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 Rogers Cadenhead

SamsTeach Yourself

Java
24
in
Hours
Eighth Edition
Sams Teach Yourself Java in 24 Hours, Eighth Edition
Copyright © 2018 by Pearson Education, Inc.

ISBN-13: 978-0-672-33794-9
ISBN-10: 0-672-33794-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017946911

Printed in the United States of America
 Contents at a Glance
PART I GETTING STARTED
1 Becoming a Programmer ...............................................................................................3
2 Writing Your First Program ...........................................................................................13
3 Vacationing in Java .....................................................................................................27
4 Understanding How Java Programs Work ......................................................................41
PART II LEARNING THE BASICS OF PROGRAMMING
5 Storing and Changing Information in a Program ............................................................53
6 Using Strings to Communicate ....................................................................................71
7 Using Conditional Tests to Make Decisions ..................................................................83
8 Repeating an Action with Loops ...................................................................................99
PART III WORKING WITH INFORMATION IN NEW WAYS
9 Storing Information with Arrays ..................................................................................111
10 Creating Your First Object..........................................................................................125
11 Describing What Your Object Is Like ..........................................................................141
12 Making the Most of Existing Objects ..........................................................................159
PART IV MOVING INTO ADVANCED TOPICS
13 Storing Objects in Data Structures .............................................................................173
14 Handling Errors in a Program .....................................................................................187
15 Creating a Threaded Program ....................................................................................203
16 Using Inner Classes and Closures .............................................................................221
PART V PROGRAMMING A GRAPHICAL USER INTERFACE
17 Building a Simple User Interface................................................................................237
18 Laying Out a User Interface .......................................................................................259
19 Responding to User Input..........................................................................................273
PART VI WRITING INTERNET APPLICATIONS
20 Reading and Writing Files ..........................................................................................291
21 Using Java 9’s New HTTP Client ................................................................................309
22 Creating Java2D Graphics .........................................................................................325
23 Creating Minecraft Mods with Java ............................................................................341
24 Writing Android Apps.................................................................................................375
APPENDIXES
A Using the NetBeans Integrated Development Environment...........................................399
B Where to Go from Here: Java Resources ....................................................................407
C This Book’s Website .................................................................................................411
D Fixing a Problem with the Android Studio Emulator......................................................413
E Fixing Package Not Visible Errors in NetBeans ............................................................419
 Contents

Introduction 1 HOUR 4: Understanding How Java

Programs Work 41
Creating an Application 41
PART I: Getting Started
Sending Arguments to Applications 43
The Java Class Library 45
HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer 3
Trying Java Statements in JShell 49
Choosing a Language 4
Telling the Computer What to Do 6
How Programs Work 7 PART II: Learning the Basics of
When Programs Don’t Work 8 Programming
Choosing a Java Programming Tool 9
Installing a Java Development Tool 10 HOUR 5: Storing and Changing
Information in a Program 53
HOUR 2: Writing Your First Program 13 Statements and Expressions 53
What You Need to Write Programs 13 Assigning Variable Types 54
Creating the Saluton Program 14 Integers and Floating-Point Numbers 54
Beginning the Program 14 Characters and Strings 55
The class Statement 16 Other Numeric Variable Types 56
What the main Statement Does 17 The boolean Variable Type 57
Those Squiggly Bracket Marks 17 Naming Your Variables 58
Storing Information in a Variable 18 Storing Information in Variables 59
Displaying the Contents of a Variable 18 All About Operators 60
Saving the Finished Product 19 Incrementing and Decrementing a
Compiling the Program into a Class File 20 Variable 61
Fixing Errors 20 Operator Precedence 63
Running a Java Program 22 Using Expressions 64

HOUR 3: Vacationing in Java 27 HOUR 6: Using Strings to Communicate 71

First Stop: Oracle 27 Storing Text in Strings 71
A Brief History of Java 29 Displaying Strings in Programs 72
Going to School with Java 30 Using Special Characters in Strings 73
Lunch at Food Network 32 Pasting Strings Together 74
Watching the Skies at NASA 33 Using Other Variables with Strings 74
Getting Down to Business 34 Advanced String Handling 75
Stopping by SourceForge for Directions 35 Comparing Two Strings 76
Determining the Length of a String 77
 Copying a String with a New Case 77 Building an Inheritance Hierarchy 130
Looking for a String 77 Converting Objects and Simple Variables 131
Presenting Credits 78 Casting Simple Variables 131
Casting Objects 132
HOUR 7: Using Conditional Tests to
Converting Simple Variables to
Make Decisions 83 Objects and Back 133
if Statements 84 Creating an Object 135
Less-Than and Greater-Than
Comparisons 84 HOUR 11: Describing What Your
Equal and Not Equal Comparisons 85 Object Is Like 141
Organizing a Program with Block Creating Variables 141
Statements 85
Creating Class Variables 143
if-else Statements 87
Creating Behavior with Methods 144
switch Statements 87
Declaring a Method 145
The Ternary Operator 90
Similar Methods with Different
Watching the Clock 91 Arguments 146
Constructors 147
HOUR 8: Repeating an Action with Loops 99 Class Methods 148
for Loops 99 Variable Scope within Methods 148
while Loops 102 Putting One Class Inside Another 149
do-while Loops 103 Using the this Keyword 151
Exiting a Loop 104 Using Class Methods and Variables 152
Naming a Loop 105
Complex for Loops 106 HOUR 12: Making the Most of
Testing Your Computer Speed 107 Existing Objects 159
The Power of Inheritance 159

PART III: Working with Information Inheriting Behavior and Attributes 160
in New Ways Overriding Methods 161
Establishing Inheritance 161
HOUR 9: Storing Information with Arrays 111 Using this and super in a Subclass 162
Creating Arrays 112 Working with Existing Objects 163
Using Arrays 113 Storing Objects of the Same Class
Multidimensional Arrays 115 in Array Lists 164
Sorting an Array 116 Looping Through an Array List 166
Counting Characters in Strings 118 Creating a Subclass 168

HOUR 10: Creating Your First Object 125 PART IV: Moving into Advanced Topics
How Object-Oriented Programming
Works 125 HOUR 13: Storing Objects in
Objects in Action 127 Data Structures 173
What Objects Are 128 Array Lists 174
Understanding Inheritance 129 Hash Maps 180
HOUR 14: Handling Errors in a Program 187 Buttons 242
Exceptions 188 Labels and Text Fields 245
Catching Exceptions in a try-catch Check Boxes 246
Block 189 Combo Boxes 247
Catching Several Different Exceptions 192 Text Areas 248
Handling Something After an Panels 251
Exception 194
Creating Your Own Component 251
Throwing Exceptions 194
Ignoring Exceptions 196 HOUR 18: Laying Out a User Interface 259
Exceptions That Don’t Need catch 197 Using Layout Managers 259
Throwing and Catching Exceptions 197 The GridLayout Manager 261
The BorderLayout Manager 262
HOUR 15: Creating a Threaded Program 203
The BoxLayout Manager 263
Threads 203
Separating Components with Insets 264
Slowing Down a Program 204
Laying Out an Application 265
Creating a Thread 204
Working with Threads 208 HOUR 19: Responding to User Input 273
The class Declaration 209 Getting Your Programs to Listen 273
Setting Up Variables 209 Setting Up Components to Be Heard 274
The Constructor 210 Handling User Events 275
Catching Errors as You Set Up URLs 211 Check Box and Combo Box Events 276
Starting the Thread 211 Keyboard Events 276
Running the Thread 212 Enabling and Disabling Components 278
Handling Mouse Clicks 213 Completing a Graphical Application 279
Displaying Revolving Links 213
Stopping a Thread 216 PART VI: Writing Internet Applications

HOUR 16: Using Inner Classes and

HOUR 20: Reading and Writing Files 291
Closures 221
Streams 291
Inner Classes 222
Files 292
Anonymous Inner Classes 225
Reading Data from a Stream 293
Closures 229
Buffered Input Streams 297
Writing Data to a Stream 299
PART V: Programming a Graphical Reading and Writing Configuration
User Interface Properties 302

HOUR 17: Building a Simple User HOUR 21: Using Java 9’s New
Interface 237 HTTP Client 309
Swing and the Abstract Windowing Java Modules 309
Toolkit 237 Making an HTTP Request 310
Using Components 238 Saving a File from the Web 314
Windows and Frames 238 Posting Data on the Web 317
HOUR 22: Creating Java2D Graphics 325 Creating a New Project 400
Using the Font Class 325 Creating a New Java Class 402
Using the Color Class 326 Running the Application 404
Creating Custom Colors 327 Fixing Errors 404
Drawing Lines and Shapes 328
Drawing Lines 328 APPENDIX B: Where to Go from Here:
Drawing Rectangles 329 Java Resources 407
Drawing Ellipses and Circles 330 Other Books to Consider 407
Drawing Arcs 330 Oracle’s Official Java Site 408
Baking a Pie Graph 331 Java Class Documentation 408
Other Java Websites 408
HOUR 23: Creating Minecraft Mods This Book’s Official Site 408
with Java 341 Workbench 409
Setting Up a Minecraft Server 342 Slashdot 409
Fixing Problems Running the Server 344 Other Java Weblogs 409
Connecting to the Server 346 InformIT 409
Fixing a Server Connection Problem 347 Stack Overflow 409
Creating Your First Mod 348 JavaWorld Magazine 409
Teaching Zombies to Ride Horses 356 Developer.com’s Java Directory 410
Finding All Mobs (and Killing Them) 362 Java Meetings 410
Writing a Mod that Can Build Things 366 Job Opportunities 410

HOUR 24: Writing Android Apps 375 APPENDIX C: This Book’s Website 411
Introduction to Android 375
Creating an Android App 377 APPENDIX D: Fixing a Problem with the
Exploring a New Android Project 378 Android Studio Emulator 413
Creating an App 380 Problems Running an App 413
Setting Up an Android Emulator 382 Install HAXM in Android Studio 414
Running the App 383 Install HAXM on Your Computer 415
Designing a Real App 385 Checking BIOS Settings 417
Organizing Resources 386
APPENDIX E: Fixing Package Not
Configuring the App’s Manifest File 387
Visible Errors in NetBeans 419
Designing a User Interface 388
Adding Module Info 419
Writing Java Code 390

Index 421
APPENDIXES

APPENDIX A: Using the NetBeans

Integrated Development Environment 399
Installing NetBeans 399
Accessing the Free Web Edition

Your purchase of this book in any format, print or electronic, includes access to the
corresponding Web Edition, which provides several special features to help you learn:

u The complete text of the book online

u Updates and corrections as they become available

The Web Edition can be viewed on all types of computers and mobile devices with any
modern web browser that supports HTML5.

To get access to the Web Edition of Sams Teach Yourself Java in 24 Hours, Eighth Edition, all you
need to do is register this book:

1. Go to www.informit.com/register

2. Sign in or create a new account

3. Enter ISBN: 9780672337949

4. Answer the questions as proof of purchase

The Web Edition will appear under the Digital Purchases tab on your Account page.

Click the Launch link to access the product.

 Introduction

As the author of computer books, I spend a lot of time lurking in the computer section of
bookstores, observing the behavior of readers while I’m pretending to read the latest issue of Soap
Opera Digest magazine.

Because of my research, I’ve learned that if you have picked up this book and turned to this
introduction, I only have 13 more seconds before you put it down and head to the coffee bar for
a double-tall-decaf-skim-with-two-shots-of-vanilla-hold-the-whip latte.

So I’ll keep this brief: Computer programming with Java is easier than it looks.

I’m not supposed to tell you that because thousands of programmers have used their Java
skills to get high-paying jobs in software development, server programming, and Android
app creation. The last thing any programmer wants is for the boss to know that anyone with
persistence and a little free time can learn this language, the most popular programming
language on the planet. By working your way through each of the one-hour tutorials in Sams
Teach Yourself Java in 24 Hours, you’ll be able to learn Java programming quickly.

Anyone can learn how to write computer programs, even if you can’t program a DVR. Java
is one of the best programming languages to learn because it’s a useful, powerful, modern
technology that’s embraced by companies around the world.

