About : standard furniture westchester bedroom collection
Title : standard furniture westchester bedroom collection
standard furniture westchester bedroom collection
indiscretions of archie by p. g. wodehouse chapter i. distressing scene "i say, laddie!" said archie. "sir?" replied the desk-clerk alertly. allthe employes of the hotel cosmopolis were alert. it was one of the things on which mr.daniel brewster, the proprietor, insisted. and as he was always wandering about the lobbyof the hotel keeping a personal eye on affairs, it was never safe to relax. "i want to see the manager." "is there anything i could do, sir?"
archie looked at him doubtfully. "well, as a matter of fact, my dear old desk-clerk,"he said, "i want to kick up a fearful row, and it hardly seems fair to lug you into it.why you, i mean to say? the blighter whose head i want on a charger is the bally manager." at this point a massive, grey-haired man,who had been standing close by, gazing on the lobby with an air of restrained severity,as if daring it to start anything, joined in the conversation. "i am the manager," he said. his eye was cold and hostile. others, it seemedto say, might like archie moffam, but not
he. daniel brewster was bristling for combat.what he had overheard had shocked him to the core of his being. the hotel cosmopolis washis own private, personal property, and the thing dearest to him in the world, after hisdaughter lucille. he prided himself on the fact that his hotel was not like other newyork hotels, which were run by impersonal companies and shareholders and boards of directors,and consequently lacked the paternal touch which made the cosmopolis what it was. atother hotels things went wrong, and clients complained. at the cosmopolis things neverwent wrong, because he was on the spot to see that they didn't, and as a result clientsnever complained. yet here was this long, thin, string-bean of an englishman actuallyregistering annoyance and dissatisfaction
before his very eyes. "what is your complaint?" he enquired frigidly. archie attached himself to the top buttonof mr. brewster's coat, and was immediately dislodged by an irritable jerk of the other'ssubstantial body. "listen, old thing! i came over to this countryto nose about in search of a job, because there doesn't seem what you might call a generaldemand for my services in england. directly i was demobbed, the family started talkingabout the land of opportunity and shot me on to a liner. the idea was that i might gethold of something in america—" he got hold of mr. brewster's coat-button,and was again shaken off.
"between ourselves, i've never done anythingmuch in england, and i fancy the family were getting a bit fed. at any rate, they sentme over here—" mr. brewster disentangled himself for thethird time. "i would prefer to postpone the story of yourlife," he said coldly, "and be informed what is your specific complaint against the hotelcosmopolis." "of course, yes. the jolly old hotel. i'mcoming to that. well, it was like this. a chappie on the boat told me that this wasthe best place to stop at in new york—" "he was quite right," said mr. brewster. "was he, by jove! well, all i can say, then,is that the other new york hotels must be
pretty mouldy, if this is the best of thelot! i took a room here last night," said archie quivering with self-pity, "and therewas a beastly tap outside somewhere which went drip-drip-drip all night and kept meawake." mr. brewster's annoyance deepened. he feltthat a chink had been found in his armour. not even the most paternal hotel-proprietorcan keep an eye on every tap in his establishment. "drip-drip-drip!" repeated archie firmly."and i put my boots outside the door when i went to bed, and this morning they hadn'tbeen touched. i give you my solemn word! not touched." "naturally," said mr. brewster. "my employesare honest"
"but i wanted them cleaned, dash it!" "there is a shoe-shining parlour in the basement.at the cosmopolis shoes left outside bedroom doors are not cleaned." "then i think the cosmopolis is a bally rottenhotel!" mr. brewster's compact frame quivered. theunforgivable insult had been offered. question the legitimacy of mr. brewster's parentage,knock mr. brewster down and walk on his face with spiked shoes, and you did not irremediablyclose all avenues to a peaceful settlement. but make a remark like that about his hotel,and war was definitely declared. "in that case," he said, stiffening, "i mustask you to give up your room."
"i'm going to give it up! i wouldn't stayin the bally place another minute." mr. brewster walked away, and archie chargedround to the cashier's desk to get his bill. it had been his intention in any case, thoughfor dramatic purposes he concealed it from his adversary, to leave the hotel that morning.one of the letters of introduction which he had brought over from england had resultedin an invitation from a mrs. van tuyl to her house-party at miami, and he had decided togo there at once. "well," mused archie, on his way to the station,"one thing's certain. i'll never set foot in that bally place again!" but nothing in this world is certain.
chapter ii. a shock for mr. brewster mr. daniel brewster sat in his luxurious suiteat the cosmopolis, smoking one of his admirable cigars and chatting with his old friend, professorbinstead. a stranger who had only encountered mr. brewster in the lobby of the hotel wouldhave been surprised at the appearance of his sitting-room, for it had none of the ruggedsimplicity which was the keynote of its owner's personal appearance. daniel brewster was aman with a hobby. he was what parker, his valet, termed a connoozer. his educated tastein art was one of the things which went to make the cosmopolis different from and superiorto other new york hotels. he had personally selected the tapestries in the dining-roomand the various paintings throughout the building.
and in his private capacity he was an enthusiasticcollector of things which professor binstead, whose tastes lay in the same direction, wouldhave stolen without a twinge of conscience if he could have got the chance. the professor, a small man of middle age whowore tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, flitted covetously about the room, inspecting itstreasures with a glistening eye. in a corner, parker, a grave, lean individual, bent overthe chafing-dish, in which he was preparing for his employer and his guest their simplelunch. "brewster," said professor binstead, pausingat the mantelpiece. mr. brewster looked up amiably. he was inplacid mood to-day. two weeks and more had
passed since the meeting with archie recordedin the previous chapter, and he had been able to dismiss that disturbing affair from hismind. since then, everything had gone splendidly with daniel brewster, for he had just accomplishedhis ambition of the moment by completing the negotiations for the purchase of a site furtherdown-town, on which he proposed to erect a new hotel. he liked building hotels. he hadthe cosmopolis, his first-born, a summer hotel in the mountains, purchased in the previousyear, and he was toying with the idea of running over to england and putting up another inlondon, that, however, would have to wait. meanwhile, he would concentrate on this newone down-town. it had kept him busy and worried, arranging for securing the site; but his troubleswere over now.
"yes?" he said. professor binstead had picked up a small chinafigure of delicate workmanship. it represented a warrior of pre-khaki days advancing witha spear upon some adversary who, judging from the contented expression on the warrior'sface, was smaller than himself. "where did you get this?" "that? mawson, my agent, found it in a littleshop on the east side." "where's the other? there ought to be another.these things go in pairs. they're valueless alone." mr. brewster's brow clouded.
"i know that," he said shortly. "mawson'slooking for the other one everywhere. if you happen across it, i give you carte blancheto buy it for me." "it must be somewhere." "yes. if you find it, don't worry about theexpense. i'll settle up, no matter what it is." "i'll bear it in mind," said professor binstead."it may cost you a lot of money. i suppose you know that." "i told you i don't care what it costs." "it's nice to be a millionaire," sighed professorbinstead.
"luncheon is served, sir," said parker. he had stationed himself in a statutesquepose behind mr. brewster's chair, when there was a knock at the door. he went to the door,and returned with a telegram. "telegram for you, sir." mr. brewster nodded carelessly. the contentsof the chafing-dish had justified the advance advertising of their odour, and he was toobusy to be interrupted. "put it down. and you needn't wait, parker." "very good, sir." the valet withdrew, and mr. brewster resumedhis lunch.
"aren't you going to open it?" asked professorbinstead, to whom a telegram was a telegram. "it can wait. i get them all day long. i expectit's from lucille, saying what train she's making." "she returns to-day?" "yes, been at miami." mr. brewster, havingdwelt at adequate length on the contents of the chafing-dish, adjusted his glasses andtook up the envelope. "i shall be glad—great godfrey!" he sat staring at the telegram, his mouthopen. his friend eyed him solicitously. "no bad news, i hope?"
mr. brewster gurgled in a strangled way. "bad news? bad—? here, read it for yourself." professor binstead, one of the three mostinquisitive men in new york, took the slip of paper with gratitude. "'returning new york to-day with darling archie,'"he read. "'lots of love from us both. lucille.'" he gaped at his host. "who is archie?" heenquired. "who is archie?" echoed mr. brewster helplessly."who is—? that's just what i would like to know." "'darling archie,'" murmured the professor,musing over the telegram. "'returning to-day
with darling archie.' strange!" mr. brewster continued to stare before him.when you send your only daughter on a visit to miami minus any entanglements and she mentionsin a telegram that she has acquired a darling archie, you are naturally startled. he rosefrom the table with a bound. it had occurred to him that by neglecting a careful studyof his mail during the past week, as was his bad habit when busy, he had lost an opportunityof keeping abreast with current happenings. he recollected now that a letter had arrivedfrom lucille some time ago, and that he had put it away unopened till he should have leisureto read it. lucille was a dear girl, he had felt, but her letters when on a vacation seldomcontained anything that couldn't wait a few
days for a reading. he sprang for his desk,rummaged among his papers, and found what he was seeking. it was a long letter, and there was silencein the room for some moments while he mastered its contents. then he turned to the professor,breathing heavily. "good heavens!" "yes?" said professor binstead eagerly. "yes?" "good lord!" "well?" "good gracious!"
"what is it?" demanded the professor in anagony. mr. brewster sat down again with a thud. "she's married!" "married!" "married! to an englishman!" "bless my soul!" "she says," proceeded mr. brewster, referringto the letter again, "that they were both so much in love that they simply had to slipoff and get married, and she hopes i won't be cross. cross!" gasped mr. brewster, gazingwildly at his friend.
"very disturbing!" "disturbing! you bet it's disturbing! i don'tknow anything about the fellow. never heard of him in my life. she says he wanted a quietwedding because he thought a fellow looked such a chump getting married! and i must lovehim, because he's all set to love me very much!" "extraordinary!" mr. brewster put the letter down. "an englishman!" "i have met some very agreeable englishmen,"said professor binstead.
"i don't like englishmen," growled mr. brewster."parker's an englishman." "your valet?" "yes. i believe he wears my shirts on thesly,'" said mr. brewster broodingly, "if i catch him—! what would you do about this,binstead?" "do?" the professor considered the point judiciary."well, really, brewster, i do not see that there is anything you can do. you must simplywait and meet the man. perhaps he will turn out an admirable son-in-law." "h'm!" mr. brewster declined to take an optimisticview. "but an englishman, binstead!" he said with pathos. "why," he went on, memory suddenlystirring, "there was an englishman at this
hotel only a week or two ago who went aboutknocking it in a way that would have amazed you! said it was a rotten place! my hotel!" professor binstead clicked his tongue sympathetically.he understood his friend's warmth. chapter iii. mr. brewster delivers sentence at about the same moment that professor binsteadwas clicking his tongue in mr. brewster's sitting-room, archie moffam sat contemplatinghis bride in a drawing-room on the express from miami. he was thinking that this wastoo good to be true. his brain had been in something of a whirl these last few days,but this was one thought that never failed to emerge clearly from the welter.
mrs. archie moffam, nee lucille brewster,was small and slender. she had a little animated face, set in a cloud of dark hair. she wasso altogether perfect that archie had frequently found himself compelled to take the marriage-certificateout of his inside pocket and study it furtively, to make himself realise that this miracleof good fortune had actually happened to him. "honestly, old bean—i mean, dear old thing,—imean, darling," said archie, "i can't believe it!" "what?" "what i mean is, i can't understand why youshould have married a blighter like me." lucille's eyes opened. she squeezed his hand.
"why, you're the most wonderful thing in theworld, precious!—surely you know that?" "absolutely escaped my notice. are you sure?" "of course i'm sure! you wonder-child! nobodycould see you without loving you!" archie heaved an ecstatic sigh. then a thoughtcrossed his mind. it was a thought which frequently came to mar his bliss. "i say, i wonder if your father will thinkthat!" "of course he will!" "we rather sprung this, as it were, on theold lad," said archie dubiously. "what sort of a man is your father?"
