Her Ladyship's Elephant

"No, I did not, and I've had enough of this insolence!"

"So have I," said the little man, blowing a little whistle. "So have I, and therefore I arrest you, Richard Allingford, in the Queen's name."

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH MR. SCARSDALE REAPS ANOTHER'S WHIRLWIND

Scarsdale was absolutely staggered by the word "arrest." Arrest! What nonsense! Who was this man who talked of arresting him, Harold Scarsdale, peaceably engaged in trying to find his wife and proceed on his honeymoon? The first sensations of surprise and incredulity were quickly followed, however, by a realisation of the horrible situation in which his own stupidity had placed him. In the eyes of the law he was not Harold Scarsdale, but Richard Allingford, and he shuddered to think with what crime he might be charged; for, from what he had learned in the last half-hour, he could not doubt that he was posing as one of the most abandoned characters that had ever visited the town of Winchester.

A person who consorted with horse-thieves, cheated at cards, and thought nothing of shooting friends who were not thirsty, would surely be satisfied with no ordinary crime. Of what was he accused? He hardly dared to ask. And how was he to get out of this dreadful dilemma? His reflections, however, were cut short by the arrival of a burly policeman, in answer to his captor's whistle. The little man at once addressed the newcomer, quite ignoring Scarsdale.

"Here's your man Allingford; not a doubt of it," he said.

"Got your warrant?" inquired the policeman, laying a detaining hand on the prisoner's shoulder.

"Here it is," replied the first speaker, producing a paper, which the officer glanced at and returned, saying at the same time to Scarsdale:

"Now, then, come along o' me, and don't make no resistance if you knows what's good for you."

"I do not intend to offer any resistance," replied that gentleman, and turning to the little man he asked: "By what right do you arrest me, and on what charge?"

"I'm Private Detective Smithers," replied his captor, "and this," again producing the paper he had already shown to the policeman, "is my warrant. You know the charge well enough."

"I'm entirely ignorant of it!" cried Scarsdale hotly.

"Of course," said the detective. "They always are," and he winked at the officer.

"I tell you I don't know anything about it!" reiterated the unfortunate bridegroom.

"I must caution you," remarked the policeman, "that anything you says may be used against you as evidence."

"I demand to know why I am arrested. I have a right to do so."

"Tell him, Bill," said the detective, "and stop his row."

The officer, thus admonished, nodded his head, and replied shortly:

"Two charges: 'sault and battery on the landlord of the Lion's Head, and disturbing the peace on last Wednesday night."

"I deny the charge!" cried Scarsdale.

"Of course you do," replied the policeman; "I suppose you would. Now you've had your say, are you coming along peaceable, or are you not?"

"Certainly I am," replied the prisoner, and they started up the street, followed by a small crowd, which had already collected.

"I must warn you," continued Scarsdale, when they were fairly under way, "that you are making a mistake. I am not the man you take me for."

"I suppose you'll deny your name is Richard Allingford next," said the detective, laughing.

"I do deny it."

"Well I'm blessed!" remarked his captor.

The policeman simply said: "Come on, that's too thin!" and jerked him roughly by the arm.

Scarsdale quickened his pace, saying angrily:

"If you'd only give a man a chance to explain!"

"You'll have chance enough, when you come up to-morrow, to explain to the court," replied the officer, "and a pretty bill of damages into the bargain."

"Oh, if it's only a fine," remarked the prisoner, feeling much relieved, "I'll pay it and welcome, rather than have a row."

"Maybe you won't have the option," replied one of his captors; while the other added cheerfully: "What you needs is thirty days, and I 'opes you'll get it."

At the police court Scarsdale did not help his case by insisting on giving his right name, and denying all knowledge of the charge. His statements were entered against him, he was relieved of his watch, purse, and jewellery, and introduced to the cold comforts of the lock-up.

On being asked if he wished to communicate with any one, he replied that the next morning would be quite time enough; for he knew that Mrs. Allingford could give him little help in his present predicament, and he did not wish to disturb her night's rest to no purpose.

It can be well imagined that the accommodations of an English provincial prison are not luxurious; but the room was clean, and fortune favoured him in that he had only two companions, both of whom were stupid drunk, and went to sleep very peaceably on the floor.

Scarsdale improvised a bed on a settee, and, using his coat as a pillow, passed a fairly comfortable night. Luckily he was of a somewhat phlegmatic temperament, and withal very tired after the day's exertions; so, in spite of the misfortunes which were crowding about him, he was able to resign himself to the inevitable, and eventually to drop off to sleep.

Early next morning, however, he arranged to have a note delivered to Mrs. Allingford at the hotel, in which he informed that lady of his unfortunate predicament, begging her not to distress herself on his account; and assuring her that in all probability it was merely a matter of a trifling fine, and that he should be at liberty to rejoin her within a few hours.

He felt very little of what he wrote; but as long as there was a chance of things coming out right, he wished to spare her all possible worry.

His ready money procured him a better breakfast than he could have hoped for, and by nine o'clock, when the court opened, he was refreshed and ready for whatever might befall. His two companions in misfortune preceded him for trial, but their cases were soon disposed of, and Harold Scarsdale, alias Richard Allingford, was put into the dock.

The court-room consisted of a plainly furnished apartment, containing a raised platform at one end, on which were placed the desk and armchair of the police magistrate, while in front were several rows of benches for the accommodation of the public: but as the cases were of no general interest, Scarsdale was relieved to see that the attendance was meagre. Mrs. Allingford was present, however, looking very white and distressed, but managing to muster up a smile to greet him as he entered.

The proceedings were short and to the point. The police constable, on being called and given the oath, kissed the book and deposed that at about a quarter to nine on the previous evening, while on his accustomed beat, he had been summoned by Private Detective Smithers to aid in arresting the prisoner, who had professed ignorance of the charge, the truth of which he afterwards denied, and who persisted in asserting that he was not Richard Allingford.

Private Detective Smithers now took the stand and stated the case from his point of view; which was, in short, that the conversation he had overheard at the hotel between the prisoner and another person here present, and the statement which the prisoner made to him personally, proved that he was without doubt the Richard Allingford mentioned in the indictment. In conclusion he begged that the person styling himself Faro Charlie should be summoned to corroborate his testimony. Faro Charlie was accordingly called and placed in the dock, and after the usual preliminaries the magistrate examined him as follows:

"What is your name?"

"Faro Charlie."

"Any other name?"

"Smith."

"Very well, Charles Smith; are you a citizen of the United States?"

"I be."

"Of what occupation?"