This book is aimed at non-programmers, new programmers who think they hate this stuff, and
experienced programmers who want to get up to speed swiftly with Java. It uses Java 9, the latest
and greatest version of the language.

Java is an enormously popular programming language because of the things it makes possible.
You can create programs that feature a graphical user interface, connect to web services, run on
an Android phone or tablet, and more.

This language turns up in some amazing places. One of them is Minecraft, the gaming
phenomenon written entirely in Java. (In this book you learn how to create Java programs that
run in that game alongside creepers and zombie pigmen!)

This book teaches Java programming from the ground up. It introduces the concepts in English
instead of jargon with step-by-step examples of working programs you will create. Spend 24
hours with this book and you’ll be writing your own Java programs, confident in your ability
2 Introduction

to use the language and learn more about it. You also will have skills that are becoming
increasingly important—such as Internet computing, graphical user interface design, app
creation, and object-oriented programming.

These terms might not mean much to you now. In fact, they’re probably the kind of thing that
makes programming seem intimidating and difficult. However, if you can use a computer to
create a photo album on Facebook, pay your taxes, or work an Excel spreadsheet, you can learn
to write computer programs by reading Sams Teach Yourself Java in 24 Hours.

NOTE
At this point, if you would rather have coffee than Java, please reshelve this book with the front
cover facing outward on an endcap near a lot of the store’s foot traffic.
 HOUR 1
Becoming a Programmer

This Hour’s To-Do List:

u Find out the reasons to learn Java.
u Discover how programs work.
u Select a Java development tool.
u Get ready to write your first program.

You’ve probably heard that computer programming is insanely difficult. It requires a degree in
computer science, thousands of dollars in computer hardware and software, a keen analytical
mind, the patience of Job, and a strong liking for caffeinated drinks.

Aside from the part about caffeine, you heard wrong. Programming is easier than you might
think, despite what programmers have been telling people for years to make it easier for us to
land high-paying jobs.

This is a great time to learn programming. Countless programming tools are being made
available as free downloads on the Web, and thousands of programmers distribute their work
as open source so other people can examine how the software was written, fix errors, and
contribute improvements. In a recovering economy, many companies are hiring programmers.

It’s a great time to learn Java, because the language is everywhere. Billions of mobile devices use
Android, an operating system whose apps are all written in Java. If you have an Android phone,
you’ve been enjoying the work of Java programmers every time you look up a movie, rock out
on streaming radio, or sling an antagonistic avian at a poorly built fortress of swine.

This book aims to teach Java programming to three kinds of people:

1. Nervous novices who never tried to program before

2. Bitter beginners who tried programming but hated it like Lord Voldemort hates orphaned
British schoolchildren

3. Impatient intellectuals who know another programming language and want to get up to
speed quickly on Java
4 HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer

To achieve this goal, this book uses the English language as much as possible instead of
technical jargon or obscure acronyms. All new programming terms are thoroughly explained as
they are introduced.

If I’ve succeeded, you will finish this book with enough programming skills to be a danger to
yourself and others. You’ll be able to write programs, plunge into programming classes and
books with more confidence, and learn new languages more easily. (Programming languages, to
be clear. This book won’t help you master Spanish, Esperanto, or Klingon.)

You also will have skills with Java, the most widely used programming language on the planet.

The first hour of this book provides an introduction to programming and guidance on setting up
your computer so you can use it to write and run Java programs.

Choosing a Language
If you’re comfortable enough with a computer to prepare a nice-looking résumé, balance a
checkbook, or share your vacation photos on Instagram, you can create computer software.

The key to learning how to program is to start with the right language. The programming
language you choose often depends on the tasks you want to accomplish. Each language has
strengths and weaknesses. Back in my day, young whippersnappers, people learned to program
with the BASIC language because it was created with beginners in mind.

NOTE
The BASIC language was invented to be easy for students to learn (the B in BASIC stands for
Beginner’s). The downside to using some form of BASIC is that it’s easy to fall into sloppy program-
ming habits with the language.

The most popular language that employs BASIC today is Visual Basic, a programming language
from Microsoft that has moved far beyond its roots. VB, as it also is called, is designed for
creating programs to run on computers and mobile devices that use the Windows operating
system. Another popular language is PHP, a scripting language for creating websites. Other
widely used languages you may have heard about include C++, Ruby, Javascript, and Python.

Each of these languages has its adherents, but the most widely taught in computer science
classes at the high school and collegiate level is Java.

The Java programming language, which is offered by Oracle, is more difficult to learn than
some other languages such as VB and PHP, but it’s a great starting place for several reasons.
One advantage of learning Java is that you can use it across a variety of operating systems and
computing environments. Java programs can be desktop software, web applications, web servers,
 Choosing a Language 5

Android apps, and more, running on Windows, Mac, Linux, and other operating systems. This
versatility is referenced by the ambitious early Java slogan “Write once, run anywhere.”

NOTE
Early Java programmers had a less flattering slogan: “Write once, debug everywhere.” The language
has come a long way, baby, since the first version was released in 1996.

Another important advantage is that Java requires a highly organized approach for getting
programs to work. You must be particular about how you write programs and how they store
and alter data.

When you start writing Java programs, you might not see the language’s persnickety behavior
as an advantage. You could tire of writing a program and having several errors to fix before the
program even can be run. The benefit of this extra effort is that the software you create is more
reliable, useful, and error-free.

In the coming hours, you learn all of Java’s rules and the pitfalls to avoid.

Java was invented by the Canadian computer scientist James Gosling as a better way to create
computer programs. While working at Sun Microsystems in 1991, Gosling was unhappy with the
way the C++ programming language was performing on a project, so he created a new language
that did the job better. It’s a matter of contentious debate whether Java is superior to other
programming languages, of course, but the success of the language demonstrates the strength of
his initial design. Fifteen billion devices across the world are running Java, a number so amazing
I’m going to repeat it. Fifteen billion! More than 1,000 books have been published about the
language since its introduction. (This is my twentieth.)

Regardless of whether Java is the best language, it definitely is a great language to learn. You get
your first chance to try out Java during Hour 2, “Writing Your First Program.”

Learning one programming language makes it much easier to learn subsequent languages.
Many are similar to each other, so you aren’t starting from scratch when you plunge into a
new one. For instance, many C++ and Smalltalk programmers find it fairly easy to learn Java
because Java borrows ideas from those earlier languages. Similarly, C# adopts many ideas from
Java, so it’s easier to pick up for Java programmers.

NOTE
C++ is mentioned several times this hour, so you might be tripping over the term, wondering what it
means—and how it’s pronounced. C++ is pronounced “C-Plus-Plus,” and it’s a programming language
developed by Danish computer scientist Bjarne Stroustrop at Bell Laboratories. C++ is an enhance-
ment of the C programming language, hence the Plus-Plus part of the name. Why not just call it C+?
The Plus-Plus part is a computer programming joke you’ll understand later in this book.
6 HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer

Telling the Computer What to Do

A computer program, also called software, is a way to tell a computer to perform a task.
Everything that the computer does, from booting up to shutting down, is done by a program.
Mac OS X is a program; Minecraft is a program; the driver software that controls your printer is
a program; even the dreaded blue screen of death on a crashed Windows PC is a program.

Computer programs are made up of a list of commands the computer handles in a specific order
when the program is run. Each command is called a statement.

If your house had its own butler and you were a control freak with a Type-A personality, you
could give your servant a detailed set of instructions to follow every day, like this:

Dear Mr. Jeeves,

Please take care of these errands for me while I’m out asking Congress for a bailout:

Item 1: Vacuum the living room.

Item 2: Go to the store.

Item 3: Pick up soy sauce, wasabi, and as many California sushi rolls as you can carry.

Item 4: Return home.

Sincerely, your lord and master,

Bertie Wooster

If you tell a human butler what to do, there’s a certain amount of leeway in how your requests
are fulfilled. If California rolls aren’t available, Jeeves could bring Boston rolls home instead.

Computers don’t do leeway. They follow instructions literally. The programs that you write are
followed precisely, one instruction at a time.

The following example is a three-line computer program, written in BASIC. Take a look at it, but
don’t worry too much about what each line is supposed to mean.
1 PRINT "Hey Tom, it's Bob from the office down the hall."
2 PRINT "It's good to see you buddy, how've you been?"
3 INPUT A$

Translated into English, this program is equivalent to giving a computer the following to-do list:

Dear personal computer,

Item 1: Display the message, “Hey Tom, it’s Bob from the office down the hall.”

Item 2: Ask the question, “It’s good to see you buddy, how’ve you been?”
 How Programs Work 7

Item 3: Give the user a chance to answer the question.

Sincerely, your lord and master,

Ima Coder

Each line in a computer program is called a statement. A computer handles each statement in a
program in a specific order, in the same way that a cook follows a recipe or Mr. Jeeves the butler
follows the orders of Bertie Wooster. In BASIC, the line numbers are used to put the statements in
the correct order. Other languages such as Java do not use line numbers, favoring different ways
to tell the computer how to run a program.

Because of the way programs function, you can’t blame the computer when something goes
wrong as your program runs. The computer is doing exactly what you told it to do, so the blame
for any errors usually lies with the programmer.

That’s the bad news. The good news is you can’t do any permanent harm. No computers will be
injured as you learn to program in Java.

How Programs Work

The collection of statements that make up a computer program is called its source code.

Most computer programs are written in the same way that you write an email—by typing each
statement into a text window. Some programming tools come with their own source code editor
and others can be used with any text-editing software.

When you have finished writing a computer program, you save the file to disk. Computer
programs often have their own filename extension to indicate what type of file they are. Java
programs must have the extension .java, as in Calculator.java.

NOTE
Computer programs should be prepared as text files with no special formatting. Notepad, a text
editor that comes with Windows, saves all files as unformatted text. You also can use TextEdit on
Macs or the vi editor or emacs on Linux systems to create text files without formatting. An easier
solution is coming up later this hour.

To run a program you have saved as a file, you need some help. The kind of help required
depends on the programming language you’re using. Some languages require an interpreter to
run their programs. The interpreter examines each line of a computer program and executes
that line, then proceeds to the next line. Many versions of BASIC are interpreted languages.
8 HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer

The biggest advantage of interpreted languages is that they are faster to test. When you are
writing a BASIC program, you can try it out immediately, fix errors, and try again. The primary
disadvantage is that interpreted languages run slower than other programs. Each line has to be
translated into instructions the computer can run, one line at a time.

Other programming languages require a compiler. The compiler takes a program and translates
it into a form that the computer can understand. It also makes the program run as efficiently as
possible. The compiled program can be run directly without the need for an interpreter.

Compiled programs run more quickly than interpreted programs but take more time to test. You
have to write your program and compile the whole thing before trying it out. If you find an error
and fix it, you must compile the program again.

Java is unusual because it requires both a compiler and an interpreter. The compiler converts
the statements that make up the program into bytecode. Once this bytecode has been created
successfully, it can be run by an interpreter called the Java Virtual Machine.

The Java Virtual Machine, also called a JVM, is the thing that makes it possible for the same
Java program to run without modification on different operating systems and different kinds
of computing devices. The virtual machine turns bytecode into instructions that a particular
device’s operating system can execute.

NOTE
Java 9 introduces a new tool called JShell that acts like an interpreter, running a Java statement
right when it is typed in. JShell works by putting the statement into a Java program, compiling that
program into bytecode, and running it. This is a useful tool for learning and testing.

When Programs Don’t Work

Many new programmers become discouraged when they start to test their programs. Errors
appear everywhere. Some of these are syntax errors, which are identified by the computer as it
looks at the program and becomes confused by the way a statement has been written. Other
errors are logic errors, which only are noticed by the programmer as the program is being tested
(or might be overlooked entirely). Logic errors often cause it to do something unintended.

As you begin writing your own programs, you become well acquainted with errors. They’re a
natural part of the process. Programming errors are called bugs, a term that dates back a century
or more to describe errors in technical devices.

The process of fixing errors also has its own term: debugging.