"father's a darling, too." "rummy thing he should own that hotel," saidarchie. "i had a frightful row with a blighter of a manager there just before i left formiami. your father ought to sack that chap. he was a blot on the landscape!" it had been settled by lucille during thejourney that archie should be broken gently to his father-in-law. that is to say, insteadof bounding blithely into mr. brewster's presence hand in hand, the happy pair should separatefor half an hour or so, archie hanging around in the offing while lucille saw her fatherand told him the whole story, or those chapters of it which she had omitted from her letterfor want of space. then, having impressed
mr. brewster sufficiently with his luck inhaving acquired archie for a son-in-law, she would lead him to where his bit of good fortuneawaited him. the programme worked out admirably in itsearlier stages. when the two emerged from mr. brewster's room to meet archie, mr. brewster'sgeneral idea was that fortune had smiled upon him in an almost unbelievable fashion andhad presented him with a son-in-law who combined in almost equal parts the more admirable characteristicsof apollo, sir galahad, and marcus aurelius. true, he had gathered in the course of theconversation that dear archie had no occupation and no private means; but mr. brewster feltthat a great-souled man like archie didn't need them. you can't have everything, andarchie, according to lucille's account, was
practically a hundred per cent man in soul,looks, manners, amiability, and breeding. these are the things that count. mr. brewsterproceeded to the lobby in a glow of optimism and geniality. consequently, when he perceived archie, hegot a bit of a shock. "hullo—ullo—ullo!" said archie, advancinghappily. "archie, darling, this is father," said lucille. "good lord!" said archie. there was one of those silences. mr. brewsterlooked at archie. archie gazed at mr. brewster. lucille, perceiving without understandingwhy that the big introduction scene had stubbed
its toe on some unlooked-for obstacle, waitedanxiously for enlightenment. meanwhile, archie continued to inspect mr. brewster, and mr.brewster continued to drink in archie. after an awkward pause of about three anda quarter minutes, mr. brewster swallowed once or twice, and finally spoke. "lu!" "yes, father?" "is this true?" lucille's grey eyes clouded over with perplexityand apprehension. "true?"
"have you really inflicted this—this onme for a son-in-law?" mr. brewster swallowed a few more times, archie the while watchingwith a frozen fascination the rapid shimmying of his new relative's adam's-apple. "go away!i want to have a few words alone with this—this—wassyourdamname?" he demanded, in an overwrought manner, addressingarchie for the first time. "i told you, father. it's moom." "moom?" "it's spelt m-o-f-f-a-m, but pronounced moom." "to rhyme," said archie, helpfully, "withbluffinghame." "lu," said mr. brewster, "run away! i wantto speak to-to-to—"
"you called me this before," said archie. "you aren't angry, father, dear?" said lucilla. "oh no! oh no! i'm tickled to death!" when his daughter had withdrawn, mr. brewsterdrew a long breath. "now then!" he said. "bit embarrassing, all this, what!" said archie,chattily. "i mean to say, having met before in less happy circs. and what not. rum coincidenceand so forth! how would it be to bury the jolly old hatchet—start a new life—forgiveand forget—learn to love each other—and all that sort of rot? i'm game if you are.how do we go? is it a bet?"
mr. brewster remained entirely unsoftenedby this manly appeal to his better feelings. "what the devil do you mean by marrying mydaughter?" archie reflected. "well, it sort of happened, don't you know!you know how these things are! young yourself once, and all that. i was most frightfullyin love, and lu seemed to think it wouldn't be a bad scheme, and one thing led to another,and—well, there you are, don't you know!" "and i suppose you think you've done prettywell for yourself?" "oh, absolutely! as far as i'm concerned,everything's topping! i've never felt so braced in my life!"
"yes!" said mr. brewster, with bitterness,"i suppose, from your view-point, everything is 'topping.' you haven't a cent to your name,and you've managed to fool a rich man's daughter into marrying you. i suppose you looked meup in bradstreet before committing yourself?" this aspect of the matter had not struck archieuntil this moment. "i say!" he observed, with dismay. "i neverlooked at it like that before! i can see that, from your point of view, this must look likea bit of a wash-out!" "how do you propose to support lucille, anyway?" archie ran a finger round the inside of hiscollar. he felt embarrassed, his father-in-law was opening up all kinds of new lines of thought.
"well, there, old bean," he admitted, frankly,"you rather have me!" he turned the matter over for a moment. "i had a sort of idea of,as it were, working, if you know what i mean." "working at what?" "now, there again you stump me somewhat! thegeneral scheme was that i should kind of look round, you know, and nose about and buzz toand fro till something turned up. that was, broadly speaking, the notion!" "and how did you suppose my daughter was tolive while you were doing all this?" "well, i think," said archie, "i think werather expected you to rally round a bit for the nonce!"
"i see! you expected to live on me?" "well, you put it a bit crudely, but—asfar as i had mapped anything out—that was what you might call the general scheme ofprocedure. you don't think much of it, what? yes? no?" mr. brewster exploded. "no! i do not think much of it! good god!you go out of my hotel—my hotel—calling it all the names you could think of—roastingit to beat the band—" "trifle hasty!" murmured archie, apologetically."spoke without thinking. dashed tap had gone drip-drip-drip all night—kept me awake—hadn'thad breakfast—bygones be bygones—!"
"don't interrupt! i say, you go out of myhotel, knocking it as no one has ever knocked it since it was built, and you sneak straightoff and marry my daughter without my knowledge." "did think of wiring for blessing. slippedthe old bean, somehow. you know how one forgets things!" "and now you come back and calmly expect meto fling my arms round you and kiss you, and support you for the rest of your life!" "only while i'm nosing about and buzzing toand fro." "well, i suppose i've got to support you.there seems no way out of it. i'll tell you exactly what i propose to do. you think myhotel is a pretty poor hotel, eh? well, you'll
have plenty of opportunity of judging, becauseyou're coming to live here. i'll let you have a suite and i'll let you have your meals,but outside of that—nothing doing! nothing doing! do you understand what i mean?" "absolutely! you mean, 'napoo!'" "you can sign bills for a reasonable amountin my restaurant, and the hotel will look after your laundry. but not a cent do youget out me. and, if you want your shoes shined, you can pay for it yourself in the basement.if you leave them outside your door, i'll instruct the floor-waiter to throw them downthe air-shaft. do you understand? good! now, is there anything more you want to ask?"
archie smiled a propitiatory smile. "well, as a matter of fact, i was going toask if you would stagger along and have a bite with us in the grill-room?" "i will not!" "i'll sign the bill," said archie, ingratiatingly."you don't think much of it? oh, right-o!" chapter iv. work wanted it seemed to archie, as he surveyed his positionat the end of the first month of his married life, that all was for the best in the bestof all possible worlds. in their attitude towards america, visiting englishmen almostinvariably incline to extremes, either detesting
all that therein is or else becoming enthusiastson the subject of the country, its climate, and its institutions. archie belonged to thesecond class. he liked america and got on splendidly with americans from the start.he was a friendly soul, a mixer; and in new york, that city of mixers, he found himselfat home. the atmosphere of good-fellowship and the open-hearted hospitality of everybodyhe met appealed to him. there were moments when it seemed to him as though new york hadsimply been waiting for him to arrive before giving the word to let the revels commence. nothing, of course, in this world is perfect;and, rosy as were the glasses through which archie looked on his new surroundings, hehad to admit that there was one flaw, one
fly in the ointment, one individual caterpillarin the salad. mr. daniel brewster, his father-in-law, remained consistently unfriendly. indeed,his manner towards his new relative became daily more and more a manner which would havecaused gossip on the plantation if simon legree had exhibited it in his relations with uncletom. and this in spite of the fact that archie, as early as the third morning of his stay,had gone to him and in the most frank and manly way, had withdrawn his criticism ofthe hotel cosmopolis, giving it as his considered opinion that the hotel cosmopolis on closerinspection appeared to be a good egg, one of the best and brightest, and a bit of allright. "a credit to you, old thing," said archiecordially.
"don't call me old thing!" growled mr. brewster. "right-o, old companion!" said archie amiably. archie, a true philosopher, bore this hostilitywith fortitude, but it worried lucille. "i do wish father understood you better,"was her wistful comment when archie had related the conversation. "well, you know," said archie, "i'm open forbeing understood any time he cares to take a stab at it." "you must try and make him fond of you." "but how? i smile winsomely at him and whatnot, but he doesn't respond."
"well, we shall have to think of something.i want him to realise what an angel you are. you are an angel, you know." "no, really?" "of course you are." "it's a rummy thing," said archie, pursuinga train of thought which was constantly with him, "the more i see of you, the more i wonderhow you can have a father like—i mean to say, what i mean to say is, i wish i had knownyour mother; she must have been frightfully attractive." "what would really please him, i know," saidlucille, "would be if you got some work to
do. he loves people who work." "yes?" said archie doubtfully. "well, youknow, i heard him interviewing that chappie behind the desk this morning, who works likethe dickens from early morn to dewy eve, on the subject of a mistake in his figures; and,if he loved him, he dissembled it all right. of course, i admit that so far i haven't beenone of the toilers, but the dashed difficult thing is to know how to start. i'm nosinground, but the openings for a bright young man seem so scarce." "well, keep on trying. i feel sure that, ifyou could only find something to do, it doesn't matter what, father would be quite different."
it was possibly the dazzling prospect of makingmr. brewster quite different that stimulated archie. he was strongly of the opinion thatany change in his father-in-law must inevitably be for the better. a chance meeting with jamesb. wheeler, the artist, at the pen-and-ink club seemed to open the way. to a visitor to new york who has the abilityto make himself liked it almost appears as though the leading industry in that city wasthe issuing of two-weeks' invitation-cards to clubs. archie since his arrival had beenshowered with these pleasant evidences of his popularity; and he was now an honorarymember of so many clubs of various kinds that he had not time to go to them all. there werethe fashionable clubs along fifth avenue to
which his friend reggie van tuyl, son of hisflorida hostess, had introduced him. there were the businessmen's clubs of which he wasmade free by more solid citizens. and, best of all, there were the lambs', the players',the friars', the coffee-house, the pen-and-ink,—and the other resorts of the artist, the author,the actor, and the bohemian. it was in these that archie spent most of his time, and itwas here that he made the acquaintance of j. b. wheeler, the popular illustrator. to mr. wheeler, over a friendly lunch, archiehad been confiding some of his ambitions to qualify as the hero of one of the get-on-or-get-out-young-man-step-lively-books. "you want a job?" said mr. wheeler.
