More William by Richmal Crompton Read Free Book Online

developments. Flight was now impossible.
    The announcement fell flat. There was nothing but horror upon the five silent faces that confronted William. He made a last desperate effort.
    ‘He’s bin in the war,’ he pleaded. ‘He’s – killed folks.’
    Then the unexpected happened.
    Mrs de Vere Carter rose with a smile of welcome. In her mind’s eye she saw the touching story already in print – tattered hero – the gracious lady – the age of Democracy.
The stage was laid and that dark, pale young man had only to watch and listen.
    ‘Ah, one of our dear heroes! My poor, brave man! A cup of tea, my dear,’ turning to William’s thunderstruck mother. ‘And he may sit down, may he not?’ She kept her
face well turned towards the sardonic-looking Mr Lewes. He must not miss a word or gesture. ‘How proud we are to do anything for our dear heroes! Wounded, perhaps? Ah, poor man!’
She floated across to him with a cup of tea and plied him with bread and butter and cake. William sat down meekly on a chair, looking rather pale. Mr Blank, whose philosophy was to take the goods
the gods gave and not look to the future, began to make a hearty meal. ‘Are you looking for work, my poor man?’ asked Mrs de Vere Carter, leaning forward in her chair.
    Her poor man replied with simple, manly directness that he ‘was dam’d if he was. See?’ Mr Lewes began to discuss The Drama with Robert. Mrs de Vere Carter raised her voice.
    ‘ How you must have suffered! Yes, there is suffering ingrained in your face. A piece of shrapnel? Ten inches square? Right in at one hip and out at the other? Oh, my poor man! How I feel for you. How all class distinctions vanish at such a time. How—’
    She stopped while Mr Blank drank his tea. In fact, all conversation ceased while Mr Blank drank his tea, just as conversation on a station ceases while a train passes through.
    Mrs Brown looked helplessly around her. When Mr Blank had eaten a plate of sandwiches, a plate of bread and butter, and half a cake, he rose slowly, keeping one hand over the pocket in which
reposed the silver ornaments.
    ‘Well ’m,’ he said, touching his cap. ‘Thank you kindly. I’ve ’ad a fine tea. I ’ave. A dam’ fine tea. An’ I’ll not forget yer
kindness to a pore ole soldier.’ Here he winked brazenly at William. ‘An’ good day ter you orl.’
    Mrs de Vere Carter floated out to the front door with him, and William followed as in a dream.
    Mrs Brown found her voice.
    ‘We’d better have the chair disinfected,’ she murmured to Ethel.
    Then Mrs de Vere Carter returned smiling to herself and eyeing the young editor surmisingly.
    ‘I witnessed a pretty scene the other day in a suburban drawing-room . . .’ It might begin like that.
    William followed the amazing figure round the house again to the library window. Here it turned to him with a friendly grin.

    ‘ARE YOU LOOKING FOR WORK, MY POOR MAN?’ ASKED MRS DE VERE CARTER.
    ‘I’m just goin’ to ’ave that look round upstairs now. See?’ he said. ‘An’ once more, yer don’t need ter say nothin’ to no one.
See?’
    With the familiar, beloved gesture he drew his old cap down over his eyes, and was gone.
    William wandered upstairs a few minutes later to find his visitor standing at the landing window, his pockets bulging.
    ‘I’m goin’ to try this ’ere window, young gent,’ he said in a quick, business-like voice. ‘I see yer pa coming in at the front gate. Give me a shove. Quick,
nar.’
    Mr Brown entered the drawing-room.
    ‘Mulroyd’s had his house burgled now,’ he said. ‘Every bit of his wife’s jewellery gone. They’ve got some clues, though. It’s a gang all right, and one
of them is a chap without ears. Grows his hair long to hide it. But it’s a clue. The police are hunting for him.’
    He looked in amazement at the horror-stricken faces before him. Mrs Brown sat down weakly.
    ‘Ethel, my smelling salts! They’re on the mantelpiece.’
    Robert grew