Albert’s pleasant musings were disrupted by the sounds of a commotion outside the dining room door. He heard the major’s voice raised in stormy wrath, and the next instant he strode back into the room, dragging behind him a sulky lumbering figure, dressed in yellow silk and carrying a large business-like axe in his hands.
Albert’s eyes popped open, and his stomach turned a slow nauseating flip-flop. For the figure with the major was George, the genie!
The major churned across the rug like a battleship and stopped in front of Albert. A finger the size of a banana shot out and wagged in front of the Addin nose.
“As usual,” the major said in a hoarse, strangled voice, “I find myself coming to you for explanations when something ghastly and unnatural occurs. This man,” the major paused to glare at George, “says he is your gen — jin — I guess he means your vale t.” The major’s cheeks were the color of ripe beets now and his voice had sunk to a hissing whisper. “Answer me Addin, is this — this creature your valet?”
Albert swallowed nervously.
“You might say he is,” he said weakly.
The major mopped his brow and struggled for composure.
“I am glad to know that,” he said at last, “I am glad to know that he is your valet. For I want you to answer a little question for me, Mr. Addin. That is,” the major was icily polite, “if you don’t mind.”
Albert liked none of this. The major was breathing like a runaway locomotive, and his frosty blue eyes were glaring at him as if he were something that had been caught crawling from the woodwork.
“You don’t mind, do you?” The major’s voice was rising in pitch and volume.
Albert looked at George. George was shifting from one big foot to the other in obvious embarrassment and misery. Aunt Annabelle, Albert was aware, was taking in the scene in undisguised satisfaction. Margot was staring miserably at her plate and wringing the napkin she held in her hands. Albert’s gaze came unwillingly back to Major Mastiff. He attempted an ingratiating smile.
“Ha, ha,” he laughed unconvincingly, “do I get twenty silver dollars if I answer it correctly?”
The major’s cheeks swelled up into miniature balloons.
“Tell me,” he bellowed suddenly and wildly, “why your valet chopped down Mastiff Oak?”
The words bounced and echoed from the oaken rafters to the solid pine floor like the sound of doomsday itself. Albert’s heart would have popped out his mouth had he not clamped his teeth together. He stared in horror from the major to George and in George’s eyes he saw — guilt. So that was it! George had chopped down the tree and the major naturally thought that he, Albert, was responsible for it. Albert breathed easier. A simple explanation, brisk and to the point, and the whole thing would be cleared up.
“Major Mastiff,” he began formally, “I—”
He stopped as he saw George tugging at the sleeve of the major’s coat. The major wheeled.
“In Heaven’s name,” he bellowed, “what do you want, you gibbering halfwit?”
“He told me to do it,” George pointed at Albert, “he told me that he wanted some kindling.”
“Oh he did!” The major’s voice was like a condor’s scream. He turned to Albert, breathing through his nose. “I should have known better,” he cried hoarsely, “I invited you here against my better judgment. You are an irresponsible, unreliable, thoroughly incompetent moron. You have descended from a long line of the same. You are a destructive, brainless spendthrift. You are—”
“But, Major,” Albert interrupted desperately. He knew the cards were stacked against him but he had to make some case for himself. George had utterly and hopelessly betrayed him. He had mentioned something about kindling, but not a word had passed the Addin lips to the effect that forest heirlooms were to be destroyed to accomplish the purpose.
“If you are not off the grounds by five o’clock,” the major cried wrathfully, “I’ll set the dogs on you. If I ever see you in my daughter’s company again I’ll hunt you down with my elephant gun and blow you into six-hundred pieces. I’ve bad enough. In the future, if you speak to me or my family, you do it at your own risk. Do I make myself clear?”
“By reading between the lines,” Albert said morosely, “I get what you’re hinting at. You don’t really want my autograph then?”
With an anguished bleat, Major Mastiff wheeled and staggered blindly from the room. George, Albert noticed grimly, had disappeared too.
Aunt Annabelle rose from the table with stiff dignity and, with a frigid, disapproving glance in Albert’s direction, retired from the room. Margot remained at the table, crying softly into her handkerchief.
Albert sat down beside her.
“That does it,” he sighed ruefully, “I haven’t learned the knack yet of creeping into the old boy’s heart. I’d better start to pack.” He looked tenderly at Margot’s elfin profile and patted her softly on the shoulder.
“For old time’s sake,” he said fervently, “will you be a good girl and slip the shells from the old boy’s elephant gun?”
Margot stopped sniffing and looked at him, determination in her eye.
“You’re not going to pack,” she said firmly “just go to your room and wait. I’m going to have a try at softening father up.”
“How do you go about it?” Albert asked with professional interest. “Do you use something hard like a baseball bat or does something blunt and dull do the trick?”
“Silly,” Margot smiled. “I find two blue eyes and four large tears more effective than anything else.”
“I’ll wait upstairs,” Albert said dubiously. “If you fail, try and give me a few minutes warning. Your father would appreciate a moving target, I think. And I can promise you I would really move.”
Margot squared her small jaw stubbornly.
“I’ll swing him around. I’m almost sure of it. I’m going to convince him you aren’t as bad as he thinks you are. You go to your room and wait there for me. I’ll beard father in his den.” Albert kissed her fondly. “You brave, brave girl,” he said admiringly.
Some minutes later, Albert slipped quietly into his room. He had little hope of Margot changing her father’s mind and so, with the caution of the Addin clan, he intended to get things ready for a speedy departure.
His room, he discovered then, was not unoccupied. Squatting on the floor was George, the genie, and another individual dressed in a white apron and a chef’s hat. Stacks of greenbacks were piled before this latter chap, and Albert heard the music click of ivory cubes as they bounced across the floor.
The cook scrambled to his feet as Albert entered.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said breathlessly, “but me and your man was just indulgin’ in a harmless game of dice, sir. I was just taking my leave, sir, as you came in.”
“Then take it,” Albert said, “and take your winnings too. I want to talk to my man alone. If I should decide to draw and quarter him I wouldn’t want anyone around to stop it.”
The cook stooped and stuffed several thick wads of currency into his pockets and then left the room hurriedly.
“Before we get down to the important things,” Albert said darkly, “I’d like to know where you got all that money you lost?”
George beamed broadly.
“Sure, Boss. I’ll show yuh. Yuh seemed to like dat green stuff I got yuh dis morning so I went back and got some more of it. I yam only trying to be a good genie.”