"i want a job," said archie. mr. wheeler consumed eight fried potatoesin quick succession. he was an able trencherman. "i always looked on you as one of our leadinglilies of the field," he said. "why this anxiety to toil and spin?" "well, my wife, you know, seems to think itmight put me one-up with the jolly old dad if i did something." "and you're not particular what you do, solong as it has the outer aspect of work?" "anything in the world, laddie, anything inthe world." "then come and pose for a picture i'm doing,"said j. b. wheeler. "it's for a magazine cover.
you're just the model i want, and i'll payyou at the usual rates. is it a go?" "pose?" "you've only got to stand still and look likea chunk of wood. you can do that, surely?" "i can do that," said archie. "then come along down to my studio to-morrow." "right-o!" said archie. chapter v. strange experiences of an artist'smodel "i say, old thing!" archie spoke plaintively. already he was lookingback ruefully to the time when he had supposed
that an artist's model had a soft job. inthe first five minutes muscles which he had not been aware that he possessed had startedto ache like neglected teeth. his respect for the toughness and durability of artists'models was now solid. how they acquired the stamina to go through this sort of thing allday and then bound off to bohemian revels at night was more than he could understand. "don't wobble, confound you!" snorted mr.wheeler. "yes, but, my dear old artist," said archie,"what you don't seem to grasp—what you appear not to realise—is that i'm getting a crickin the back." "you weakling! you miserable, invertebrateworm. move an inch and i'll murder you, and
come and dance on your grave every wednesdayand saturday. i'm just getting it." "it's in the spine that it seems to catchme principally." "be a man, you faint-hearted string-bean!"urged j. b. wheeler. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. why, a girl who was posing forme last week stood for a solid hour on one leg, holding a tennis racket over her headand smiling brightly withal." "the female of the species is more india-rubberythan the male," argued archie. "well, i'll be through in a few minutes. don'tweaken. think how proud you'll be when you see yourself on all the bookstalls." archie sighed, and braced himself to the taskonce more. he wished he had never taken on
this binge. in addition to his physical discomfort,he was feeling a most awful chump. the cover on which mr. wheeler was engaged was for theaugust number of the magazine, and it had been necessary for archie to drape his reluctantform in a two-piece bathing suit of a vivid lemon colour; for he was supposed to be representingone of those jolly dogs belonging to the best families who dive off floats at exclusiveseashore resorts. j. b. wheeler, a stickler for accuracy, had wanted him to remove hissocks and shoes; but there archie had stood firm. he was willing to make an ass of himself,but not a silly ass. "all right," said j. b. wheeler, laying downhis brush. "that will do for to-day. though, speaking without prejudice and with no wishto be offensive, if i had had a model who
wasn't a weak-kneed, jelly-backboned son ofbelial, i could have got the darned thing finished without having to have another sitting." "i wonder why you chappies call this sortof thing 'sitting,'" said archie, pensively, as he conducted tentative experiments in osteopathyon his aching back. "i say, old thing, i could do with a restorative, if you have one handy.but, of course, you haven't, i suppose," he added, resignedly. abstemious as a rule, therewere moments when archie found the eighteenth amendment somewhat trying. j. b. wheeler shook his head. "you're a little previous," he said. "butcome round in another day or so, and i may
be able to do something for you." he movedwith a certain conspirator-like caution to a corner of the room, and, lifting to oneside a pile of canvases, revealed a stout barrel, which, he regarded with a fatherlyand benignant eye. "i don't mind telling you that, in the fullness of time, i believe thisis going to spread a good deal of sweetness and light." "oh, ah," said archie, interested. "home-brew,what?" "made with these hands. i added a few moreraisins yesterday, to speed things up a bit. there is much virtue in your raisin. and,talking of speeding things up, for goodness' sake try to be a bit more punctual to-morrow.we lost an hour of good daylight to-day."
"i like that! i was here on the absolute minute.i had to hang about on the landing waiting for you." "well, well, that doesn't matter," said j.b. wheeler, impatiently, for the artist soul is always annoyed by petty details. "the pointis that we were an hour late in getting to work. mind you're here to-morrow at elevensharp." it was, therefore, with a feeling of guiltand trepidation that archie mounted the stairs on the following morning; for in spite ofhis good resolutions he was half an hour behind time. he was relieved to find that his friendhad also lagged by the wayside. the door of the studio was ajar, and he went in, to discoverthe place occupied by a lady of mature years,
who was scrubbing the floor with a mop. hewent into the bedroom and donned his bathing suit. when he emerged, ten minutes later,the charwoman had gone, but j. b. wheeler was still absent. rather glad of the respite,he sat down to kill time by reading the morning paper, whose sporting page alone he had managedto master at the breakfast table. there was not a great deal in the paper tointerest him. the usual bond-robbery had taken place on the previous day, and the policewere reported hot on the trail of the master-mind who was alleged to be at the back of thesefinancial operations. a messenger named henry babcock had been arrested and was expectedto become confidential. to one who, like archie, had never owned a bond, the story made littleappeal. he turned with more interest to a
cheery half-column on the activities of agentleman in minnesota who, with what seemed to archie, as he thought of mr. daniel brewster,a good deal of resource and public spirit, had recently beaned his father-in-law withthe family meat-axe. it was only after he had read this through twice in a spirit ofgentle approval that it occurred to him that j. b. wheeler was uncommonly late at the tryst.he looked at his watch, and found that he had been in the studio three-quarters of anhour. archie became restless. long-suffering oldbean though he was, he considered this a bit thick. he got up and went out on to the landing,to see if there were any signs of the blighter. there were none. he began to understand nowwhat had happened. for some reason or other
the bally artist was not coming to the studioat all that day. probably he had called up the hotel and left a message to this effect,and archie had just missed it. another man might have waited to make certain that hismessage had reached its destination, but not woollen-headed wheeler, the most casual individualin new york. thoroughly aggrieved, archie turned back tothe studio to dress and go away. his progress was stayed by a solid, forbiddingslab of oak. somehow or other, since he had left the room, the door had managed to getitself shut. "oh, dash it!" said archie. the mildness of the expletive was proof thatthe full horror of the situation had not immediately
come home to him. his mind in the first fewmoments was occupied with the problem of how the door had got that way. he could not remembershutting it. probably he had done it unconsciously. as a child, he had been taught by sedulouselders that the little gentleman always closed doors behind him, and presumably his subconsciousself was still under the influence. and then, suddenly, he realised that this infernal,officious ass of a subconscious self had deposited him right in the gumbo. behind that closeddoor, unattainable as youthful ambition, lay his gent's heather-mixture with the greentwill, and here he was, out in the world, alone, in a lemon-coloured bathing suit. in all crises of human affairs there are twobroad courses open to a man. he can stay where
he is or he can go elsewhere. archie, leaningon the banisters, examined these alternatives narrowly. if he stayed where he was he wouldhave to spend the night on this dashed landing. if he legged it, in this kit, he would begathered up by the constabulary before he had gone a hundred yards. he was no pessimist,but he was reluctantly forced to the conclusion that he was up against it. it was while he was musing with a certaintenseness on these things that the sound of footsteps came to him from below. but almostin the first instant the hope that this might be j. b. wheeler, the curse of the human race,died away. whoever was coming up the stairs was running, and j. b. wheeler never ran upstairs.he was not one of your lean, haggard, spiritual-looking
geniuses. he made a large income with hisbrush and pencil, and spent most of it in creature comforts. this couldn't be j. b.wheeler. it was not. it was a tall, thin man whom hehad never seen before. he appeared to be in a considerable hurry. he let himself intothe studio on the floor below, and vanished without even waiting to shut the door. he had come and disappeared in almost recordtime, but, brief though his passing had been, it had been long enough to bring consolationto archie. a sudden bright light had been vouchsafed to archie, and he now saw an admirablyripe and fruity scheme for ending his troubles. what could be simpler than to toddle downone flight of stairs and in an easy and debonair
manner ask the chappie's permission to usehis telephone? and what could be simpler, once he was at the 'phone, than to get intouch with somebody at the cosmopolis who would send down a few trousers and what notin a kit bag. it was a priceless solution, thought archie, as he made his way downstairs.not even embarrassing, he meant to say. this chappie, living in a place like this, wouldn'tbat an eyelid at the spectacle of a fellow trickling about the place in a bathing suit.they would have a good laugh about the whole thing. "i say, i hate to bother you—dare say you'rebusy and all that sort of thing—but would you mind if i popped in for half a secondand used your 'phone?"
that was the speech, the extremely gentlemanlyand well-phrased speech which archie had prepared to deliver the moment the man appeared. thereason he did not deliver it was that the man did not appear. he knocked, but nothingstirred. "i say!" archie now perceived that the door was ajar,and that on an envelope attached with a tack to one of the panels was the name "elmer m.moon" he pushed the door a little farther open and tried again. "oh, mr. moon! mr. moon!" he waited a moment."oh, mr. moon! mr. moon! are you there, mr. moon?"
he blushed hotly. to his sensitive ear thewords had sounded exactly like the opening line of the refrain of a vaudeville song-hit.he decided to waste no further speech on a man with such an unfortunate surname untilhe could see him face to face and get a chance of lowering his voice a bit. absolutely absurdto stand outside a chappie's door singing song-hits in a lemon-coloured bathing suit.he pushed the door open and walked in; and his subconscious self, always the gentleman,closed it gently behind him. "up!" said a low, sinister, harsh, unfriendly,and unpleasant voice. "eh?" said archie, revolving sharply on hisaxis. he found himself confronting the hurried gentlemanwho had run upstairs. this sprinter had produced
an automatic pistol, and was pointing it ina truculent manner at his head. archie stared at his host, and his host stared at him. "put your hands up," he said. "oh, right-o! absolutely!" said archie. "buti mean to say—" the other was drinking him in with considerableastonishment. archie's costume seemed to have made a powerful impression upon him. "who the devil are you?" he enquired. "me? oh, my name's—" "never mind your name. what are you doinghere?"
"well, as a matter of fact, i popped in toask if i might use your 'phone. you see—" a certain relief seemed to temper the austerityof the other's gaze. as a visitor, archie, though surprising, seemed to be better thanhe had expected. "i don't know what to do with you," he said,meditatively. "if you'd just let me toddle to the 'phone—" "likely!" said the man. he appeared to reacha decision. "here, go into that room." he indicated with a jerk of his head the opendoor of what was apparently a bedroom at the farther end of the studio. "i take it," said archie, chattily, "thatall this may seem to you not a little rummy."
"get on!" "i was only saying—" "well, i haven't time to listen. get a moveon!" the bedroom was in a state of untidiness whicheclipsed anything which archie had ever witnessed. the other appeared to be moving house. bed,furniture, and floor were covered with articles of clothing. a silk shirt wreathed itselfabout archie's ankles as he stood gaping, and, as he moved farther into the room, hispath was paved with ties and collars. "sit down!" said elmer m. moon, abruptly. "right-o! thanks," said archie, "i supposeyou wouldn't like me to explain, and what
not, what?" "no!" said mr. moon. "i haven't got your sparetime. put your hands behind that chair." archie did so, and found them immediatelysecured by what felt like a silk tie. his assiduous host then proceeded to fasten hisankles in a like manner. this done, he seemed to feel that he had done all that was requiredof him, and he returned to the packing of a large suitcase which stood by the window. "i say!" said archie. mr. moon, with the air of a man who has rememberedsomething which he had overlooked, shoved a sock in his guest's mouth and resumed hispacking. he was what might be called an impressionist
packer. his aim appeared to be speed ratherthan neatness. he bundled his belongings in, closed the bag with some difficulty, and,stepping to the window, opened it. then he climbed out on to the fire-escape, draggedthe suit-case after him, and was gone. archie, left alone, addressed himself to thetask of freeing his prisoned limbs. the job proved much easier than he had expected. mr.moon, that hustler, had wrought for the moment, not for all time. a practical man, he hadbeen content to keep his visitor shackled merely for such a period as would permit himto make his escape unhindered. in less than ten minutes archie, after a good deal of snake-likewrithing, was pleased to discover that the thingummy attached to his wrists had loosenedsufficiently to enable him to use his hands.