It’s no coincidence that there are so many ways to describe errors. You get a lot of debugging
experience as you learn programming—whether you want it or not.
 Choosing a Java Programming Tool 9

NOTE
One of the first computer bugs was discovered in 1947 by a team that included the American com-
puter scientist Grace Hopper. Hopper was testing a computer at Harvard when a relay malfunctioned.
The cause wasn’t a software problem—it was an actual bug! A team member debugged the com-
puter by removing a dead moth and taped it into a logbook with the note, “First actual case of bug
being found.” The bug and logbook page can be viewed at www.doncio.navy.mil/CHIPS/ArticleDetails.
aspx?id=3489.

Choosing a Java Programming Tool

To start writing Java programs, you must have a Java programming tool. Several such programs
are available for Java, including the simple Java Development Kit and the more sophisticated
Eclipse, IntelliJ IDEA, and NetBeans. The latter three tools are each an integrated development
environment (IDE), a powerful tool used by professional programmers to get work done.

Whenever Oracle releases a new version of Java, the first tool that supports it is the Java
Development Kit (JDK).

To create the programs in this book, you must use JDK version 9 or a programming tool that
works on top of it. The JDK is a set of free command-line tools for creating Java software. It lacks
a graphical user interface, so if you have never worked in a non-graphical environment such as
the Windows command prompt or Linux command-line interface, you will find it challenging to
use the JDK.

The NetBeans IDE, also offered for free by Oracle, is a much easier way to write and test Java
code than the JDK. NetBeans includes a graphical user interface, source code editor, user
interface designer, and project manager. It works in complement to the JDK, running it behind
the scenes, so you must have both tools on your system when you begin developing Java
programs.

Most of the programs in this book were created with NetBeans, which you can download and
install separately from the JDK. You can use other Java tools as long as they support JDK 9.

NOTE
You don’t have to use NetBeans in this book. If you can use the JDK or another tool to create,
compile, and run a program, those tasks are all that most projects require. NetBeans is covered
because for readers of past editions it has proven easier than the JDK. I use NetBeans for most of
my Java programming.
10 HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer

In Hour 24, “Writing Android Apps,” you will use the Android Studio IDE. Google, which
created Android, recommends that free tool to Java programmers who are creating programs for
Android.

Installing a Java Development Tool

Every hour of this book includes Java programming projects you can undertake to enhance your
knowledge of the subject matter while it percolates in your brain.

You can’t do any of that percolating if you lack a Java programming tool on your computer.

If you already have installed a tool that supports Java, you can use it to develop the tutorial
programs in the next 23 hours. However, you already should have some familiarity with how to
use the tool. Learning Java and a complex IDE at the same time can be daunting.

The recommended choice for programming as you read this book is NetBeans, which is free from
Oracle’s website at http://netbeans.org. Though NetBeans has advanced features that take time
to learn, it makes it easy to create and run simple Java applications.

To find out how to download and install NetBeans, read Appendix A, “Using the NetBeans
Integrated Development Environment.”

Summary
During this hour, you were introduced to the concept of programming a computer—giving it a
set of instructions called statements that tell it what to do. You also learned why you made a
good call choosing to teach yourself Java instead of another programming language.

You also might have downloaded and installed a Java development tool to use on the programs
you create in the hours to come.

Ask 10 programmers for the best programming language and you may get 10 answers, complete
with “my language can beat up your language” taunts and “your source code is so bloated”
jokes. Java scores highly in such arguments because it is widely adopted, extremely versatile,
and smartly designed. You can accomplish a lot with this language, and it makes learning
others a little easier.

If you are still confused about programs, programming languages, or Java in general, don’t
panic. Everything will begin to make sense in the next hour, “Writing Your First Program,” which
gently steps through the process of creating a Java program.
 Workshop 11

Workshop
Q&A
Q. BASIC? C++? Smalltalk? Java? What are the names of these languages supposed to mean?
A. BASIC gets its name from an acronym: Beginner’s All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code.
C++ is a programming language that was created to be an improvement on the C language,
which itself was an improvement of the B programming language. Smalltalk is an innovative
object-oriented language developed in the 1970s that had numerous ideas adopted by Java.
Java goes against the tradition of naming a language with an acronym or other meaningful
term. It’s just the name that Java’s developers liked the best, beating out WebRunner, Silk,
Ruby, and others. (The Ruby programming language didn’t exist back then.)
When I create my own programming language, it will be named Salsa. Everybody loves salsa.

Q. Why are interpreted languages slower than compiled ones?

A. They’re slower for the same reason that a person interpreting a live speech in a foreign
language is slower than a translator interpreting a printed speech. The live interpreter has
to think about each statement that’s being made as it happens, while the other interpreter
can work on the speech as a whole and take shortcuts to speed up the process. Compiled
languages can be much faster than interpreted languages because they do things to make
the program run more efficiently.

Q. Do you only answer questions about Java?

A. Not at all. Ask me anything.

Q. Okay, what is the lowest score ever given on Dancing with the Stars?
A. The worst dance by a celebrity contestant on the hit ABC TV show in the United States was
performed by the rapper Master P during the second season in 2006. His paso doble with
professional dancer Ashly DelGrosso scored a lowest-ever 8. Judges Len Goodman and
Bruno Tonioli scored it a 2 and judge Carrie Ann Inaba a 4.
Tonioli’s take: “It was a nightmare. You looked like a child on the mall looking for his mother.”
Goodman: “I know viewers think they’re being kind by bringing you back. They’re not. They’re
being cruel—to Ashly, to the judges.”
Inaba: “I actually thought that that was your best dancing.”
Master P only trained 20 hours for the show, compared to 130 for the other contestants at
that point in the season. He also refused to wear dancing shoes and performed in basket-
ball sneakers. The dance was his last before being voted off.
The dance can be seen on YouTube, where one commenter writes, “Thumbs up if you’re
watching this just to see the 2 paddle.”
On Dancing with the Stars internationally, reality TV star Farmer Dave Graham got the lowest
possible score—a 1 from all four judges for a total of 4—in Australia in 2007. He shared
the performance on his YouTube account, writing, “Perhaps not the best claim to fame, but
you take your world records where you can.”
12 HOUR 1: Becoming a Programmer

Quiz
Test your knowledge of the material covered in this hour by answering the following questions.
1. Which of the following is NOT a reason that people think computer programming is painfully
difficult?
A. Programmers spread that rumor to improve our employment prospects.
B. Jargon and acronyms are all over the place.
C. People who find programming too difficult are eligible for a government bailout.
2. What kind of tool runs a computer program by figuring out one line at a time?
A. A slow tool
B. An interpreter
C. A compiler
3. Why did James Gosling hole up in his office and create Java?
A. He was unhappy with the language he was using on a project.
B. His rock band wasn’t getting any gigs.
C. When you can’t visit YouTube at work, the Internet is pretty dull.

Answers
1. C. Computer book authors didn’t get a bailout either.
2. B. Interpreters interpret one line at a time. Compilers figure out the instructions beforehand
so the program can run faster.
3. A. He was frustrated with C++. Back in 1991 when he created Java, YouTube was the place
that held YouToothpaste.

Activities
If you’d like to better introduce yourself to the subjects of Java and computer programming, do the
following activities:
u To learn more about why to learn Java, read this Oracle University blog post:
https://blogs.oracle.com/oracleuniversity/10-reasons-why-you-should-consider-learning-java.
u Using English sentences, write a set of instructions to convert a temperature from Celsius
to Fahrenheit. Break the instructions into as many short one-sentence lines as you can.

To see solutions to the activities at the end of each hour, visit the book’s website at
www.java24hours.com.
 HOUR 2
Writing Your First Program

This Hour’s To-Do List:

u Type a Java program into a text editor.
u Organize a program with bracket marks.
u Store information in a variable.
u Display the information stored in a variable.
u Save, compile, and run a program.

As you learned during Hour 1, “Becoming a Programmer,” a computer program is a set of

instructions that tells a computer what to do. These instructions are given to a computer using a
programming language.

During this hour, you create your first Java program by entering it into a text editor. When that’s
done, you save the program, compile it, and test it out. Then you break it on purpose and fix it
again, just to show off.

What You Need to Write Programs

As explained in Hour 1, to create Java programs, you must have a programming tool that
supports the Java Development Kit (JDK) such as the NetBeans integrated development
environment (IDE). You need a tool that can compile and run Java programs and a text editor to
write those programs.

With most programming languages, computer programs are written by entering text into a text
editor (also called a source code editor). Some programming languages come with their own
editor. NetBeans includes its own editor for writing Java programs.

Java programs are plain text files without any special formatting, such as centered text or
boldface text. The NetBeans source code editor functions like a simple text editor with some
useful enhancements for programmers. Text turns different colors as you type to identify
different elements of the language. NetBeans also indents lines properly and provides helpful
programming documentation inside the editor.
14 HOUR 2: Writing Your First Program

Because Java programs are text files, you can open and edit them with any text editor. You could
write a Java program with NetBeans, open it in Windows Notepad and make changes, and open
it again later in NetBeans without any problems.

Creating the Saluton Program

The first Java program that you create will display a traditional greeting from the world of
computer science: “Saluton mondo!”

To prepare for the first programming project in NetBeans, if you haven’t already done so, create
a new project called Java24 by following these steps:

1. Choose the menu command File, New Project. The New Project dialog opens.

2. Choose the project category Java and the project type Java Application and then click
Next.

3. Enter Java24 as the project’s name. (If you created a project with this name previously,
you see the error message “Project folder already exists and is not empty.”)

4. Deselect the Create Main Class check box.

5. Click Finish.

The Java24 project is created in its own folder. You can use this project for the Java programs you
write as you progress through this book.

Beginning the Program

NetBeans groups relate programs together into a project. If you don’t have the Java24 project
open, here’s how to load it:

1. Choose File, Open Project. A file dialog appears.

2. Find and select the NetBeansProjects folder (if necessary).

3. Choose Java24 and click Open Project.

The Java24 project appears in the Projects pane next to a coffee cup icon and a + sign that can
be expanded to see the files and folders that the project contains.

To add a new Java program to the currently open project, choose File, New File. The New File
Wizard opens, as shown in Figure 2.1.
 Beginning the Program 15

FIGURE 2.1
The New File Wizard.

The Categories pane lists the different kinds of Java programs you can create. Click the Java
folder in this pane to see the file types that belong to this category. For this first project, choose
the Empty Java File type (near the end in the File Types pane) and click Next.

A New Empty Java File dialog opens. Follow these steps to begin writing the program:

1. In the Class Name field, enter Saluton.

2. In the Package field, enter com.java24hours.

3. Click Finish.

So you can begin working right away on your program, an empty file named Saluton.java
opens in the source code editor. Using the editor, begin your Java programming career by
entering each line from Listing 2.1. These statements are called the program’s source code.

CAUTION
Don’t enter the line number and colon at the beginning of each line—these are used in this book to
reference specific line numbers.
16 HOUR 2: Writing Your First Program

LISTING 2.1 The Saluton Program

1: package com.java24hours;
2:
3: class Saluton {
4: public static void main(String[] arguments) {
5: // My first Java program goes here
6: }
7: }

Make sure to capitalize everything exactly as shown, and use your spacebar or Tab key to insert
the blank spaces in front of Lines 4–6. When you’re done, choose File, Save to save the file.

At this point, Saluton.java contains the bare bones of a Java program. You will create many
programs that start exactly like this one, except for the word Saluton on Line 3. This word
represents the name of your program and changes with each program you write. Line 5 should
make sense to you, because it’s a sentence in actual English. The rest is probably new to you.

The class Statement

The first line of the program is the following:
package com.java24hours;

A package is a way to group Java programs together. This line tells the computer to make
com.java24hours the package name of the program.

After a blank line, the third line is this:

class Saluton {

Translated into English, it means, “Computer, give my Java program the name Saluton.”

As you might recall from Hour 1, each instruction you give a computer is called a statement. The
class statement is the way you give your computer program a name. It’s also used to determine
other things about the program, as you will see later. The significance of the term class is that
Java programs also are called classes.

In this example, the program name Saluton matches the document’s filename, Saluton.
java. A Java program must have a name that matches the first part of its filename—the portion
before the “.” period character—and should be capitalized the same way.

