Bones in London

When they stopped for afternoon tea, Hamilton did remark that hethought Bones had said something about Brighton, but Bones just smiled.They left Andover that night in the dusk; but long before the light hadfaded, the light which was sponsored by Mr. Jelf blazed whitely in thelamp that never went out. And when the dark came Bones purred withjoy, for this light was a wonderful light. It flooded the road aheadwith golden radiance, and illuminated the countryside, so that distantobservers speculated upon its origin.

"Well, old thing," said Bones over his shoulder, "what do you think ofthe lamps?"

"Simply wonderful, Bones," agreed Hamilton. "I've never seen anythingso miraculous. I can even see that you're driving with one hand."

Bones brought the other hand up quickly to the wheel and coughed. Asfor Miss Marguerite Whitland, she laughed softly, but nobody heard her.

They were rushing along a country road tree-shaded and high-hedged, and

Bones was singing a little song – when the light went out.

It went out with such extraordinary unexpectedness, without so much asa warning flicker, that he was temporarily blinded, and brought the carto a standstill.

"What's up, Bones?" asked Hamilton.

"The light, dear old thing," said Bones. "I think the jolly oldtypewriter must have touched the key with her knee."

"Indeed?" said Hamilton politely; and Bones, remembering that the keywas well over on his side of the car, coughed, this time fiercely.

He switched the key from left to right, but nothing happened.

"Most extraordinary!" said Bones.

"Most," said Hamilton.

There was a pause.

"I think the road branches off a little way up I'll get down and see which is the right road to take," said Bones with sudden cheerfulness.

"I remember seeing the old signpost before the – er – lamp went out.

Perhaps, Miss Marguerite, you'd like to go for a little walk."

Miss Marguerite Whitland said she thought she would, and they went offtogether to investigate, leaving Hamilton to speculate upon thelikelihood of their getting home that night.

Bones walked ahead with Marguerite, and instinctively their handssought and found one another. They discovered the cross-roads, butBones did not trouble to light his match. His heart was beating withextraordinary violence, his lips were dry, he found much difficulty inspeaking at all.

"Miss Marguerite," he said huskily, "don't think I'm an awful outsiderand a perfect rotter, dear old typewriter."

"Of course I don't," she said a little faintly for Bones's arm wasabout her.

"Don't think," said Bones, his voice trembling, "that I am a naughtyold philanderer; but somehow, dear old miss, being alone with you, andall that sort of stuff – "

And he bent and kissed her, and at that moment the light that neverwent out came on again with extraordinary fierceness, as though to makeup for its temporary absence without leave.

And these two young people were focused as in a limelight, and were notonly visible from the car, but visible for miles around.

"Dear me!" said Bones.

The girl said nothing. She shaded her eyes from the light as shewalked back. As for Bones, he climbed into the driver's seat with thedeliberation of an old gentleman selecting a penny chair in the park, and said, without turning his head:

"It's the road to the left."

"I'm glad," said Hamilton, and made no comment even when Bones took theroad to the right.

They had gone a quarter of a mile along this highway when the lamp wentout. It went out with as unexpected and startling suddenness asbefore. Bones jingled the key, then turned.

"You wouldn't like to get out, dear old Ham, and have a look round, would you?"

"No, Bones," said Hamilton drily. "We're quite comfortable."

"You wouldn't like to get down, my jolly old typewriter?"

"No, thank you," said Miss Marguerite Whitland with decision.

"Oh!" said Bones. "Then, under the circumstances, dear old person,we'd all better sit here until – "

At that moment the light came on. It flooded the white road, and thewhite road was an excellent wind-screen against which the bending headof Bones was thrown into sharp relief.

The car moved on. At regular intervals the light that never went outforsook its home-loving habits and took a constitutional. Theoccupants of the ear came to regard its eccentricities with philosophy, even though it began to rain, and there was no hood.

On the outskirts of Guildford, Bones was pulled up by a policeman, whotook his name because the lights were too bright. On the other side ofGuildford he was pulled up by another policeman because he had no lightat all. Passing through Kingston, the lamp began to flicker, sendingforth brilliant dots and dashes, which continued until they were onPutney Common, where the lamp's message was answered from a camp of BoyScouts, one signalman of the troop being dragged from his bed for thepurpose, the innocent child standing in his shirt at the call of duty.

"A delightful day," said Hamilton at parting that night. (It wasnearly twelve o'clock.) "I'm sorry you've had so much trouble withthat lamp, Bones. What did you call it?"

"I say, old fellow," said Bones, ignoring the question, "I hope, whenyou saw me picking a spider off dear old Miss Marguerite's shoulder, you didn't – er – think anything?"

"The only thing I thought was," said Hamilton, "that I didn't see thespider."

"Don't stickle, dear old partner," said Bones testily. "It may havebeen an earwig. Now, as a man of the world, dear old blasé one, doyou think I'd compromise an innocent typewriter? Do you think I oughtto – " He paused, but his voice was eager.

"That," said Hamilton, "is purely a question for the lady. Now, whatare you going to do with this lamp. Are you going to float it?"

Bones scowled at the glaring headlight.

"That depends whether the naughty old things float, Ham," he saidvenomously. "If you think they will, my old eye-witness, how abouttyin' a couple of bricks round 'em before I chuck 'em in. What?"

CHAPTER X

THE BRANCH LINE

Not all the investments of Bones paid dividends. Some cost him money.

Some cost him time. Some – and they were few – cost him both.

Somewhere in a marine store in London lie the battered wrecks of whatwere once electro-plated motor-lamps of a peculiar and, to Bones, sinister design. They were all that was left of a great commercialscheme, based upon the flotation of a lamp that never went out.

On a day of crisis in Bones's life they had gone out, which was bad.They had come on at an inconvenient moment, which was worse, since theyhad revealed him and his secretary in tender attitudes. And Bones hadgone gaily to right the wrong, and had been received with coldpoliteness by the lady concerned.