His position, of course, was delicate. He could not got to Maud and beg her to confide in him. Maud would not understand his motives, and might leap to the not unjustifiable conclusion that he had been at the sherry. No! Men were easier to handle than women. As soon as his duties would permit–and in the present crowded condition of the house they were arduous–he set out for George’s cottage.
“I trust I do not disturb or interrupt you, sir,” he said, beaming in the doorway like a benevolent high priest. He had doffed his professional manner of austere disapproval, as was his custom in moments of leisure.
“Not at all,” replied George, puzzled. “Was there anything…?”
“There was, sir.”
“Come along in and sit down.”
“I would not take the liberty, if it is all the same to you, sir. I would prefer to remain standing.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable, that is to say, on the part of George, who was wondering if the butler remembered having engaged him as a waiter only a few nights back. Keggs himself was at his ease. Few things ruffled this man.
“Fine day,” said George.
“Extremely, sir, but for the rain.”
“Oh, is it raining?”
“Sharp downpour, sir.”
“Good for the crops,” said George.
“So one would be disposed to imagine, sir.”
Silence fell again. The rain dripped from the eaves.
“If I might speak freely, sir…?” said Keggs.
“Sure. Shoot!”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I mean, yes. Go ahead!”
The butler cleared his throat.
“Might I begin by remarking that your little affair of the ‘eart, if I may use the expression, is no secret in the Servants’ ‘All? I ‘ave no wish to seem to be taking a liberty or presuming, but I should like to intimate that the Servants’ ‘All is aware of the facts.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” said George coldly. “I know all about the sweepstake.”
A flicker of embarrassment passed over the butler’s large, smooth face–passed, and was gone.
“I did not know that you ‘ad been apprised of that little matter, sir. But you will doubtless understand and appreciate our point of view. A little sporting flutter–nothing more–designed to halleviate the monotony of life in the country.”
“Oh, don’t apologize,” said George, and was reminded of a point which had exercised him a little from time to time since his vigil on the balcony. “By the way, if it isn’t giving away secrets, who drew Plummer?”
“Sir?”
“Which of you drew a man named Plummer in the sweep?”
“I rather fancy, sir,” Keggs’ brow wrinkled in thought, “I rather fancy it was one of the visiting gentlemen’s gentlemen. I gave the point but slight attention at the time. I did not fancy Mr. Plummer’s chances. It seemed to me that Mr. Plummer was a negligible quantity.”
“Your knowledge of form was sound. Plummer’s out!”
“Indeed, sir! An amiable young gentleman, but lacking in many of the essential qualities. Perhaps he struck you that way, sir?”
“I never met him. Nearly, but not quite!”
“It entered my mind that you might possibly have encountered Mr. Plummer on the night of the ball, sir.”
“Ah, I was wondering if you remembered me!”
“I remember you perfectly, sir, and it was the fact that we had already met in what one might almost term a social way that emboldened me to come ‘ere today and offer you my services as a hintermediary, should you feel disposed to avail yourself of them.”
George was puzzled.
“Your services?”
“Precisely, sir. I fancy I am in a position to lend you what might be termed an ‘elping ‘and.”
“But that’s remarkably altruistic of you, isn’t it?”
“Sir?”
“I say that is very generous of you. Aren’t you forgetting that you drew Mr. Byng?”
The butler smiled indulgently.
“You are not quite abreast of the progress of events, sir. Since the original drawing of names, there ‘as been a trifling hadjustment. The boy Albert now ‘as Mr. Byng and I ‘ave you, sir. A little amicable arrangement informally conducted in the scullery on the night of the ball.”
“Amicable?”
“On my part, entirely so.”