If the program name doesn’t match the filename, you get an error when you try to compile
some Java programs, depending on how the class statement is being used to configure the
program.
 Beginning the Program 17

What the main Statement Does

The next line of the program is the following:
public static void main(String[] arguments) {

This line tells the computer, “The main part of the program begins here.” Java programs are
organized into different sections, so there needs to be a way to identify the part of a program
that is executed first when the program is run.

The main statement is the entry point to most Java programs. The exceptions are applets,
programs that are run on a web page by a web browser; servlets, programs run by a web server;
and apps, programs run by a mobile device.

Most programs you write during upcoming hours of this book use main as their starting point.
That’s because you run them directly on your computer. Applets, apps, and servlets are run
indirectly by another program or device.

To differentiate them from these other types, the programs that you run directly are called
applications.

Those Squiggly Bracket Marks

In the Saluton program, Lines 3, 4, 6, and 7 contain a squiggly bracket mark of some kind—
either a { or a }. These brackets are a way to group lines of your program (in the same way that
parentheses are used in a sentence to group words). Everything between the opening bracket
{ and the closing bracket } is part of the same group.

These groupings are called blocks. In Listing 2.1, the opening bracket on Line 3 is associated with
the closing bracket on Line 7, which makes your entire program a block. You use brackets in this
way to show the beginning and end of a program.

Blocks can be located inside other blocks (just as parentheses are used in this sentence (and a
second set is used here)). The Saluton program has brackets on Line 4 and Line 6 that establish
another block. This block begins with the main statement. The lines inside the main statement’s
block will be run when the program begins.

TIP
NetBeans can help you figure out where a block begins and ends. Click one of the brackets in the
source code of the Saluton program. The bracket you clicked turns yellow along with its corre-
sponding bracket. The Java statements enclosed within the two yellow brackets are a block. This tip
is not that useful on a short program like Saluton, but as you write much longer programs, it helps
you avoid looking like a blockhead.
18 HOUR 2: Writing Your First Program

The following statement is the only thing located inside the block:
// My first Java program goes here

This line is a placeholder. The // at the beginning of the line tells the computer to ignore this
line because it was put in the program solely for the benefit of humans who are looking at the
source code. Lines that serve this purpose are called comments.

Right now, you have written a complete Java program. It can be compiled, but if you run it,
nothing happens. The reason is that you haven’t told the computer to do anything yet. The
main statement block contains only a single comment, which is ignored by the computer. You
must add some statements inside the opening and closing brackets of the main block.

Storing Information in a Variable

In the programs you write, you need a place to store information for a brief period of time. You
can do this by using a variable, a storage place that can hold information such as integers,
floating-point numbers, true-false values, characters, and lines of text. The information stored in
a variable can change, which is how it gets the name variable.

In Saluton.java file, replace Line 5 with the following:

String greeting = "Saluton mondo!";

This statement tells the computer to store the text “Saluton mondo!” in a variable called
greeting.

In a Java program, you must tell the computer what type of information a variable will
hold. In this program, greeting is a string—a line of text that can include letters, numbers,
punctuation, and other characters. Putting String in the statement sets up the variable to hold
string values.

When you enter this statement into the program, a semicolon must be included at the end of
the line. Semicolons end each statement in a Java program. They’re like the period at the end
of a sentence. The computer uses them to determine when one statement ends and the next one
begins.

Putting only one statement on each line makes a program more understandable (for us
humans).

Displaying the Contents of a Variable

If you run the program at this point, it still seems like nothing happens. The command to store
text in the greeting variable occurs behind the scenes. To make the computer show that it is
doing something, you can display the contents of that variable.
 Saving the Finished Product 19

Insert another blank line in the Saluton program after the String greeting = "Saluton
mondo!" statement. Use that empty space to enter the following statement:
System.out.println(greeting);

This statement tells the computer to display the value stored in the greeting variable. The
System.out.println statement makes the computer display information on the system
output device—your monitor.

Now you’re getting somewhere.

Saving the Finished Product

Your program should now resemble Listing 2.2, although you might have used slightly different
spacing in Lines 5–6. Make any corrections that are needed and save the file (by choosing File,
Save).

LISTING 2.2 The Finished Version of the Saluton Program

1: package com.java24hours;
2:
3: class Saluton {
4: public static void main(String[] arguments) {
5: String greeting = "Saluton mondo!";
6: System.out.println(greeting);
7: }
8: }

When the computer runs this program, it executes each of the statements in the main statement
block on Lines 5 and 6. Listing 2.3 shows what the program would look like if it was written in
the English language instead of Java.

LISTING 2.3 A Line-by-Line Breakdown of the Saluton Program

1: Put this program in the com.java24hours package.
2:
3: The Saluton program begins here:
4: The main part of the program begins here:
5: Store the text "Saluton mondo!" in a String variable named greeting.
6: Display the contents of the variable greeting.
7: The main part of the program ends here.
8: The Saluton program ends here.
20 HOUR 2: Writing Your First Program

Listing 2.4 shows what the program would look like if written in Klingon, the language of the
warrior race from Star Trek.

LISTING 2.4 The Saluton Program in Klingon

1: This program belongs to the house of com.java2hours!
2:
3: Begin the Saluton program here if you know what's good for you!
4: The main part of the program begins here with honor!
5: Store the gibberish "Saluton mondo!" in a String variable called
greeting!
6: Display this gibberish from a tongue inferior to Klingon!
7: End the main part of the program here to avoid my wrath!
8: End the Saluton program now and be grateful you were spared!

Compiling the Program into a Class File

Before you can run a Java program, you must compile it. When you compile a program, the
instructions given to the computer in the program are converted into a form the computer can
better understand.

NetBeans compiles programs automatically as they are saved. If you typed everything as shown
in Listing 2.2, the program compiles successfully.

A compiled version of the program, a new file called Saluton.class, is created. All Java
programs are compiled into class files, which are given the file extension .class. A Java
program can be made up of several classes that work together, but in a simple program such as
Saluton only one class is needed.

The compiler turns Java source code into bytecode, a form that can be run by the Java Virtual
Machine (JVM).

NOTE
The Java compiler speaks up only when there’s an error to complain about. If you compile a program
successfully without any errors, nothing happens in response.
This is admittedly a bit anticlimactic. When I was starting out as a Java programmer, I was hoping
successful compilation would be met with a grand flourish of celebratory horns.

Fixing Errors
As you compose a program in the NetBeans source editor, errors are flagged with a red alert icon
to the left of the editor pane, as shown in Figure 2.2.
 Fixing Errors 21

Alert Icon

FIGURE 2.2
Spotting errors in the source editor.

The icon appears on the line that triggered the error. You can click this icon to display an error
dialog that explains the compiler error with these details:

u The name of the Java program

u The type of error

u The line where the error was found

Here’s an example of an error dialog you might see when compiling the Saluton program:
cannot find symbol.
symbol : variable greting
location: class Saluton

The error message is the first line of the dialog: “cannot find symbol.” These messages often can
be confusing to new programmers. When the error message doesn’t make sense to you, don’t
spend much time trying to figure it out. Instead, look at the line where the error occurred and
check for the most obvious causes.

