William The Conqueror (24 page)

‘I can’t get any
go
into it!’ almost sobbed Mrs Brown to Ethel.

‘Well, let’s turn the conjuror on,’ said Ethel, ‘and see if that melts the ice.’

The conjuror was therefore dragged, much against his will, from the dining-room, where he was comfortably consuming a very satisfactory meal, to the morning-room, where his outfit awaited him,
and the guests were summoned from the drawing-room. They came with joy and relief, glad to get anywhere where they felt that their every movement was not watched by hostile mocking eyes.

‘I wish they’d begin to get rough,’ whispered Mrs Brown pathetically to Ethel as they filed in.

‘You said you hoped they wouldn’t,’ said Ethel.

‘Yes, but I didn’t know they’d be like this,’ said Mrs Brown.

The guests had thrown anxious glances at the window curtains as they entered. To their partial relief they found them partially drawn. The heavy curtains did not quite meet and the window was
open, so that there was a distinct, if small, space through which unseen enemies might watch the scene. The guests fixed their gaze on that space with mingled apprehension and ferocity.

Then gradually they forgot it.

He was a very good conjuror. He drew yards of coloured paper out of an empty tumbler. He turned a penny into a half-crown and – a less exciting transformation – a half-crown into a
penny. He did wonderful things with a pack of cards. He gave a card to Ginger and then found it inside his own watch, having shrunk to an eighth of its size. Then he took a box and put a
table-napkin into it. He put it on his magic table under his magic cloth. Then he whipped away the cloth and took up the box again.

‘I believe it’s changed to a rabbit,’ said the conjuror with a smile.

But it hadn’t.

It had changed to a dead cat.

There came a muffled snigger from the window.

Slowly the truth dawned on William and his guests. The Hubert Lanites had actually dared to tamper with the conjuror’s outfit.

Wild beasts could not have restrained them then.

They rose in a body and surged out into the night.

The sally, of course, was a failure. The Hubert Lanites had wisely not awaited vengeance, but had beat a strategic retreat immediately on seeing the successful result of their coup. The rabbit
was discovered a few minutes later by the frantic conjuror underneath the bureau, where Hubert Lane had provided it with a little pile of assorted greens, which it was sampling with
appreciation.

It was decided by William’s family that on the whole his party had not been a success. This belief was shared by the mothers of the guests. The mothers of the guests based their belief
chiefly on the state of the guests’ toilets when the guests returned to the bosom of their families.

‘His dancing pumps simply
covered
with mud,’ wailed one.

‘His suit all messed up as if he’d been falling about among bushes,’ said another.

The Outlaws went about for the next few days looking grimly determined. It was extraordinary how elusive and self-effacing the Hubert Lanites had become all of a sudden. Though the Outlaws
searched the village from end to end with murder in their hearts they met not a single one.

The Hubert Lanites went into the village, when they did go into the village, in bands and took to flight on sight of the Outlaws. They had met the Outlaws in deadly combat before and had no
false pride about admitting that discretion is the better part of valour.

It was William who first heard the rumour that Hubert Lane was going to give a party. The Outlaws abandoned the idea then of vengeance by pitched battle. They still wanted an eye for an eye and
a tooth for a tooth, but they decided that it was meeter that the punishment should fit the crime.

The first thing to do, of course, was to discover the date of Hubert Lane’s party. But this was less easy than at first it seemed. For Hubert Lane had not invited a single one of
William’s supporters and had furthermore sworn all his guests to secrecy. The Outlaws exercised all their ingenuity in various attempts to discover the all-important date. It was, of course,
almost impossible to plan any sort of coup before they heard when the party was to take place and what was to happen at it.

They held several meetings at which the chief item on the agenda seemed to be mutual recrimination for the non-discovery of the date of Hubert’s party.

Ginger lived nearest to Hubert Lane, so he came in for the lion’s share of abuse.

‘I simply can’t
think
why you don’ find out when he’s havin’ his ole party,’ said William scathingly.

