Dictator's Way by E.R. Punshon Read Free Book Online

What, for instance, was Mr. Clarence Duke doing there so far from his favourite haunts, the pubs and greyhound racing tracks of the East End? An odd place, it seemed to Bobby, this neglected garden, for Clarence to frequent, and what had he meant by saying he had his orders?
    That had been in connection with the girl’s remark that he had thrown into the pond a ‘horrid little man’, who had been molesting her. Bobby wondered who that had been and what the pair of them had been doing here? Apparently the girl must be fairly familiar with the place, too, for she had known where the stand-pipe was situated, known where to find the length of hose she had used so effectively.
    Bobby scowled a little as he turned over his clothing to make sure all parts received an equal share of the warm sunshine. Also, risking lurking young ladies in the shrubbery, he moved forward from the shelter of the rhododendrons, grown a trifle chilly, to secure some of the benefit for his own bare body of that same sunshine. It was comforting but he still scowled, for he remembered the tone in which she had remarked that her father had recommended cold water for fighting dogs. It was a tone very wounding to the feelings. Hang it all, what was a fellow to do if another fellow went for him, hammer and tongs?
    At any rate, he hoped that her presence here did not mean that she was one of those who at times enjoyed Mr. Judson’s doubtful hospitality. Somehow, he did not much think so, even though certainly this was not the first time she had visited the place.
    Then there was the ‘horrid little man’ mentioned so casually as having been thrown into the pond, as if throwing people into ponds were a part of the ordinary routine of life. At any rate it was to be hoped that having been thrown into the pond, he had come out of it again. A somewhat uneasy glance it was that Bobby now directed towards those placid and anything but clear waters, nor was it only the after effects of the chilly rhododendron shade that made him shiver as he sat, in spite of the hot sun upon his back.
    And was any one of the three of them – Clarence, the girl, the unknown ‘horrid little man’ – in any way connected with whatever it was interested the Hon. Chas. Waveny in The Manor? Had he had any knowledge of the likely presence here this afternoon of any or all of these three people? And, if so, had such knowledge been his reason for naming to-morrow, and not to-day, for the visit suggested?
    Puzzling; and Bobby began to wish he had allowed Waveny to tell his tale in full, even though it had not seemed then, it did not seem now for that matter, any direct concern of his. Waveny had made no direct allegation of any conduct calling for police action. The girl was a trespasser, no doubt, but no more so than was Bobby himself, and anyhow trespassing in itself is not a criminal action. Most likely, too, there was some perfectly simple explanation for her presence and her knowledge of where to find stand-pipe and hose. As for the ‘horrid little man’, his very existence was only a matter of hearsay evidence. Clarence – odd about Clarence certainly. He could no doubt be brought in for a breach of the peace, but somehow Bobby felt that would be an unworthy termination to what had been quite a jolly little scrap.
    Thoughtfully Bobby plucked another rhododendron leaf, wet it, laid it against his cheek.
    Yes, a jolly little scrap, and a shame to expose it to the cold, unsympathetic eye of the law. After all, one could understand how it had happened. Anonymous letters had to be investigated. Once in donkey’s years they were important. Clarence had heard that inquiries were being made about him in connection with the death of a woman. Very likely he had been teased by his pals, told that now the ‘busies’ had made up their minds that this time he was to swing ‘and no error’. He had fallen into a panic, felt the rope as