rs. Ukridge," I said. "I really don't think I
could have done more. We tried every method. Beale had seven fights,
and I made a speech on the lawn, but it was all no good."

"Perhaps we can collect these men and explain things," I added. "I
don't believe any of them know you've come back."

"Send Beale round," said Ukridge. "Beale!"

The hired retainer came running out at the sound of the well-known
voice.

"Lumme, Mr. Ukridge, sir!" he gasped.

It was the first time Beale had ever betrayed any real emotion in my
presence. To him, I suppose, the return of Ukridge was as sensational
and astounding an event as the reappearance of one from the tomb would
have been. He was not accustomed to find those who had shot the moon
revisiting their old haunts.

"Go round the place and tell those blackguards that I've come back,
and would like to have a word with them on the lawn. And if you find
any of them stealing my fowls, knock them down."

"I 'ave knocked down one or two," said Beale with approval. "That
Charlie--"

"That's right, Beale. You're an excellent man, and I will pay you your
back wages to-night before I go to bed."

"Those fellers, sir," said Beale, having expressed his gratification,
"they've been and scattered most of them birds already, sir. They've
been chasin' of 'em for this hour back."

Ukridge groaned.

"Demons!" he said. "Demons!"

Beale went off.

The audience assembled on the lawn in the moonlight. Ukridge, with his
cap well over his eyes and his mackintosh hanging around him like a
Roman toga, surveyed them stonily, and finally began his speech.

"You--you--you--you blackguards!" he said.

I always like to think of Ukridge as he appeared at that moment. There
have been times when his conduct did not recommend itself to me. It
has sometimes happened that I have seen flaws in him. But on this
occasion he was at his best. He was eloquent. He dominated his
audience.

He poured scorn upon his hearers, and they quailed. He flung invective
at them, and they wilted.

It was hard, he said, it was a little hard that a gentleman could not
run up to London for a couple of days on business without having his
private grounds turned upside down. He had intended to deal well by
the tradesmen of the town, to put business in their way, to give them
large orders. But would he? Not much. As soon as ever the sun had
risen and another day begun, their miserable accounts should be paid
in full and their