to the magistrate!"

A constabulary officer, conspicuous with his truncheon and top hat, was making his way through the crowd.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Why, it was I-like this, officer," said the man who had caught Tobit. Dido studied him curiously. He was very tall, very thin, with a long, flat face, not ill-looking but very yellow in complexion; his hair was dusty dark and his eyes, big, yellowish-gray, and slanting, were strangely like those of a goat. Dido noticed that his hands, though they retained a vicelike grip on Tobit, shook all the time; it seemed that he could not control their shaking. "I r-run the m-mannikin show in the square—Mr. M-Mystery, you know. I was just coming to the end of my M-Miller's Daughter play when, I-looking out at the crowd through a slit in the curtain, I s-saw this boy steal a couple of g-goldfish from the next stall and slip them into his p-pocket."

"That's a lie!" shouted Tobit. "I never did any such thing! Why, if I wanted, I could easily buy a goldfish—I've plenty of cash."

He brought out a handful as proof—it was wet, and bits of pig's bladder were mixed up with it.

"Stole the money too, like as not," somebody commented.

"Did anybody else witness this?" the constable asked.

"Yes, I did!" Somebody was shouldering his way to the front of the crowd; Dido was shocked to recognize Frill the footman. "With my own eyes I saw him," Frill went on sorrowfully. "Oh, Mas'r Tobit, how could ee do such a thing, boy, bringing down your poor old grandma's white hairs?"

"I never did, I tell you! Someone must have planted it on me."

"He's right!" said Dido, angrily coming forward. "It's all a plot against him, so he'll be sent to prison and won't come into his luck-piece. You know that," she said accusingly to Frill. "I bet your tale's naught but a pack o' lies." He gazed at her as if he had never laid eyes on her before.

"Oh, and did you see the occurrence, miss?" said the officer.

"Well, no, I didn't, but—"

"Just a-wanting to keep your playmate out o' trouble, eh? Well, my advice to you, maidy, is, don't poke your liddle nose into matters as don't consarn you, or you'll be in trouble too. Come along you," he said sharply, grabbing Tobit's arm. "We'll see if a night in the stone jug'll cool you down and make you more biddable—then tomorrow you'll go afore the beak."

The crowd followed as he hurried Tobit away. Frill and Mr. Mystery strode alongside.

Dido started after, but a hand on her arm checked her.

"You'll never do no good that way, lovie," said a warning voice. "Best not get imbrangled."

She looked up into the eyes of Yan Wineberry.

"But it was all a put-up job—" she began indignantly.

"Whisht! O' course it was. That Amos Frill is as crooked as one o' my twistycorks. But no sense in making a potheration now, or what'll come of it? You'll be run in too, for nabbling at a constable in pursoot o' his dooty."

"What'll I do then?"

"Best tell old Lady Tegleaze first. The magistrate's a friend o' hers—old Sir Fritz FitzPickwick. Reckon she'll be able to put matters right wi' him."

"D'you reckon so?" Dido said doubtfully. "What if that don't work?"

"If that don't work us Wineberry Men'll see what we can do."

Somewhat comforted by this assurance, Dido fetched out her nag, mounted him from the steps in front of The Fighting Cocks Inn, and made for home as fast as possible. But Dapple had no great turn of speed, and as she passed through Duncton in the misty twilight she was overtaken by a trap bowling rapidly along. It was driven by Frill, who passed her without a sign of recognition; the trap's other passenger, bundled up like a sackful of shadows, was not visible to Dido.

"Blame it!" she thought. "Now he'll get home first and tell his tale."

She delivered the crutches to Captain Hughes, who was delighted with them, gave him a hasty summary of the afternoon's events, including the satisfactory interview with Yan Wineberry, and explained that she must hurry on to Tegleaze Manor.

"That you must," agreed the Captain. "Not a doubt but the boy's been framed, by the sound of it; makes one's blood boil. Why, when I think how I'd feel if my own boy, Owen, got into such a fix—I've a good mind to come along with you and talk to this Lady Tegleaze."

However his indignation and the effort of attempting to leave his bed made his head swim so badly that Dido was alarmed and begged him not to overexert himself.

She prepared him a hasty meal, explained her intentions to Mr. Firkin, who promised to keep the Captain company and, observing that Mrs. Lubbage's house was in darkness, remounted the dismayed Dapple and continued on her way.

As she neared Tegleaze Manor she saw one faint glimmer of light in an upstairs window, and when she pounded on the door, Gusset presently appeared with a candle.

"Oh, Missie Dwighto Tide!" he exclaimed dolefully. "There be desprit tidings of Mas'r Tobit—caught a poaching goldyfishes and clapped in clink!"

"I know, I was there! But it's all a pack o' lies, you know, Mister Gusset—he didn't do it." As she said this, though, a sudden doubt assailed her. Tobit was such an unaccountable, impulsive boy—supposing he had done it? But no, why should he? "I've come to tell Lady Tegleaze the truth," she went on stoutly.

