A Haddington Manifestation

A Haddington Manifestation

  R J Davin

  * * * * *

  A Haddington Manifestation

  Copyright © 2012 R J Davin

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  The information, views, opinions and visuals expressed in this publication are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect those of the publisher. The publisher disclaims any liabilities or responsibilities whatsoever for any damages, libel or liabilities arising directly or indirectly from the contents of this publication.

  A copy of this publication can be found in the National Library of Australia.

  ISBN:  978-1-742843-50-6 (pbk.)

  Published by Book Pal

  www.bookpal.com.au

  * * * * *

  Synopsis

  A Haddington Manifestation

  A Haddington Manifestation is a humorous work of fiction set in England during the 1890s and centres around the character of Lord Haddington who suffers from a terrible affliction of great clumsiness so much so that he is known in the area as ‘lord Clumsy.’

  The story is peopled with many eccentric characters, such as Haddington’s own brother known to all the locals as ‘Sir Repetitious,’ Garth the gardener who treats his trees as if they were children, a vicar with a weakness for the sport of boxing and a voice that can shatter rocks, and Dickie Dobkins who devises various schemes to take advantage of the Haddington Manifestation for financial gain, all of which fail miserably.

  Haddington has been seeking his long lost grandson for some time and now he has two claimants as guests in his house. One is Reginald Winterhaiming who the old man dislikes while the other is an American boxer named Two-Refs Lee with his manager. Haddington’s solicitor, Clarence who is a long suffering victim of ‘The Manifestation,’ is convinced that the former is genuine while the latter is a complete fraud.

  All the characters have to endure a great deal of trials and tribulations before reaching a happy ending.

  * * * * *

  Dedicated to little Woofie

  the real Miss Blackie

  * * * * *

  Chapter 1

  Lord Haddington sat back in his chair and puffed on his cigar while his solicitor, Clarence lit it for him.

  “Fine, fine.”

  “My own view, for what it’s worth, your Lordship, is that the next fellow is the best possibility of the whole lot.” Said Clarence as he returned to his seat.

  “I certainly hope so, old man, the pack we’ve seen this week must be the greatest bunch of frauds and charlatans it has ever been my misfortune to encounter.”

  “It did bring back memories, Your Lordship, of your father and the many family conferences that I attended.”

  “A dastardly bunch.”

  “The family, Your Lordship?” Clarence smiled mirthlessly.

  Lord Haddington had swung his swivel chair around a little to drop the ash of his cigar into an ashtray, now, without apparently hearing the question he swung back and managed to knock over a bottle of whisky sitting on his desk. Both he and Clarence were reaching down when they knocked their heads together with the bottle landing on Clarence’s foot at the same time.

  “I am sorry, old chap.” Lord Haddington was up on his feet in an instant and was patting him on the shoulder, but he wasn’t watching his cigar which came into contact with the flesh of Clarence’s hand.

  Clarence was dancing about the room trying to ease the pain of three spots when Gilmore, the butler showed a neatly dressed young man in. He stood watching the antics of Clarence in haughty silence.

  “This is the young man I told you about, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence as he moved as far from Haddington’s desk as he could. “Mr Reginald Winterhaiming, Lord Haddington.”

  “How do you do, Your Lordship.” Winterhaiming came across the room with an outstretched hand.

  “How d’y do.” Haddington shook it limply and took the cigar from his mouth and inadvertently dropped ash on the sleeve of the newcomer’s coat, who brushed it off quickly as he moved away from Haddington and sat down to face him.

  “I’m sure you won’t mind if His Lordship asks you a few questions?”

  “How tiresome.”

  “Pardon?” Asked Haddington.

  “Is it absolutely necessary?”

  “I should think it is.” Said Haddington irritably. “There is a great deal of money at stake here.”

  “How tiresome.”

  “What was that?”

  “Money is so tiresome.”

  “Who is this fool?” Demanded Haddington of Clarence.

  “Now, now, Your Lordship,” soothed Clarence, “you must not get too excited.”

  “He’s not going to be ill is he?” Asked Winterhaiming. “Illness is so tiresome.”

  “Get him out of here.” Said a grim Haddington, “Before I take his life.”

  “Morbid talk is so tiresome.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Now, now, Your Lordship, I’ll handle this. May I ask, sir, where were you born?”

  “In the United States of America.”

  “The name of your parents?”

  “They had the misfortune of departing this world soon after my birth.”

  “Showed some good sense.” Muttered Haddington.

  “But you have a locket with their likenesses?”

  “I do.”

  “May we see it?”

  “Of course.” He removed a small piece of jewellery from his pocket, opened it and handed it across to Clarence. The two older men looked over the faded photos in silence.

  “There is a resemblance.” Said Clarence.

  “Your eyes must be better than mine.” Said Lord Haddington peevishly.

  “The photos are quite old.” Said Winterhaiming.

  “I can see that.”

  “Regardless of their age, Mr Winterhaiming, there is a striking resemblance,” said Clarence handing the locket back to the young man, “I’m sure you’ll agree, Your Lordship?”

  “Hmmm.” Haddington sat down with a sour expression on his face as he puffed on his cigar. Clarence asked the young man a few more questions while Haddington, who had lost interest, sat back in his chair in a cloud of smoke.

  “If you look over to that wall,” said Clarence to Winterhaiming, “you can see a portrait painted of your mother when she was a young girl.”

  The young man got to his feet with a languid air and crossed the room to stand gazing up.

  ‘So that was dear mama,” he said with a bored look on his face.

  “Tiresome, I suppose.” Came the mumble of Haddington through the cloud of smoke.

  “The frame is beautiful.” Said Winterhaiming raising a small pair of glasses and holding them to his eyes.

  “It was designed by an Italian, a great artist in his day.” Said Clarence.

  “Bah.” Spluttered Haddington. “A damn foreigner and an over-priced foreigner at that.”

  “Now, Your Lordship.”

  “Thievery, that’s what it was, thievery.”

  “Oh, dear me,” sighed Winterhaiming, “you gentlemen are not going to argue about money are you? Arguing about money is so tiresome.”

  “What!” Haddington’s angry face came looming out of the smoke.

  “Now, now, Your Lordship.” Soothed Clarence.

  “Are you seriously suggesting that this mindless popinjay is my long lost grandson, you must be out of your mind?”

  “All the evidence does seem to lean that way, Your Lordship.”

  �
€œHang the evidence.”

  “Morbid talk about death is so tiresome.” Sighed Winterhaiming as he fell exhausted into the nearest chair.

  “How do you feel about morbid actions that lead to death?” Asked Haddington as he picked up the nearest bottle and came around the desk menacingly.

  “Mr Winterhaiming has a bad heart, Your Lordship, you’ll frighten him.”

