Jimmy growled a sleepy "Come in" in reply to a tap at his bedroom door. Having thus accomplished all that could be expected of him for some time he relapsed into deep slumber again. There was nothing to disturb him in the familiar performance of the servant who called him. A tea tray was laid down noiselessly on the table beside his bed. Curtains were drawn back as nearly noiselessly as curtains could be drawn. There was the usual folding of shirts and socks, laying out of shoes, arrangement of other clothes in due order, the depositing in appropriate places of collar, tie and handkerchief. The same things were done for Jimmy every morning of his life and had been done for him in much the same way ever since he had left school. There was nothing to disturb him and he was too sleepy to realise that he was in a strange room.

"Your lordship's bath," said the servant, "will be prepared. I shall return and tell your lordship when it is ready. In about ten minutes if that is convenient to your lordship."

The voice was unfamiliar. Jimmy opened his eyes sufficiently to recognise that the servant who was leaving the room was not his own man. He saw at the same time that he was in an unfamiliar room. The recollection of the adventures of the day before came to him and he knew that he had slept in his uncle's house. He poured out his tea and as he drank it composed a biting and insulting telegram to be sent, regardless of expense, to the makers of the Pallas Athene sports model car. He lit a cigarette to stimulate the workings of his brain.

The servant came into the room again, as he promised, in ten minutes. Jimmy recognised Hinton.

"Hallo!" he said. "How do you come to be here?"

"Your lordship will recollect that I ventured to suggest last night that it might be convenient if I were to wait upon your lordship."

"Of course. Yes. Now you mention it, I remember. You said you'd come in to help Uncle Evie's butler in case the poor fellow felt overworked. Uncommonly kind of you to do it, Hinton, and I'm sure we're all greatly obliged to you. You were to have got tooth-brushes and things for the two young ladies. I hope you did."

"I left that matter in Mr. Linker's hands, my lord, with every confidence that satisfaction would be given. Mr. Linker's establishment is not actually first class. That could hardly be expected in Morriton St. James, but I think everything required will be provided. The young person of whom I spoke to you last night——"

He went on to say at some length, that the head of the dressmaking department in Mr. Linker's shop had consented to return, temporarily, to her original trade, and was at that moment acting as lady's maid to Beth and Mary. Jimmy suspected that neither of the girls was accustomed to such ministrations, but had no doubt they would enjoy them. Mr. Linker, it appeared, had been quite willing to give his dressmaker a holiday; such was his respect for Sir Evelyn and his desire to be obliging. Hinton said nothing about the feelings of Mr. Linker's customers, the young ladies of Morriton St. James, several of whom were waiting impatiently, even clamorously, for new dresses.

"It's uncommonly civil of your friend Linker," said Jimmy. "You might thank him from me, will you?"

"I have reason to believe, my lord, that Mr. Linker proposes to call on you himself this morning."

"With the bill for the night dresses and things, I suppose?"

Hinton was profoundly shocked by the suggestion.

"Certainly not, my lord. Mr. Linker understands your lordship's position in society too well to send in an account in anything less than three months. I should certainly not have recommended Mr. Linker to your lordship's notice if there had been the least risk of his being guilty of such an act of indecorum. The fact is, my lord"—here Hinton's tone became confidential—"Mr. Linker wishes to ask a favour, and I may add that if your lordship sees your way to consider Mr. Linker's proposal favourably, I shall regard it as a favour to myself."

"What does he want, Hinton? If I can do anything in the way of recommending him to Uncle Evie—— Contract for the supply of caps and aprons for the housemaids here, or anything of that sort, I shall be delighted. A man who can provide trousseaux complete with lady's maid at ten minutes' notice after the shops are shut deserves any recommendation I can give."

"I gather, my lord, that Mr. Linker's request is not connected with the ladies' outfitting business."

"If he wants to buy what's left of the Pallas Athene," said Jimmy, "he can have it cheap."

Hinton allowed himself a respectful smile.

