averted this danger, Miss Mapp, with her radiant, excited face, seemed to be bearing all the misery very courageously, and as Diva could no longer be restrained from starting on her morning round they plunged together into the maelstrom of the High Street, riding and whirling in its waters with the solution of the portmanteau and the early train for life-buoy. Very little shopping was done that morning, for every permutation and combination of Tilling society (with the exception, of course, of the cowards) had to be formed on the pavement with a view to the amplest possible discussion. Diva, as might have been expected, gave proof of her accustomed perfidy before long, for she certainly gave the Padre to understand that the chain of inductive reasoning was of her own welding and Elizabeth had to hurry after him to correct this grabbing impression; but the discovery in itself was so great, that small false notes like these could not spoil the glorious harmony. Even Mr Wyse abandoned his usual neutrality with regard to social politics and left his tall malacca cane in the chemist's, so keen was his gusto, on seeing Miss Mapp on the pavement outside, to glean any fresh detail of evidence.
By eleven o'clock that morning, the two duellists were universally known as "the cowards", the Padre alone demurring, and being swampingly outvoted. He held (sticking up for his sex) that the Major had been brave enough to send a challenge (on whatever subject) to his friend, and had, though he subsequently failed to maintain that high level, shown courage of a high order, since, for all he knew, Captain Puffin might have accepted it. Miss Mapp was spokesman for the mind of Tilling on this too indulgent judgment.
"Dear Padre," she said, "you are too generous altogether. They both ran away: you can't get over that. Besides you must remember that, when the Major sent the challenge, he knew Captain Puffin, oh so well, and quite expected he would run away —"
"Then why did he run away himself?" asked the Padre.
This was rather puzzling for a moment, but Miss Mapp soon thought of the explanation.
"Oh, just to make sure," she said, and Tilling applauded her ready irony.
And then came the climax of sensationalism, when at about ten minutes past eleven the two cowards emerged into the High Street on their way to catch the eleven-twenty tram out to the links. The day threatened rain, and they both carried bags which contained a change of clothes. Just round the corner of the High Street was the group which had applauded Miss Mapp's quickness, and the cowards were among the breakers. They glanced at each other, seeing that Miss Mapp was the most towering of the breakers, but it was too late to retreat, and they made the usual salutations.
"Good-morning," said Diva, with her voice trembling. "Off to catch the early train together — I mean the tram."
"Good-morning, Captain Puffin," said Miss Mapp with extreme sweetness. "What a nice little travelling bag! Oh, and the Major's got one too! H'm!"
A certain dismay looked from Major Flint's eyes, Captain Puffin's mouth fell open, and he forgot to shut it.
"Yes; change of clothes," said the Major. "It looks a threatening morning."
"Very threatening," said Miss Mapp. "I hope you will do nothing rash or dangerous."
There was a moment's silence, and the two looked from one face to another of this fell group. They all wore fixed, inexplicable smiles.
"It will be pleasant among the sand-dunes," said the Padre, and his wife gave a loud squeak.
"Well, we shall be missing our tram," said the Major. "Au — au reservoir, ladies."
Nobody responded at all, and they hurried off down the street, their bags bumping together very inconveniently.
"Something's up, Major," said Puffin, with true Tilling perspicacity, as soon as they had got out of hearing . . .
* * *
Precisely at the same moment Miss Mapp gave a little cooing laugh.
"Now I must run and do my bittie shopping, Padre," she said, and kissed her hand all round . . . The curtain had to come down for a little while on so dramatic a situation. Any discussion, just then, would be an anticlimax.
Chapter Nine
Captain Puffin found but a sombre diarist when he came over to study his Roman roads with Major Flint that evening, and indeed he was a sombre antiquarian himself. They had pondered a good deal during the day over their strange reception in the High Street that morning and the recondite allusions to bags, sand-dunes and early trains, and the more they pondered the more probable it became that not only was something up, but, as regards the duel, everything was up. For weeks now they had been regarded by the ladies of Tilling with something approaching veneration, but there seemed singularly little veneration at the back of the comments this morning. Following so closely on the encounter with Miss Mapp last night, this irreverent attitude was probably due to some atheistical manœuvre of hers. Such, at least, was the Major's view, and when he held a view he usually stated it, did Sporting Benjy.
"We've got you to thank for this, Puffin," he said. "Upon my soul, I was ashamed of you for saying what you did to Miss Mapp last night. Utter absence of any chivalrous feeling hinting that if she said you were drunk, you would say she was. She was as sober and lucid last night as she was this morning. And she was devilish lucid, to my mind, this morning."
"Pity you didn't take her part last night," said Puffin. "You thought that was a very ingenious idea of mine to make her hold her tongue."
"There are finer things in this world, sir, than ingenuity," said the Major. "What your ingenuity has led to is this public ridicule. You may not mind that yourself — you may be used to it — but a man should regard the consequences of his act on others . . . My status in Tilling is completely changed. Changed for the worse, sir."
Puffin emitted his fluty, disagreeable laugh.
"If your status in Tilling depended on a reputation for bloodthirsty bravery," he said, "the sooner it was changed the better. We're in the same boat: I don't say I like the boat, but there we are. Have a drink, and you'll feel better. Never mind your status."
"I've a good mind never to have a drink again," said the Major, pouring himself out one of his stiff little glasses, "if a drink leads to this sort of thing."
"But it didn't," said Puffin. "How it all got out, I can't say, nor for that matter can you. If it hadn't been for me last night, it would have been all over Tilling that you and I were tipsy as well. That wouldn't have improved our status that I can see."
"It was in consequence of what you said to Mapp —" began the Major.
"But, good Lord, where's the connection?" asked Puffin. "Produce the connection! Let's have a look at the connection! There ain't any connection! Duelling wasn't as much as mentioned last night."
Major Flint pondered this in gloomy, sipping silence.
"Bridge-party at Mrs Poppit's the day after tomorrow," he said. "I don't feel as if I could face it. Suppose they all go on making allusions to duelling and early trains and that? I shan't be able to keep my mind on the cards for fear of it. More than a sensitive man ought to be asked to bear."
Puffin made a noise that sounded rather like "Fudge!"
"Your