"Oh, that's good, that's good, Missie Dide—I'll take ee to her directly," Gusset quavered, and escorted her upstairs so slowly and shakily that he scattered great drops of candle grease on every step.

In Lady Tegleaze's dim, dusty bedroom, Dido found a conclave assembled. Frill was there, looking thoroughly hypocritical; the corners of his mouth were turned down as far as they would go, and his hair had been parted in the middle with a wet comb. Dr. Subito was there with a finger on the pulse of Lady Tegleaze, who lay on a couch looking pale and haggard; Sannie, wielding a large ostrich-feather fan; old Cousin Wilfred in his dressing gown, holding a bottle of smelling salts and looking somewhat bewildered; Pelmett stood with an untouched plateful of nut cutlets; and another member of the group, greatly to Dido's astonishment, was Mrs. Lubbage, whose solemn expression did not disguise a gleam of excitement and malice in her twinkling little eyes. Tobit's big white dog Lion had crept in and was lying in the middle of the room with his head on his paws, flattened out, like a thick white fur rug; every now and then he let out a mournful whimper.

"Who is that?" demanded Lady Tegleaze as Dido entered; then, recognizing her, added fretfully, "Why, it's that quarantine child who forced her way in once before. I daresay she began all the trouble, putting ideas in the boy's head. Tell her to be off, Subito; she is not wanted, specially at such a time as this."

"But my lady," pleaded Gusset, "she be come about Mas'r Tobit; says as how it be all a pack of lies that he took the fish."

"Nonsense, man! Frill himself saw the incident. A devoted family servant would hardly lie, would he? Oh! to think I should have to suffer such a blow. My own grandson convicted of poaching, three days before his coming of age. Such a vulgar crime, too. It is crushing—entirely crushing."

"But ma'am—I am sure that it is all a plot."

Dido wished that some of these people would go away, so that she could talk to Lady Tegleaze in private.

"Who would plot against me—and why, pray?"

"Colonel FitzPickwick—" began Dido, but at that moment the Colonel himself entered the room. Seen in daylight his hair and mustaches were so white that Dido wondered if he dipped them in bleach; they formed a decided contrast to the whites of his liver-brown eyes which were a blood-veined mud color; his teeth, when he showed them, looked as if inside somewhere they must be labeled "Best Staffordshire porcelain."

"Dear lady—who speaks of me?" he said, coming forward.

"What news?" Lady Tegleaze demanded. "What news of my grandson?"

"He will appear before the magistrates at ten tomorrow; my cousin Fritz presiding; let us hope that as it is a first offense, Fritz will be lenient; ten years in Lewes Gaol, perhaps, rather than a life sentence in Botany Bay."

"Oh, what difference does it make to me where he gets sent?" Lady Tegleaze said pettishly. "Or for how long? The main thing is that we lose the heirloom. When I think of the trouble I have wasted in rearing that child—and all for this! Stupid, ungovernable boy! Well, I wash my hands of him—I wish now I had kept the other instead."

"Other?" twittered the mouselike Cousin Wilfred, evidently much startled. "What other, Catherine?"

"Why, surely you remember that there were twins? Or rather, triplets, but one died at birth. Sannie brought the other two from Tiburon when their parents died. But I said that it wasn't to be expected that I should have the trouble of looking after two grandchildren; one would be quite enough work; so I kept only the boy."

"And I said, princessie-ma'am, two-baby twins bring always bad, bad luck in family, almost as bad as three-baby; better get rid of one, better keep boy, just."

"Good gracious! Mean to say you just disposed of one?" mumbled Cousin Wilfred, really shocked.

And Dido thought, "Well! I alius did say she was a queer old trout but, ask me, that's downright heartless! Fancy tossing out your own grandbaby like summat you'd give a rag-and-bone man."

"Oh well, Sannie said she'd find a home for it somewhere, in an orphanage or something; you'll just have to find it again now, Sannie, and double-quick too, now Tobit's no use to me."

"That's not easy," said Tante Sannie, wrinkling her leathery, monkeylike forehead under its sparse silvery hairs. "Not easy, that! Who know, who know where that baby be now? Far, far away, daresay; cost a much, much money to find her. Hundred, t'ousand pound."

"Well, the money'll have to be found somehow," snapped Lady Tegleaze. "FitzPickwick, you'll have to arrange it. Sell one of the chimneys—or the portico, that's made of marble, isn't it?"

Dido, meanwhile, had been struck by a blinding flash of inspiration. Without pausing to listen to anything else she turned hastily toward the door, noticing two faces only on her way: Gusset's, full of reproach at her supposed desertion; and that of Colonel FitzPickwick who looked as if he had received an utterly staggering blow; his jaw had dropped in disbelief, his large porcelain teeth stuck up like Dapple's, and he was directing a look of pure fury at Tante Sannie, who took no notice whatsoever.