  “How tiresome.” Said an unconcerned Winterhaiming.

  “Step aside, Clarence, unless you’re offering yourself for me to practice my morbid actions.”

  “Your Lordship, try to control yourself.” Clarence put himself between Haddington who was approaching grimly, and Winterhaiming who sat watching with a languid eye, he appeared to be perilously close to falling asleep.

  Suddenly there was the sound of shattering glass from the next room, and a scream of pain.

  “What the deuce?” Said Haddington as he walked toward the door, managing to step on Clarence’s foot.

  “Ouch!”

  “Do try and stop getting in people’s way, Clarence, it’s a nasty failing of yours.”

  “Sorry, Your Lordship.”

  “Here, take this.” With his back to Clarence he reached back to hand him the bottle, Clarence wasn’t quick enough to grab it as Haddington dropped it on his other foot.

  Haddington reached the double doors and swung both of them open.

  “What the devil do you think you’re up to?” He demanded. A tall man stood near one of the walls in the stance of a boxer, a smaller man stood beside him apparently holding his coat, the butler lay unconscious on the floor under a broken chandelier.

  “You own this place?” Demanded the smaller man.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Said Haddington as he crossed the room giving the butler a vacant glance.

  “These walls, buddy, poor composition.”

  “Really?”

  “I said to my boy here, poor composition, didn’t I?” The boy nodded.

  “It might interest you to know, my friend, these walls are over four hundred years old.”

  “Well, that explains it, don’t it, Two-Refs?”

  “It sure does, Smokey.”

  “Your Lordship,” said Clarence with concern as he rushed to the side of the prone butler, “they’ve killed Gilmore.”

  “That’s impossible.” Said Haddington as he stepped forward to look at the wall directly in front of the tall man.

  “He’s dead I tell you.”

  “Place a bottle of brandy within sniffing distance.” Said Haddington helpfully.

  “Winterhaiming,” called Clarence through the doors to the seated young man, “give me a hand here.”

  “Couldn’t you drag the fellow in here by my chair?”

  “Never mind.” Clarence got to his feet and went back in to the room to pour a drink.

  “Did you do this?” Haddington pointed to two dents in his wall.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I did.” Smiled the tall man.

  “With what?”

  “These.” He held up his clenched fists.

  “Your fists?”

  “That’s right,” said the smaller man, “those fists could demolish a place like this, couldn’t they, Two-Refs?”

  “Easy.” Smiled Two-Refs.

  “I wish you’d gotten the owner’s permission before you began to do so.”

  “Didn’t I say these English have got a sense of humour, Two-Refs, didn’t I say that.”

  “Yes, Smokey, you did.”

  “Who are you chaps?”

  “Oh, pardon us, pal,” the smaller man put his hand to his bowler hat and raised it slightly above his head, “I’m Smokey Cloud….”

  “Smokey Cloud?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How very droll.”

  “And this is my boy ‘Two-Refs Lee.”

  “Hi, ya.” Lee raised his hand.

  “You mean he’s your son?”

  “Naw, naw, you English you always get it wrong.”

  “Do we?”

  “Yeah. Two-Refs is the next heavyweight champion of the world, and I have the great privilege to be his manager.”

  “You mean he’s a pugilist?”

  “Yeah, you got it.”

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Smokey reckons I’m the grandson of some old goat who lives in these parts.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you might know him, Clem Haddleston.” Said Two-Refs.”

  “Lord Haddleston.” Put in Cloud helpfully.

  “Lord Haddington, actually.”Said Haddington.

  “Hey, you know this Lord character?”

  “You pair of ignorant fools,” said Clarence angrily, “you’re talking to Lord Haddington.”

  “Ya don’t say.” Smiled Cloud.

  “Glad to meet ya, Lord.” Said Lee as he stepped forward to shake his hand.

  “You mean I was talking to royalty and didn’t know it?”

  “Clarence, did you know about Mr Cloud and his….Mr Lee?”

  “I must apologise, Your Lordship, I did know about them but I hadn’t expected them for some days, I really don’t consider Mr Lee’s claim too seriously.”

  “Why not?” Demanded Cloud, “Two-Refs got a locket with a picture of his mother and a lock of her hair.”

  “Have you?” Asked Haddington.

  “Of course, would you like to see it?”

  “Please.”

  Lee took the locket out of his pocket and gave it to Haddington who looked at it carefully. “I say, there is a resemblance, how long have you had it?”

  “Smokey and me got it from the orphanage where I grew up, we went there….”

  “We had to get all the boy’s records, and his folks didn’t have ‘em all.”Broke in Cloud.

  “I’ve written to your adopted parents many times, Mr Lee, but so far I’ve not received one reply.” Said Clarence helping the Bulter to his feet.

  “That ain’t to be wondered at,” said Cloud, “They both can’t read or write.”

  “How am I to check your story then?”

  “Two-Refs can supply you with every detail, can’t you, Two-Refs?”

  “I sure can.”

  “Which orphanage did your parents adopt you from?”

  “Miss Lucy Harbingers’ Home for the Young.” Said Lee proudly.

  “And the address of this establishment?”

  “Clancy Street, Chicago, Illinois.”

  “I’ll send a telegram off to her.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Said Cloud.

  “Why not?”

  “She ain’t there no more.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s dead now, I mean she was an old dame even when Two-Refs was a boy……”

  “Surely there must be some records?”

  “Well, Miss Harbinger had a great heart, she ran a place for babies that would bring a tear to the eye of a statue, but when it came to records she…..” Cloud shrugged his shoulders.

  “She lacked organisation?” Asked Haddington.

  “Let’s just say she gave workers in the city records some sleepless nights.”

  “She must have had some method of retaining documents?”

  “Two shoe boxes over a stove.”

  “Sometimes three.” Said Lee.

  “What about a birth certificate?”

  “Miss Lucy told me once she did have it.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “It got burned, fell onto the stove, they were always doing that, especially around winter time.”

  “Well, unless you can provide some evidence,” said Clarence, “I’m afraid you have no case.”

  “I think I’m the one to decide that.” Said Haddington.

  “But, Your Lordship……”

  “Enough, Clarence, I want these gentlemen to stay for lunch.” Haddington stepped to the door, passing Gilmore who was rubbing a sore head and draining a glass handed to him by Clarence. “S
ee to that will you, Gilmore.”

  “Yes, Your Lordship.” Replied Gilmore calmly.

  “And do stop making a fuss.” Snapped Haddington.

  “Yes, Your Lordship.”

  “He does have a nasty bump, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence.

  “Stop catering to his whims, Clarence,” Haddington spun on his heel, “besides which he has the best medicine in his hand,” Gilmore smiled as he took another sip.

