4

Rud turned about and surveyed the room before him…

The Purple House, it should be explained, consisted at that time of a couple of big stucco houses with porticos, in that region of large, white, later–Georgian mansions between Kensington and Paddington. Bohun had wanted to paint it an imperial purple, but the police and the ground landlord had opposed this idea, and so it had the normal dingy pallor of its neighbours, relieved only by purple front doors, now greatly faded, and with tarnished gilt knockers, purple painted ironwork and black blinds. Behind these two houses were garages, one mysteriously locked up, and the other devoted to a store of banners and the band's stuff, with a bagatelle table, table–tennis, a cask of beer and other reliefs to the tedium of the adherents "on duty."

One house, number seventeen, was reserved for his lordship, and its door yielded only to his latch–key, but an internal communication had been made with number sixteen, by an opening between the halls. Number sixteen was the common entrance and there was a "guard room" on the ground floor in which three or four bored young louts were usually "on duty"—rather vaguely conceived. The most definite obligation was a smart salute for the Boss or Commander Hoggin or Major Smike.

The first floor was a common assembly–room reaching from front to back of the house, capacious and furnished only with plain chairs and a few occasional tables. Along one side of the back portion was a trestle–board bearing a tea–urn, jugs of lemonade and cakes.

Most of the stalwarts had produced virile pipes and lusty great pouches. They were standing about in knots and talking uneasily. Much of the afternoon's happenings bad been incomprehensible to them. In a way it had seemed "all right" and in some ways it had seemed "odd." They were puzzled about the apparition of Rud. They wanted to know more about him. Was he going to be the new favourite?

The tall young man "in control" was one of Lord Horatio's later discoveries. It was among his Lordship's little weaknesses to turn against his men who began to "know too much" and to introduce inexperience and incapacity as "new blood." So that all his officials were insecure of their positions and there was a long and growing list of men he had turned down, ready to turn up again. Bodisham had been establishing touch with these scattered rejects for some time. He was forming them into what he called his "reserve." And the Purple House itself was smouldering with uncertainties, resentments and suppressions from roof to cellar.

The tall young man was slowly developing a sense of grievance, as the exhilaration of an unusually effective meeting passed off.

"But what's your trouble?" asked Rogers.

"What I complain of is the want of system—of orders. I ought to have O.K.'d him before he said a single word. And Hoggin ought to have O.K.'d him."

"Well, didn't he speak well? Didn't he get them?" "But did Lord Horatio send him?"

Bodisham hesitated and then had an inspiration. He glanced at Rud as if to make sure he was not being overheard, and then he leant forward to the tall young man and spoke in a confidential undertone. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't know—exactly—myself—what relationship there is between them."

The tall young man contemplated Rud. "You mean?" "I don't know enough to mean anything precisely." "But you feel?"

Bodisham reflected. He said nothing but he nodded repeatedly in a confidential and deeply significant manner. "But didn't you come with him?"

"Steenhold brought him. And Steenhold's been in the organisation, off and on, for years."

"I see. All the same I think I was let down about that fellow. On that platform I was made to look—well—a bit of a fool. I didn't know—what. I was taken by surprise. I might have given him a clip on the jaw and spun him off the platform."

"You might," agreed Rogers. "But you have too much sense. The Boss knew that.'

"Yees. What I can report to Lord Horatio I don't know. It's hard to phrase it. I don't want to be hard on one of his friends."

"Better to understate than overstate," counselled Bodisham. "You might claim you discovered him."

The tall young man seemed to be recovering his self–confidence. "In some ways anyhow, that chap is an acquisition, you know. He can spout…"

Rud surveyed the groups in the room for a while, as if he consented to their existence, but meant to keep his eye on them. Then, with his hands behind his back in the manner of a pensive Napoleon and saying nothing to anyone, he left Irwell and Chiffan at the window, walked past them all and upstairs to the room of his two interviews with Lord Horatio.

It was, as he expected, empty. He walked round the great ornamental unbusinesslike desk, seated himself in the much too ample chair of his lordship, took up the large paper–knife and tapped thoughtfully with it as he meditated. This time he remembered most of his speech. He thought it was an extremely good speech for the occasion.

"I am the common man," he repeated. It had leapt to his mind out of nothingness. It could be made a cardinal slogan.

Another part of his mind was busy upon quite a different line. He was wondering whether he would keep on Mrs. Crumb.

If she could see him now! She'd topple over backwards. He was still smiling quietly at that thought when the door opened and Chiffan and Bodisham came in.

"Well," said Bodisham. "Here you are in the lion's den."

"For a time," said Rud. "Won't you sit down? There's a chair behind that table where his stenographer sits, and if you shove that pile of pamphlets off the table—they're no beastly good anyhow—The Heart and Soul of a Great Leader—Lord! Shove 'em off and there'll be the table to sit on too. So's he can find them. Don't lift them off. Let 'em drop in a heap there. The next move's with him."

"I suppose he's booming and gargling that old speech of his about now," said Bodisham. "Or maybe a little later. He'll get his first idea of what has happened here to–morrow when he opens the morning paper."

"And then the great purple car will turn its mighty lanterns Londonward," said Chiffan. "We're well started. There's no going back. I suppose that tall fellow, what's his name?"

"Frobisher."

"Won't have telephoned?"

"That's all right," said Bodisham. "He wouldn't know what to telephone, but anyhow Rogers and Steenhold are in charge of him. He's amenable. He has a grievance. He's half with us in a perplexed way already. They're all stale here. Things have got into a kind of routine through sheer lack of inventiveness. Here we are and here in effect we have to stick. There's no way on, but onward—as you said last week. We can do practically what we like here—until Horry comes back. Then the fat will be in the fire. Then the real flare–up will begin. Presently when most of the boys have gone home and there's nobody downstairs but Longshanks and the guards on duty, you and I will look the number seventeen over. It has its points of interest. It's queer—

"In fact," said Bodisham, after a short interval, "it's very queer…"

And then: "Very."

He seemed to be thinking very hard about Rud. He seemed to have some sort of uncertainty about Rud.

"There are some locked doors," said Bodisham. I happen—. As a matter of fact I was put in control here for a time last September and I have duplicate keys. I had them made. I always had my doubts of Horry. About that under–hung jaw of his and those eyes too close together. I made some discoveries, and then I waxed the key. I don't think you quite realise yet what he is. You will see. You think he's an Ass. He's an Ass all right, but he's something more than that…In some ways he's a dangerous Ass…We've got to be prepared. We've got to know the animal we hunt or we may have some nasty surprises. I want you to see."