‘An’ I simply can’t think why
you
don’,’ retorted Ginger with spirit.

‘Well, aren’t I doin’ all I can,’ said William with righteous indignation.

‘What’re you doin’?’ said Ginger pugnaciously.

‘I’m – er – well, I’m goin’ about askin’ folks,’ said William.

‘So’m I,’ said Ginger.

But there came a day when Ginger entered the meeting place his face wreathed in proud smiles.

‘I’ve found out,’ he said simply.

‘Tell us! How? When?’ gasped the Outlaws excitedly.

‘I was in the cake-shop,’ explained Ginger breathlessly, ‘buyin’ some humbugs – the big sort – the kind they make there, you know—’

‘Got any left?’ put in Douglas tentatively.

‘Oh, never mind about the old humbugs,’ said William. ‘Get
on
!’

‘I finished ’em all,’ said Ginger apologetically to Douglas. ‘They don’ last long that sort, an’ I only got two penn’oth.’

‘Get ON!’ repeated William.

Ginger got on.

‘Well jus’ when she’d finished weighin’ ’em an’ I was watchin’ her jolly hard, I can tell you. They’re jolly mean in that shop, you know. They
don’t stop till the scales get right down. They just get ’em movin’ a bit an’ then they take ’em off an’ put ’em in the paper, an’ often’s not
they wun’t go
right
down. I think they oughter lettem go
right
down with a bang an’ if they don’ they oughter put some more on. Why, once when they was
weighin’ me somethin’ it only jus’ woggled a
teeny
bit an’ they began takin’ ’em off to put in the bag and I said—’

‘What were they? Humbugs?’ said Douglas with interest.

‘What’d you say to ’em, Ginger?’ said Henry.

‘Get ON ’bout Hubert Lane’s party,’ said William, who was a boy of one idea.

‘No, it was acid-drops,’ said Ginger, ‘an’ I said –
Oo-oo.
’ as William laid him low and took his seat astride on his chest. ‘All right. I keep
tryin’ to tell you an’ all you keep int’ruptin’. Well, Mrs Lane came in an’ ordered thirty chairs for December the 28th in the evenin’ an’ a lot of cakes
an’ stuff, so that mus’ be the day of the party.’

William arose from Ginger’s chest and raised his discordant young voice in a yell of triumph.

On the evening of December 28th four small boys might have been seen creeping through the Lane’s garden in the darkness at half-past six. The party would be sure to begin about seven.
Parties always began about seven. The Outlaws wished to be firmly entrenched in their position by seven.

William as usual had drawn up their plan of operations. A tree grew up the house and from its branches an open window on the first floor could easily be gained. This William knew was the
box-room. Here, in the midst of the enemy’s castle, the Outlaws had decided to entrench themselves till the party had begun. Their plan of operations included, among other things, a complete
failure of electric light throughout the house.

Exactly how this was to be accomplished William was less certain than he pretended to be, but he had read up the chapter on electricity in his ‘Boys’ Book’ and was hoping for
the best.

Successfully, and with far less noise than anyone who knew them might have expected, the Outlaws climbed the tree in the darkness and took up their positions in the box-room. It was dusty and
not very comfortable. William insisted on their hiding in case anyone should come into the room, and caused a certain amount of discontent among his followers by claiming as his perquisite the only
comfortable hiding place – a roomy cupboard. Only the gravity of the situation and the certainty that a noise of any sort would probably bring the whole nest of Hubert Lanites about their
ears prevented their putting the matter to the only test recognised by the Outlaws, that of physical strength. A diversion was caused by Douglas, who, with a little scream of joy (which was
instantly ‘Sh’d!’ by the other Outlaws with a ‘Sh!’ much louder than the original scream) said that he could see a rat. Investigation, however, proved that it was an
old bedroom slipper of Mr Lane’s, and at the sound of a door opening on the landing the Outlaws hastily retired to their hiding-places – William to his comfortable cupboard, Ginger,
Douglas and Henry to their cramped positions behind boxes and packing cases that were several sizes too small for them.

