Sharp work

The American’s easy-going badinage provided the best sort of tonic.  Theydon laughed as be transferred the pistol from one pocket to the other.

“My motto is ‘Defense, not Defiance,’” he said.  “I hope sincerely that I shall not be called on to shoot, or even threaten any one.  Using firearms, although for self-protection, is a very serious matter in this country.  May I ask your name?  Mine’s Theydon.  I live in those mansions we have just quitted.”

“And I’m George T. Handyside, 21,097 Park Avenue, Chicago,” was the answer.

“Is that your telephone number?”

“No, sir.  It’s my home address.”

“Well, Mr. Handyside, if ever I come to Chicago, I’ll travel along Park Avenue and give you a call.  How many days’ journey are you from the center of the city?”

“Say, Mr. Theydon, I’m real glad to make your acquaintance.  I haven’t been joshed in that way since I left the steamer.  This little island of yours is all right as a beauty spot, but I do wish your people wouldn’t carry such a grouch agin’ life generally.  Great Scott!  It’ll do ’em a heap of good to try a real chesty laugh occasionally.”

“Tell me where I can drop across you in London later in the week, and I’ll see if we can’t find a smile somewhere.”

The American scribbled the name of a Strand hotel on a card, which Theydon disposed in his pocketbook, at the same time producing one of his own cards.

“You’ll hear from me,” he said.  “Now, Mr. Handyside, pardon me for the next few minutes.  I have to write telegrams.”

The first was to Forbes, addressed in duplicate to Old Broad Street and Fortescue Square.  It ran: 

“If this message is not qualified by another within a few minutes I am in the 1:25 train for Eastbourne.”

Then to Winter: 

“Young lady summoned to Eastbourne by telegram stating that her mother is ill.  Suspect the message as bogus and emanating from Y. M. See Furneaux.  He will explain.  Am hoping to travel by same train.  If disappointed will wire again immediately.—­ Theydon.”

He read each slip carefully, to make sure that the phraseology was clear.  The speed at which the cab was traveling rendered his handwriting somewhat illegible, but he thought he saw a means of circumventing that difficulty.

“Which place are you going?” he inquired of his unexpected companion.

“To a place called Sutton.”

“What time does your train leave?”

“Guess it’s about 1:30.”

“You have five more minutes at your disposal than I have.  Will you hand in these three messages at the telegraph office?  I’ll read them to you, in case the counter clerk is doubtful about any of my words.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Theydon.  You’ve interested me.  I don’t care a row of beans if I drop out Sutton altogether.”

“I’m greatly obliged, but that is not necessary.  You’ll have loads of time.  We’re in the Park already, and our driver has a clear run to Victoria.  Now, listen!”