man be accused of adultery or ordinary murder.
"I must say that I have to agree with Mr. Barton." The icy blue eyes
snapped with angry lights, and he turned deliberately to the bewildered
member of the House of lords beside him.
"I wonder if you would be good enough, sir, to inform us as to the
exact amount of our money that you have won." The voice cracked like a
whiplash, and the peer stared at him with complete incomprehension for
a moment and then his face mottled purple and crimson, and he gobbled
angrily.
"Sir! How dare you. Good God, sir!-" and he rose in his seat,
breathless, choking with outrage.
"Have at him!" cried Gareth, and overturned the heavy teak table with
a single upward thrust of both hands. It crashed over, pinning the
planter and the civil servant under it, and scattering ivory chips and
playing cards in such profusion that nobody would ever know what cards
Gareth Swales had dealt to himself in that last remarkable deal.
Gareth leaned across the struggling mass of downed players and clipped
the peer smartly under the left ear.
"Cheating! Ha! Caught you cheating!" The peer roared like a bull and
swung a full-armed punch under which Gareth ducked lightly, but which
went on to catch the club secretary between the eyes, as he hurried up
to intervene.
The room erupted into violence, as the other members rushed in to
assist the secretary.
Jake tried to reach Gareth, through the sudden seething storm of
bodies.
"Not him, you!" he shouted angrily, flexing his arms and knotting his
fists.
There were forty club members in the room. Only one person was not
dressed in the uniform that showed they belonged Jake in his baggy
moleskins and the pack turned on him.
"Watch out behind you, old boy," Gareth warned Jake in a friendly
fashion, as he reached out to take the lapels of Gareth's suit in his
hands.
Jake whirled to meet the rush of angry members, and the fists that were
bunched for Major Swales thudded into the charging group. Two of them
dropped but the rest swarmed on.
"Lay on!" Gareth encouraged him merrily. "And damned be he who cries
"Enough"." Miraculously he had armed himself with a billiard cue.
By now, Jake was almost totally submerged under a heaving mound of
black evening dress. There were three of them riding on his back, two
hanging around his legs, and one tucked under each of his arms.
"Not me, you fools. Not me him!" He tried to point to Gareth,
but both his arms were occupied.
"Quite right," Gareth agreed. "Dirty cheating dog!" and he wielded
the billiard cue with uncanny skill, holding it inverted and tapping
the thick end smartly against the skulls of the well-dressed gentlemen
riding on Jake's back. They dropped away, and freed of their weight
Jake turned to Gareth once more.
"Listen-!" he bellowed, advancing despite the bodies that clung to his
legs.
"Listen, indeed." Gareth cocked his head, and the sound of a police
whistle shrilled, and there was the glimpse of uniforms beyond double
doors. "Peelers, by Jove, Gareth announced. "Perhaps we should move
on. Follow me, old son." With a few expert swings of the billiard
cue, he knocked the glass from the window beside him, and stepped
lightly and unruffled into the darkened garden.
Jake strode along the unlit footpath under the dark jacaranda trees. He
followed the main road out towards his camp beside the stream. The
outraged cries and the sound of police whistles had long since died
away in the night behind.
Jake's anger had also died away, and he chuckled once as he thought of
the peer's purple face and his bulging affronted eyes. Then behind
him, following along the dark street, he heard the rhythmic squeak of
the springs of a ricksha, and the pad of bare feet.
Even before he looked back, he knew who was following.
"Thought I'd lost you," Gareth Swales remarked lightly, his handsome
noble features lit by the glow of the cheroot between his teeth as he
lolled against the cushions of the ricksha. "You took off like a long
dog after a bitch. fantastic turn of speed. I was very impressed."
Jake said nothing, but strode on towards his camp.
"You can't possibly be bound for bed." The ricksha kept station beside
Jake. "The night is still a pup and who can say what beautiful
thoughts and stirring deeds Care still to be thought and performed."
Jake tried not to grin, and kept going.
"Madame Cecile's?"Gareth wheedled.
"You really do want those cars don't you?"
"I am hurt,"
announced Gareth, "that you should imply gross materialism to my
friendly overtures."
"Who is paying? "demanded Jake.
"You are my guest."
"Well, I've drunk your beer, eaten your food why should I stop now?" He
stopped and walked to the ricksha. "Move over, then, he said.
The ricksha driver wheeled in a tight turn and trotted back into the
town, while Gareth pressed a cheroot between Jake's lips.
"What did you deal yourself?" Jake asked, between puffs of the
fragrant smoke. "Four aces? Straight flush?"
"I am appalled at the implied slur on my character, sir. I shall
ignore the question." They jogged a little farther in silence until it