he untied himself and got up. he now began to tell himself that out of evilcometh good. his encounter with the elusive mr. moon had not been an agreeable one, butit had had this solid advantage, that it had left him right in the middle of a great manyclothes. and mr. moon, whatever his moral defects, had the one excellent quality oftaking about the same size as himself. archie, casting a covetous eye upon a tweed suit whichlay on the bed, was on the point of climbing into the trousers when on the outer door ofthe studio there sounded a forceful knocking. "open up here!" chapter vi. the bomb
archie bounded silently out into the otherroom and stood listening tensely. he was not a naturally querulous man, but he did feelat this point that fate was picking on him with a somewhat undue severity. "in th' name av th' law!" there are times when the best of us lose ourheads. at this juncture archie should undoubtedly have gone to the door, opened it, explainedhis presence in a few well-chosen words, and generally have passed the whole thing offwith ready tact. but the thought of confronting a posse of police in his present costume causedhim to look earnestly about him for a hiding-place. up against the farther wall was a settee witha high, arching back, which might have been
put there for that special purpose. he insertedhimself behind this, just as a splintering crash announced that the law, having gonethrough the formality of knocking with its knuckles, was now getting busy with an axe.a moment later the door had given way, and the room was full of trampling feet. archiewedged himself against the wall with the quiet concentration of a clam nestling in its shell,and hoped for the best. it seemed to him that his immediate futuredepended for better or for worse entirely on the native intelligence of the force. ifthey were the bright, alert men he hoped they were, they would see all that junk in thebedroom and, deducing from it that their quarry had stood not upon the order of his goingbut had hopped it, would not waste time in
searching a presumably empty apartment. if,on the other hand, they were the obtuse, flat-footed persons who occasionally find their way intothe ranks of even the most enlightened constabularies, they would undoubtedly shift the settee anddrag him into a publicity from which his modest soul shrank. he was enchanted, therefore,a few moments later, to hear a gruff voice state that th' mutt had beaten it down th'fire-escape. his opinion of the detective abilities of the new york police force rosewith a bound. there followed a brief council of war, which,as it took place in the bedroom, was inaudible to archie except as a distant growling noise.he could distinguish no words, but, as it was succeeded by a general trampling of largeboots in the direction of the door and then
by silence, he gathered that the pack, havingdrawn the studio and found it empty, had decided to return to other and more profitable duties.he gave them a reasonable interval for removing themselves, and then poked his head cautiouslyover the settee. all was peace. the place was empty. no sounddisturbed the stillness. archie emerged. for the first time in thismorning of disturbing occurrences he began to feel that god was in his heaven and allright with the world. at last things were beginning to brighten up a bit, and life mightbe said to have taken on some of the aspects of a good egg. he stretched himself, for itis cramping work lying under settees, and, proceeding to the bedroom, picked up the tweedtrousers again.
clothes had a fascination for archie. anotherman, in similar circumstances, might have hurried over his toilet; but archie, facedby a difficult choice of ties, rather strung the thing out. he selected a specimen whichdid great credit to the taste of mr. moon, evidently one of our snappiest dressers, foundthat it did not harmonise with the deeper meaning of the tweed suit, removed it, choseanother, and was adjusting the bow and admiring the effect, when his attention was divertedby a slight sound which was half a cough and half a sniff; and, turning, found himselfgazing into the clear blue eyes of a large man in uniform, who had stepped into the roomfrom the fire-escape. he was swinging a substantial club in a negligent sort of way, and he lookedat archie with a total absence of bonhomie.
"ah!" he observed. "oh, there you are!" said archie, subsidingweakly against the chest of drawers. he gulped. "of course, i can see you're thinking allthis pretty tolerably weird and all that," he proceeded, in a propitiatory voice. the policeman attempted no analysis of hisemotions, he opened a mouth which a moment before had looked incapable of being openedexcept with the assistance of powerful machinery, and shouted a single word. "cassidy!" a distant voice gave tongue in answer. itwas like alligators roaring to their mates
across lonely swamps. there was a rumble of footsteps in the regionof the stairs, and presently there entered an even larger guardian of the law than thefirst exhibit. he, too, swung a massive club, and, like his colleague, he gazed frostilyat archie. "god save ireland!" he remarked. the words appeared to be more in the natureof an expletive than a practical comment on the situation. having uttered them, he drapedhimself in the doorway like a colossus, and chewed gum. "where ja get him?" he enquired, after a pause.
"found him in here attimpting to disguisehimself." "i told cap. he was hiding somewheres, buthe would have it that he'd beat it down th' escape," said the gum-chewer, with the sombretriumph of the underling whose sound advice has been overruled by those above him. heshifted his wholesome (or, as some say, unwholesome) morsel to the other side of his mouth, andfor the first time addressed archie directly. "ye're pinched!" he observed. archie started violently. the bleak directnessof the speech roused him with a jerk from the dream-like state into which he had fallen.he had not anticipated this. he had assumed that there would be a period of tedious explanationsto be gone through before he was at liberty
to depart to the cosy little lunch for whichhis interior had been sighing wistfully this long time past; but that he should be arrestedhad been outside his calculations. of course, he could put everything right eventually;he could call witnesses to his character and the purity of his intentions; but in the meantimethe whole dashed business would be in all the papers, embellished with all those unpleasantflippancies to which your newspaper reporter is so prone to stoop when he sees half a chance.he would feel a frightful chump. chappies would rot him about it to the most fearfulextent. old brewster's name would come into it, and he could not disguise it from himselfthat his father-in-law, who liked his name in the papers as little as possible, wouldbe sorer than a sunburned neck.
"no, i say, you know! i mean, i mean to say!" "pinched!" repeated the rather larger policeman. "and annything ye say," added his slightlysmaller colleague, "will be used agenst ya 't the trial." "and if ya try t'escape," said the first speaker,twiddling his club, "ya'll getja block knocked off." and, having sketched out this admirably clearand neatly-constructed scenario, the two relapsed into silence. officer cassidy restored hisgum to circulation. officer donahue frowned sternly at his boots.
"but, i say," said archie, "it's all a mistake,you know. absolutely a frightful error, my dear old constables. i'm not the lad you'reafter at all. the chappie you want is a different sort of fellow altogether. another blighterentirely." new york policemen never laugh when on duty.there is probably something in the regulations against it. but officer donahue permittedthe left corner of his mouth to twitch slightly, and a momentary muscular spasm disturbed thecalm of officer cassidy's granite features, as a passing breeze ruffles the surface ofsome bottomless lake. "that's what they all say!" observed officerdonahue. "it's no use tryin' that line of talk," saidofficer cassidy. "babcock's squealed."
"sure. squealed 's morning," said officerdonahue. archie's memory stirred vaguely. "babcock?" he said. "do you know, that nameseems familiar to me, somehow. i'm almost sure i've read it in the paper or something." "ah, cut it out!" said officer cassidy, disgustedly.the two constables exchanged a glance of austere disapproval. this hypocrisy pained them. "readit in th' paper or something!" "by jove! i remember now. he's the chappiewho was arrested in that bond business. for goodness' sake, my dear, merry old constables,"said archie, astounded, "you surely aren't labouring under the impression that i'm themaster-mind they were talking about in the
paper? why, what an absolutely priceless notion!i mean to say, i ask you, what! frankly, laddies, do i look like a master-mind?" officer cassidy heaved a deep sigh, whichrumbled up from his interior like the first muttering of a cyclone. "if i'd known," he said, regretfully, "thatthis guy was going to turn out a ruddy englishman, i'd have taken a slap at him with m' stickand chanced it!" officer donahue considered the point welltaken. "ah!" he said, understandingly. he regardedarchie with an unfriendly eye. "i know th' sort well! trampling on th' face av th' poor!"
"ya c'n trample on the poor man's face," saidofficer cassidy, severely; "but don't be surprised if one day he bites you in the leg!" "but, my dear old sir," protested archie,"i've never trampled—" "one of these days," said officer donahue,moodily, "the shannon will flow in blood to the sea!" "absolutely! but—" officer cassidy uttered a glad cry. "why couldn't we hit him a lick," he suggested,brightly, "an' tell th' cap. he resisted us in th' exercise of our jooty?"
an instant gleam of approval and enthusiasmcame into officer donahue's eyes. officer donahue was not a man who got these luminousinspirations himself, but that did not prevent him appreciating them in others and bestowingcommendation in the right quarter. there was nothing petty or grudging about officer donahue. "ye're the lad with the head, tim!" he exclaimedadmiringly. "it just sorta came to me," said mr. cassidy,modestly. "it's a great idea, timmy!" "just happened to think of it," said mr. cassidy,with a coy gesture of self-effacement. archie had listened to the dialogue with growinguneasiness. not for the first time since he
had made their acquaintance, he became vividlyaware of the exceptional physical gifts of these two men. the new york police force demandsfrom those who would join its ranks an extremely high standard of stature and sinew, but itwas obvious that jolly old donahue and cassidy must have passed in first shot without anydifficulty whatever. "i say, you know," he observed, apprehensively. and then a sharp and commanding voice spokefrom the outer room. "donahue! cassidy! what the devil does thismean?" archie had a momentary impression that anangel had fluttered down to his rescue. if this was the case, the angel had assumed aneffective disguise—that of a police captain.
the new arrival was a far smaller man thanhis subordinates—so much smaller that it did archie good to look at him. for a longtime he had been wishing that it were possible to rest his eyes with the spectacle of somethingof a slightly less out-size nature than his two companions. "why have you left your posts?" the effect of the interruption on the messrs.cassidy and donahue was pleasingly instantaneous. they seemed to shrink to almost normal proportions,and their manner took on an attractive deference. officer donahue saluted. "if ye plaze, sorr—"
officer cassidy also saluted, simultaneously. "'twas like this, sorr—" the captain froze officer cassidy with a glanceand, leaving him congealed, turned to officer donahue. "oi wuz standing on th' fire-escape, sorr,"said officer donahue, in a tone of obsequious respect which not only delighted, but astoundedarchie, who hadn't known he could talk like that, "accordin' to instructions, when i hearda suspicious noise. i crope in, sorr, and found this duck—found the accused, sorr—infront of the mirror, examinin' himself. i then called to officer cassidy for assistance.we pinched—arrested um, sorr."
the captain looked at archie. it seemed toarchie that he looked at him coldly and with contempt. "who is he?" "the master-mind, sorr." "the what?" "the accused, sorr. the man that's wanted." "you may want him. i don't," said the captain.archie, though relieved, thought he might have put it more nicely. "this isn't moon.it's not a bit like him." "absolutely not!" agreed archie, cordially."it's all a mistake, old companion, as i was
trying to—" "cut it out!" "oh, right-o!" "you've seen the photographs at the station.do you mean to tell me you see any resemblance?" "if ye plaze, sorr," said officer cassidy,coming to life. "we thought he'd bin disguising himself, theway he wouldn't be recognised." "you're a fool!" said the captain. "yes, sorr," said officer cassidy, meekly. "so are you, donahue."
"yes, sorr." archie's respect for this chappie was goingup all the time. he seemed to be able to take years off the lives of these massive blighterswith a word. it was like the stories you read about lion-tamers. archie did not despairof seeing officer donahue and his old college chum cassidy eventually jumping through hoops. "who are you?" demanded the captain, turningto archie. "well, my name is—" "what are you doing here?" "well, it's rather a longish story, you know.don't want to bore you, and all that."
"i'm here to listen. you can't bore me." "dashed nice of you to put it like that,"said archie, gratefully. "i mean to say, makes it easier and so forth. what i mean is, youknow how rotten you feel telling the deuce of a long yarn and wondering if the partyof the second part is wishing you would turn off the tap and go home. i mean—" "if," said the captain, "you're reciting something,stop. if you're trying to tell me what you're doing here, make it shorter and easier." archie saw his point. of course, time wasmoney—the modern spirit of hustle—all that sort of thing.
"well, it was this bathing suit, you know,"he said. "what bathing suit?" "mine, don't you know, a lemon-coloured contrivance.rather bright and so forth, but in its proper place not altogether a bad egg. well, thewhole thing started, you know, with my standing on a bally pedestal sort of arrangement ina diving attitude—for the cover, you know. i don't know if you have ever done anythingof that kind yourself, but it gives you a most fearful crick in the spine. however,that's rather beside the point, i suppose—don't know why i mentioned it. well, this morninghe was dashed late, so i went out—" "what the devil are you talking about?"
archie looked at him, surprised. "aren't i making it clear?" "no." "well, you understand about the bathing suit,don't you? the jolly old bathing suit, you've grasped that, what?" "oh, i say," said archie. "that's rather anuisance. i mean to say, the bathing suit's what you might call the good old pivot ofthe whole dashed affair, you see. well, you understand about the cover, what? you're prettyclear on the subject of the cover?" "what cover?"