  “It’s only water.” Said Clarence and the smile froze on the servant’s face.

  “Is something wrong?” Asked Haddington.

  “I’ve been seriously injured, Your Lordship.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “My taste buds have been destroyed.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “This water tastes like gin, sir.”

  “That’s because it is gin.”

  “I filled the glass from the water decanter, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence.

  “Do I look foolish enough to have anything to do with filthy stuff like water?” Haddington snapped as he stomped from the room. “See to the extra places at lunch, Gilmore.”

  “I will, sir.” He drained the last drops in the bottom of the glass.

  “Gin in the water decanter,” muttered Clarence to himself as he followed Haddington, “what’s in the gin decanter, I wonder?”

  “Whisky.” Said Haddington, “you still here,” he said as he caught sight of Winterhaiming, “thought you’d find it too tiresome to remain.”

  “Surely you intend him to stay to lunch, Your Lordship?” Asked Clarence.

  “What!”

  “Food is so tiresome.”

  “There you are, the poor lad’s too exhausted to eat, I wouldn’t dream of forcing our dreary food on him.”

  “Of course hunger is far more tiresome than food.” Said Winterhaiming. Haddington moaned.

  “Maybe its food you won’t like.” Said Lee as he and Cloud came strolling into the room.

  “There are certain kinds of food that are not congenial to my nature.”

  “That’s what we’re having.” Said Haddington hopefully.

  “What are we having, Your Lordship?” Asked Clarence.

  “You heard what the boy said, Clarence, we’re having the kinds of food that he would find most distasteful.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned anything yet.”

  “Of course he has, he said…..he said…..” Haddington looked at Winterhaiming with raised eyebrows.

  “Well, stewed octopus, for one.”

  “There you are, Clarence, stewed octopus.”

  “We’re having stewed octopus for lunch?”

  “Our first course.”

  “I don’t know, Your Lordship.” Lee was shaking his head.

  “And snails, oh my Heavens I dislike snails.”

  “Our second course.”

  “Hey,” said a worried Cloud, “I hope you’re not going to say our third course is caterpillars?”

  “Mr Winterhaiming?” Asked Haddington.

  “I don’t rightly know, I’ve never tasted caterpillars before, I don’t mind trying.”

  “It’s not our third course.” Said Haddington flatly.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Cloud to Lee, “next they’ll be offering us cockroaches and rats.”

  “How does Mr Winterhaiming feel about that?” Smiled Haddington.

  “Haw, haw,” laughed Winterhaiming and everyone in the room stood in awed silence that such a sound was laughter, “I do believe Your Lordship is pulling my leg.”

  “That’s mighty dangerous, it’s liable to fall off.” Said Cloud.

  “Haw, haw.”

  “Now if someone were to put a rope around his neck, I might be tempted to pull that.”

  “Haw, haw.”

  “It’s just His Lordship’s little joke,” said Clarence to Winterhaiming, “I’m sure he’d be only too pleased to have you stay for lunch.”

  “Hmphh.” Snorted Haddington.

  “I should certainly hate to disappoint His Lordship.”

  “It would be a cruel blow but I’m sure I’ll recover.”

  “I think Mr Winterhaiming should stay.” Said Clarence.

  “Do you?” Asked a surprised Haddington.

  “I do, Your Lordship.” Answered Clarence firmly, he was determined that Haddington should be able to compare Winterhaiming with the two ruffians, he felt certain that there would be no doubt of the identity of the real heir, a decision he had reached already.

  “I would be honoured to accept your invitation, Your Lordship.” Said Winterhaiming. Haddington waved his hand airily as he poured himself a drink.

  “I’d like one of those.” Said Cloud.

  “What about Two-Refs?”

  “Yes, thanks.” He smiled.

  “No, you’re in training.”

  “Aw.” Lee’s face fell.

  “Training?” Asked Winterhaiming.

  “You’ve not been introduced have you?” Said Clarence. “This gentleman is Mr Cloud.”

  “Howdy…..” Cloud came walking over to shake his hand.

  “How tiresome.” Said Winterhaiming taking the hand limply.

  “Mr Tiresome.” Nodded Cloud.

  “He got the name right first time.” Said Haddington into his glass.

  “Just call me Smokey.”

  “Strange state for a chap to be in, haw, haw.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Said Cloud as he walked over to Haddington to get his drink, completely missing the joke.

  “I’m Two-Refs, Two-Refs Lee.” Lee stepped forward to grab Winterhaiming’s hand and proceeded to squash the life out of it.

  “The future heavyweight champeen of the world,” said Cloud, “your health.” He touched glasses with Haddington and they both took a drink.

  Winterhaiming’s face was turning bright red, his eyes were beginning to bulge alarmingly, all feeling in his right hand was beginning to fade as the grinning oaf responsible was looking with a yearning expression at the drink in Cloud’s hand.

  “I say.” Said Clarence coming to Winterhaiming’s rescue.

  “This is good stuff.” Said Cloud as he held his empty glass out for a refill.

  “I should hope so.”

  “I say, sir, let go.” Clarence had a grip on Lee’s wrist.

  “Oh, sorry, pal, I guess I don’t know my own strength.” He let go and as he did so Winterhaiming brought his cigarette in his left hand into contact with Clarence’s hand.

  The solicitor stepped back and did a short dance in the middle of the room.

  “Do stop fussing, Clarence,” said Haddington as he placed his empty glass down and came walking across the room.

  “Luncheon is served, Your Lordship.” Said Gilmore standing at the door.

  “Come along everybody.” Smiled Haddington.

  “Stewed octopus, ugh.” Cloud made a face as he followed along.

  Clarence was still in a daze from pain and managed to step back in Haddington’s way, who proceeded to stand on his foot.

  “Why in the name of God do you persist in getting in people’s way, will you tell me that, sir?” Demanded an angry Haddington not bothering to look back. “Come along, gentlemen.” He took Lee on one arm and Cloud on the other.

  “I ain’t exactly partial to stewed octopus, Your Lordship.” Said Cloud.

  “I’m sure we can dig something up for you, old man.” Smiled Haddington.

  “I’d sure appreciate that, like what?”

  “Hmm…..baked caterpillar, perhaps?”

  “Oh, that’d be nice.” He made a face,

  “Are you alright, sir?” Clarence glanced up from rubbing his foot to see Winterhaiming bearing down on him with another lit cigarette, to the solicitor he seemed to be looking for a part of his flesh that had not been singed by a cigarette that day.

  “No need to worry, Mr Winterhaiming, I’m quite alright.”

  “Let me give you….oh, I am sorry.”

  “Quite al
right, I assure you.” Clarence rubbed the lobe of his ear where the cigarette had just touched him.

