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AUTHOR OF “THE BLOOD THAT DRIPPED ON THE DOORMAT,” “THE SCREAM IN
BELGRAVE SQUARE,” “THE VAMPIRE OF BODGER’S ALLEY,”
“CRIMSON SINS,” “THE MYSTERY OF THE
MUTILATED MUMMY,” ETC., ETC.

 

Characters:

The Hon.The courtesy title of Honourable is given to certain children of peers; it is not used by those styled Lord. This is the first of many jesting anomalies in character titles and descriptions designed to let the reader know that this is a spoof. [NM] Lord Baldwin Berkley (the hero). He loves

Her GraceAs with The Hon., this is deliberately incorrect usage; Her Grace would refer to a non-royal duchess, who would not be styled Lady as well. [NM] The Lady Marjorie Stagg-Mantle (the heroine) Both are much persecuted by

Marquis Luke Lockhart, the Senior SubalternBritish commissioned army officer below the rank of captain; Junior-grade: inferior in rank or status.
 
of the Blues The Blues: The Royal Horse Guards was a cavalry regiment of the British Army, founded in 1650 on the order of Oliver Cromwell. As the regiment’s uniform was blue in color it was nicknamed “the Oxford Blues,” from which was derived the nickname the “Blues.” Now known as The Blues & Royals, they are one of the two regiments of Household Cavalry. They mount guard at Whitehall alternately with The Life Guards who wear red uniforms.
 
(the villain).

 

Makeweights:Something added to supply a lack; here, meaning minor characters to flesh out the drama.
 

 

The Countess Maria Spaghetti (an adventuress).

The Hon. Sir Charles Claridge (friend of the hero).

 

CHAPTER I.

Brooklands by Night.

 

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

“Bang!” and again “Bang!”

The shots crashed through the open window, and the Hon. Lord Baldwin Berkeley sprang to his feet. “Indeed, I have enemies,” he said, as he plugged up the shot holes with a sparking plugspark plug
 
. Outside in the glare of the sunlight nothing disturbed the espiéglerieFr., mischief, frolicsomeness.
 
of the gay scene which revealed itself to his boyish eyes. It was Brooklands Brooklands: was a 2.75-mile (4.43 km) motor racing circuit and aerodrome built in 1907 near Surrey, England. It was the world’s first purpose-built motorsport venue, as well as one of Britain’s first airfields.
 
. Beautiful, bountiful Brooklands! Brooklands on a race day! The day of the Daimler Vase!I can’t find any record of a Daimler Vase so I’m assuming this trophy is a Wodehouse invention. Mark Hodson points out that confusingly, Daimler cars were not built by the German Daimler-Benz company (who used the trade name “Mercedes”), but by a British company based in Coventry, established in 1896 by a friend of Gottfried Daimler’s who had acquired the right to use his patents in the UK. Daimler always specialised in large, luxurious cars. (Since the 1930s, the Daimler name has belonged to the company that makes Jaguar cars.)
 

Here, in the dressing room where Berkeley was dressed in his racing colours, and now put the finishing touches to his well-oiled hair, lurked danger. The shots through his vertebræ proved that. Presently he would be working the starting handle of his great, red car: more perilous still, for she had the strongest back-fire on the market.

Then—the Hon. Baldwin drew a long breath. Already he seemed to see the contest for the Daimler Vase. How would the issue go? Would he get away at the start and be bumped by each of the other competing monsters as they passed him by, or would he gain a lap in the first round and crash into his laggard opponents. Another risk! He caught himself wishing the day was over. But only for a moment. . . . His lips closed with a snap; he seized his bow and played Grieg’s famous Polka in H sharpEdvard Grieg (1843–1907), Norwegian composer, never wrote a polka, and there is no key of “H sharp.”
 
. Save for the pistol shots he was alone. But not for long. He had taken but one step to the door, when a startling figure in a burnous met him.

“Luke Lockhart!” cried Baldwin. “The same,” retorted the other, with a fiendish chuckle, “and the mortgagees foreclose.”

·  ·  ·  ·  ·

“Are you ready?” was the cry, as the cars toed the invisible line. “No,” roared Baldwin, for he had seen Her Grace the Lady Marjorie Stagg-Mantle’s uplifted parasol, the old childish signal between them. In a flash he remembered the dear, dead days in the KentishKent is a county in southeast England widely known as “the Garden of England.”
 
hay-field. “Ah, me!” he sighed, reminiscently . . . . By this time she had forced her way to his side.

 

 

“Only you can save me,” she whispered. His brain worked like a buzz-saw in an ice-box. “Are you ready?” came the irritated starter’s warning question. “Ready,” he shouted, “aye, ready,” and lifting Marjorie over the splash-board as the word “Go” sounded, he put in his reverse and drove rapidly away in the opposite direction.

(To be continued.)

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