For instance, can you determine what’s wrong with the following statement?
System.out.println(greting);
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
coloured up to the roots of her hair. For a habitual non-blusher,
Laura had put in some very good work since she arrived at
Sandersworth.
Fortunately Mr. Priestley was far too intent upon his newspapers
to notice her facial activities.
“I hope the breakfast was satisfactory, mum,” said the landlady,
hovering eloquently.
Mr. Priestley looked up for a moment. “Yes, thank you; we’ll ring
when we want you, Mrs. Er—er—um,” he said in tones of such
finality that the landlady had no option but to take a reluctant
departure.
Laura looked at her pseudo-husband with renewed respect.
Even she could not have got rid of the garrulous little woman quite
so expeditiously.
“Well, anything about it?” she asked.
The Sunday Times followed The Observer on to the floor.
“Nothing in either of those two, so far as I can see,” Mr. Priestley
muttered, feverishly scuttering pages.
“Try The News of the World,” Laura advised.
Mr. Priestley did so, and added it to the growing heap on the
floor. Two others followed. He opened The Sunday Courier.
“God bless my soul!” muttered Mr. Priestley.
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Mr. Priestley.
“What the devil!” demanded Mr. Priestley, descending abruptly.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” prophesied Mr. Priestley, and relapsed
into awed silence.
“What is it?” almost screamed Laura, dancing in her chair with
impatience.
Mr. Priestley continued to run a hectic eye over the lurid
columns and spoke no word. Lost to the decencies, Laura jumped up
and leaned openly on his shoulder, reading over it with incredulous
eyes.
Suddenly she turned, ran a few steps towards the centre of the
room, halted there for a moment with heaving shoulders, her back
towards her startled companion, then buried her face in her hands
and fled out of the room, uttering startling sounds. Mr. Priestley,
hurrying in her wake, was just in time to see her disappearing into
the bedroom.
He stood irresolutely at the foot of the stairs, much
disconcerted; not very much experience in the art of soothing
feminine emotion had come his way. Did one leave them alone, or
did one try and calm them down? Mr. Priestley was much tempted to
leave this one alone, but the memory of those pathetically heaving
shoulders was too much for him. Heroically he mounted, on soothing
bent.
Laura was lying on her face in the middle of the bed, her whole
frame shaking with the most heartrending convulsions. Her face was
buried in the pillow, but she waved a feeble hand towards the door
as Mr. Priestley entered, as if bidding him leave her alone with her
grief. Though terribly tempted to take her at her gesture Mr.
Priestley forced himself forward: He progressed in a tentative way as
far as the bed and stood looking down on its quivering burden.
“Er—Laura!” he hazarded, very uncomfortably.
The hand gestured again. “Go away!” beseeched a stifled voice
from the depths of the pillow.
Mr. Priestley laid an uncertain hand on a slim shoulder. “Laura!”
he repeated unhappily. “Er—please don’t cry.”
A fresh spasm shook the slender form. “Oh—oh, please go
away!” choked the voice from the pillow.
Mr. Priestley hesitated. This was really very awkward, very
awkward indeed. But it was too late to draw back now. He had come
up here to soothe, and soothe he must. In the meantime, his heart-
strings were being twanged to a positively painful degree by the
pathetic spectacle of this intense suffering.
“L-Laura!” he squeaked in imploring tones. Nothing happened.
“Oh, dear!” said Mr. Priestley. His heart-strings continued to twang.
It was too much. The vast sympathy which had been flooding
Mr. Priestley’s soul for this poor forlorn little creature suddenly burst
its bounds and swamped his self-consciousness. With nothing more
than the instinctive impulse of the adult to comfort a child in the
only way it really understands, he sat down on the edge of the bed,
gently kissed the white nape and, noticing not at all the resulting
very faint exclamation, gathered the slim frame up into his arms. Its
owner, after a half-hearted attempt to resist, laid her dark head on
his shoulder and there continued to choke.
“There, there!” said Mr. Priestley, patting gingerly. “It’s all right,
my dear, it’s all right.”
For a moment Laura raised a very red face, stained with real
tears. “But—b-but you—you h-haven’t got a b-broken nose!” she
articulated with difficulty, and at once plunged into a further
paroxysm, her head flying back to the shelter of Mr. Priestley’s
shoulder like a bird to its nest.
Somewhat mystified, Mr. Priestley continued his ministrations.
Why exactly the wholeness of his nose should be a source of such
poignant grief to the poor little thing, escaped him for the moment;
but the anguish was only too evident. He patted in silence for a
space, then he rocked.
By degrees Laura grew more calm. She ceased to shake, and
disengaged herself from Mr. Priestley’s soothing arms, still keeping
her head averted. A fresh spasm shook her slightly from time to
time, but not so violently.
“I’m all right now,” she said weakly, scrambling off the bed. “But
please don’t l-look at me.”
“No,” said Mr. Priestley at once; “of course not.” He also rose
and hovered uneasily.
Laura made her way, with somewhat uncertain steps, to the
wash-stand, where she contemplated herself in the mirror with
watery eyes. “Oh, my hat, what a ghastly fright!” was her verdict,
and clinging to the marble edge, she collapsed again.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Mr. Priestley of the
wardrobe opposite, hearing with dismay these renewed sounds of
distress behind him.
“Y-yes, quite,” quavered Laura. “Please go down now. I’ll follow
as soon as I’ve sponged my face. I’m sorry I made such an idiot of
myself. I’m—oh, dear, I positively ache all over!” she collapsed over
the wash-stand again.
“I shall be up again to see how you are if you’re not down in
five minutes,” warned Mr. Priestley from the doorway, and made a
somewhat relieved escape.
Just outside the door he all but collided with the landlady, who
had a broom in her hand and an intense expression on her face.
“Oh, sir,” said the landlady at once, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t
help but hear, seeing as I was sweeping outside. Poor young lady! If
you’ll take my advice, sir (and no offence meant, I’m sure) you’ll let
her off lightly at first. She’ll love you all the better for it later on. I’ve
been through it meself, and I know.”
Mr. Priestley fled.
“May I go in to do the room now, sir?” the landlady called after
him, a world of emphatic meaning in her penultimate word.
Mr. Priestley fled faster.
In the dining-room was peace. Pulling himself together with an
effort, Mr. Priestley took out a cigarette and proceeded to peruse the
incredible report in the Sunday Courier. Eight minutes later, the
cigarette between his fingers still unlighted, he had read it through
three times and still he could hardly believe his eyes.
“Amazing!” he commented aloud, as if to reassure himself that
he really did exist and his voice really would work. “I can hardly
credit it. ‘R. S. P. Doyle.’ That’s Pat Doyle. How on earth does he
come to be mixed up in it?” He referred to the paper again.
“‘Happened to be staying in the neighbourhood.’ Extraordinary
coincidence. Whole set of extraordinary coincidences for that matter.
Well, God bless my soul, what is coming now?”
The entrance of Laura supplied the answer at any rate to his
last question. A rehabilitated, dry-eyed, nose-powdered Laura, very
different from the moaning creature of ten minutes ago.
She began to apologise for her lack of self-control. “But really,”
she added, not without adroitness, “seeing it all in print like that
brought it home to me so forcibly. It seemed like a nightmare this
morning; now I know it really is true. I ought not to have given way,
I know, but I was so frightened. Terribly frightened.” She looked at
him with wide eyes. “Oh, Mr. Priestley, what shall I do?” With a
superhuman effort she refrained from expressing a preference for
Birmingham, and regrets at finding herself in Crewe.
 Mr. Priestley removed his pince-nez, polished them vigorously
and replaced them. “Don’t you worry about that, my dear,” he told
her, with a warmth which belied the paternal turn of phrase. “I shall
see to that. You have already placed yourself in my hands. And very
proud and gratified I am at the trust you put in me. Indeed, I have
the glimmerings of a plan already. But I must ask you to read
through this perfectly extraordinary report in the Sunday Courier.
Incredible! You’ll see it isn’t at all what you thought at first. Nothing
like it. In fact, I—but read it for yourself.” He placed a chair for her
by the window and gave her the paper.
Laura read the two columns through. That she was able to do
so and at the same time preserve a straight face she reckoned
afterwards as perhaps the greatest of her histrionic feats. But apart
from mirth, there was interest to help her. Obviously the conspirators
had seen their way to improving the situation and, though some of
the details were obscure, she had no difficulty in following the main
lines. When she came to Mr. Reginald Foster’s story and recognised
Dora’s handiwork it was all she could do not to give way again, but
the test was successfully passed.
She held the paper up for a few minutes after she had come to
the end, in order to give herself a thinking-space. Clearly the others
hoped that the report would reach her eyes and expected her to
shape her own end of the business accordingly. But what exactly
were they trying to effect, and what did they want her to do? For the
moment the answers to both these questions eluded her.
She dropped the paper into her lap, with a fitting expression of
amazement.
“You see what must have happened?” said Mr. Priestley eagerly,
whose brain also had not been inactive during this period. “Your
schemes must have conflicted with something else that that
scoundrel had on hand. I gather he was mixed up with this criminal
gang led by the Man with the Broken Nose. They found his body,
which, for some obscure reason of their own, they seem to have
removed, and decamped. But why did that poor girl, who seems to
be an unwilling accomplice, refer to the dead man as the Crown
Prince? I don’t understand that at all.”
 Nor, in fact, did Laura. The Crown Prince seemed to her the only
flaw in an otherwise perfect case. “Perhaps,” she said, with a flash of
inspiration, “perhaps that was the gang’s name for him, in the same
way as they call their leader the Man with the Broken Nose.”
Mr. Priestley looked his admiration. “Of course! Undoubtedly
that must be it. And to think that the Sunday Courier never tumbled
to it! Very good, indeed, Laura, very good. And now there’s another
extraordinary coincidence. You see that the report is written by a
man named Doyle—R. S. P. Doyle? He’s actually a personal friend of
my own.” Mr. Priestley beamed at this remarkable revelation.
“No!” said Laura, properly impressed.
“Yes, indeed he is. And it may be most useful to us, as you can
understand. But about this astonishing story; it appears to me to
play directly into our hands. The police and public and every one
else are looking for a gang; they imagine us, indeed, to be members
of the gang. We are, however, not members of any gang. Surely this
is in our favour?”
“You mean, we shan’t be so easy to trace?”
“Precisely!” Mr. Priestley shone with pleasure both in Laura’s
perspicacity and their combined untraceability.
They went on to discuss the affair with zest. Mr. Priestley was at
first a little confused between the identity of Guy Nesbitt. Esq., and
that of the dead man, till Laura pointed out that the latter was
merely a paying guest for the summer in the former’s house;
perfectly reasonable. Why had he been dressed up in that
extraordinary way? Obviously to take part in some formal ceremony
connected with the gang. Was the scoundrel a foreigner himself, like
his associates? Laura believed he was, though he spoke excellent
English; he had what you might call a foreign look about him. Mr.
Priestley agreed that he had. Was it Laura who had sent the
message which drew the Nesbitts away from the house? No, that
was the extraordinary thing, she hadn’t; she had thought they were
going away for the week-end, as their maids had been given leave of
absence. Evidently the message must have been sent by some
member of the gang, probably the dead one, in order to leave the
house clear for their own activities.
 In short, it was, as they both agreed, a Very Extraordinary
Business.
Mr. Priestley then announced that it was time for them to be
leaving the inn and getting rid of the car, and Laura meekly went
upstairs to put on her hat. Mr. Priestley very unwillingly sought out
the landlady and obtained both his bill, which he wanted, and a
great quantity of useful advice to young husbands, which he didn’t.
They got into the incriminating two-seater and drove off, the
landlady continuing to press them to return each year on this
important anniversary in their lives and she’d turn the place upside-
down to give them a welcome. Mr. Priestley, smiling and nodding
uneasily, did not point out that he much preferred the houses where
he was made welcome to be right way up; the result might be less
striking, but it was much more convenient.
They drove towards Manstead.
Mr. Priestley was of the opinion that the car should be
abandoned by the side of the road. Laura was determined to do
nothing of the sort and said so, emphasising her decision by the
argument that this would inevitably put the police on their trail,
whereas the car might lie in a garage for months without being
found. Mr. Priestley was impressed by this reasoning and acquiesced.
In Manstead, therefore, Laura dropped Mr. Priestley by the
station and drove the car alone to the nearest garage that was open.
She told him that she was doing this in order to lessen the chances
of detection, for while one young woman is very much like another
young woman, because both will inevitably be wearing exactly the
same shape of hat and the same length of skirt, Mr. Priestley was
emphatically only like Mr. Priestley. Laura was, therefore, at liberty to
tell the man at the garage that the car would be called for in a day
or two by a large gentleman answering to the name of Mr. George
Howard, who would pay all dues upon it. Having said this, she
thoughtfully added that while the car was there it might just as well
as not have its brakes taken up a little, its clutch eased, its
paintwork washed down and, in short, a general and comprehensive
overhaul, with replacement of all defective parts. Laura and the
garage man then parted, excellent friends.
 Mr. Priestley had taken two tickets to London, and was awaiting
his travelling-companion with feverish impatience. There was a train
just due, and not another for three hours.
