The Disentanglers

the text strikes you as disagreeably unrefined, think how it

was of a dusky yellow, where it did not rather verge on the faint hues of a violet past its prime. She wore thread gloves, and she carried a battered reticule of early Vic

denounced in scriptural terms by the client, a Mrs. Gisborne. She was sad, as well she might be, for she was a struggler,

this gentleman's-Mr. Fulto

nd flitted a vision of a dark shop with Finnan haddocks, baco

splay ignorance by asking questions to corro

sir, and ising

kind. 'He went out of isinglass-before the cheap scientific substitute was invented (it is made out of old quill pens)-with seventy-five thousand pounds. And it ought to com

ulton stole over Merton's mind as he pictured

sborne

ery portly

r to a skeleton, though you wou

votion to the pleas

f offence to others. He is a patron of the City and Suburban College of Cooker

Suburban College of Cookery. One of his band, a M

age is your un

d not a white ha

may marry

ill,

likely to h

an reticule. She applied the handkerchief to her eyes in silence. Merton observe

ulton is-passionately in

borne; 'he does not want to marry her, b

' said Merton hastily. He dr

each other dinners, jealous of each other they are;

ad somewhere read or heard of beer

m, but Satan has sometimes put it into my heart to wish that the woman, like too, too many of her sort, was the victim of alcoholic temptations. He has a f

from the besetting sin of

s her. His last cook, and his last but one-' Here Mrs. Gisborne

ught it, but now,' s

A dangerous entanglement. Any followers allowed? Could anything be

ghs and burns them. Old Mr. Potter, one of his cronies, tried to get her away that way, but he is over seventy, and old at that, an

a good deal about her! Perhaps you have some so

e, purpling a little, 'is the sister

any little weakness of this, I must frankly

e her side, a scheming re

am likely to help this person into your uncle's arms, yo

I will say that your heart do

said Merton. 'But you have not answered my question. Are there any weak p

-' Here Mrs. Gisborne paused for a comparison. Her knowledge of natural history and of mythology,

mitting to himself that the word was not,

clockwork with the sauces, and herbs, and things, if a saucepan boils over, or a ham falls into the fire, if the girl

as sympathetic points:' and he patted the grey Russian

"Miss Blowser's Rangoon, bred by the exhibitor." Miss Blowser! I don't know what the world is coming to. He stands on the doorsteps, the cat, like a lynx, and as f

t is there nothing else?' he asked. 'Only a temper, so natural to genius disturbed or diverted in the process of composi

napping her reticule, 'I think I was a fool for answering your advertisem

nces of this very difficult case, and involuntarily glided into literary anecdote on the subject of cats and their owners. They are

u must make allowances, sir, for my anxiety. It sours a mother of nine. Friday is one of his gorging dinner-parties, and w

sympathy. 'The dinner is on Friday, yo

Grove, on the

nothing else-no we

hopes from him have kept me up so long, his only relation, and times are so hard, and schooling

r, to pass a circular packet, wrapped in paper, into his hand. He evaded it. It was a first interview, for which no charge was ma

aid to himself, 'but hang me if I see how

partner, Logan, on the sofa, and unfolded the ca

Logan. 'Couldn't we seduce an artist like Miss Blowser there, I mean thither of course, the night before the

ou going to st

n at the Wheel.

l the other people on the Wheel! Logan, vous chasse

h a king, and why can't I carry off

se are not mo

tel que d'enlev

se with police-courts,' said

e. Now a raid on the fish? She might fall on her carving knife when they did not

, and he had not a fish-monger's

France? No, she is Temperance personified. Can't we send her a forged telegram to say that her mother

how obsolete you are! Besides, that

-?' he mentioned a special

est principles-and an u

was that parson, whom you say the woman's cat nearly devoured. Like Paul with beasts he fought the cat. Now, I won

edzoff, the puss, stalked up to Logan and leaped on his knees. Logan stroked him, Kutuzoff purred and blinked, Logan sought

at

ight object. One thing I may tell you-it does not

t, with a husband living? You are not going to put a live adder among the eels? I dare

. Certainly I am neither a detect

jokes with t

ourse

pping Mis

kidnapping-M

our plan within the law?

