CHAPTER V
ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS
I
The flight of time had affected Beaconsfield Villas surprisingly little. Laxton itself had deferred to Anno Domini in many subtle ways; it had its electric trams and motor-buses, and the suburb had doubled in size, but no epoch-making changes were visible in the front sitting-room of Number Five. In that homely interior the cosmic march and profluence was simply revealed by a gramophone, the gift of Mary, on the top of the sewing machine in the corner, and by the accession to the walls of lithograph portraits of the son and grandson of the august lady who still held pride of place over the chimney-piece.
The afternoon was stifling even for South London in the middle of June. And Joseph Kelly, who had attained the rank of sergeant in the Metropolitan Police Force, not having to go on duty until six o'clock that evening, was seated coatless and solemn, spectacles on nose, smoking a well-colored clay and reading the Daily Mail. At the level of his eyes, in portentous type was, "Laxton Bye-Election. A Sharp Contest. New Home Secretary's Chances." Joe was a shade stouter than of yore, his face was even redder, a thinning thatch had