They caught it, by the skin of Mr. Priestley’s left shin.
At ease in an empty first-class compartment they were at liberty
to relax and regain their breath, which Mr Priestley did to the
accompaniment of vigorous rubbing of his left shin. Then he
replaced his pince-nez, which had fallen off in the rush, and beamed
with altruistic (or nearly altruistic) benevolence at his protégée.
“About this plan of mine that I mentioned,” beamed Mr.
Priestley. “I never told you about it, did I?”
“No, I don’t believe you did,” politely said Laura, who had also
been making a plan of her own. Laura’s plan was simple. It consisted
in giving Mr. Priestley the slip on the first opportunity after they had
reached London, and taking the first available train back to Duffley.
“Well,” said Mr. Priestley, happily unconscious of this, “what I
propose is that you take up your residence in my rooms, where you
can remain to all intents and purposes in hiding.”
“Oh!” said Laura, somewhat taken aback. “But——”
Mr. Priestley held up a protesting hand. “No, please! I know
exactly what you are going to say. You are a high-spirited girl, and I
quite understand. But it will not be charity at all. I propose also to
offer you the post of private secretary to myself.” And with the
triumphant air of one who has removed all obstacles, Mr. Priestley
leaned back in his corner and smiled happily.
“But,” began Laura again, a little more faintly this time. “But
——”
Once more Mr. Priestley held up a hand, now invested with quiet
authority. “I insist,” he said with dignity, “You, yourself, have
conferred the privilege of insistence upon me, and I exercise it. I
insist!”
“Oh!” said Laura feebly. “All right, then. Er—thank you, Mr.
Priestley, very much.”
“If I call you Laura,” Mr. Priestley pointed out with gentle
reproof, “surely you ought to call me Matthew.”
“Thank you, Matthew,” said Laura meekly.
 She had not the heart to point out to this engaging babe that it
really is not done to keep young women in bachelor rooms, even
with the most unselfish intentions; nor is it exactly healthy for the
said young woman’s reputation to consent to take up her residence
in a bachelor’s rooms, even through a desire not to hurt the
bachelor’s feelings by refusing to do so. These things did not appear
to touch Mr. Priestley. He was not of the world, worldly; he was of
the elect, a big-hearted infant. And to talk of scandal to infants and
put nasty worldly, prurient ideas into their innocent heads is
manifestly no woman’s job.
But as to what was really going to happen——! Laura shrugged
her shoulders whimsically and looked out of the window. She had
asked for it, and apparently she was getting it. But it was a pity that
she did not appear to be able to invent any story at all which did not
recoil on her own shingled head.
What was she going to do? She shrugged her shoulders again.
Anyhow—it was deadly dull in Duffley.
 Chapter XI.
Perspicacity of a Chief Constable
For quite fifteen seconds George dithered silently on the
doorstep. A Chief Constable was the last thing he had expected to
be called upon to confront, and a stern-eyed, unsmiling, purposeful-
looking Chief Constable at that. So far as George knew, Chief
Constables were a contingency for which no preparation had been
made at all. And of course it would happen when both Guy and
Doyle were not here to deal with it.
“Mr. N-n-nesbitt?” dithered George. “He-he’s out.”
“Where is he?” asked the unsmiling Chief Constable sharply.
“Over at M-Mr. F-Foster’s, I think,” replied George, feeling under
those penetrating blue eyes exactly like a schoolboy up before his
head master. George would not have been the least surprised at that
moment had the Chief Constable produced a serviceable birch-rod
from his person and remarked sternly: “I’m going to birch you, boy!”
He would have assumed a suitable attitude without hesitation.
The Chief Constable, missing his opportunity, continued only to
bore into George’s brain with his piercing glance. “When’s he coming
back?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” said George feebly.
The Chief Constable digested this. “Is Mrs. Nesbitt at home?” he
rapped out.
“Yes,” said George, without thinking. “No,” he added, thinking
hastily. “Yes,” he corrected himself, thinking further. “I mean, I don’t
know,” he concluded, ceasing to think at all.
The Chief Constable looked surprised. “Is Mrs. Nesbitt at home
or not?” he asked sarcastically. “Take your time, Mr. Howard, and try
to remember.”
 George blushed warmly. He knew he was not handling the
situation with all the tactful skill that his accomplices might require
of him, but after all, what did it matter? Whatever he did was sure to
be wrong. He decided to tell the truth, not especially to shame the
devil but rather because it is so much easier.
“She’s in the house, oh, yes,” said George with sudden cunning.
“But I don’t know whether she’s at home, you know.” George knew
all about that sort of thing. Women were often in a house, but that
did not mean they were at home; not a bit of it. When is a woman in
a house not at home? When George Howard called on her. Yes,
George knew quite a lot about that sort of thing.
“I see,” said the Chief Constable coldly. “She’s in the house, but
you don’t know whether she’s at home. Is she dressed?”
“Good Lord, yes,” cried George, much shocked. Dash it all, he’d
only been with her two minutes ago himself. Wouldn’t have been
with Cynthia if she hadn’t been dressed, would he? Dash this fellow!
“Then will you kindly present my compliments to Mrs. Nesbitt,
and ask her if I may see her?” said the Colonel, speaking slowly and
distinctly, as to one of mediocre receptive powers. “If Colonel
Ratcliffe, the Chief Constable, may see her,” he added, making the
business perfectly plain.
“You want to see me?” said a cool voice from inside the hall.
George stood aside with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness,
Cynthia had taken the thing into her own hands.
Cynthia and Colonel confronted one another. Cynthia smiled.
Now Cynthia’s smile has been mentioned before, cursorily. This
time it must have the attention paid to it which it really deserves.
For Cynthia’s smile plays a very important part in this story from now
onwards; its effects were singularly far-reaching. Cynthia’s smile
then, was very sweet, very infectious, very disturbing, and at the
same time very soothing. A cross bull in full charge coming suddenly
within the rays of Cynthia’s smile would probably pull up short, bow
politely and offer to die for the Prime Minister. Cynthia, it may be
said, was perfectly aware of the value of her smile, and she
employed it quite unscrupulously; whenever she wanted her own
way, for instance, or to put a nervous person at his ease, or to
persuade somebody into a course of action which was totally
repugnant to him. The number of hats Cynthia had cozened out of
her husband simply by smiling for them was remarkable.
Cynthia did not feel like a schoolboy in the presence of the Chief
Constable. She just went on smiling at him, and in thirty seconds
that austere man was, metaphorically speaking, frisking playfully
about her feet.
“Oh, so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Nesbitt,” he said almost
genially, “but I wanted to see if you can throw any light on this
extraordinary affair here last night. If you would——”
“I’m sorry,” Cynthia interposed firmly, but still smiling, “but I
can’t possibly. None at all. I’m sorry. Why don’t you go up to Mr.
Foster’s and see my husband?”
“That’s the gentleman who spoke to the young woman in the
garden,” interposed the Inspector with paternal helpfulness.
The Colonel, still under the influence of Cynthia’s smile, did not
wither him with biting sarcasm; he just nodded. “Yes, that’s quite a
good idea, Mrs. Nesbitt,” he said mildly. “I will. Thank you. I’m so
sorry to have bothered you.”
“Not at all,” said Cynthia politely, and closed the door on her
smile. As she walked back to the drawing-room, followed by a
respectful George, the smile disappeared.
“And I hope that husband of mine will enjoy the interview,” said
Cynthia, quite viciously. “I fancy he won’t find the Colonel quite such
easy game as that poor dear old Inspector.”
George was inclined to agree with her.
In the meantime the poor dear old Inspector was walking (at a
quite unnecessary pace, as he felt) along the road beside his
superior, and as they walked the effects of the smile wore off for
both of them. To the Chief Constable the world slowly ceased to be a
rose-coloured place, full of sweet things and noble thoughts, and
became once more a drab-coloured concern, where people do very
naughty things indeed; to the Inspector it became a place where
solid worth and invaluable experience do not always meet their due.
“In the Garfield Case, sir,” observed the Inspector in somewhat
dogged tones, evidently resuming a previous conversation, “the first
thing I did was to measure up the furniture in the room where the
murder had been committed.”
“Why?” asked the Colonel shortly. Like most people who had
come into contact with Inspector Cottingham for more than five
minutes at a time, the Colonel felt that he wanted to go out and bay
the moon as soon as the word “Garfield” cropped up in the
conversation.
The Inspector coughed slightly and looked up at the sky. That
was the trouble with Colonel Ratcliffe, he would ask silly questions.
He was a nice enough man taken all round, if a bit on the young
side, but he’d be very much nicer if he’d only recognise once and for
all that he was new to this game, and the Inspector was not. But did
he recognise it? He did not. From the way he spoke sometimes, you
might think that it was he who was the old hand, with a neatly
solved murder mystery tucked away behind him, and the Inspector
the novice. And he would ask such silly questions.
“Why, sir?” repeated the Inspector in tones of surprise.
Inspector Cottingham had always regarded his measuring of the
furniture as a primary stroke of immense and subtle cunning. True, it
had led to nothing just as matters turned out, but it might have
produced all sorts of exciting results; and anyhow, it smacked of the
professional touch in a most gratifying way, and now here was this
absurd Chief Constable wanting to know why.
“Well, for the same reason as I measured ’em last night, sir,”
said the Inspector, playing for time. “Because—because—well——”
“In the Garfield case, Cottingham,” said the Colonel patiently,
coming to the rescue, “as I keep telling you, you had a body. Here
you haven’t. And you can’t do anything until the body is found.
Therefore, the first thing to do is to find the body. I think I’ve said
something like that before.”
The Inspector sighed, very gently. “But the body isn’t there, sir,”
he pointed out. “And for why? Because they took it away with ’em.”
“How do you know they did?”
Here the Inspector was on surer ground. “Why, sir,” he
countered triumphantly, “because the girl told Mr. Foster so.” This
was the way things ought to be done. This was the way a real
detective got his results. Not by chasing round, searching for bodies
that weren’t there, but by sitting tight and looking official till
somebody came along and revealed the whole thing.
“It didn’t occur to you, I suppose,” said the Colonel very mildly,
“that she might not have been speaking the truth?”
“No, sir, it didn’t,” replied the Inspector firmly. “Why should it?
She wouldn’t say anything at all if she wasn’t going to speak the
truth. Why should she? Besides, Graves saw ’em taking the body
away.” The Inspector felt he had scored a distinct point there.
“That’s right,” he added, clinching it. “Graves saw ’em at it.”
“Have you had Copham Spinney searched, as I told you over
the telephone?” asked the Colonel, changing the subject.
“Yes, sir. Graves had a look all round there and along that bank
first thing this morning.” The Inspector spoke tolerantly, as one
humouring a feeble-minded aunt. Graves had been sent to search
Copham Spinney and the other bank because that was the Colonel’s
orders, but both the Inspector and Graves himself had known it was
a mere waste of time. And for why? Because the body was hundreds
of miles away by this time, and on its way to foreign parts. That
stood to reason. “He didn’t find anything though, of course,” he
added, winking at a passing gate.
“Graves!” snorted the Colonel. “Graves wouldn’t see a body if it
came walking along the tow-path towards him.”
The Inspector smiled politely at his superior’s humour. “Now, in
the Garfield case, sir,” he remarked chattily, “what they——”
“I don’t like it, I don’t like it!” said the Colonel hastily. The
roseate hues had quite faded from the Colonel’s horizon by this time.
In a really rosy world a murder is invariably accompanied by its
appropriate body; murders without bodies attached would be very
rare indeed. “The whole tale sounds fishy to me. Sounds just like a
situation in a cheap thriller.”
“Well, fancy that, sir!” beamed the Inspector, much struck by
this example of powerful minds working in unison. “That’s just what
I said last night.”
“And where’s that body?” barked the Colonel, with sudden
wrath, as if he expected his companion to produce it instead of a
rabbit out of his helmet. “We can’t do anything without that. We
can’t even establish the fact of murder at all.”
“Well, we can’t do much without a body,” the Inspector went so
far as to admit, “and that’s a fact.”
The Colonel relapsed for a moment or two into moody silence.
“If you ask me, Cottingham,” he said, a little explosively, “I
believe the whole thing’s a mare’s nest. I don’t believe there is a
body. I don’t believe there was even a murder. I believe Graves has
been seeing visions.”
“Oh, come, sir,” chided the Inspector, who had no intention of
being robbed of his murder in this high-handed manner. “Graves
doesn’t drink as much as that, he doesn’t. Besides, he heard the
shot and he examined the body. The man was dead right enough,
Graves says. Tall, big chap, he was, one of them foreigners; Frenchy
or German or something. Big black beard, he’d got, Graves said, and
wearing——”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted the Colonel testily. “I know perfectly well
what Graves said, and in my opinion he imagined the whole thing.
May have seen something, perhaps, and imagined the rest.
Apparently handcuffed two people together, if one can believe a
single word he says (probably two quite innocent people, if I know
Graves), and——”
“But what about Mr. Foster, sir?” interrupted the Inspector, his
perturbation overcoming his manners. “You know what he says. You
wouldn’t say he drank, would you, sir? Not Mr. Foster?”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” said the Colonel coolly, “if
somebody wasn’t pulling Mr. Foster’s leg. And I shouldn’t be even
surprised,” he added quite gently, “if the same people weren’t trying
to pull yours too.”
“Lor’, sir!” gasped the Inspector, and lapsed into silence.
“In which case,” said the Colonel, very softly, “it’s our business
to make them sorry for it. Very sorry indeed. Just bear that in mind,
