Too Many Cousins by Douglas G Browne

Author:Douglas G Browne [Browne, Douglas G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0486247740
Published: 2017-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIV

THE Vicarage stood beside the church, an ugly house with its window surrounds painted the repellent chocolate colour favoured by the Ecclesiastical Commissioners. Mr. Tuke pulled gingerly at an old-fashioned bell-knob. Its behaviour was true to type. First it appeared to have stuck, and then about a foot of shank came away in his hand and a fearful clanging rang through the house.

The echoes still reverberated as the front door opened. A woman with a shock of untidy grey curls peered up at the visitor.

“It’s my husband’s fault,” she said. “He’s been going to oil that bell ever since he was inducted——”

She stopped abruptly, her mouth open, as she took in Mr. Tuke’s features. Any clergyman’s wife, meeting a personification of the Devil on her doorstep, might well be startled.

“You can warn your husband what to expect,” said Harvey, grinning. “Is he at home?”

Rallying, the lady turned and called loudly: “Athanasius! Athanasius! ”

A distant voice replied from somewhere above.

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone to see you.”

“The name is Tuke,” said Harvey. “Your husband would not know me. I am making some inquiries about a late neighbour of yours, Raymond Shearsby.”

This news having been relayed, the distant voice announced that its owner was coming down. The Vicar’s wife opened a door beside her and led the way into a shabby but comfortable drawing-room.

“Our name is Fawkes, by the way,” she said. “My husband is always trying to prove that Guy Fawkes was a member of his family. Ah, here he is!”

A round little man burst into the room. The Reverend Athanasius Fawkes had rather the air of bouncing like a ball, which in figure he resembled. His very bright blue eyes stared aggressively from a pink round face, ornamented by tufts of white eyebrow and a bristle of white hair which grew into an unruly cockscomb. His dress was unorthodox —a baggy flannel suit and a grey flannel shirt with an open collar.

“Well, well,” he said, looking truculently at the visitor. “Mr. Duke, eh?”

“Tuke,” said Harvey.

“My mistake,” said the Vicar in his abrupt way, but with a sudden attractive smile. “So you knew Shearsby?”

“No, I only knew his work.”

“Clever fellow. Nice fellow, too. I shall miss him. You a Cambridge man?”

“John’s.”

“Thought so. I was at Caius. Long before your time, though. Well, why not sit down. Have a cigarette. Have we got any cigarettes, Alice?”

“You gave the last to that tramp yesterday,” Mrs. Fawkes said. “I haven’t been to the shops yet. Perhaps Mr. Tuke smokes a pipe. Or cigars.”

Being assured that cigars were permitted in the drawingroom—shag, said Mrs. Fawkes, was often smoked there, and clung terribly to the curtains—Harvey passed his case to the Vicar. The latter, as they all sat down, remained poised on the edge of his chair with an air of impermanence. His head cocked to one side, he was staring with critical interest at the caller. “Will you be here at Christmas?” he inquired suddenly. “It is most improbable.”

“Pity. I’m thinking of running a small miracle play.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.