"why, for the magazine." "what magazine?" "now there you rather have me. one of thesebright little periodicals, you know, that you see popping to and fro on the bookstalls." "i don't know what you're talking about,"said the captain. he looked at archie with an expression of distrust and hostility. "andi'll tell you straight out i don't like the looks of you. i believe you're a pal of his." "no longer," said archie, firmly. "i meanto say, a chappie who makes you stand on a bally pedestal sort of arrangement and geta crick in the spine, and then doesn't turn
up and leaves you biffing all over the countrysidein a bathing suit—" the reintroduction of the bathing suit motiveseemed to have the worst effect on the captain. he flushed darkly. "are you trying to josh me? i've a mind tosoak you!" "if ye plaze, sorr," cried officer donahueand officer cassidy in chorus. in the course of their professional career they did notoften hear their superior make many suggestions with which they saw eye to eye, but he hadcertainly, in their opinion, spoken a mouthful now. "no, honestly, my dear old thing, nothingwas farther from my thoughts—"
he would have spoken further, but at thismoment the world came to an end. at least, that was how it sounded. somewhere in theimmediate neighbourhood something went off with a vast explosion, shattering the glassin the window, peeling the plaster from the ceiling, and sending him staggering into theinhospitable arms of officer donahue. the three guardians of the law stared at oneanother. "if ye plaze, sorr," said. officer cassidy,saluting. "may i spake, sorr?" "something's exploded, sorr!" the information, kindly meant though it was,seemed to annoy the captain.
"what the devil did you think i thought hadhappened?" he demanded, with not a little irritation, "it was a bomb!" archie could have corrected this diagnosis,for already a faint but appealing aroma of an alcoholic nature was creeping into theroom through a hole in the ceiling, and there had risen before his eyes the picture of j.b. wheeler affectionately regarding that barrel of his on the previous morning in the studioupstairs. j. b. wheeler had wanted quick results, and he had got them. archie had long sinceceased to regard j. b. wheeler as anything but a tumour on the social system, but hewas bound to admit that he had certainly done him a good turn now. already these honestmen, diverted by the superior attraction of
this latest happening, appeared to have forgottenhis existence. "sorr!" said officer donahue. "it came from upstairs, sorr." "of course it came from upstairs. cassidy!" "sorr?" "get down into the street, call up the reserves,and stand at the front entrance to keep the crowd back. we'll have the whole city herein five minutes." "right, sorr." "don't let anyone in."
"no, sorr." "well, see that you don't. come along, donahue,now. look slippy." "on the spot, sorr!" said officer donahue. a moment later archie had the studio to himself.two minutes later he was picking his way cautiously down the fire-escape after the manner of therecent mr. moon. archie had not seen much of mr. moon, but he had seen enough to knowthat in certain crises his methods were sound and should be followed. elmer moon was nota good man; his ethics were poor and his moral code shaky; but in the matter of legging itaway from a situation of peril and discomfort he had no superior.
chapter vii. mr. roscoe sherriff has an idea archie inserted a fresh cigarette in his longholder and began to smoke a little moodily. it was about a week after his disturbing adventuresin j. b. wheeler's studio, and life had ceased for the moment to be a thing of careless enjoyment.mr. wheeler, mourning over his lost home-brew and refusing, like niobe, to be comforted,has suspended the sittings for the magazine cover, thus robbing archie of his life-work.mr. brewster had not been in genial mood of late. and, in addition to all this, lucillewas away on a visit to a school-friend. and when lucille went away, she took with herthe sunshine. archie was not surprised at her being popular and in demand among herfriends, but that did not help him to become
reconciled to her absence. he gazed rather wistfully across the tableat his friend, roscoe sherriff, the press-agent, another of his pen-and-ink club acquaintances.they had just finished lunch, and during the meal sherriff, who, like most men of action,was fond of hearing the sound of his own voice and liked exercising it on the subject ofhimself, had been telling archie a few anecdotes about his professional past. from these thelatter had conceived a picture of roscoe sherriff's life as a prismatic thing of energy and adventureand well-paid withal—just the sort of life, in fact, which he would have enjoyed leadinghimself. he wished that he, too, like the press-agent, could go about the place "slippingthings over" and "putting things across."
daniel brewster, he felt, would have beamedupon a son-in-law like roscoe sherriff. "the more i see of america," sighed archie,"the more it amazes me. all you birds seem to have been doing things from the cradleupwards. i wish i could do things!" "well, why don't you?" archie flicked the ash from his cigaretteinto the finger-bowl. "oh, i don't know, you know," he said, "somehow,none of our family ever have. i don't know why it is, but whenever a moffam starts outto do things he infallibly makes a bloomer. there was a moffam in the middle ages whohad a sudden spasm of energy and set out to make a pilgrimage to jerusalem, dressed asa wandering friar. rum ideas they had in those
days." "did he get there?" "absolutely not! just as he was leaving thefront door his favourite hound mistook him for a tramp—or a varlet, or a scurvy knave,or whatever they used to call them at that time—and bit him in the fleshy part of theleg." "well, at least he started." "enough to make a chappie start, what?" roscoe sherriff sipped his coffee thoughtfully.he was an apostle of energy, and it seemed to him that he could make a convert of archieand incidentally do himself a bit of good.
for several days he had been, looking forsomeone like archie to help him in a small matter which he had in mind. "if you're really keen on doing things," hesaid, "there's something you can do for me right away." archie beamed. action was what his soul demanded. "anything, dear boy, anything! state yourcase!" "would you have any objection to putting upa snake for me?" "putting up a snake?" "just for a day or two."
"but how do you mean, old soul? put him upwhere?" "wherever you live. where do you live? thecosmopolis, isn't it? of course! you married old brewster's daughter. i remember readingabout it." "but, i say, laddie, i don't want to spoilyour day and disappoint you and so forth, but my jolly old father-in-law would neverlet me keep a snake. why, it's as much as i can do to make him let me stop on in theplace." "he wouldn't know." "there's not much that goes on in the hotelthat he doesn't know," said archie, doubtfully. "he mustn't know. the whole point of the thingis that it must be a dead secret."
archie flicked some more ash into the finger-bowl. "i don't seem absolutely to have grasped theaffair in all its aspects, if you know what i mean," he said. "i mean to say—in thefirst place—why would it brighten your young existence if i entertained this snake of yours?" "it's not mine. it belongs to mme. brudowska.you've heard of her, of course?" "oh yes. she's some sort of performing snakefemale in vaudeville or something, isn't she, or something of that species or order?" "you're near it, but not quite right. sheis the leading exponent of high-brow tragedy on any stage in the civilized world."
"absolutely! i remember now. my wife luggedme to see her perform one night. it all comes back to me. she had me wedged in an orchestra-stallbefore i knew what i was up against, and then it was too late. i remember reading in somejournal or other that she had a pet snake, given her by some russian prince or other,what?" "that," said sherriff, "was the impressioni intended to convey when i sent the story to the papers. i'm her press-agent. as a matterof fact, i bought peter-its name's peter-myself down on the east side. i always believe inanimals for press-agent stunts. i've nearly always had good results. but with her nibsi'm handicapped. shackled, so to speak. you might almost say my genius is stifled. orstrangled, if you prefer it."
"anything you say," agreed archie, courteously,"but how? why is your what-d'you-call-it what's-its-named?" "she keeps me on a leash. she won't let medo anything with a kick in it. if i've suggested one rip-snorting stunt, i've suggested twenty,and every time she turns them down on the ground that that sort of thing is beneaththe dignity of an artist in her position. it doesn't give a fellow a chance. so nowi've made up my mind to do her good by stealth. i'm going to steal her snake." "steal it? pinch it, as it were?" "yes. big story for the papers, you see. she'sgrown very much attached to peter. he's her mascot. i believe she's practically kiddedherself into believing that russian prince
story. if i can sneak it away and keep itaway for a day or two, she'll do the rest. she'll make such a fuss that the papers willbe full of it." "i see." "wow, any ordinary woman would work in withme. but not her nibs. she would call it cheap and degrading and a lot of other things. it'sgot to be a genuine steal, and, if i'm caught at it, i lose my job. so that's where youcome in." "but where am i to keep the jolly old reptile?" "oh, anywhere. punch a few holes in a hat-box,and make it up a shakedown inside. it'll be company for you."
"something in that. my wife's away just nowand it's a bit lonely in the evenings." "you'll never be lonely with peter around.he's a great scout. always merry and bright." "he doesn't bite, i suppose, or sting or what-not?" "he may what-not occasionally. it dependson the weather. but, outside of that, he's as harmless as a canary." "dashed dangerous things, canaries," saidarchie, thoughtfully. "they peck at you." "don't weaken!" pleaded the press-agent "oh, all right. i'll take him. by the way,touching the matter of browsing and sluicing. what do i feed him on?"
"oh, anything. bread-and-milk or fruit orsoft-boiled egg or dog-biscuit or ants'-eggs. you know—anything you have yourself. well,i'm much obliged for your hospitality. i'll do the same for you another time. now i mustbe getting along to see to the practical end of the thing. by the way, her nibs lives atthe cosmopolis, too. very convenient. well, so long. see you later." archie, left alone, began for the first timeto have serious doubts. he had allowed himself to be swayed by mr. sherriff's magnetic personality,but now that the other had removed himself he began to wonder if he had been entirelywise to lend his sympathy and co-operation to the scheme. he had never had intimate dealingswith a snake before, but he had kept silkworms
as a child, and there had been the deuce ofa lot of fuss and unpleasantness over them. getting into the salad and what-not. somethingseemed to tell him that he was asking for trouble with a loud voice, but he had givenhis word and he supposed he would have to go through with it. he lit another cigarette and wandered outinto fifth avenue. his usually smooth brow was ruffled with care. despite the eulogieswhich sherriff had uttered concerning peter, he found his doubts increasing. peter might,as the press-agent had stated, be a great scout, but was his little garden of eden onthe fifth floor of the cosmopolis hotel likely to be improved by the advent of even the mostamiable and winsome of serpents? however—
"moffam! my dear fellow!" the voice, speaking suddenly in his ear frombehind, roused archie from his reflections. indeed, it roused him so effectually thathe jumped a clear inch off the ground and bit his tongue. revolving on his axis, hefound himself confronting a middle-aged man with a face like a horse. the man was dressedin something of an old-world style. his clothes had an english cut. he had a drooping greymoustache. he also wore a grey bowler hat flattened at the crown—but who are we tojudge him? "archie moffam! i have been trying to findyou all the morning." archie had placed him now. he had not seengeneral mannister for several years—not,
indeed, since the days when he used to meethim at the home of young lord seacliff, his nephew. archie had been at eton and oxfordwith seacliff, and had often visited him in the long vacation. "halloa, general! what ho, what ho! what onearth are you doing over here?" "let's get out of this crush, my boy." generalmannister steered archie into a side-street, "that's better." he cleared his throat onceor twice, as if embarrassed. "i've brought seacliff over," he said, finally. "dear old squiffy here? oh, i say! great work!" general mannister did not seem to share hisenthusiasm. he looked like a horse with a
secret sorrow. he coughed three times, likea horse who, in addition to a secret sorrow, had contracted asthma. "you will find seacliff changed," he said."let me see, how long is it since you and he met?" "i was demobbed just about a year ago. i sawhim in paris about a year before that. the old egg got a bit of shrapnel in his footor something, didn't he? anyhow, i remember he was sent home." "his foot is perfectly well again now. but,unfortunately, the enforced inaction led to disastrous results. you recollect, no doubt,that seacliff always had a—a tendency;—a—a
weakness—it was a family failing—" "mopping it up, do you mean? shifting it?looking on the jolly old stuff when it was red and what not, what?" "exactly." archie nodded. "dear old squiffy was always rather-a ladfor the wassail-bowl. when i met him in paris, i remember, he was quite tolerably blotto." "precisely. and the failing has, i regretto say, grown on him since he returned from the war. my poor sister was extremely worried.in fact, to cut a long story short, i induced
him to accompany me to america. i am attachedto the british legation in washington now, you know." "oh, really?" "i wished seacliff to come with me to washington,but he insists on remaining in new york. he stated specifically that the thought of livingin washington gave him the—what was the expression he used?" "the pip?" "the pip. precisely." "but what was the idea of bringing him toamerica?"