"I gathered from what Mr. Linker said to me that he wishes to see your lordship with reference to the coming pageant at Hailey Compton."

"Oh, that's it, is it? Now how the devil does a shopkeeper in Morriton St. James come to be mixed up in a pageant at Hailey Compton? What business is it of his?"

Hinton produced a long, plausible and quite unconvincing explanation of Linker's interest in the pageant. He was, it appears, an active politician, a supporter of the party to which Sir Evelyn belonged. He took the chair at political meetings. He was president of a club by means of which it was hoped that working men might be attached to the party. He was very anxious to secure Sir Evelyn's return at the next election.

"I know that kind of fellow," said Jimmy. "Invaluable, of course, but boring. I quite see that Uncle Evie has to put up with him. 'How to be civil though yawning. A Tract for Parliamentary Candidates.' But I'm not in that line myself and I don't see why I should be worried by your friend Linker. And anyhow, what has all that got to do with the pageant?"

Hinton's explanation went on. Mr. Linker had conceived the idea that the position of the party in the constituency would be improved if the pageant, with which Sir Evelyn was intimately connected, were a real success.

"I don't see that in the least," said Jimmy. "As a matter of fact, there are two or three other things about that pageant that I don't quite see. But I'm always stupid till I have had my bath. Can't understand how any fellow is expected to be at his brightest and best till he's wallowed about in cold water a bit. Suppose you drop in here while I'm dressing, Hinton, and we'll have a chat."

"I shall be quite at your lordship's service at any time," said Hinton.

Jimmy returned from his bath thoroughly awake and as fit as he ever would be to deal with the puzzling problem of Linker's interest in the pageant. He had indeed, while drying himself, hit on a new question to which he wanted to find an answer. Why was Hinton himself so eager about the pageant? Sir Evelyn had mentioned the guarantee fund and Hinton's fifty pound promise. There must, Jimmy supposed, be some reason for such generosity. He wanted to find out what it was.

"Now, Hinton," he said, "just tell me all over again why your friend Linker thinks that this pageant will win the election for Uncle Evie."

Hinton was apparently not pleased with this inquiry. His reply was a perfectly courteous and respectful rebuke of Lord Colavon's curiosity.

"That, my lord, is a point on which I am unable to give you any information. But Mr. Linker is very experienced in elections and thoroughly understands the sort of appeal which impresses the voter. I think perhaps we may safely leave the matter in his hands."

Jimmy rubbed shaving soap on his face thoughtfully for a minute. Then he asked Hinton another question.

"I understand that you're in this pageant up to your neck, Hinton. Now why?"

Hinton glanced sharply at Lord Colavon's face reflected in the mirror. It was covered with a foam of white soap and no face in that state looks intelligent. Hinton decided that nothing more than an evasive answer was necessary.

"I am certainly interested, my lord."

Jimmy laid down his shaving brush and took up his razor. After giving his chin a scrape he turned to Hinton again.

"As an historical archÆologist," he said, "you are, of course, interested in any effort to re-create the past."

Hinton was a little puzzled. His safest plan seemed to be to say nothing.

"And the artistic side of the thing appeals to you strongly," said Jimmy.

Hinton, still puzzled, and becoming uneasy, bowed gravely.

"Remarkable man you are, Hinton," said Jimmy. "And your friend Linker, the shopkeeper, is a remarkable man, too. Suppose now you tell me all about this pageant, just who else is in it besides you and Uncle Evie and what's going on and how far you've got."

Hinton was perfectly willing to tell a good deal, if not actually all there was to tell, about the pageant.

He gave a list of the patrons so far. He described Mrs. Eames at some length. He described the vicar, who continued to live a secluded life, chiefly in the church, taking no part in the village activities. He described the rehearsals, held daily at high tide. Bales of goods and small casks, lent by Hinton himself, were landed at every high tide out of one of Bunce's boats. Songs, which Mrs. Eames called chanties, were sung as the work went on. Sometimes the cargo, when landed, was stored in the cave. Sometimes it was carried across the beach, with the accompaniment of other chanties, and loaded on the back of the only horse which Mrs. Eames had been able to borrow. Unfortunately, the first enthusiasm of the village was dying away. The daily rehearsals were felt to be tiresome. It required all the influence of Hinton himself, Bunce and some of the older men, to keep the people at work.

