Okewood of the Secret Service. Valentine Williams
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Valentine Williams
Okewood of the Secret Service
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664598219
Table of Contents
CHAPTER II. CAPTAIN STRANGWISE ENTERTAINS A GUEST
CHAPTER III. MR. MACKWAYTE MEETS AN OLD FRIEND
CHAPTER IV. MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE
CHAPTER V. THE MURDER AT SEVEN KINGS
CHAPTER VIII. THE WHITE PAPER PACKAGE
CHAPTER X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED
CHAPTER XII. AT THE MILL HOUSE
CHAPTER XIII. WHAT SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES REVEALED
CHAPTER XIV. BARBARA TAKES A HAND
CHAPTER XV. MR. BELLWARD IS CALLED TO THE TELEPHONE
CHAPTER XVI. THE STAR OF POLAND
CHAPTER XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING
CHAPTER XVIII. THE GATHERING OF THE SPIES
CHAPTER XIX. THE UNINVITED GUEST
CHAPTER XXI. THE BLACK VELVET TOQUE
CHAPTER XXII. WHAT THE CELLAR REVEALED
CHAPTER XXIII. MRS. MALPLAQUET GOES DOWN TO THE CELLAR
CHAPTER XXIV. THE TWO DESERTERS
CHAPTER XXV. TO MRS. MALPLAQUET'S
CHAPTER XXVI. THE MAN IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE
CHAPTER XXVII. THE RED LACQUER ROOM
CHAPTER XXVIII. AN OFFER FROM STRANGWISE
CHAPTER XXX. HOHENLINDEN TRENCH
CHAPTER I. THE DEPUTY TURN
Mr. Arthur Mackwayte slipped noiselessly into the dining-room and took his place at the table. He always moved quietly, a look of gentle deprecation on his face as much as to say: "Really, you know, I can't help being here: if you will just overlook me this time, by and by you won't notice I'm there at all!" That was how he went through life, a shy, retiring little man, quiet as a mouse, gentle as a dove, modesty personified.
That is, at least, how Mr. Arthur Mackwayte struck his friends in private life. Once a week, however, he fairly screamed at the public from the advertisement columns of "The Referee": "Mackwayte, in his Celebrated Kerbstone Sketches. Wit! Pathos! Tragedy!!! The Epitome of London Life. Universally Acclaimed as the Greatest Portrayer of London Characters since the late Chas. Dickens. In Tremendous Demand for Public Dinners. The Popular Favorite. A Few Dates still Vacant. 23, Laleham Villas, Seven Kings. 'Phone" and so on.
But only professionally did Mr. Mackwayte thus blow his own trumpet, and then in print alone. For the rest, he had nothing great about him but his heart. A long and bitter struggle for existence had left no hardness in his smooth-shaven flexible face, only wrinkles. His eyes were gray and keen and honest, his mouth as tender as a woman's.
His daughter, Barbara, was already at table pouring out the tea—high tea is still an institution in music-hall circles. Mr. Mackwayte always gazed on this tall, handsome daughter of his with amazement as the great miracle of his life. He looked at her now fondly and thought how … how distinguished, yes, that was the word, she looked in the trim blue serge suit in which she went daily to her work at the War Office.
"Rations a bit slender to-night, daddy," she said, handing him his cup of tea, "only sardines and bread and butter and cheese. Our meatless day, eh?"
"It'll do very well for me, Barbara, my dear," he answered in his gentle voice, "there have been times when your old dad was glad enough to get a cup of tea and a bite of bread and butter for his supper. And there's many a one worse off than we are today!"
"Any luck at the agent's, daddy?"
Mr. Mackwayte shook his head.
"These revues are fair killing the trade, my dear, and that's a fact. They don't want art to-day, only rag-time and legs and all that. Our people are being cruelly hit by it and that's a fact. Why, who do you think I ran into at Harris' this morning? Why, Barney who used to work with the great Charles, you know, my dear. For years he drew his ten pound a week regular. Yet there he was, looking for a job the same as the rest of us. Poor fellow, he was down on his luck!"
Barbara