will you?”
By the expression on the Inspector’s face it seemed that he
bore it with difficulty. The two walked on in silence, chewing the cud
of the Colonel’s devastating theory. Along the road towards them,
moving blithely and conversing with the utmost animation, came two
figures.
“That’s Mr. Nesbitt, sir,” said the Inspector. “And that’s Mr. Doyle
with him.”
“Doyle? That’s the feller who wrote all that twaddle in the
Sunday Courier this morning, isn’t it?”
“He did say he was going to send in a report of the case,”
agreed the Inspector a little uneasily. He had read the report
through that morning, till he almost knew it by heart, and no more
delighted Inspector of Police would have been found in the country;
now his delight was beginning to show signs of waning.
“Humph!” observed the Colonel, busily putting two and two
together and obtaining a perfectly correct answer. He glanced at the
Inspector’s face and from the look of wounded bewilderment upon
its surface deduced further that his colleague, though sorrowfully
regarding the possibility that one of his legs might be a little longer
than it was yesterday, was by no means sure of it; in any case, he
had as yet not the faintest suspicion as to the identity of the author
of this outrage. The Colonel decided not to enlighten him.
“About what I said just now, Cottingham, that the whole thing
may be a hoax,” he said, “keep that to yourself for the time being. I
may be wrong, and we must get to the bottom of it first.”
“Very well, sir,” agreed the Inspector, brightening slightly before
this admission of doubt.
The two pairs came face to face and halted.
“Mr. Nesbitt and Mr. Doyle?” said the Colonel mildly. “Let me
introduce myself, Colonel Ratcliffe.”
“Oh, yes?” murmured Guy politely.
“I’m Doyle, this is Nesbitt,” supplied Mr. Doyle, scanning the
newcomer with a hopeful eye. Any chance of a fresh victim here?
If the Colonel read this thought he took prompt steps to answer
it. “I’m the Chief Constable,” he said, and watched Guy’s face
intently. Was a flicker of apprehension, faint yet discernible, going to
pass swiftly across it? There was not a flicker. The Colonel was
disappointed. As a matter of fact he had been watching the wrong
face.
 “Oh, yes?” said Guy, without a flicker.
“I’ve just been round to your place to see you, but your wife
told me you were this way so we came along to meet you. I wanted
to ask you a few questions about this business last night.”
“Of course,” Guy said warmly. “But there’s very little I can tell
you, I’m afraid. I was absent all the interesting time. Most annoying;
I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds. I was completely taken in by
that note.”
“Really?” said the Colonel in honeyed tones, and began to put
his questions. They fell into line across the road and walked back
towards Dell Cottage.
Whatever dark suspicions were hidden in the Colonel’s bosom,
he betrayed no sign of them. Questioning Guy closely about the
note, its contents, the handwriting and what had happened to it,
then about his movements from the moment he left home to the
time he returned to discover P. C. Graves immured in his library
cupboard, he appeared perfectly satisfied with the ready answers he
received. Turning his attention to Mr. Doyle (who had now had time
to recover himself and no longer flickered), he posed another set of
queries and again appeared to accept the answers in all good faith.
So did the listening Inspector.
They passed through the faithful crowd and reached the
Cottage and Guy asked the Colonel in for a drink. The Colonel was
most grateful. He not only had a drink, but made a thorough
examination of what Mr. Doyle referred to persistently as “the scene
of the outrage.” Mr. Doyle also showed him a plan he had been at
some pains to draw up for the benefit of the readers of The Courier,
in which the position of the body was marked with a cross.
“Oh, yes,” said the Colonel blandly. “And how did you know
exactly where the body was?”
“Me?” said Mr. Doyle with innocent surprise. “Nesbitt showed
me. And the constable—what’s his name? Graves—showed Nesbitt.”
And so for a long hour or more did the Colonel lay his traps and
his intended victims skirt happily round them. At the end of that time
the former went away a baffled man, with nothing more definite
than some scrapings of the blood from the carpet in his pocket.
 “But that’s quite enough to clinch it,” he told Inspector
Cottingham, who went with him. “I’ll bet a hundred to one that it’s
chicken’s blood, or something like that. And while it’s being analysed
I shall have a few things for you to do. There are some points I want
checked.” And drawing a pencil and notebook from his pocket, he
proceeded to make brief notes as he walked along, of the main
heads of the story Guy had told him.
At the same time that gentleman was ushering Mr. Doyle into
the drawing-room, where Cynthia and George, having made all the
conversation available, had fallen into a somewhat moody silence.
Cynthia greeted her husband unkindly. “Well, Guy,” she said. “I
suppose he saw through you?”
“Saw through me, my dear? What an extraordinary idea.
Certainly not. He didn’t see through me, Doyle, did he?”
“Not for a moment,” Mr. Doyle assured him with conviction. “You
were as opaque as—as George.”
“Wives are most mistrustful people,” Guy murmured, dropping
into a chair and extending his long legs. “As a matter of fact,
Cynthia, I handled the gallant Colonel with considerable skill.”
“Did you?” said Cynthia, patently unconvinced.
“He put the wind up me,” George contributed. “Those blue eyes
of his, eh? Seemed to look right through you.”
“You see, Nesbitt?” said Doyle. “The workings of a guilty
conscience. Most instructive.” He contemplated George with interest.
“Apparently not only a murderer, but his victim as well, feels uneasy
afterwards.”
“Yes, and talking of murders,” said Cynthia with energy, “I insist
on you two getting hold of that poor Mr. Priestley and putting him
out of his misery.” She went on to elaborate her demands at some
length.
“Oh, come, dear,” said Guy, shocked. “This is not the spirit of
scientific investigation. This is (I’m sorry to have to say it, but the
truth must be faced) paltry pusillanimity.”
“‘Paltry pusillanimity,’” repeated Mr. Doyle with admiration. “Very
nice. I must work that into my next article. It can come in about the
police.”
 “Do you know there’ve been three reporters here already while
you’ve been out?” said George gloomily. Cynthia having refused to
allow a single one of them to set foot inside the house, it had fallen
to George to get rid of them; that was why he was gloomy.
“Good enough!” stated Mr. Doyle with satisfaction. “The leaven
is beginning to work. Three, did you say? I shall be able to double
my rates to The Courier soon, and get twelve mohair mats instead of
six. What does one do with twelve mohair mats, Cynthia? You’re a
housewife and ought to know these things.”
“Be quiet about mohair mats! I want to know whether you’re
going to tell Mr. Priestley the truth?”
“No,” said her husband firmly.
“No,” said Mr. Doyle firmly.
Cynthia looked at George.
“No,” said George weakly.
“We don’t even know where he is,” pointed out Guy.
“What’s his address?” Cynthia demanded of Mr. Doyle.
“I don’t know,” replied that gentleman promptly.
“Liar!”
“Exactly!”
Cynthia set her lips in a thin line. “Very well,” she said, just
breaking the line to let the words through. “Very well.”
“Nesbitt,” said Mr. Doyle. “I’m afraid your wife doesn’t approve
of us.”
“I don’t think she ever has approved of me,” confessed Guy, not
without pathos. “That’s why she married me. No woman ever
marries a man she approves of, you know.”
Cynthia laughed. “Oh, it’s no good getting cross with you
babies. But I do wish you’d grow up some time before you die, Guy.”
“Heaven forbid, my dear!”
Mr. Doyle had drawn a sheet of note-paper out of his pocket
and was studying it thoughtfully. He handed it across to Guy.
“Do you think, Nesbitt, that something might be done with this?
I purloined it, as one might say. It has the address at the top, but
that can always be cut off. And it’s nice distinctive paper, isn’t it? I
should think,” said Mr. Doyle still more thoughtfully, “that if a search
were ever instigated in this neighbourhood for a piece of paper like
that, there’s only one house in which it could be run to earth.”
Guy began to steal jam. “You mean, if certain words were
inscribed on it in block capitals, as I was describing to our friend the
Colonel just now?”
“Exactly. And then if one took a swift car (yours, for instance)
and dropped this piece of paper inscribed with block capitals in a
certain place where four roads meet, as you were also describing to
your friend. I think you get me?”
“This afternoon it shall be done.”
“Now,” corrected Mr. Doyle. “That Colonel’s going to let no grass
grow. This afternoon may be too late.”
“You’re right. Now it is. I’ll do that, while you might be attending
to a certain matter concerning boots, about which we were going to
be so cunning. Do you know, dear,” said Guy, turning to his wife, “Mr.
Foster has a small piece nicked out of the sole of his left boot. We
noticed it in his footmarks in the garden this morning. Isn’t that
interesting? Doyle here thinks it’s a new fashion, so he’s going to
nick a bit out of one of George’s (which happen to be the same size
and shape) so that George can be in the swim too. Isn’t that kind of
him?”
“What’s all this about?” asked George uneasily. George was a
man who set a certain value on his boots.
“But oh,” sighed Mr. Doyle, “how I wish that Reginald, besides
having a broken boot, had a broken nose as well. How very blissful
life would then be.”
Cynthia giggled suddenly. She did not approve of all this
nonsense; indeed, she most strongly disapproved. But then, on the
other hand she did not love Mr. Foster. She knew she ought to love
Mr. Foster, because Mr. Foster was her neighbour (distant, if not
distant enough) and Cynthia had been brought up in the orthodox
way. But certainly she did not love Mr. Foster. This was all the more
unkind seeing that she had never even met him.
“But he has!” giggled Cynthia. “It was broken in a boxing-match
at school. He told Mary James all about it once, and Mary told me.
He told her all about it,” added Cynthia feelingly, “for nearly an hour
on end.”
As if moved on a single string, Guy and Mr. Doyle rose and
clung to each other in silence.
“This is one of the times that are too sacred for speech,”
observed Mr. Doyle a moment later with considerable emotion. “I
must return to my concealed fiancée and George’s boots. Good-bye,
Cynthia. George, you may follow me if you like, but don’t attempt to
emulate me. I shall be walking on air, and that’s so dangerous for
the uninitiated.” He moved with rapture out of the room.
After an uncertain moment, George followed him.
Guy smiled at his wife. “It’s twelve o’clock, darling, that’s all.
Just time for a nice little spin before lunch. Care for one?”
Cynthia tried to look cross with him and failed. “Guy, you are so
ridiculous. I don’t know whether to be furious with you or glad.”
“Be glad, darling. It’s so much less wearing. By the way, are you
now going to run upstairs and put on your hat?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Nesbitt,” said Cynthia with dignity and ran
upstairs to do so.
 Chapter XII.
Mr. Priestley Becomes an Uncle
It is to be recorded that when Mr. Priestley’s tour arrived in
London, the member of it known variously as Miss Howard, Mrs.
Spettigue, Miss Merrriman and Laura, did not slip away from it. She
was hard put to it to explain to herself exactly why she did not, for
opportunity after opportunity continued to present itself with
sickening plausibility. Perhaps the reason she gave Cynthia later is as
good as any: she simply hadn’t the heart. Anyhow, the consequence
was that, some half-hour afterwards, Laura found herself walking
delicately over the threshold of Mr. Priestley’s bachelor rooms, still in
the rôle of a damsel in distress without a rag to her back or a penny
in her purse; though now she had a roof to her head, Mr. Priestley’s.
The lender of the roof led her into his study and rang for his
man. Twenty seconds later that functionary stood before him, pale,
genteel, with a face as like a boiled egg as ever. Nothing had ever
been known to disturb this Being, not even when Mr. Priestley, ten
years younger and just beginning to open wondering eyes to the
sinfulness of this world, had ostentatiously taken to locking up his
cigars when not himself requiring the box; so far from being
disturbed, all the Being had done was to take, unobtrusively and in a
gentlemanly way, an impression of the cigar-cabinet key, walk along
to the nearest locksmith’s and then proceed as before. If, therefore,
anybody could have been so futile as to expect him to show signs of
surprise at Mr. Priestley’s fracture of a life-long habit in spending an
unexpected and unheralded night, and at that an unpacked-for
night, away from home, returning the next afternoon with a
personable young woman in tow, then that person deserved all the
contempt which Barker would scorn to bestow on him. After all,
Barker set a certain value on his contempt.
“You rang, sir?” said Barker, taking in Mr. Priestley’s somewhat
unkempt appearance, his torn trouser-leg and the personable young
woman at a single glance, and not batting an eyelid.
“Yes, some tea, please, Barker,” said Mr. Priestley briskly.
“Very good, sir.” Barker began to progress towards the door.
Barker never did anything quite so vulgar as exactly to walk, nor did
he precisely glide, chassis or slither; he just progressed. The sound
of Mr. Priestley attacking his quite admirable fire stopped him. He
retrogressed.
“Permit me, sir,” said Barker, neatly twitching the poker out of
Mr. Priestley’s grasp. He dropped on one knee on the hearthrug as if
about to breathe a prayer up the chimney, and lightly tapped three
pieces of blazing coal. The fire was as perfect as a fire in this world
can be, and Barker was not going to demean himself by pretending
that he thought it anything else. But he was prepared lightly to tap
three pieces of coal out of sheer courtesy.
Mr. Priestley also knew the fire was a perfectly admirable fire,
though he was quite prepared to demean himself by pretending to
think otherwise. He had, in fact, gripped the poker as a means of
ensuring Barker’s presence in the room for another two minutes, by
the end of which period Mr. Priestley devoutly hoped he would have
jumped his next two fences. They were fences at which he shied a
good deal.
He took a running leap at the first one. “By the way, Barker,” he
said, with the chattiness of sheer nerves, “this is Miss Merriman—
Miss Laura Merriman, Barker—a cousin of mine, who is going to stay
with me here for a little while.”
“Very good, sir,” Barker acquiesced woodenly in this momentous
news.
“She—she will assist me in a secretarial capacity,” continued Mr.
Priestley unnecessarily. “She is a trained typist, and—and she will