  “I feel badly about this,” he took Clarence’s elbow to try and help him to his feet, “oh, I say, I’m frightfully sorry…….”

  “Will you put that damn thing out before I’m burnt to a cinder.” Screamed Clarence as he rubbed a new wound on his wrist.

  “Oh, I say……” Winterhaiming stepped back in alarm and dropped the cigarette on the floor. “You’re not going to become physical, oh dear me, how tiresome.”

  “Mr Winterhaiming, do be careful.” The young man stepped back to the wall and dislodged a large sword hanging there, it came down to whack Clarence on the head with the flat of its blade, he fell to the floor and managed to put his hand on the lit cigarette. He was pleading with Winterhaiming to stand back when Gilmore came in.

  “Gilmore,” he whispered into his ear as the servant helped him to his feet, “get this maniac out of here before he kills me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After a calm Gilmore had led an equally relaxed Winterhaiming from the room Clarence stood looking up at the painting of Haddington’s long dead daughter.

  “Can there possibly be any doubt of the parentage of that maniac?” He turned around and was about to walk away as he rubbed his wounds. The excitement had been too much for the screw holding the painting to the wall, it gave away and the painting fell on Clarence.

  It was some time later after the servants had ministered to his wounds that Clarence hobbled into the dining room where Haddington and his guests were busily eating away.

  “Good God, Clarence,” said Haddington wiping a few crumbs from his lips with a serviette, “not another accident?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir.” He lowered himself gingerly into a seat and Gilmore came forward to place a plate of food before him.

  “In all my years I have not encountered a fellow so prone to accidents.”

  “I sympathise with you completely, Lord Haddington, they can be so tiresome.” Said Winterhaiming.

  “Oh?”

  “I had a manservant when I was up at Oxford, there wasn’t one day that would pass that he wasn’t involved in one or two accidents.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Mumbled Clarence.

  “What became of him?” Asked Haddington.

  “Oh, he was killed.” Said Winterhaiming calmly, “his hearing was impaired in an accident and one day he stepped in front of a baker’s cart, killed instantly.”

  “Probably threw himself under it.” Said Clarence under his breath.

  “Did you say something, Clarence?”

  “I was just remarking on the fact you were drinking tea, Your Lordship.”

  “Yes, you see, Clarence, I’ve taken your advice.” Haddington turned to look at Lee and Cloud as he poured himself another cup of tea. “Clarence seems to think that alcohol befuddles the brain, slows down the reasoning process.”

  “So true, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Cloud, “the way I see it, alcohol separates the men from the boys, I always found alcohol clears the head.”

  “Excessive alcohol certainly does no such thing.” Said Clarence.

  “It quickens the brain, you enjoy life more.”

  “Gives you courage, too.” Said Lee.

  “Of course it does.” Agreed Cloud.

  “It turns grown men into dangerous buffoons.” Said Clarence, “makes responsible men do irresponsible things.”

  “Naw, that ain’t so.” Said Cloud.

  “Smokey always has a good time.”

  “Of course I do, and I act responsible as well.”

  “Remember that time, Smoke,” chuckled Lee, “you stole the policeman’s hat and stole that streetcar, the judge said……”

  “Eat your food, Two-Refs.” Said Cloud grimly.

  “I am eating it.”

  “Well, fill your mouth.”

  “You said it was wrong to speak with a full mouth.”

  “I said it was wrong to eat with an empty mouth, especially in your case.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Lee was bringing a fork of food to his mouth, “eh?”

  “Dear me,” said Winterhaiming, “I hope we’re not about to have a lecture on temperance, lectures are so tiresome.”

  “Why does he keep saying his own name?” Wondered Cloud to Lee who had a perplexed expression as he tried to work out what Cloud had said about eating with an empty mouth.

  “There’s to be no lecture on temperance, Mr Winterhaiming, I can assure you, Lord Haddington has the good sense to recognise the peril of intoxication.”

  “Makes me lose my memory, you see.”

  “Oh, how tiresome.”

  “Only while I’m under the influence, one day I found myself in Brighton, I was in a terrible mess, not a shilling to my name, I couldn’t remember a thing, I must have had a wonderful time just the same, I slept for three days, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship, you did.”

  “How tiresome.”

  “Mr Lee?” Asked Haddington suddenly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your name, Two-Refs, how did you get it?”

  “It’s just a nick-name.”

  “I gathered that, but where does it come from?”

  “He got it early in his fighting career.” Said Cloud.

  “How?”

  “In my first fight I had a near-sighted referee, he used to enjoy seeing some pug get his brains punched out, so he used to get too close. I accidentally knocked him out.”

  “A Haddington manifestation.” Said Haddington to Clarence.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing, nothing, Mr Lee, go on.”

  “That’s how I got my name.”

  “From your first fight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They had to bring a second referee, did they?”

  “You got it.”

  “And the name struck from that one fight?”

  “Well,” said Cloud, “not just the one fight exactly.”

  “Oh, no.” Said Lee.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How many fights you had, champ?” Asked Cloud.

  “Twenty-four, Smoke, you know that.”

  “How many times did you knock out the ref?”

  “Twenty-five times.”

  “Twenty-five times?” Asked Haddington in surprise.

  “It got to the point,” said Cloud, “when a ref wouldn’t get into the ring with Two-Refs.”

  “They used to stand outside the ropes, Mr Coleman he tried that.”

  “Tell ‘em what you did, Two-Refs.”

  “I knocked him out twice.”

  “In the same fight.” Said Cloud.

  “What about your opponent?” Asked Haddington.

  “He knocked him out too.”

  “And his two seconds.” Said Lee.

  “Who else, Two-Refs?”

  “Aw, Smoke.”

  “Go on, tell ‘em.” Said Cloud. But Lee shook his head shyly. “He knocked me out as well.”

  “How did he manage that?” Asked Clarence.

  “When my boy goes wild, he goes wild.”

  “How tiresome.” Said a bored Winterhaiming.

  “Yeah, you’re right, it was very tiring, you had to rest for a week, didn’t you, Two-Refs?” Lee nodded, “the fight game takes a lot of stamina, you hit the nail right on the head there, Mr…Mr Tiresome.”

  “Winterhaiming.” Corrected Clarence.

  “Pardon?” Asked Cloud.

  “I don’t doubt Mr Lee has stamina,” said Clarence, “but it does sound as though his accuracy leaves something to be desired.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Cloud belligerently, “how many fights did you win by knock-outs, Two-Refs?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “How many did you lose””

  “Three.”

  “I ask you fellahs, if that ain’t a good record, I tell you this boy wi
ll be world champion one day.”

  “All this talk is so tiresome,” said a very bored Winterhaiming, “if you’re not talking about temperance, a most un-English topic of conversation, you’re talking about punching people’s brains out, certainly no topic for a gentleman.”

