As I was writing it, the problem which had baffled me for twenty-four hours, solved itself in under a minute. Whether my powers of inductive reasoning had been under a cloud since I left Sanstead, or whether they were normally beneath contempt, I do not know. But the fact remains, that I had completely overlooked the obvious solution of my difficulty. I think I must have been thinking so exclusively of the Little Nugget that I had entirely forgotten the existence of Augustus Beckford. It occurred to me now that, by making inquiries at the latter’s house, I should learn something to my advantage. A boy of the Augustus type does not run away from school without a reason. Probably some party was taking place tonight at the ancestral home, at which, tempted by the lawless Nugget, he had decided that his presence was necessary.
I knew the house well. There had been a time, when Lord Mountry and I were at Oxford, when I had spent frequent week-ends there. Since then, owing to being abroad, I had seen little of the family. Now was the moment to reintroduce myself. I hailed a cab.
Inductive reasoning had not played me false. There was a red carpet outside the house, and from within came the sounds of music.
Lady Wroxham, the mother of Mountry and the vanishing Augustus, was one of those women who take things as they come. She did not seem surprised at seeing me.
‘How nice of you to come and see us,’ she said. ‘Somebody told me you were abroad. Ted is in the south of France in the yacht. Augustus is here. Mr Abney, his schoolmaster, let him come up for the night.’
I perceived that Augustus had been playing a bold game. I saw the coaching of Ogden behind these dashing falsehoods.
‘You will hardly remember Sybil. She was quite a baby when you were here last. She is having her birthday-party this evening.’
‘May I go in and help?’ I said.
‘I wish you would. They would love it.’
I doubted it, but went in. A dance had just finished. Strolling towards me in his tightest Eton suit, his face shining with honest joy, was the errant Augustus, and close behind him, wearing the blase’ air of one for whom custom has staled the pleasures of life, was the Little Nugget.
I think they both saw me at the same moment. The effect of my appearance on them was illustrative of their respective characters. Augustus turned a deep shade of purple and fixed me with a horrified stare. The Nugget winked. Augustus halted and shuffled his feet. The Nugget strolled up and accosted me like an old friend.
‘Hello!’ he said. ‘How did you get here? Say, I was going to try and get you on the phone some old time and explain things. I’ve been pretty much on the jump since I hit London.’
‘You little brute!’
My gleaming eye, travelling past him, met that of the Hon. Augustus Beckford, causing that youth to jump guiltily. The Nugget looked over his shoulder.
‘I guess we don’t want him around if we’re to talk business,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and tell him to beat it.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind. I don’t propose to lose sight of either of you.’
‘Oh, he’s all right. You don’t have to worry about him. He was going back to the school anyway tomorrow. He only ran away to go to this party. Why not let him enjoy himself while he’s here? I’ll go and make a date for you to meet at the end of the show.’
He approached his friend, and a short colloquy ensued, which ended in the latter shuffling off in the direction of the other revellers. Such is the buoyancy of youth that a moment later he was dancing a two-step with every appearance of careless enjoyment. The future, with its storms, seemed to have slipped from his mind.
‘That’s all right,’ said the Nugget, returning to me. ‘He’s promised he won’t duck away. You’ll find him somewhere around whenever you care to look for him. Now we can talk.’
‘I hardly like to trespass on your valuable time,’ I said. The airy way in which this demon boy handled what should have been–to him–an embarrassing situation irritated me. For all the authority I seemed to have over him I might have been the potted palm against which he was leaning.