The Little Warrior

ÒParker!Ó His voice had a ring of pain.

ÒSir?Ó

ÒWhatÕs this?Ó

ÒPoached egg, sir.Ó

Freddie averted his eyes with a silent shudder.

ÒIt looks just like an old aunt of mine,Ó he said. ÒRemove it!Ó

He got up, and, wrapping his dressing-gown about his long legs, took up a stand in front of the fireplace. From this position he surveyed the room, his shoulders against the mantelpiece, his calves pressing the club-fender. It was a cheerful oasis in a chill and foggy world, a typical London bachelorÕs breakfast-room. The walls were a restful gray, and the table, set for two, a comfortable arrangement in white and silver.

ÒEggs, Parker,Ó said Freddie solemnly, Òare the acid test!Ó

ÒYes, sir?Ó

ÒIf, on the morning after, you can tackle a poached egg, you are all right. If not, not. And donÕt let anybody tell you otherwise.Ó

ÒNo, sir.Ó

Freddie pressed the palm of his hand to his brow, and sighed.

ÒIt would seem, then, that I must have revelled a trifle whole-heartedly last night. I was possibly a little blotto. Not whiffled, perhaps, but indisputably blotto. Did I make much noise coming in?Ó

ÒNo, sir. You were very quiet.Ó

ÒAh! A dashed bad sign!Ó

Freddie moved to the table, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

ÒThe cream-jug is to your right, sir,Ó said the helpful Parker.

ÒLet it remain there. CafŽ noir for me this morning. As noir as it can jolly well stick!Ó Freddie retired to the fireplace and sipped delicately. ÒAs far as I can remember, it was Ronny DevereuxÕ birthday or something ÉÓ

ÒMr MartynÕs, I think you said, sir.Ó

ÒThatÕs right. Algy MartynÕs birthday, and Ronny and I were the guests. It all comes back to me. I wanted Derek to roll along and join the festivitiesÑheÕs never met RonnyÑbut he gave it a miss. Quite right! A chap in his position has responsibilities. Member of Parliament and all that. Besides,Ó said Freddie earnestly, driving home the point with a wave of his spoon, ÒheÕs engaged to be married. You must remember that, Parker!Ó

ÒI will endeavor to, sir.Ó

ÒSometimes,Ó said Freddie dreamily, ÒI wish I were engaged to be married. Sometimes I wish I had some sweet girl to watch over me and É No, I donÕt, by Jove! It would give me the utter pip! Is Sir Derek up yet, Parker?Ó

ÒGetting up, sir.Ó

ÒSee that everything is all right, will you? I mean as regards the foodstuffs and what not. I want him to make a good breakfast. HeÕs got to meet his mother this morning at Charing Cross. SheÕs legging it back from the Riviera.Ó

ÒIndeed, sir?Ó

Freddie shook his head.

ÒYou wouldnÕt speak in that light, careless tone if you knew her! Well, youÕll see her tonight. SheÕs coming here to dinner.Ó

ÒYes, sir.Ó

ÒMiss Mariner will be here, too. A foursome. Tell Mrs Parker to pull up her socks and give us something pretty ripe. Soup, fish, all that sort of thing. She knows. And letÕs have a stoup of malvoisie from the oldest bin. This is a special occasion!Ó

ÒHer ladyship will be meeting Miss Mariner for the first time, sir?Ó

ÒYouÕve put your finger on it! Absolutely the first time on this or any stage! We must all rally round and make the thing a success.Ó

ÒI am sure Mrs Parker will strain every nerve, sir.Ó Parker moved to the door, carrying the rejected egg, and stepped aside to allow a tall, well-built man of about thirty to enter. ÒGood morning, Sir Derek.Ó

ÒMorning, Parker.Ó

Parker slid softly from the room. Derek Underhill sat down at the table. He was a strikingly handsome man, with a strong, forceful face, dark, lean and cleanly shaven. He was one of those men whom a stranger would instinctively pick out of a crowd as worthy of note. His only defect was that his heavy eyebrows gave him at times an expression which was a little forbidding. Women, however, had never been repelled by it. He was very popular with women, not quite so popular with menÑalways excepting Freddie Rooke, who worshipped him. They had been at school together, though Freddie was the younger by several years.