  “I meant no offence, Mr Tiresome.”

  “Winterhaiming.” Put in Clarence.

  “Yeah, so you said.” Replied a puzzled Cloud.

  “What you fail to understand, Winterhaiming,” said Haddington as he took a drink of his tea, “is that certain topics interest us living human beings, among them temperance and bashing people’s brains out, two topics that I find absolutely fascinating……”

  “Hello, hello, hello.” Came a faint voice from somewhere down one of the halls leading into the room.

  “Ain’t it amazing, the way echoes carry in this place?” Smiled Cloud.

  “Oh, no.” Haddington lowered his head onto the table and put his hands to his ears.

  “Where is the fellow, well? Speak up man, where is he. Speak, open your mouth, haven’t you got a tongue, eh, a tongue, speak.” Came the voice.

  “Oh, no.” Groaned Haddington.

  “Open your mouth, sir, say something. Speak, try, sir, speak.” The voice was becoming angry.

  “Gilmore.” Said Haddington.

  “Sir?” The servant miraculously appeared at his elbow.

  “Speak, use you tongue.” The voice continued, “use your tongue, you do know the Queen’s English?”

  “Sir Rupert is here, Gilmore.”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “He’s talking to one of the suits of armour again, Gilmore.”

  “I believe he is, sir.”

  “Go to his assistance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Gilmore.” The servant hadn’t moved.

  “I believed you wanted this, sir.” He placed a bottle of whisky at his elbow.

  “I believe I did. Thank you, Gilmore.”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “A tongue, sir, you know what a tongue is, I take it, and wipe that hideous grin from your foul face. A wash, sir, that’s what would clean your face, a wash.”

  “Oh, no.” Haddington poured a glass of drink and drained it in one swallow.

  “May I?” Asked Clarence and Haddington passed him the bottle silently.

  “Have we missed something?”Asked Cloud.

  “Lord Haddington’s brother has just arrived.”

  “For lunch?”

  “For the month.” Said Clarence.

  “Oh, no.” Haddington refilled his glass.

  “This way, sir.” Gilmore showed a short, plump man into the room, he wore thick glasses perched on a large, red nose.

  “Frightfully sorry for being late, late, old boy, so sorry. Yes, you see, I’m late.” He was looking at his pocket watch, “I’m late.” He sat down.

  “You’re late, Sir Rupert?” Asked Clarence.

  “Am I? Dear me, frightfully sorry, old chap. Yes, I’m late alright.”

  “We know you’re late.” Said Haddington testily.

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re late.”

  “Wonderful isn’t it?” Asked Sir Rupert of the room. “I generously come here, I come here out of the generosity of my heart to bring a little good cheer and I’m a couple of minutes late, a couple of minutes mind you and my brother turns on me, he turns on me, my own brother.”

  “For Heaven’s sake.” Mumbled Haddington as he poured himself another drink.

  “Never fails, it never fails, an argument is going against him, he’s losing an argument, and he has to bring religion into it, religion.”

  “A cup of tea, Sir Rupert?” Asked Clarence.

  “That’s right you turn on me too, go on, the whole room turn on me, well, Clemmie, go on turn your minions onto me.”

  “I’d rather turn my hounds lose on you.” Mumbled Haddington.

  “That’s right, that’s right, drunken sot, mumble your obscenities, go on, mumble them, drunken sot.” He turned to Clarence with a cigar in his hand.“Got a light, old boy, got a light. I need a light for my cigar, have you got a light.”

  “For God’s sake someone give him a light.” Said Haddington.

  “I’m doing so, Your Lordship.”

  “Good, good.” He puffed on the cigar, “good, good. How are you, old boy?” He asked Clarence with a pleasant smile.

  “Fine, Sir Rupert.”

  “And my brother, still the same foul-tempered sot is he?” He turned to Haddington with a smile on his face as if his brother had not heard anything said before. “How are you, Clemmie, fine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re fine?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Good, good, you’re fine then?”

  “I’m fine, do you hear me, I’m fine.” Shouted Haddington.

  “Dear me, that temper, Clemmie, that temper, it’ll get you into trouble some day, you mark my words, that temper, it’s a bad temper.”

  “It will be worth it to hang if I can just strangle you.”

  “Morbid, Clemmie, that’s morbid talk, it’s not good for you to talk so morbidly. Clarence, you’re supposed to be a good influence on him.”

  “I try, Sir Rupert.”

  “Not enough, Clarence, you don’t try enough, you should try harder, you don’t try enough, perhaps you should be replaced.”

  “Oh, no.” Groaned Haddington.

  “I only meant it as a joke, Clemmie, it was only a joke, you know, old boy, a joke.”

  “Alright, Rupert, it was a joke.”

  “What was?”

  “What you just said.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What I just said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just a joke?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” He scratched his chin for a second then turned to Clarence. “What did I just say?”

  “A joke, Sir Rupert.”

  “A joke? Me?”

  “Yes, Sir Rupert.”

  “Well, I’ll be… a joke. Haw, haw.”

  “Haw, haw.” Joined in Winterhaiming.

  “What in creation is that?” Asked a startled Sir Rupert.

  “Another joke.” Mumbled Haddington.

  “These are Lord Haddington’s guests…” Began Clarence.

  “Aha, food.” Said Sir Rupert as he finally noticed a plate of food at his elbow, he rubbed his hands gleefully and took up his knife and fork. “Food, dear me, I am hungry.” He took a mouthful. “It’s delicious, what is it?”

  “Stewed octopus.” Said Cloud.

  “Hmm, I love stewed octopus.” He munched heartily.

  “I thought you said you were allergic to seafood?” Said Haddington as he poured himself another drink.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes.”

  “By Jove, Clemmie, you’re right, I only have to take one taste of seafood of any kind and I become violently sick, violently so. I disgorge everything, make a nasty mess.”

  “Sir Rupert….” Clarence pulled a face as he hesitated to take a mouthful of food from his plate.

  “Violently sick, hideous business, disgorging undigested food, hideous.”

  “It’s mutton, sir.” Said Gilmore standing stiffly with a blank face just behind Lord Haddington’s chair.

  “What is?”

  “On your plate, sir.”

  “Mutton?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then why in Heaven’s name did you tell me it was stewed octopus?” Demanded Sir Rupert of Gilmore. “I don’t like that, Clemmie, I don’t like a servant with a sense of humour, they’re apt to laugh at you behind your back. Senses of humour do that, you know, vile things they are.”

  “Gilmore!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Are you laughing behind my back?”

  “No, sir.” His fa
ce continued to be blank.

  “Do you have a sense of humour?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If he had,” said Clarence half to himself, “he’d have laughed himself to death years ago.”

