Gentlemen Formerly Dressed Read Online Free PDF Page B

bloody hands leaving the scene of a crime.
    Allie lived with her mother and several small fluffy dogs in a terrace in Belgravia. Mrs. Dawe was, at Rowland’s guess, in her forties, an only slightly faded beauty with a refined constitution. She took one look at her daughter’s bloodied hands and promptly fainted. Fortunately, there was a housekeeper about—a stout, calm and capable matron who said little but acted swiftly. She dutifully assisted Rowland who, one armed, was ill-equipped to hold up both women.
    He settled Allie on the chaise while smelling salts were fetched for her mother. When Mrs. Dawe had been revived, the housekeeper attended to Allie’s injured hands with iodine and tight-lipped disapproval. Rowland introduced himself then.
    â€œI do beg your pardon, Mr. Sinclair,” Mrs. Dawe said frostily, glaring at her daughter. “It is not my habit to faint, but I am not accustomed to strange men bringing my daughter home intoxicated and bleeding in full view of the neighbours! Whatever will your uncle say, Allison? I demand to know the meaning of this!”
    Allie started to cry again, and so Rowland found himself left to explain to her furious mother that Alfred Dawe was dead and that Allie had cut her hands trying to remove the sword from his lifeless body.
    Mrs. Dawe fainted again.
    The housekeeper threw up her hands and glowered at Rowland. She retrieved the smelling salts muttering.
    â€œHow are your hands?” he asked Allie quietly as her mother was revived for a second time.
    She showed him. The cuts were long but not as deep as he’d first thought. “I don’t need this anymore,” she slurred, handing him his very bloody handkerchief. “So thank you very much… you’ve been most kind.” She looked up at him with smiling glassy eyes. “You’re really rather handsome, Mr. Sinclair… I don’t know why I didn’t notice before.”
    Rowland smiled. “I suspect most people look significantly better after you’ve had a few stiff drinks.”
    She sighed. “Do you want to go dancing sometime?”
    Rowland laughed. He handed her his calling card. “I’m staying at Claridge’s if you need to contact me. I should probably go.”
    He glanced back at Mrs. Dawe who was just coming out of her faint, murmuring, “Bunky… dear Bunky… whatever shall we do without you?”
    â€œI am sorry I wasn’t more tactful with your mother.”
    Allie giggled. “You wait till I tell her that Uncle Alfred was wearing her nightie!”

4
    LUKE AMONG THE PROPHETS

    It appears highly probable that Lord Luke, a director of the Australian Mercantile, Land, and Finance Company, also a director of Bovril Ltd., is one of the cautious persons behind the proposal that a chartered company, free from all restrictions by industrial awards and “the tyranny of union labour,” should be given many other concessions also, and be permitted to build up treasures on earth in the North Australian territory. Obviously this chartered company development proposal was fostered and encouraged by S. M. Bruce, Resident Commonwealth Minister in London, for better or worse, for Australia, but certainly for the expected benefit of some of his London associates in “gentlemen’s clubs” and other exclusive places wherein the Oxford bleat and the Cambridge “haw” provide the hallmark of social somebodyism.
    The Worker, 1933
    R owland Sinclair returned quite thankfully to the sanctuary of Claridge’s to discover that his friends had stepped out. The summer afternoon was particularly warm and airless. He began to loosen his tie, and then, realising he would struggle to reinstate the knot, thought better of it.
    â€œPerhaps you would care to change your attire, sir?” Beresford suggested as he brought him a drink.
    â€œChange, why?” Rowland asked, wondering if there was some engagement he