"this admirable prohibition enactment hasrendered america—to my mind—the ideal place for a young man of his views." the generallooked at his watch. "it is most fortunate that i happened to run into you, my dear fellow.my train for washington leaves in another hour, and i have packing to do. i want toleave poor seacliff in your charge while i am gone." "oh, i say! what!" "you can look after him. i am credibly informedthat even now there are places in new york where a determined young man may obtain the—er—stuff,and i should be infinitely obliged—and my poor sister would be infinitely grateful—ifyou would keep an eye on him." he hailed a
taxi-cab. "i am sending seacliff round tothe cosmopolis to-night. i am sure you, will do everything you can. good-bye, my boy, good-bye." archie continued his walk. this, he felt,was beginning to be a bit thick. he smiled a bitter, mirthless smile as he recalled thefact that less than half an hour had elapsed since he had expressed a regret that he didnot belong to the ranks of those who do things. fate since then had certainly supplied himwith jobs with a lavish hand. by bed-time he would be an active accomplice to a theft,valet and companion to a snake he had never met, and—as far as could gather the scopeof his duties—a combination of nursemaid and private detective to dear old squiffy.
it was past four o'clock when he returnedto the cosmopolis. roscoe sherriff was pacing the lobby of the hotel nervously, carryinga small hand-bag. "here you are at last! good heavens, man,i've been waiting two hours." "sorry, old bean. i was musing a bit and losttrack of the time." the press-agent looked cautiously round. therewas nobody within earshot. "here he is!" he said. "who?" "peter." "where?" said archie, staring blankly.
"in this bag. did you expect to find him strollingarm-in-arm with me round the lobby? here you are! take him!" he was gone. and archie, holding the bag,made his way to the lift. the bag squirmed gently in his grip. the only other occupant of the lift was astriking-looking woman of foreign appearance, dressed in a way that made archie feel thatshe must be somebody or she couldn't look like that. her face, too, seemed vaguely familiar.she entered the lift at the second floor where the tea-room is, and she had the contentedexpression of one who had tea'd to her satisfaction. she got off at the same floor as archie, andwalked swiftly, in a lithe, pantherist way,
round the bend in the corridor. archie followedmore slowly. when he reached the door of his room, the passage was empty. he inserted thekey in his door, turned it, pushed the door open, and pocketed the key. he was about toenter when the bag again squirmed gently in his grip. from the days of pandora, through the epochof bluebeard's wife, down to the present time, one of the chief failings of humanity hasbeen the disposition to open things that were better closed. it would have been simple forarchie to have taken another step and put a door between himself and the world, butthere came to him the irresistible desire to peep into the bag now—not three secondslater, but now. all the way up in the lift
he had been battling with the temptation,and now he succumbed. the bag was one of those simple bags witha thingummy which you press. archie pressed it. and, as it opened, out popped the headof peter. his eyes met archie's. over his head there seemed to be an invisible markof interrogation. his gaze was curious, but kindly. he appeared to be saying to himself,"have i found a friend?" serpents, or snakes, says the encyclopaedia,are reptiles of the saurian class ophidia, characterised by an elongated, cylindrical,limbless, scaly form, and distinguished from lizards by the fact that the halves (rami)of the lower jaw are not solidly united at the chin, but movably connected by an elasticligament. the vertebra are very numerous,
gastrocentrous, and procoelous. and, of course,when they put it like that, you can see at once that a man might spend hours with combinedentertainment and profit just looking at a snake. archie would no doubt have done this; butlong before he had time really to inspect the halves (rami) of his new friend's lowerjaw and to admire its elastic fittings, and long before the gastrocentrous and procoelouscharacter of the other's vertebrae had made any real impression on him, a piercing screamalmost at his elbow—startled him out of his scientific reverie. a door opposite hadopened, and the woman of the elevator was standing staring at him with an expressionof horror and fury that went through, him
like a knife. it was the expression which,more than anything else, had made mme. brudowska what she was professionally. combined witha deep voice and a sinuous walk, it enabled her to draw down a matter of a thousand dollarsper week. indeed, though the fact gave him little pleasure,archie, as a matter of fact, was at this moment getting about—including war-tax—two dollarsand seventy-five cents worth of the great emotional star for nothing. for, having treatedhim gratis to the look of horror and fury, she now moved towards him with the sinuouswalk and spoke in the tone which she seldom permitted herself to use before the curtainof act two, unless there was a whale of a situation that called for it in act one.
"thief!" it was the way she said it. archie staggered backwards as though he hadbeen hit between the eyes, fell through the open door of his room, kicked it to with aflying foot, and collapsed on the bed. peter, the snake, who had fallen on the floor witha squashy sound, looked surprised and pained for a moment; then, being a philosopher atheart, cheered up and began hunting for flies under the bureau. chapter viii. a disturbed night for dear oldsquiffy peril sharpens the intellect. archie's mindas a rule worked in rather a languid and restful
sort of way, but now it got going with a rushand a whir. he glared round the room. he had never seen a room so devoid of satisfactorycover. and then there came to him a scheme, a ruse. it offered a chance of escape. itwas, indeed, a bit of all right. peter, the snake, loafing contentedly aboutthe carpet, found himself seized by what the encyclopaedia calls the "distensible gullet"and looked up reproachfully. the next moment he was in his bag again; and archie, boundingsilently into the bathroom, was tearing the cord off his dressing-gown. there came a banging at the door. a voicespoke sternly. a masculine voice this time. "say! open this door!"
archie rapidly attached the dressing-gowncord to the handle of the bag, leaped to the window, opened it, tied the cord to a projectingpiece of iron on the sill, lowered peter and the bag into the depths, and closed the windowagain. the whole affair took but a few seconds. generals have received the thanks of theirnations for displaying less resource on the field of battle. he opened the-door. outside stood the bereavedwoman, and beside her a bullet-headed gentleman with a bowler hat on the back of his head,in whom archie recognised the hotel detective. the hotel detective also recognised archie,and the stern cast of his features relaxed. he even smiled a rusty but propitiatory smile.he imagined—erroneously—that archie, being
the son-in-law of the owner of the hotel,had a pull with that gentleman; and he resolved to proceed warily lest he jeopardise his job. "why, mr. moffam!" he said, apologetically."i didn't know it was you i was disturbing." "always glad to have a chat," said archie,cordially. "what seems to be the trouble?" "my snake!" cried the queen of tragedy. "whereis my snake?" archie, looked at the detective. the detectivelooked at archie. "this lady," said the detective, with a drylittle cough, "thinks her snake is in your room, mr. moffam." "snake?"
"snake's what the lady said." "my snake! my peter!" mme. brudowska's voiceshook with emotion. "he is here—here in this room." archie shook his head. "no snakes here! absolutely not! i remembernoticing when i came in." "the snake is here—here in this room. thisman had it in a bag! i saw him! he is a thief!" "easy, ma'am!" protested the detective. "goeasy! this gentleman is the boss's son-in-law." "i care not who he is! he has my snake! here—'here in this room!" "mr. moffam wouldn't go round stealing snakes."
"rather not," said archie. "never stole asnake in my life. none of the moffams have ever gone about stealing snakes. regular familytradition! though i once had an uncle who kept gold-fish." "here he is! here! my peter!" archie looked at the detective. the detectivelooked at archie. "we must humour her!" their glances said. "of course," said archie, "if you'd like tosearch the room, what? what i mean to say is, this is liberty hall. everybody welcome!bring the kiddies!" "i will search the room!" said mme. brudowska.
the detective glanced apologetically at archie. "don't blame me for this, mr. moffam," heurged. "rather not! only too glad you've droppedin!" he took up an easy attitude against the window,and watched the empress of the emotional drama explore. presently she desisted, baffled.for an instant she paused, as though about to speak, then swept from the room. a momentlater a door banged across the passage. "how do they get that way?" queried the detective,"well, g'bye, mr. moffam. sorry to have butted in." the door closed. archie waited a few moments,then went to the window and hauled in the
slack. presently the bag appeared over theedge of the window-sill. "good god!" said archie. in the rush and swirl of recent events hemust have omitted to see that the clasp that fastened the bag was properly closed; forthe bag, as it jumped on to the window-sill, gaped at him like a yawning face. and insideit there was nothing. archie leaned as far out of the window ashe could manage without committing suicide. far below him, the traffic took its usualcourse and the pedestrians moved to and fro upon the pavements. there was no crowding,no excitement. yet only a few moments before a long green snake with three hundred ribs,a distensible gullet, and gastrocentrous vertebras
must have descended on that street like thegentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. and nobody seemed even interested. not forthe first time since he had arrived in america, archie marvelled at the cynical detachmentof the new yorker, who permits himself to be surprised at nothing. he shut the window and moved away with a heavyheart. he had not had the pleasure of an extended acquaintanceship with peter, but he had seenenough of him to realise his sterling qualities. somewhere beneath peter's three hundred ribsthere had lain a heart of gold, and archie mourned for his loss. archie had a dinner and theatre engagementthat night, and it was late when he returned
to the hotel. he found his father-in-law prowlingrestlessly about the lobby. there seemed to be something on mr. brewster's mind. he cameup to archie with a brooding frown on his square face. "who's this man seacliff?" he demanded, withoutpreamble. "i hear he's a friend of yours." "oh, you've met him, what?" said archie. "hada nice little chat together, yes? talked of this and that, no!" "we have not said a word to each other." "really? oh, well, dear old squiffy is oneof those strong, silent fellers you know. you mustn't mind if he's a bit dumb. he neversays much, but it's whispered round the clubs
that he thinks a lot. it was rumoured in thespring of nineteen-thirteen that squiffy was on the point of making a bright remark, butit never came to anything." mr. brewster struggled with his feelings. "who is he? you seem to know him." "oh yes. great pal of mine, squiffy. we wentthrough eton, oxford, and the bankruptcy court together. and here's a rummy coincidence.when they examined me, i had no assets. and, when they examined squiffy, he had no assets!rather extraordinary, what?" mr. brewster seemed to be in no mood for discussingcoincidences. "i might have known he was a friend of yours!"he said, bitterly. "well, if you want to see
him, you'll have to do it outside my hotel." "why, i thought he was stopping here." "he is—to-night. to-morrow he can look forsome other hotel to break up." "great scot! has dear old squiffy been breakingthe place up?" mr. brewster snorted. "i am informed that this precious friend ofyours entered my grill-room at eight o'clock. he must have been completely intoxicated,though the head waiter tells me he noticed nothing at the time." archie nodded approvingly.