  “You’re not to do it again, do you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll not have it.”

  “No, sir.”

  “If I catch one servant in this house with anything as perverted as a sense of humour, I’ll have him thrashed within an inch of his life and discharge him immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It was me,” said Cloud, “I said we’ve got stewed octopus.”

  “The fellow did it again,” said Sir Rupert looking over his shoulder at Gilmore, “and I didn’t even see his mouth move.”

  “It wasn’t Gilmore, Rupert, it was Mr Cloud.”

  “Mr Cloud?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr Cloud spoke did he?”

  “Yes, Rupert.”

  Sir Rupert looked at him for a second and then burst into laughter. “Haw, haw,” he wiped tears from his eyes, “that takes me back, Clemmie, really takes me back. Remember old Nanny? Remember her Mr Moon in the sky, and Mr Mountain and Mr Island?”

  “Yes, Rupert.”

  “Clouds do not talk, old chap, they drop rain and blot out the sun, that’s their purpose in life, not to talk; people talk, Clemmie, but not clouds, clouds never talk. No mouth, you see, just white fluff.”

  “I was referring to one of my guests…..”

  “Guests, guests, you have guests, Clemmie? Why wasn’t I told you had guests, haven’t you got a tongue, couldn’t you use your tongue to tell me you had guests? It’s ill bred, it’s low not to have told me you had guests. I cannot abide bad manners, it’s a symptom of our times this upsurge of bad manners…..”

  “Sir Rupert…..”

  “Shut up, Clarence. Well, Clemmie, what’s your excuse, well, speak up, you have none, have you.” Haddington sat calmly sipping his drink looking at his brother with hooded eyes. “Why must I find out everything for myself, why are you so secretive?”

  “It’s a nasty habit of mine.”

  “A vile habit, Clemmie.”

  “I never could keep anything from you, Rupert.”

  “You most certainly could not, Clemmie,” he turned to Clarence, “come along, Clarence, where are your manners? Introduce me to the chaps.”

  “This is Mr Winterhaiming, Mr Cloud and Mr Lee.”

  “Just call me Smokey.”

  “Smokey, Smokey.” Sir Rupert pondered over that for a second or two then burst into laughter, “haw, haw, Smokey Cloud, a cloud, a smokey cloud, haw, haw.”

  “Yeah, you got it.” Cloud shrugged his shoulders, he’d never regarded it as all that amusing.

  “I knew a Mr Furnace once, a Fiery Furnace, haw, haw, he burnt my hand, haw, haw.”

  “Haw, haw.” Joined in Winterhaiming.

  “What the devil was that?” Asked a startled Sir Rupert.

  “This F. Furnace,” asked Clarence, “his last name didn’t happen to be Haddington by any chance?”

  “No, just Furnace.” He turned to Haddington. “I will say this for you, Clemmie, you know how to manage your servants. You had that Gilmore shaking in his boots, he cringed at your reprimands and jumped to obey your commands.”

  “Our Gilmore?” Asked Clarence in surprise.

  “Now, my servants,” Sir Rupert shook his head sadly, “ignore me they do, disobey orders, leave their bandages laying about everywhere, suffer mysterious wounds and abrasions that refuse to heal.”

  “Yes.” Said Clarence.

  “I rule my servants with an iron hand.” Said Haddington, and believed it.

  “Speaking of servants, Clemmie, I came across your new coloured servant.”

  “I have no coloured servant.”

  “Nonsense, I was talking to him in the hall.”

  “You were talking to a suit of armour.”

  “You mean you have the fellow walking about in a suit of armour?” He shook his head. “Mother always said you were eccentric.”

  “How is your good lady wife, Sir Rupert?” Asked Clarence.

  “She’s excellent, excellent, the wound is healing marvellously.”

  “Wound?”

  “Yes, her wrist, remember, it was badly sprained.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes, the last time you and Clemmie came for a visit.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember.” Said Clarence as he looked across at Haddington who was taking another sip of his drink.

  The luncheon passed in a relaxed atmosphere as Lee went through the origin of his nick-name again and Cloud talked about the greats of boxing he’d either known or watched in action.

  They woke up Winterhaiming and made their way out into the garden to sit in the afternoon sun.

  “Garth!” Called Haddington and a small, gnarled man came crawling out from the surrounding trees.

  “What?” He stood with a sour face as he looked with ill-concealed suspicion from one to the other of the watching figures.”

  “What, Your Lordship.” Said Clarence.

  “If you want to call me that,” said Garth, with a shrug of his shoulders, “that’s your affair; I don’t stand much for formalities.”

  “I meant that you should address Lord Haddington as Your Lordship.”

  “Why?”

  “Must I give you a lesson on manners every time you open your mouth?”Asked Clarence.

  “He’s a horrid little chap, isn’t he?” Asked Sir Rupert of Winterhaiming, “He thinks he owns those confounded trees, he won’t let me come within an inch of them?”

  “Your presence means death to my lovelies.” Snarled Garth.

  “Will you listen to the fellow? Just how many of your confounded trees have I harmed?

  “You mean this week?”

  “If my gardener spoke to me….” Began Sir Rupert.

  “Are you trying to tell me that jungle patch you call a garden actually has a gardener.”

  “Well, I never…….I never……”

  “Mr Garth,” said Clarence grimly, “there are times……”

  “Have you two gentlemen finished harassing my gardener?” Demanded Haddington angrily, then turned with a sweet expression to Garth, “tell me, Garth, how is that son of yours coming along?”

  “Not good.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “He’s broken his mother’s heart, he has, his condition is serious.”

  “Oh, dear me.”

  “There’s hope, of course.”

  “How very true.”

  “Is he ill?” Asked Cloud.

  “Of course he’s ill, why the hell would I be talking like this if he wasn’t?”

  “What’s his illness?” Asked Lee.

  “He doesn’t like trees.”

  “He doesn’t like trees?”

  “Haw, haw.” Laughed Winterhaiming.

  “If you’re laughing, mister, it’s not funny.” Said an angry Garth.

  “Surely it’s not a serious malady?” Asked Winterhaiming.

  “Do you know a gardener who doesn’t like trees?”

  “My gardener….” Began Sir Rupert.

  “I mean a real gardener, someone who can tell the difference between a wooden door and a flower.”

  “He made one mistake.” Said Sir Rupert to Lee and Cloud.

  “Tell them how old your son is, Garth.” Said Clarence.

  “He’s twenty…..”

  “He must know his own mind.” Said Winterhaiming.

  “….months old.”

  “He might want to be a lawyer or a judge or something when he grows up.”Smiled Cloud.

  “He’ll not shame my name, no, sir, if he dared lower himself to such a level, I’d cut him off without a penny.”

