out here where I am.'”
“You 're right. It was wet. Then Tompkins called him a vile name, your lordship—shall I repeat it, sir?”
“No, no!” cried four feminine voices.
“Yes, do,” muttered the duke.
“He did n't wait after that, sir. He rowed to shore in a flash and landed on our land. 'What do you mean by that?' he said, mad-like. 'My orders is to put you off this property,' says Tompkins, 'or to throw you in the river.' 'Who gave these orders?' asked Mr. Shaw. 'Lord Bazelhurst, sir, damn you—' beg pardon, sir; it slipped out. 'And who the devil is Lord Bazelthurst?' said he. 'Hurst,' said Tompkins. 'He owns this ground. Can't you see the mottoes on the trees—No Tres-passin'?'—but Mr. Shaw said: 'Well, why don't you throw me in the river?' He kinder smiled when he said it. 'I will,' says Tompkins, and made a rush for him. I don't just remember why I started in to help Tompkins, but I did. Somehow, sir, Mr. Shaw got—”
“Don't call him Mr. Shaw. Just Shaw; he's no gentleman,” exploded Lord Bazelhurst.
“But he told us both to call him 'Mister,' sir, as long as we lived. I kinder got in the habit of it, your lordship, up there. That is, that's what he told us after he got through with us. Well, anyhow, he got the start of us an'—there's Tompkins' eyes, sir, and look at my ear. Then he pitched us both in the river.”
“Good Lord!” gasped the duke.
“Diable!” sputtered the count.
“Splendid!” cried Penelope, her eyes sparkling.
“Hang it all, Pen, don't interrupt the count,” snorted Bazelhurst, for want of something better to say and perhaps hoping that Deveaux might say in French what could not be uttered in English.
“Don't say it in French, count,” said little Miss Folsom. “It deserves English.”
“Go on, James,” sternly, from Lady Bazelhurst.
“Well, neither of us can swim, your ladyship, an' we'd 'a' drowned if Mr.—if Shaw had n't jumped in himself an' pulled us out. As it was, sir, Tompkins was unconscious.
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