Costumes, designed by Sir Evelyn, were being made in Morriton St. James under the supervision of Mr. Linker, who had undertaken that part of the work.

"Sees his way to making a bit, I suppose," said Jimmy acutely. "I thought there must be money in it for him somewhere."

"No doubt, my lord, there will be the usual profit on the sale of the costumes."

"But not much," said Jimmy, "hardly enough to make it worth his while to plunge into the thing and go pursuing people like me and Uncle Evie. And where do you come in, Hinton? I mean to say, apart from your interest in English history and village art, what made you guarantee fifty pounds?"

James Hinton smiled but gave no answer to this question. He offered instead a description of a picture of a smuggling lugger which hung in the tap-room of the Anchor Inn, ready to be inspected by anyone interested in the pageant. It had been painted by a young man, a nephew of Mr. Linker's, who had won several prizes for art given by the County Education Committee. The details of the hull and rigging had been worked out under the direction of Sir Evelyn. The sea which surrounded the lugger, the work of the young man himself, was highly spirited and very blue.

Jimmy listened to all this without comment. The picture of the lugger did not interest him. He had finished shaving and was washing his face. Hinton went on to explain at some length why he and Linker were anxious to secure Lord Colavon's support for the pageant. They had got a bishop, a couple of leading politicians, a judge and a doctor with a title. They now wanted to reach another section of the public, sporting people and theatrical people. They hoped that Lord Colavon, if he supported the pageant, would interest his friends in it.

"I see," said Jimmy, drying his face. "But what I want to know is, what do I get out of it? Uncle Evie wins an election. Your friend Linker scoops in a profit for costumes. You gratify your passion for archÆology. But where do I come in?"

"I was in hopes," said Hinton, rather feebly, "that your lordship might find it amusing. Mrs. Eames is a very remarkable lady. I feel convinced that you will enjoy meeting Mrs. Eames."

"Hardly good enough, Hinton. I'm sure Mrs. Eames is all you say. But I have some respect for the Church, even if you haven't, and I never flirt with parsons' wives."

Having finished washing he began to dress. Hinton offered him all kinds of unnecessary assistance and for a while nothing more was said. At last, fully clothed, except for his coat and waistcoat, Jimmy sat down and lit a cigarette.

"Now, Hinton," he said, "you've told me a lot about this pageant, and it's only fair that I should tell you something. Sit down and listen to me for a minute. Smoke if you like."

Hinton preferred to stand—or said he did—and refused the offer of a cigarette. Jimmy began:

"My idea of the day of your pageant is something like this. Crowds on the shore. Village people dressed up as assistant smugglers waiting for the arrival of the lugger. Everybody anxiously peering out to sea. Distinguished visitors in the reserved seats scanning the horizon with telescopes. Uncle Evie with a telescope. The bishop with binoculars. Other eminent men with field glasses. Women asking stupid questions in order to keep conversation going. Everybody jumping with excitement and expectation till the lugger comes in sight. Then cheers. Loud cheers. That's about the programme so far, isn't it, Hinton?"

"That, my lord, is very much what we hope to accomplish."

"Exactly. But before your lugger comes in sight she must have been somewhere out of sight. That's only common sense. You follow me so far."

"Certainly, my lord, out of sight. Certainly."

"Very well. Where was she before she came into sight? Tell me that?"

"I'm not quite sure that I catch your lordship's meaning."

"I'll try and make it plainer for you if you like. The lugger was out of sight at one time. Very well. A little later she comes into sight. I know there's a school of philosophers which says that a thing simply doesn't exist unless somebody's looking at it. And of course if that's true there's no use asking questions about where the lugger was before the bishop and Uncle Evie saw it through their glasses. It just wasn't anywhere. In fact there wasn't a lugger. But you and I don't believe that, do we? We can't, you know, because we both intend to be on board that lugger, and we'd hate to pass out of existence till Uncle Evie and the bishop chose to see us. We may take it then, that the lugger was somewhere before she came in sight. But where? That's what I want to get at."