  “You mean a twig.” Murmured Clarence.

  “What was that?”

  “For Heaven’s sake,” said Clar
ence, “this mania for trees is unbelievable. Do you know,” he said to Lee and Cloud, “he sleeps in them at night?”

  “That is a load of rubbish, I slept in Michael for one night, ‘cause he was ill.”

  “Michael?” Asked Cloud.

  “Oh, yes,” said Clarence, “he’s got names for all of them, Michael, Edward, Rupert…..”

  “Rupert?”

  “He’s a troublesome chap,” said Garth, “he won’t grow properly, drops branches on people when they walk under him.”

  “That seems appropriate.” Said Clarence.

  “I thought so.”

  “How are the….the trees, Garth?” Asked Haddington.

  “They’re in excellent health, provided no nuisance runs amok in ‘em like last week.” He looked pointedly at Sir Rupert. The old man sat looking out across the trees with an innocent expression.

  “Did they ever discover the culprit, Garth?” Asked Clarence.

  “They did not.”

  “What happened?” Asked Cloud.

  “Garth suffered some loss, didn’t you?”

  “I did. Five wounded.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “The way I see it,” said Garth with a grim expression, “some overgrown, blundering elephant escaped from a circus, came over to my trees and proceeded to kick the life out of ‘em.”

  “I heard a few tiny branches were knocked from a few of the damn things.”Said Sir Rupert.

  “Tell Charlie that. All his branches were ripped from his body, he’s as bald as an egg, he’s just a stump now.”

  “Is he ……still alive?” Asked Lee.

  “Touch and go.” Said a grim Garth, he looked at Sir Rupert, “must have been a lunatic.”

  “A tree-hating lunatic.” Said Clarence.

  “Anyone who hates trees is not human.”

  “Do you hate trees, Garth?” Asked Clarence.

  “What? What’s that?”

  “Clarence…..” Began Haddington.

  “I warn the lot of you, if I catch any blundering elephant in my garden, I’ll turn my trees onto him.”

  “That will cause some sleepless nights.” Smiled Clarence.

  “You puffed-up, squinty-eyed little toad.”

  “You go too far…” Clarence got to his feet.

  “Do sit down, Clarence, stop making a fool of yourself.”

  “I’d bash your brains out with a branch, that is if you had any brains and I could get past those bandages you wear every time I see you.”

  “Why, you…..”

  “Clarence, leave the man alone.” Ordered Haddington.

  “How in God’s name do you tolerate the insolent fellow, I’d discharge him in a minute.”

  “Every tree in the place would die.” Said Garth.

  “He’s perfectly correct.” Said Haddington.

  “Those trees love me.”

  “Quite right.”

  “I would prefer roses any day.” Said Winterhaiming.

  “What? What’s that?”

  “Trees are tiresome things.”

  “Would the gentleman let me show him one of my trees?” Asked Garth sweetly with a frozen smile.

  “Rupert?” Put in Cloud helpfully.

  “I have others.”

  “Now, roses….” Began Winterhaiming. There followed a long argument between the gardener and Winterhaiming on trees and roses.

  It was Gilmore announcing the arrival of visitors that woke Cloud up.

  “Lady Marlebone and Miss Marlebone to see you, sir.”

  “Dames.” Said Cloud with a broad grin.

  “Where are they, Gilmore?” Asked Haddington

  “In your study, sir.”

  “I’ll see them.” He got to his feet and managed to knock over his chair. It fell on Clarence’s foot. “Sorry, old chap.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  As Haddington left, Cloud turned to Clarence who was massaging his foot.

  “What are these dames like?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “How tiresome.”

  “Do try and be a little animated, Cynthia.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “The main thing is an engagement, even the hint of an engagement might be sufficient.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “We only have one month, remember that. If your father can’t promise the creditors something, they’ll start taking the estate. It will break his heart.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “His long lost grandson is here now, I’m certain to be able to convince him that we should stay for the week.”

  “How will you do that, mother?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll think of something, you leave that to me.” There was the sound of smashing glass in the next room. “Here’s Lord Haddington now.”

  The double doors were opened by Gilmore who stood to one side as Haddington came striding in.

  “Lady Marlebone, my dear lady, how very nice to see you.” He took both her hands and squeezed them warmly. “How are you, my dear?”

  “In excellent health, Your Lordship.”

  “And your lovely daughter?”

  “Come along, Cynthia, answer his Lordship.”

  “I’m in excellent health, Your Lordship.”

  “Splendid, and Sir Joseph?”

  “The same as ever.”

  “Splendid, ah, tea.” Gilmore opened the door and a servant came in with a tray.“ Allow me to pour.” The two women sat down opposite Haddington as he poured two cups and handed one to each of them, then he poured one for himself and sat down in an easy chair. “Now, dear lady, what can I do for you?”

  “As you know, Your Lordship, Sir Joseph has been called to London on urgent business,” Haddington nodded, “poor Cynthia and I were roaming that big, empty house of ours that so desperately needs the presence of a man, and I said to Cynthia, why not drop over and pay a visit to our dear friend, Lord Haddington, and Cynthia said, what a wonderful idea, didn’t you, Cynthia?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “We got out little Betsy and the carriage, and here we are.”

  “That’s splendid, my dear, and how long will Sir Joseph be gone?”

  “You know how vague he is, I should think about a week, wouldn’t you Cynthia?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “That’s settled then, you’ll both be my guests for a week.”

  “How very kind of you.”

  “Not at all, I know the rattle of an empty house.” He took a sip of his tea. Lady Marlebone was a kindly woman and felt great sympathy for any suffering, so she felt a lump come to her throat at the sound of these sad words. ‘Poor lonely man.’ She thought and glanced over at her daughter who appeared to have heard nothing as she drank her tea.

  “If it wouldn’t be too great an imposition….”

  “Quite the contrary, dear lady, I have a few gentlemen friends down for the weekend and I fully intend asking them to stay for a week or so. I feel certain the presence of two charming ladies would only brighten up so dull a crowd.”

  “Gentlemen guests, Your Lordship?”

  “Just a few chaps William Clarence brought down from the city.”

  “I do hope we’ll not be interfering with any business transactions….”

  “Not in the least, dear lady.”

  “Sir Joseph does hate that, doesn’t he Cynthia?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  ‘A lifeless woman.’ Thought Haddington as he eyed the pale, thin young woman over the rim of his cup. ‘An utterly lifeless woman.’

  “I can assure you, Lady Marlebone, there will be no business transactions whatsoever.”

  “I am pleased.”

  “If you’ve finished your tea, perhaps you’ll let me introduce you to them.”

  “What a wonderful idea, isn’t it, Cynthia?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “Come along, dear lady,” Haddington got to his feet, “and bring your…… daughter w
ith you.” He had only just stopped himself saying ‘corpse.’