assist me in a secretarial capacity.”
“Very good, sir,” repeated Barker stolidly from the hearthrug.
Not a sign appeared on his boiled-egglike countenance of the joyful
interest he was feeling in his master’s unexpected depravity and his
wonder why the old josser should think it necessary to fill him up
with all this bunkum about cousins and secretarial capacities. Barker
had no doubt that this tidy bit of goods was here to assist Mr.
Priestley all right, but not in a secretarial capacity.
The tidy bit of goods, seated in an arm-chair, demurely
contemplated her shoes, unconscious of these uncharitable
reflections.
“That’s all right then,” said Mr. Priestley, with relief at this first
fence safely negotiated. “So get the spare room ready, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Barker rose and dusted the knees of his trousers with
mild reproach. “And the young lady’s luggage?” he asked maliciously.
“Her—her luggage?” stammered Mr. Priestley, who had not
expected this query. “Oh, it’s—yes, it’s been mislaid. Most—er—
annoying. You quite lost sight of it on the journey, didn’t you,
Laura?”
“Oh, quite,” Laura agreed, heroically suppressing a giggle.
“Should you like me to go and make inquiries about it, sir?”
asked Barker, still more maliciously.
“No, no,” said Mr. Priestley testily. “We—we have already
attended to that. Of course we have.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Barker with a perfectly blank face. He
turned to go. Of course the bit of goods had no luggage, he’d known
that all along; but he had felt that Mr. Priestley deserved the
question. Fancy trying to take him in with silly tales about cousins
and secretarial capacities! Barker felt almost hurt.
“Oh, and Barker!”
Barker turned back resignedly, but continuing to impersonate a
boiled-egg. “Sir?”
Mr. Priestley was fumbling inside his waistcoat, his face
exceedingly red. After a little preliminary manœuvring he extended
his left arm; the wrist was encircled by an unmistakable handcuff,
from which another handcuff dangled wistfully.
“A friend of mine,” said Mr. Priestley with considerable dignity,
“fastened this foolish contrivance on my wrists. I have managed to
get one free, but I cannot liberate the other. Will you please find
some instrument to—er—to free me with?”
Barker looked at his employer’s wrist, and then at his employer’s
red but dignified face. His lips twitched. His face suddenly took on a
poached aspect, and then a positively scrambled one.
“Very good,” he began bravely, “s-s-s——” A hoarse cry
suddenly escaped from him and he dived from the room. Further
hoarse sounds were distinctly audible from the passage outside.
Mr. Priestley looked at the closed door with considerable
interest. “Do you know,” he said with mild wonder, “I believe Barker
actually laughed then. He must be human after all.”
Mr. Priestley was right. Barker was human. Exceedingly human
thoughts were coursing through Barker’s mind as he busied himself
in preparing the tea. But what was surprising Barker so very much
was to find that Mr. Priestley was human too.
“The wicked old sinner!” commented Barker to the tea-caddy.
“To think of ’im breaking out like a two-year-old after all this time!
Ah, well,” reflected Barker philosophically, “they always do say the
older you grow the friskier you get.”
In the study the frisky one proceeded to elaborate his plan.
“You must have clothes, of course,” he said. “Perhaps we had
better go out to-morrow morning and get you some. Now how much
money,” asked Mr. Priestley diffidently, “does a girl’s outfit cost?
Including everything, I mean?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” said Laura warmly, touched afresh by
this large-hearted generosity. “It’s out of the question.”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Priestley firmly. “It’s essential. Please don’t
be obstinate, Laura. You must have clothes. Would—do you think a
hundred pounds would be enough to get you what you require? I
know women’s clothes are exceedingly expensive,” added Mr.
Priestley, somehow contriving to apologise to the object of his
charity for this awkward quality of her own garments.
Laura gasped.
“I always keep a hundred pounds in cash on the premises, just
for emergencies,” explained Mr. Priestley happily, “so you see there is
no difficulty about that at all.” “For, of course,” added Mr. Priestley’s
expression, “one might just as well spend the silly stuff as keep it
lying about here for nothing; and just at the moment I think I’d
rather spend it on girl’s clothes than anything else.” One gathered
from Mr. Priestley’s expression that Laura would really be doing him
a very great favour if she would allow Mr. Priestley to spend his own
hundred pounds on a number of garments which could be of really
very little practical use to himself.
“It’s out of the question,” said Laura feebly. “I—I couldn’t hear
of it.”
“I insist,” retorted Mr. Priestley with his famous imitation of a
strong if not silent man.
The discussion raged.
Mr. Priestley closed it with a snap. “Very well,” he said, “if you
refuse to come with me, I shall go out and buy them alone.”
A horrified vision arose before Laura’s eyes of the garments Mr.
Priestley might be expected to purchase if left to himself. Sheer
desperation presented her with the essentials of a scheme for
escaping from the impasse. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll give in, though
I don’t approve of it at all. But of course it’s perfectly sweet of you.
I’ll let you pay for the clothes on one condition—that I go and buy
them alone. You know,” she added persuasively, “you wouldn’t really
like coming to lingerie shops with me, would you?”
“Not at all,” beamed Mr. Priestley. “But I’ll tell you why I wished
to come with you. Because I didn’t want to let you out of my sight!
You are an independent girl, and I was afraid that if I let you go out
alone you quite possibly would not return.”
“Oh!” said Laura, having had this very intention.
“I may have been wrong,” continued Mr. Priestley happily, “but I
feared that, once you were out of my clutches, so to speak, you
would begin to imagine all sorts of foolish things, such as that your
presence here might possibly—er—embarrass me, as it were, and
that I should not care to be saddled with the responsibility of looking
after you. Nothing,” said Mr. Priestley very earnestly, “could in reality
be further from the truth. I will, therefore, agree to your condition
upon one of my own: that you give me your word of honour to
return here whenever you go out, either to-day or to-morrow, take
up your residence as I suggested, and look upon this place as your
home until all this awkward affair is finally cleared up.” He smiled at
her benevolently.
“Oh!” said Laura blankly.
Now Laura was not one of those feeble-minded creatures who
go through life with the fatuous question constantly on their lips:
What will people say? She did not care a rap what people said about
her (which was perhaps as well); all that concerned her was what
she was. But however free from conventional ties a young woman
may consider herself, to take up her residence in a bachelor’s flat is
not a step to be made without a certain amount of reflection; if one
only owes the duty of essentials to oneself, one does owe a certain
duty of external appearances to one’s friends and relations. On the
other hand, those friends and relations, being themselves clean-
minded people, would, if they ever came to hear of the escapade at
all, certainly recognise Mr. Priestley for the innocent babe he was.
Nevertheless half an hour ago, in spite of everything, Laura
would have said very decidedly, “No,” and proceeded with her plan
of escape. Now the whole situation was altered by Mr. Priestley’s
utter generosity. To throw the gift he was trying to make back in his
face would, in one sense, be the act of a complete rotter. After all,
as she had had occasion to remind herself before, she had asked for
everything and it was only poetic justice that she should get it. As
things were, she owed Mr. Priestley all the reparation she could give
him. But nevertheless, modern though she considered herself, there
were limits even to such reparation, and was not to compromise
herself hopelessly and for ever quite decidedly one of them? Oh,
Lord, she didn’t know what to do!
“All right,” Laura heard her own voice saying, “I agree. I give
you my solemn word.” She listened to it with astonishment. So far as
she knew, she had not arrived at any decision at all; apparently she
had been wrong. The words seemed to have come out of her mouth
without any volition on her part at all. Laura was grateful to her
mouth; at any rate it had solved this very awkward problem for her.
Mr. Priestley replied fittingly.
 “And I know what I’ll do,” Laura went on, speaking this time of
her own free will. “I’ll adopt you as an uncle. That’ll make everything
all right, won’t it?” The British mind, it has been said, loves a
compromise.
Mr. Priestley looked slightly disappointed. He did not feel at all
avuncular.
Twenty minutes later Laura, having obtained leave of absence
for half an hour, was in Piccadilly, a smile on her lips and laughter in
her heart. Now that the die actually was cast, she was prepared to
enjoy the situation to its fullest extent. And anyhow, Duffley really
was deadly dull.
She entered the Piccadilly Palace and made a bee-line for the
telephone room. Their own house at Duffley was not on the
telephone, and she gave the Nesbitt’s number. A quarter of an hour
later she got it.
“Yes?” said Cynthia’s voice very wearily. “What is it?”
“Is that you, Cynthia darling? Lawks speaking.”
“Oh!” Cynthia’s voice brightened considerably. “I thought it was
another wretched reporter. They’ve been buzzing round here like
flies all the afternoon, and the telephone’s been going continuously.
Lawks, what have you been doing, my dear?”
“Hush! Telephones have ears, you know, besides the ones at
each end. I’ll tell you all about everything when I see you. My dear,
I’ve had a perfectly hectic time. I—no, not now. Cynthia, will you
take a message across for me to Dawks?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“I want her to pack a trunk for me. Tell her to put in my gray
costume, my new black georgette, my …” A long list followed here,
of intimate interest to both Laura and Cynthia, and none at all to the
reader. “Oh, well, if you can’t remember all that, just tell her all my
new spring things, my best evening frocks and my choicest undies.
And I want you to tell George that——” Details followed of the car
and the garage at Manstead.
“But Lawks, what ever are you doing?”
“Never mind, darling; of that anon. Oh, and tell Dawks to bring
the trunk up here to-morrow morning, put it in the cloakroom, and
meet me in the Piccadilly Palace lounge at twelve sharp.”
“I’ll see to it,” said Cynthia, to whom an idea had just occurred.
“Yes, very well. Lawks, how’s—you know, your little friend?”
“Oh, sitting up and taking nourishment.”
“Yes, but is he—”
“Your thrrrree minutes is up,” said a harsh voice. “Do you want
another thrrrree minutes?” And its owner promptly cut them off
before either could answer her.
Laura returned to Half Moon Street with feelings which she
made no attempt to analyse.
Mr. Priestley also did not stop to analyse his feelings when Laura
returned to him. There was no need. His face one large beam, he
welcomed her as if she had been away half a year instead of half an
hour. It is to be feared that Mr. Priestley had not been quite as
reassured as he should have been by Laura’s solemn word.
Having taken off her hat and admired the delightfully cosy little
room prepared for her, in which a fire was already burning, Laura
returned to the study, and insisted upon being initiated into her
secretarial duties that very minute, brushing aside Mr. Priestley’s
earnest attempts to establish a conscience which would not allow
him even to think of work on a Sunday, much less practise it. Mr.
Priestley, who had not the faintest idea what to do with a secretary
or how on earth to keep her employed for more than ten minutes in
the day, had considerable difficulty in concealing the fact that a
secretary who knew no Latin or Greek was just about as much use
to him personally as the clothes she was going to buy with his
money. Laura, who read each thought as it flitted through his mind,
listened demurely to his halting sentences and continued to think
what a perfect dear he was.
With an air of great importance the perfect dear finally gave her
some rough notes he had made ten years before (and never thought
of since) upon certain obscure passages in Juvenal, to be put into
shipshape form the next morning. Then, with the comfortable feeling
of duty done and pleasure coming, he settled down in a chair by the
fire for a companionable chat till dinner.
 That meal safely over (and an admirable affair it was; Barker
had seen to that, though distinctly disappointed that no champagne
was drunk with it to mark the occasion fittingly), they went back to
the library, and there Mr. Priestley had a very bright idea indeed.
This dear girl was likely to be on his hands for some time; why not
make that period of real solid value to her, and at the same time
increase her own value to himself? Why not, in short, teach her a
little Latin? He pottered happily off to see if he could unearth the old
Kennedy’s grammar of his schooldays.
To Laura’s considerable regret, he succeeded.
To Barker, lurking tactfully in his own fastness and picturing lurid
scenes in progress in the study with all the strength of his somewhat
one-sided imagination, the truth regarding the next two hours would
have been a poignant disappointment; there is very little luridness in
the conjugation of mensa. Laura spent a dull evening.
At half-past ten, feeling that she had had enough Latin to last
her for several years, she announced her intention of going to bed,
resisting all Mr. Priestley’s efforts to dissuade her.
“I’m very tired,” she said, not without truth, holding out a slim
hand. “Good-night, Uncle Matthew.”
“Good-night, then Niece Laura,” beamed Mr. Priestley, taking the
hand and forgetting apparently to release it again.
Laura could hardly go to bed without her hand; she lingered.
They smiled at each other.
“Oh, well,” thought Laura, “why not? He deserves something,
the funny old dear, and he does seem to enjoy it so.” She held up
her cheek. “Good-night, dear, kind Uncle Matthew,” she said softly.
“God bless my soul!” observed Mr. Priestley, discovering
suddenly that there are advantages in being an uncle after all.
“Besides, it isn’t the first time,” continued Laura’s thoughts as
she went off to her bed and a pair of Mr. Priestley’s pyjamas; “and
he certainly had that kissing look in his eye. Oh, well, I owe him that
much, I suppose.” But not for one moment did she admit that the
very simple reason why she had held up her face was that, for the
first time in her life, she actually wanted to be kissed. A simple
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