Someone went downstairs, and then came unmistakable sounds of the arrivals of guests – motors, greetings, the constant ringing of the front door bell. The Outlaws strained their ears to
distinguish actual individual Hubert Lanites, but all they could hear was the confused murmur as each guest arrived. Gradually this was followed by silence.

‘They’re all doin’ somethin’,’ said Ginger.

‘Dancin’,’ suggested Henry.

‘There’s no music, silly,’ said William. ‘I bet it’s games.’

‘You’d hear more noise if it was games,’ said Douglas. ‘I bet it’s the conjuror.’

‘Well, I bet it isn’t. I bet they’re not havin’ a conjuror,’ said William. Then, ‘I’m goin’ down to see what it is.’

This bold statement was received with a gasp of dismay.

‘They – they’ll
get
you!’ said Ginger apprehensively.

‘Well, I bet they won’t,’ said William, ‘any more’n if I was an Injun. I can
creep
down jus’ as quiet’s if I was an Injun. If an Injun wanted to
know what they was doin’ he’d jus’
creep
down there an’ back an’ nobody’d hear him. Well, that’s what I’m going to do.’

With deep misgivings, watching his departure with anxious eyes from their hiding-places, the Outlaws let him go.

William crept on to the landing. The landing was empty. Cautiously he peered over the banister. The stairs were empty. As far as he could see the hall was empty. Very cautiously he crept down
the stairs. A door just inside the front door was open and from it came a buzz of conversation. William’s curiosity was aroused. Evidently the party was there and something was going on.
William wanted to know what was going on. He crept along the hall and peeped through the hinge of the half-open door. Then he stood motionless, paralysed with amazement. Where was Hubert
Lane’s party? This room was full of grown-ups.

Suddenly the door opened and someone came out.

‘Yes, it’s in here,’ she said to William. ‘Go straight in.’

Before William could resist or think of any excuse or explanation he found that he was being piloted into the room. The room was full of chairs in rows, and the chairs full of people.

‘There’s lots of room in the front row,’ said somebody, and William found himself being led up to the lots of room in the front row. He was too astonished to do anything but
sit on the chair to which they had led him. He looked around him wildly. In front of him was a table which contained a glass of water and behind which stood a learned-looking, spectacled man,
holding a sheaf of papers in his hand. Behind William sat rows of grown-up people. Some he knew and some he didn’t, but all looked earnest and intelligent. A very fat lady and a very fat
gentleman had now taken the two seats next to him, hemming him in and cutting off his retreat. The fat lady leaned towards him with a fat smile.

‘It’s so nice to see a boy like you taking an interest in this subject,’ she said kindly. ‘You may find some of it a bit above your head, but I’m sure you’ll
enjoy it.’

Upstairs the other Outlaws awaited their leader in breathless suspense. And their leader did not return.

‘They’ve
got
him,’ said Douglas gloomily, ‘I said they would.’

‘Well,’ said Ginger, ‘then we’ve gotter go down an’ rescue him, that’s all.’

At the thought of this long-deferred pitched battle with the Hubert Lanites their spirits rose. They crept on to the landing. The landing was empty. They looked over the banisters. The stairs
were empty. They crept down the stairs. The hall was empty. Then suddenly a woman came out of a door near the front door. They turned to flee, but it was too late.

‘In here,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Are you with the other little boy? He’s in the front row.’

Apprehensive, aghast, bewildered, they allowed themselves to be ushered into the room and up to the front row. They sat down on the other side of the fat lady and gentleman. The lecturer was
just beginning to lecture.

Ginger leant across.

‘William,’ he said.

‘
Sh!
’ said everyone.

He ‘Sh’d.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen—’ began the lecturer.

BEHIND THE TABLE STOOD A LEARNED-LOOKING MAN HOLDING A SHEAF OF PAPERS IN HIS HAND.