ATRICK DANVERS, bachelor, saw no good reason why he should ever abandon this excellent state. His life was sheltered. His leisure was not embarrassed by lack of means: his work was savoury meat, such as he loved. Danvers was a herald. He respected his office and delighted in his work at the College of Arms. In an age when traditions were dying of violence and neglect, he found himself happy in maintaining the fairest of them all. For this his profession he had his father to thank. From his mother he had inherited a little house in Westminster and a fortune which was sufficient, because he was content to live quietly and to be outrun by the times. He went out little, except to dine at his Club. For a man of thirty years, he had few friends: for a tall, good-looking, young man, who dealt with Savile Row and knew how to wear his clothes, his feminine acquaintance was almost unbelievably slight. Attempts to correct this disorder always failed: Danvers was nothing if not resolute.
As is the way of a man, Danvers seldom visited the great stores. He had no prejudice against them, but he liked the 'specialist' shops. If he had need of a pen-knife, he went to a cutler's, as his father had done. One February day, however, a chance commendation took him to one of those temples of trade from which no reasonable suppliant need ever go empty away.
To say that the place was full conveys nothing at all: it was containing about three times as many customers as it could conveniently hold: these blocked the aisles and were excluded from the lifts: some of them fought their way; the efficiency of the assistants alone prevented a riot. Climbing a magnificent staircase, Danvers wondered how the 'Christmas rush' had passed without a death-roll.
He had found the dispatch-case he wanted and was upon the point of leaving the counter, when he noticed another customer sitting some three yards away. This was a woman.
Now Danvers, more monk than gallant, would never have noticed the lady, had he not seen a hand leave the cuff of her squirrel-fur coat.
The hand was that of a woman, but not that of the owner of the coat; the latter, indeed, was plainly unaware of the attention and continued to choose a dog's lead with all her might.
Danvers knitted his brows.
The hand was gone, and he had no means of judging to whom it belonged. The press was too thick. He began to wonder whether he had witnessed a theft ... whether he should acquaint the lady with what he had observed ... whether...
Here he looked round, to see whether anyone else had noticed the fugitive hand.
That somebody else had done so was immediately clear.
Another woman, wearing a squirrel-fur coat, was staring at her slight counterpart, with her underlip caught in her teeth. Finding Danvers' eyes upon her, she turned and moved swiftly away.
Danvers began to feel bewildered.
Here a smooth voice at his elbow inquired if he was being attended to, and Danvers joined the column which was seething along the aisle.
He made his way downstairs in some uneasiness. Something was wrong. Of that he had no doubt at all. The hand he had seen had not been especially clean: he had not liked the look upon his fellow-witness's face: the lady of the dog-leads had been so wholly unconscious of any ill. He remembered that her face had been eager and very young, that she had been wearing a pert, little yellow hat.
A block on the staircase delayed him. Someone had fallen down and was being assisted to a seat. Her friends were abusing the slippery state of the stairs. These were not slippery at all, but were saving more souls than they could conveniently serve.
Danvers reached the jaws of an entrance with a sigh of relief.
To his surprise, he saw the lady of the dog-leads two paces ahead. She had, no doubt, descended by one of the lifts and now, like Danvers, was about to be gone.
As she stepped out of the doorway, a man touched her upon the sleeve. Danvers heard him say something about 'the Management.'
"Me?" said the girl quickly. "Why?"
Her voice was clear and refreshing.
"This way, if you please," said the man, laying a hand on her arm.
"But I"
"This way, please," said the man.
People were beginning to stare.
Then—
"Shop-lifting," whispered someone—and the scales fell from Danvers' eyes.
Her cheeks flaming, the girl turned to obey.
Danvers followed her and her escort into the store.
Almost at once they passed through a private door. Danvers followed....
"Excuse me, sir," said a voice.
"I saw what happened," said Danvers, producing a card. "Before you accuse this lady, you may like to let me speak."