  He took Lady Marlebone’s arm as he led them down the long hallway to the back of the house and into the garden.

  “I don’t care what you say,” came the voice of Cloud. “I don’t care, see, I just don’t care.”

  “It’s tiresome, it’s just tiresome.”

  “Why do you keep saying your name, why, why do you, you keep saying your name, why is that?” Demanded Cloud.

  “Smokey, will you sit down,” ordered Lee, “please, sit down will you, go on, Smoke, sit down.”

  “Sir Rupert is here too.” Said Lady Marlebone with delight in her voice before the men had come into sight.

  “Perfectly right,” smiled Haddington, “now how on earth did you know that?”

  “Oh, we ladies, Your Lordship, we have these things, these….. what are they called, Cynthia?”

  “Ears, I believe, mother.” She murmured softly.

  “What was that, my dear?” Asked Haddington.

  “Intuition, that’s what it’s called, female intuition.” They walked down toward the four men as Lady Marlebone gave some vivid examples of the existence of female intuition. “….. she told him to stake every penny on the horse.” They came up to the men who got to their feet.

  “Lady Marlebone,” smiled Sir Rupert as he came over to take her hand and shake it vigorously, “Lady, lady, how jolly to see you again.”

  “The horse, dear lady, did it win?” Asked Haddington as she walked over to Winterhaiming, who she could tell was that long lost grandson. “The horse, madam?” He called, “blast the woman.” He muttered and turned his head to see Cynthia. “Did it….?”

  “It lost.”

  “It lost.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why on earth does your mother use that as an example of female intuition?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Hey, Clemmie.” Smiled Cloud as he called out to Haddington. “That brother of yours, Sir Rupert….”

  “Yes, I know him.”

  “That brother, he was just telling us his life story, his story, your brother.”

  “So I gather.”

  “How’d ya do Miss.” Haddington introduced them and finished introducing everybody else.

  Cynthia joined her mother who was watching Lee demonstrating a few punches under orders from Cloud, while Winterhaiming looked on with a bored expression.

  “Again, Two-Refs.” Lee slammed a punch into Cloud’s open hand.

  “How tiresome.” Winterhaiming started to walk over to the shade of a tree.

  “Isn’t he handsome?” Sighed Lady Marlebone.

  “Isn’t who handsome, mother?”

  “Mr Winterhaiming, dear, my future son-in-law.”

  “Oh.” She said with no interest.

  Haddington and Sir Rupert were walking off, just to stretch their legs, Clarence decided to go after them.

  “I say, look at that.” Said Sir Rupert loudly. Everybody turned to look, Lee was just finishing a punch to Cloud who lowered his hands and took the blow in the chest. He was thrown back and came in contact with Winterhaiming who was thrown forward, he reached up for the branch of a tree. There was the loud rending of wood as his weight snapped it off, a good part of the tree came off and fell to the ground, making a large mess.

  “What was that?” Demanded a voice off in the distance.

  “That’s Garth.” Said a terrified Sir Rupert to Haddington.

  “You get the ladies into the house, I’ll take care of this.” He walked over to the fallen Winterhaiming, “Mr Lee, would you help me?”

  “Of course.” He helped Cloud to his feet and helped him brush the grass from his clothes.

  “Looks like we’ll be calling you Two-Managers Lee.” Said Cloud.

  “If you keep doing stupid things like that, Smokey, we’ll be calling you the late Smokey Cloud.” He went over to give Haddington a hand with a stunned Winterhaiming.

  Haddington looked back at the trees with a worried expression.

  “I suggest we return to the house, gentlemen.”

  “Why is that, Clem?” Asked Cloud as they began to walk back to the house.

  “Mr Garth will soon be discovering….” He stopped suddenly.

  “Something wrong?” Asked Lee.

  “Where’s Clarence?”

  “Didn’t he go with the ladies?”

  “No, he was right behind…..” Haddington looked over at the fallen branch, he caught sight of a boot and ran quickly over to it. “Give me a hand here, Two-Refs.” Lee joined him.

  “Aha.!” A maniac appeared on the other side of the branch and Lee and Haddington stepped back in surprise.

  “Now, Mr Garth……” Said Haddington soothingly.

  “Caught one of you, did he?”

  “Who?” Asked Lee.

  “Jimmie.”

  “Jimmie?”

  “It’s the name of the confounded tree.” Whispered Haddington.

  “Jimmie is the most inoffensive of lads, he wouldn’t drop one of his arms on someone unless that someone was hurting him.” He glanced up at the torn tree. “You’ve ripped out one of his arms.”

  “It was an accident.” Said Haddington.

  “An accident was it?”

  “His arm will grow back.” Said Lee.

  “Will it? How would you like me to come over there and rip your arm out, do you think it would grow back?” He said angrily.

  “Now, Mr Garth.” Said Lee.

  “Don’t try to reason with him, Mr Lee, he’s half tree himself.”

  “From the neck up, by the look of him.” He said as he looked across at the contorted face.

  “My trees will get the both of you, go on, Jimmie, get ‘em.” He shouted up at the tree, Haddington and Lee looked up half expecting the tree to attack them.

  Garth took the opportunity to spring up on a branch and stood there shaking the whole tree.

  “You get Clarence out, I’ll take care of the tree-man.” Said Lee. He walked over to one of the tree’s branches just above his head and reached up.“I think I’ll just tear out another one of Jimmie’s arms.”

  “You dare, you dare, and this whole forest will rise up against you.”

  “I’ll take that risk.” He jumped off the ground and grasped the branch, it bent downwards with a groan.

  “Get off!”

  “This should do.” Smiled Lee as he swung a little, Haddington was helping Clarence to stumble a short distance and stood looking back with interest. “I’m sure Jimmie won’t miss it.”

  “Get off!” With amazing dexterity Garth tore a branch from the tree and leapt to the ground and came running at Lee. Lee dropped from the branch and met Garth with his two fists. A left to the face stopped him, a right to the chin sent him reeling back.

  “Jolly good.” Roared Haddington.

  Garth fell to the ground but quickly regained his feet, dropped the branch and flung himself back up the tree, he climbed up as far as he could and stood up there, ranting and shaking the tree dangerously.

  It was too much for Jimmie, with a roar from Garth it toppled over and came crashing to the ground, just missing Haddington who jumped aside.

  Lee stood his ground and waited for Garth to appear, but the treeman jumped to his feet and took off for his life. Lee looked across at Haddington with a smile on his face.

  “You alright?” He called.

  “He needed a good lesson.” Smiled Haddington.

  “Where’s Clarence?” Asked Lee with a frown, then he looked at the fallen tree.

  * * * * *