ast,' said Logan, 'as far as my legal studies inform me, they

e sailing ne

nk so: not really w

ith two such tempers as the cook's and Mr. Fulton's the match could not be

ything. I rather expect to earn public gratitude, on the whole. You can't appear in any way,

amusing,' said Merton, looking through a kind of al

ed, took his fencing mask and glove, borrowed a fencing glove from a left-handed swordsman whom he knew, and drove to his rooms with this odd assortment of articles. Having deposited them, he paid a call at the dwelling of a fair member of the Disentanglers, Miss Frere, the

the man by si

stributed the prizes at the City and Suburban School of

; 'and now you are sure that you know exact

hrough Albany Grove at a q

punc

y on me,' sa

had insisted on helping to finance the Disentanglers. To Trevor he explained

of tweeds, and a seedy bowler, and drive you myse

acts too muc

yellow, like pirates, you know, when they are disguising

tions, Trevor, and worthy of your ge

find that place you mean to go to on a map of London, and I'll drive

oon; it was beyond the border of known West Hammersmith. T

erson had suffered from the assaults of Miss Blowser's Siamese favourite. He expected difficulties, for a good deal of ridicule, including Merton's article, Christianos ad Leon

not remember the face or name (w

at Lord's,' exclaimed Mr. Wilkinson, 'I can see it now. It saved t

r an hour or two-to borrow your dog,' and he stooped to pat

hy, what can you

east of a cat in Albany Grove,' said Logan, 'and I

ely: 'Scout is no match for the brute

t. He is only needed to-give tone to the affair. You will be

at? He is what they think a valuable an

ot a hair of his whiskers shall be hurt

ate anxiously. 'You see, suspicion might fall on

l sleep in his owner's arms, if she likes.

lkinson. 'You have a cab there, shall

club.' Which they did, and talked much c

*

was sitting in a scornful and leonine attitude, in a tree of the garden above the railings, outside the open kitchen windows, whence came penetrating and hosp

range. Her face was of a fiery complexion; her locks were in a fine dis

in his tree,'

o sit like a Thug, dropping

goon has jumped down, and is walking

im,' said Miss Blowser. Two minutes l

ma'

d see what he is

ma'am, sniffing at something. An

hope Rangy will give him

: he's putting him in a bag,' but by this time Miss Blowser, brandishing a saucepan with a long handle, had rushed out of the kitchen, through the little garden, cannoned against Mr. Fulton, who happened to be coming i

ch him,' was to the active Miss Blowser the work of a moment. The man whipped up his horse, the pursuit began, 'there was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,' Marylebone rang with the screams of female rage and distress. Mr. Fulton, he also, leaped up and rushed in pursuit, wrin

t, sir, and is off, in a

a cook. Her cat!' and with language unworthy of a drysalter Mr. Fulton clapped on his hat, and sped into the street, with a vague idea of hurrying to Fortnum and Mason's, or some restaurant, or a friend's house,

s hat, with a wild gleam of hope in the troub

happened,

y cook, and me with a d

ok? Not by de

n away, in the very cr

h wh

I find a cook? You may know of some one disengaged, though i

rust me, M

ou; how,

ast till your cook catches her

't mean i

nxious to help so nobly generous a patro

eaven his obsecrating hands. 'Why, you're a geniu

wd of little boys and girls, amateur

in, and let me get to work. I dare say the cook

led a man of my age,' said Mr. Fulton, breathing heavily, and leading t

aucepan and Rangoon, she found her trunks in the passage, corded

lane leading to the Home. But there she found Rangoon. He had just been deposited there, in a seedy old traveller's fur-lined sleeping bag, the matron of the Home averred, by a very pleasant gentleman, who said he had found

ly to the Home for Destitute and Decay

ron of the Home. 'No; he did not leave any addre

must have had the advertisement printed like that ready befo

Miss Blowser. 'There's your cat,' she said drily; 'it ain't stealing a cat to leave it, with money for its board, and to pay for advertisements, in a well-conducted

r threw the

said the matron, slamming the

*

g the very considerable damages which Miss Blowser demanded and re

erton assured her that he knew nothing whatever of the stratagem, scarcely a w

etention or imprisonment of Rangoon. 'But,' he said, 'the Habeas Corpus Act has no clause about cats, and i

u know?' a

n of an eminent sh

is t

er legal official: you

, Scotland,'

d Logan, indignantly. 'You

was s

each of them, the question of property

*

married her aged wooer, and Rangoon s