"I don't think that point's been considered, my lord."

"Well, it ought to be and I'm going to consider it now. The lugger might have been at St. Malo, or Granville, or Cherbourg, or any port along that bit of coast. Or she might have been in St. Helier, or Peter's Port, or some little bay in one of the Channel Islands. And if she was—mind I'm only saying if—I suppose you might make a nice little sum over a few dozen cases of French brandy that didn't pay duty. And your friend Linker could do with a consignment of French silk, duty free. I could manage along with a case or two of champagne and a few silk stockings for these young ladies. You see how the thing works out, Hinton. Immense crowds on shore. All the most eminent and respectable people looking on. Lugger comes in. Motor engine on board, not a Pallas Athene sports model engine, but one something more on the lines of your Ford. Flag flies at truck, skull and crossbones and all that. Thrills. Cheers. Newspaper men writing like fury. Photographers snapping their camera shutters. Publicity. Widest possible publicity. Dummy cargo landed. Pack horses loaded. Bales carried into cave. Cheers die down. Show over. Crowds disperse to eat and drink. Then you and I and Linker land another little cargo."

"That, my lord, would, I fear, be smuggling."

"You might call it that."

"The penalties for smuggling are very severe, my lord."

"I'm disappointed in you, Hinton. I thought you were a sportsman. Lord Dollman said you were a sportsman, and I believed him. But here you are funking a little flutter, when it's odds on, positively odds on. I should say nine to one on."

"The custom house officers are very alert, my lord, very alert indeed, and they're sure to be particularly suspicious of a pageant like this. The very word smuggling, advertised as we hope to advertise it, is enough to make them watch us."

"That's just where you're wrong," said Jimmy. "It's our advertising which will put them off. Nobody who wanted to smuggle would put a paragraph to say so in every paper in England. Nobody who meant to smuggle would invite Uncle Evie and the bishop and all the other political and legal swells to be directors in the company. Don't you see, Hinton, that's just the sort of thing that puts the intelligent custom house officer off the scent, and the more intelligent he is the certainer he's bound to be that there's nothing in it."

The reasoning was perfectly sound and ought to have convinced Hinton. Perhaps it did. Perhaps he had thought it all out himself before. But there was another difficulty which seemed less easy to deal with.

"You'll excuse me, my lord, but neither Mr. Linker nor I would care to take part in a scheme for defrauding the Revenue."

"Rot!" said Jimmy. "You really can't expect me to believe that, Hinton. Nobody could take that line. Just think how the good old Revenue defrauds us. It was only the other day I caught it at it. At least another fellow to whom I gave over the job caught it for me. And the thing had been going on for years. Income Tax. Hundreds of pounds that I oughtn't to have paid. I expect it's been doing the same thing to you and to Linker and Uncle Evie and everyone. So far as I can make out it defrauds everyone it can, and when it's caught doesn't even apologise. Now what's wrong about getting a bit of our own back? That's all we intend to do."

But Hinton remained obstinately unconvinced even by this argument. He shook his head gravely and sadly, adding a few words about Mr. Linker's integrity and his own high principles.

Jimmy threw away the end of his cigarette. Then he slipped on his waistcoat and coat.

"Very well, Hinton," he said, "I'll have nothing whatever to do with your measly pageant, and what's more I'll crab it in every way I possibly can. I'll take care, so far as my friends are concerned, that it's a complete washout. I know perfectly well that you and Linker, and I expect half the fishermen in the village, are going to do exactly what I've said. Why the devil else should you be going into the thing at all, spending money and so on? If you won't let me chip in along with the rest of you, I'll do you all the harm I can, and you can tell your friend Linker what I say. If he calls here this morning I simply won't see him. You can tell him that, too."