"dear old squiffy was always like that. it'sa gift. however woozled he might be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye.i've seen the dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows, and looking as sober as abishop. soberer! when did it begin to dawn on the lads in the grill-room that the oldegg had been pushing the boat out?" "the head waiter," said mr. brewster, withcold fury, "tells me that he got a hint of the man's condition when he suddenly got upfrom his table and went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths, and breakingeverything that was on them. he then threw a number of rolls at the diners, and left.he seems to have gone straight to bed." "dashed sensible of him, what? sound, practicalchap, squiffy. but where on earth did he get
the—er—materials?" "from his room. i made enquiries. he has sixlarge cases in his room." "squiffy always was a chap of infinite resource!well, i'm dashed sorry this should have happened, don't you know." "if it hadn't been for you, the man wouldnever have come here." mr. brewster brooded coldly. "i don't know why it is, but eversince you came to this hotel i've had nothing but trouble." "dashed sorry!" said archie, sympathetically. "grrh!" said mr. brewster.
archie made his way meditatively to the lift.the injustice of his father-in-law's attitude pained him. it was absolutely rotten and allthat to be blamed for everything that went wrong in the hotel cosmopolis. while this conversation was in progress, lordseacliff was enjoying a refreshing sleep in his room on the fourth floor. two hours passed.the noise of the traffic in the street below faded away. only the rattle of an occasionalbelated cab broke the silence. in the hotel all was still. mr. brewster had gone to bed.archie, in his room, smoked meditatively. peace may have been said to reign. at half-past two lord seacliff awoke. hishours of slumber were always irregular. he
sat up in bed and switched the light on. hewas a shock-headed young man with a red face and a hot brown eye. he yawned and stretchedhimself. his head was aching a little. the room seemed to him a trifle close. he gotout of bed and threw open the window. then, returning to bed, he picked up a book andbegan to read. he was conscious of feeling a little jumpy, and reading generally senthim to sleep. much has been written on the subject of bed-books.the general consensus of opinion is that a gentle, slow-moving story makes the best opiate.if this be so, dear old squiffy's choice of literature had been rather injudicious. hisbook was the adventures of sherlock holmes, and the particular story, which he selectedfor perusal was the one entitled, "the speckled
band." he was not a great reader, but, whenhe read, he liked something with a bit of zip to it. squiffy became absorbed. he had read the storybefore, but a long time back, and its complications were fresh to him. the tale, it may be remembered,deals with the activities of an ingenious gentleman who kept a snake, and used to looseit into people's bedrooms as a preliminary to collecting on their insurance. it gavesquiffy pleasant thrills, for he had always had a particular horror of snakes. as a child,he had shrunk from visiting the serpent house at the zoo; and, later, when he had come toman's estate and had put off childish things, and settled down in real earnest to his self-appointedmission of drinking up all the alcoholic fluid
in england, the distaste for ophidia had lingered.to a dislike for real snakes had been added a maturer shrinking from those which existedonly in his imagination. he could still recall his emotions on the occasion, scarcely threemonths before, when he had seen a long, green serpent which a majority of his contemporarieshad assured him wasn't there. squiffy read on:— "suddenly another sound became audible—avery gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuouslyfrom a kettle." lord seacliff looked up from his book witha start imagination was beginning to play him tricks. he could have sworn that he hadactually heard that identical sound. it had
seemed to come from the window. he listenedagain. no! all was still. he returned to his book and went on reading. "it was a singular sight that met our eyes.beside the table, on a wooden chair, sat doctor grimesby rylott, clad in a long dressing-gown.his chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the cornerof the ceiling. round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, whichseemed to be bound tightly round his head." "i took a step forward. in an instant hisstrange head-gear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat,diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent..."
"ugh!" said squiffy. he closed the book and put it down. his headwas aching worse than ever. he wished now that he had read something else. no fellowcould read himself to sleep with this sort of thing. people ought not to write this sortof thing. his heart gave a bound. there it was again,that hissing sound. and this time he was sure it came from the window. he looked at the window, and remained staring,frozen. over the sill, with a graceful, leisurely movement, a green snake was crawling. as itcrawled, it raised its head and peered from side to side, like a shortsighted man lookingfor his spectacles. it hesitated a moment
on the edge of the sill, then wriggled tothe floor and began to cross the room. squiffy stared on. it would have pained peter deeply, for hewas a snake of great sensibility, if he had known how much his entrance had disturbedthe occupant of the room. he himself had no feeling but gratitude for the man who hadopened the window and so enabled him to get in out of the rather nippy night air. eversince the bag had swung open and shot him out onto the sill of the window below archie's,he had been waiting patiently for something of the kind to happen. he was a snake whotook things as they came, and was prepared to rough it a bit if necessary; but for thelast hour or two he had been hoping that somebody
would do something practical in the way ofgetting him in out of the cold. when at home, he had an eiderdown quilt to sleep on, andthe stone of the window-sill was a little trying to a snake of regular habits. he crawledthankfully across the floor under squiffy's bed. there was a pair of trousers there, forhis host had undressed when not in a frame of mind to fold his clothes neatly and placethem upon a chair. peter looked the trousers over. they were not an eiderdown quilt, butthey would serve. he curled up in them and went to sleep. he had had an exciting day,and was glad to turn in. after about ten minutes, the tension of squiffy'sattitude relaxed. his heart, which had seemed to suspend its operations, began beating again.reason reasserted itself. he peeped cautiously
under the bed. he could see nothing. squiffy was convinced. he told himself thathe had never really believed in peter as a living thing. it stood to reason that therecouldn't really be a snake in his room. the window looked out on emptiness. his room wasseveral stories above the ground. there was a stern, set expression on squiffy's faceas he climbed out of bed. it was the expression of a man who is turning over a new leaf, startinga new life. he looked about the room for some implement which would carry out the deed hehad to do, and finally pulled out one of the curtain-rods. using this as a lever, he brokeopen the topmost of the six cases which stood in the corner. the soft wood cracked and split.squiffy drew out a straw-covered bottle. for
a moment he stood looking at it, as a manmight gaze at a friend on the point of death. then, with a sudden determination, he wentinto the bathroom. there was a crash of glass and a gurgling sound. half an hour later the telephone in archie'sroom rang. "i say, archie, old top," said the voice of squiffy. "halloa, old bean! is that you?" "i say, could you pop down here for a second?i'm rather upset." "absolutely! which room?" "four-forty-one."
"i'll be with you eftsoons or right speedily." "thanks, old man." "what appears to be the difficulty?" "well, as a matter of fact, i thought i sawa snake!" "a snake!" "i'll tell you all about it when you comedown." archie found lord seacliff seated on his bed.an arresting aroma of mixed drinks pervaded the atmosphere. "i say! what?" said archie, inhaling.
"that's all right. i've been pouring my stockaway. just finished the last bottle." "but why?" "i told you. i thought i saw a snake!" "green?" squiffy shivered slightly. "frightfully green!" archie hesitated. he perceived that thereare moments when silence is the best policy. he had been worrying himself over the unfortunatecase of his friend, and now that fate seemed to have provided a solution, it would be rashto interfere merely to ease the old bean's
mind. if squiffy was going to reform becausehe thought he had seen an imaginary snake, better not to let him know that the snakewas a real one. "dashed serious!" he said. "bally dashed serious!" agreed squiffy. "i'mgoing to cut it out!" "great scheme!" "you don't think," asked squiffy, with a touchof hopefulness, "that it could have been a real snake?" "never heard of the management supplying them." "i thought it went under the bed."
"well, take a look." squiffy shuddered. "not me! i say, old top, you know, i simplycan't sleep in this room now. i was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours." "rather! i'm in five-forty-one. just above.trot along up. here's the key. i'll tidy up a bit here, and join you in a minute." squiffy put on a dressing-gown and disappeared.archie looked under the bed. from the trousers the head of peter popped up with its usualexpression of amiable enquiry. archie nodded pleasantly, and sat down on the bed. the problemof his little friend's immediate future wanted
thinking over. he lit a cigarette and remained for a whilein thought. then he rose. an admirable solution had presented itself. he picked peter up andplaced him in the pocket of his dressing-gown. then, leaving the room, he mounted the stairstill he reached the seventh floor. outside a room half-way down the corridor he paused. from within, through the open transom, camethe rhythmical snoring of a good man taking his rest after the labours of the day. mr.brewster was always a heavy sleeper. "there's always a way," thought archie, philosophically,"if a chappie only thinks of it." his father-in-law's snoring took on a deepernote. archie extracted peter from his pocket
and dropped him gently through the transom. chapter ix. a letter from parker as the days went by and he settled down atthe hotel cosmopolis, archie, looking about him and revising earlier judgments, was inclinedto think that of all his immediate circle he most admired parker, the lean, grave valetof mr. daniel brewster. here was a man who, living in the closest contact with one ofthe most difficult persons in new york, contrived all the while to maintain an unbowed head,and, as far as one could gather from appearances, a tolerably cheerful disposition. a greatman, judge him by what standard you pleased. anxious as he was to earn an honest living,archie would not have changed places with
parker for the salary of a movie-star. it was parker who first directed archie'sattention to the hidden merits of pongo. archie had drifted into his father-in-law's suiteone morning, as he sometimes did in the effort to establish more amicable relations, andhad found it occupied only by the valet, who was dusting the furniture and bric-a-bracwith a feather broom rather in the style of a man-servant at the rise of the curtain ofan old-fashioned farce. after a courteous exchange of greetings, archie sat down andlit a cigarette. parker went on dusting. "the guv'nor," said parker, breaking the silence,"has some nice little objay dar, sir." "little what?"
"objay dar, sir." light dawned upon archie. "of course, yes. french for junk. i see whatyou mean now. dare say you're right, old friend. don't know much about these things myself." parker gave an appreciative flick at a vaseon the mantelpiece. "very valuable, some of the guv'nor's things."he had picked up the small china figure of the warrior with the spear, and was groomingit with the ostentatious care of one brushing flies off a sleeping venus. he regarded thisfigure with a look of affectionate esteem which seemed to archie absolutely uncalled-for.archie's taste in art was not precious. to
his untutored eye the thing was only one degreeless foul than his father-in-law's japanese prints, which he had always observed withsilent loathing. "this one, now," continued parker. "worth a lot of money. oh, a lot ofmoney." "what, pongo?" said archie incredulously. "sir?" "i always call that rummy-looking what-notpongo. don't know what else you could call him, what!" the valet seemed to disapprove of this levity.he shook his head and replaced the figure on the mantelpiece.
"worth a lot of money," he repeated. "notby itself, no." "oh, not by itself?" "no, sir. things like this come in pairs.somewhere or other there's the companion-piece to this here, and if the guv'nor could gethold of it, he'd have something worth having. something that connoozers would give a lotof money for. but one's no good without the other. you have to have both, if you understandmy meaning, sir." "i see. like filling a straight flush, what?" "precisely, sir." archie gazed at pongo again, with the dimhope of discovering virtues not immediately
apparent to the casual observer. but withoutsuccess. pongo left him cold—even chilly. he would not have taken pongo as a gift, tooblige a dying friend. "how much would the pair be worth?" he asked."ten dollars?" parker smiled a gravely superior smile. "aleetle more than that, sir. several thousand dollars, more like it." "do you mean to say," said archie, with honestamazement, "that there are chumps going about loose—absolutely loose—who would pay thatfor a weird little object like pongo?" "undoubtedly, sir. these antique china figuresare in great demand among collectors." archie looked at pongo once more, and shookhis head.
"well, well, well! it takes all sorts to makea world, what!" what might be called the revival of pongo,the restoration of pongo to the ranks of the things that matter, took place several weekslater, when archie was making holiday at the house which his father-in-law had taken forthe summer at brookport. the curtain of the second act may be said to rise on archie strollingback from the golf-links in the cool of an august evening. from time to time he sangslightly, and wondered idly if lucille would put the finishing touch upon the all-rightnessof everything by coming to meet him and sharing his homeward walk. she came in view at this moment, a trim littlefigure in a white skirt and a pale blue sweater.
she waved to archie; and archie, as alwaysat the sight of her, was conscious of that jumpy, fluttering sensation about the heart,which, translated into words, would have formed the question, "what on earth could have madea girl like that fall in love with a chump like me?" it was a question which he was continuallyasking himself, and one which was perpetually in the mind also of mr. brewster, his father-in-law.the matter of archie's unworthiness to be the husband of lucille was practically theonly one on which the two men saw eye to eye. "hallo—allo—allo!" said archie. "herewe are, what! i was just hoping you would drift over the horizon." lucille kissed him.
"you're a darling," she said. "and you looklike a greek god in that suit." "glad you like it." archie squinted with somecomplacency down his chest. "i always say it doesn't matter what you pay for a suit,so long as it's right. i hope your jolly old father will feel that way when he settlesup for it." "where is father? why didn't he come backwith you?" "well, as a matter of fact, he didn't seemany too keen on my company. i left him in the locker-room chewing a cigar. gave me theimpression of having something on his mind." "oh, archie! you didn't beat him again?" archie looked uncomfortable. he gazed outto sea with something of embarrassment.
"well, as a matter of fact, old thing, tobe absolutely frank, i, as it were, did!" "not badly?" "well, yes! i rather fancy i put it acrosshim with some vim and not a little emphasis. to be perfectly accurate, i licked him byten and eight." "but you promised me you would let him beatyou to-day. you know how pleased it would have made him." "i know. but, light of my soul, have you anyidea how dashed difficult it is to get beaten by your festive parent at golf?" "oh, well!" lucille sighed. "it can't be helped,i suppose." she felt in the pocket of her
sweater. "oh, there's a letter for you. i'vejust been to fetch the mail. i don't know who it can be from. the handwriting lookslike a vampire's. kind of scrawly." archie inspected the envelope. it providedno solution. "that's rummy! who could be writing to me?" "open it and see." "dashed bright scheme! i will, herbert parker.who the deuce is herbert parker?" "parker? father's valet's name was parker.the one he dismissed when he found he was wearing his shirts." "do you mean to say any reasonable chappiewould willingly wear the sort of shirts your
father—? i mean to say, there must havebeen some mistake." "do read the letter. i expect he wants touse your influence with father to have him taken back." "my influence? with your father? well, i'mdashed. sanguine sort of johnny, if he does. well, here's what he says. of course, i rememberjolly old parker now—great pal of mine." dear sir,—it is some time since the undersignedhad the honour of conversing with you, but i am respectfullytrusting that you may recall me to mind when i mentionthat until recently i served mr. brewster, your father-in-law,in the
capacity of valet. owing to an unfortunatemisunderstanding, i was dismissed from that position and amnow temporarily out of a job. "how art thou fallen from heaven,o lucifer, son of the morning!" (isaiah xiv. 12.) "you know," said archie, admiringly, "thisbird is hot stuff! i mean to say he writes dashed well." it is not, however, with my own affairs thati desire to trouble you, dear sir. i have little doubtthat all will be well with me and that i shall not fall likea sparrow to the
ground. "i have been young and now am old;yet have i not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seedbegging bread" (psalms xxxvii. 25). my object in writingto you is as follows. you may recall that i had the pleasureof meeting you one morning in mr. brewster's suite, whenwe had an interesting talk on the subject of mr. b.'sobjets d'art. you may recall being particularly interestedin a small china figure. to assist your memory, the figureto which i allude is the one which you whimsically referredto as pongo.
i informed you, if you remember, that, couldthe accompanying figure be secured, the pair would be extremelyvaluable. i am glad to say, dear sir, that this hasnow transpired, and is on view at beale's art galleries on westforty-fifty street, where it will be sold to-morrow at auction,the sale commencing at two-thirty sharp. if mr. brewster caresto attend, he will, i fancy, have little trouble in securing itat a reasonable price. i confess that i had thought of refrainingfrom apprising my late employer of this matter, but more christianfeelings have
prevailed. "if thine enemy hunger, feed him;if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heapcoals of fire on his head" (romans xii. 20). nor, i must confess,am i altogether uninfluenced by the thought that my actionin this matter may conceivably lead to mr. b. consenting to forgetthe past and to reinstate me in my former position. however,i am confident that i can leave this to his good feeling. i remain, respectfully yours,herbert parker. lucille clapped her hands.
"how splendid! father will be pleased!" "yes. friend parker has certainly found away to make the old dad fond of him. wish i could!" "but you can, silly! he'll be delighted whenyou show him that letter." "yes, with parker. old herb. parker's is theneck he'll fall on—not mine." lucille reflected. "i wish—" she began. she stopped. her eyeslit up. "oh, archie, darling, i've got an idea!" "decant it."
"why don't you slip up to new york to-morrowand buy the thing, and give it to father as a surprise?" archie patted her hand kindly. he hated tospoil her girlish day-dreams. "yes," he said. "but reflect, queen of myheart! i have at the moment of going to press just two dollars fifty in specie, which itook off your father this after-noon. we were playing twenty-five cents a hole. he coughedit up without enthusiasm—in fact, with a nasty hacking sound—but i've got it. butthat's all i have got." "that's all right. you can pawn that ringand that bracelet of mine." "oh, i say, what! pop the family jewels?"
"only for a day or two. of course, once you'vegot the thing, father will pay us back. he would give you all the money we asked himfor, if he knew what it was for. but i want to surprise him. and if you were to go tohim and ask him for a thousand dollars without telling him what it was for, he might refuse." "he might!" said archie. "he might!" "it all works out splendidly. to-morrow'sthe invitation handicap, and father's been looking forward to it for weeks. he'd hateto have to go up to town himself and not play in it. but you can slip up and slip back withouthis knowing anything about it." archie pondered.
"it sounds a ripe scheme. yes, it has allthe ear-marks of a somewhat fruity wheeze! by jove, it is a fruity wheeze! it's an egg!" "an egg?" "good egg, you know. halloa, here's a postscript.i didn't see it." p.s.—i should be glad if you would conveymy most cordial respects to mrs. moffam. will youalso inform her that i chanced to meet mr. william thismorning on broadway, just off the boat. he desired meto send his regards and to say that he would be joiningyou at
brookport in the course of a day or so. mr.b. will be pleased to have him back. "a wise son maketha glad father" (proverbs x. 1). "who's mr. william?" asked archie. "my brother bill, of course. i've told youall about him." "oh yes, of course. your brother bill. rummyto think i've got a brother-in-law i've never seen." "you see, we married so suddenly. when wemarried, bill was in yale." "good god! what for?"
"not jail, silly. yale. the university." "oh, ah, yes." "then he went over to europe for a trip tobroaden his mind. you must look him up to-morrow when you get back to new york. he's sure tobe at his club." "i'll make a point of it. well, vote of thanksto good old parker! this really does begin to look like the point in my career wherei start to have your forbidding old parent eating out of my hand." "yes, it's an egg, isn't it!" "queen of my soul," said archie enthusiastically,"it's an omelette!"
the business negotiations in connection withthe bracelet and the ring occupied archie on his arrival in new york to an extent whichmade it impossible for him to call on brother bill before lunch. he decided to postponethe affecting meeting of brothers-in-law to a more convenient season, and made his wayto his favourite table at the cosmopolis grill-room for a bite of lunch preliminary to the fatiguesof the sale. he found salvatore hovering about as usual, and instructed him to come to therescue with a minute steak. salvatore was the dark, sinister-looking waiterwho attended, among other tables, to the one at the far end of the grill-room at whicharchie usually sat. for several weeks archie's conversations with the other had dealt exclusivelywith the bill of fare and its contents; but
gradually he had found himself becoming morepersonal. even before the war and its democratising influences, archie had always lacked thatreserve which characterises many britons; and since the war he had looked on nearlyeveryone he met as a brother. long since, through the medium of a series of friendlychats, he had heard all about salvatore's home in italy, the little newspaper and tobaccoshop which his mother owned down on seventh avenue, and a hundred other personal details.archie had an insatiable curiosity about his fellow-man. "well done," said archie. "sare?"
"the steak. not too rare, you know." "very good, sare." archie looked at the waiter closely. his tonehad been subdued and sad. of course, you don't expect a waiter to beam all over his faceand give three rousing cheers simply because you have asked him to bring you a minute steak,but still there was something about salvatore's manner that disturbed archie. the man appearedto have the pip. whether he was merely homesick and brooding on the lost delights of his sunnynative land, or whether his trouble was more definite, could only be ascertained by enquiry.so archie enquired. "what's the matter, laddie?" he said sympathetically."something on your mind?"
"i say, there seems to be something on yourmind. what's the trouble?" the waiter shrugged his shoulders, as if indicatingan unwillingness to inflict his grievances on one of the tipping classes. "come on!" persisted archie encouragingly."all pals here. barge along, old thing, and let's have it." salvatore, thus admonished, proceeded in ahurried undertone—with one eye on the headwaiter—to lay bare his soul. what he said was not verycoherent, but archie could make out enough of it to gather that it was a sad story ofexcessive hours and insufficient pay. he mused awhile. the waiter's hard case touched him.
"i'll tell you what," he said at last. "whenjolly old brewster conies back to town—he's away just now—i'll take you along to himand we'll beard the old boy in his den. i'll introduce you, and you get that extract fromitalian opera-off your chest which you've just been singing to me, and you'll find it'llbe all right. he isn't what you might call one of my greatest admirers, but everybodysays he's a square sort of cove and he'll see you aren't snootered. and now, laddie,touching the matter of that steak." the waiter disappeared, greatly cheered, andarchie, turning, perceived that his friend reggie van tuyl was entering the room. hewaved to him to join his table. he liked reggie, and it also occurred to him that a man ofthe world like the heir of the van tuyls,
who had been popping about new york for years,might be able to give him some much-needed information on the procedure at an auctionsale, a matter on which he himself was profoundly ignorant. chapter x. doing father a bit of good reggie van tuyl approached the table languidly,and sank down into a chair. he was a long youth with a rather subdued and deflated look,as though the burden of the van tuyl millions was more than his frail strength could support.most things tired him. "i say, reggie, old top," said archie, "you'rejust the lad i wanted to see. i require the assistance of a blighter of ripe intellect.tell me, laddie, do you know anything about
sales?" reggie eyed him sleepily. "sales?" "auction sales." reggie considered. "well, they're sales, you know." he checkeda yawn. "auction sales, you understand." "yes," said archie encouragingly. "something—thename or something—seemed to tell me that." "fellows put things up for sale you know,and other fellows—other fellows go in and—and buy 'em, if you follow me."
"yes, but what's the procedure? i mean, whatdo i do? that's what i'm after. i've got to buy something at beale's this afternoon. howdo i set about it?" "well," said reggie, drowsily, "there areseveral ways of bidding, you know. you can shout, or you can nod, or you can twiddleyour fingers—" the effort of concentration was too much for him. he leaned back limplyin his chair. "i'll tell you what. i've nothing to do this afternoon. i'll come with you andshow you." when he entered the art galleries a few minuteslater, archie was glad of the moral support of even such a wobbly reed as reggie van tuyl.there is something about an auction room which weighs heavily upon the novice. the hushedinterior was bathed in a dim, religious light;
and the congregation, seated on small woodenchairs, gazed in reverent silence at the pulpit, where a gentleman of commanding presence andsparkling pince-nez was delivering a species of chant. behind a gold curtain at the endof the room mysterious forms flitted to and fro. archie, who had been expecting somethingon the lines of the new york stock exchange, which he had once been privileged to visitwhen it was in a more than usually feverish mood, found the atmosphere oppressively ecclesiastical.he sat down and looked about him. the presiding priest went on with his chant. "sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen—worththree hundred—sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen-sixteen—ought tobring five hundred—sixteen-sixteen-seventeen-seventeen-eighteen-eighteennineteen-nineteen-nineteen."
he stopped and eyed the worshippers with aglittering and reproachful eye. they had, it seemed, disappointed him. his lips curled,and he waved a hand towards a grimly uncomfortable-looking chair with insecure legs and a good deal ofgold paint about it. "gentlemen! ladies and gentlemen! you are not here to waste my time;i am not here to waste yours. am i seriously offered nineteen dollars for this eighteenth-centurychair, acknowledged to be the finest piece sold in new york for months and months? ami—twenty? i thank you. twenty-twenty-twenty-twenty. your opportunity! priceless. very few extant.twenty-five-five-five-five-thirty-thirty. just what you are looking for. the only onein the city of new york. thirty-five-five-five-five. forty-forty-forty-forty-forty. look at thoselegs! back it into the light, willie. let
the light fall on those legs!" willie, a sort of acolyte, manoeuvred thechair as directed. reggie van tuyl, who had been yawning in a hopeless sort of way, showedhis first flicker of interest. "willie," he observed, eyeing that youth morewith pity than reproach, "has a face like jo-jo the dog-faced boy, don't you think so?" archie nodded briefly. precisely the samecriticism had occurred to him. "forty-five-five-five-five-five," chantedthe high-priest. "once forty-five. twice forty-five. third and last call, forty-five. sold at forty-five.gentleman in the fifth row." archie looked up and down the row with a keeneye. he was anxious to see who had been chump
enough to give forty-five dollars for sucha frightful object. he became aware of the dog-faced willie leaning towards him. "name, please?" said the canine one. "eh, what?" said archie. "oh, my name's moffam,don't you know." the eyes of the multitude made him feel a little nervous "er—gladto meet you and all that sort of rot." "ten dollars deposit, please," said willie. "i don't absolutely follow you, old bean.what is the big thought at the back of all this?" "ten dollars deposit on the chair."
"what chair?" "you bid forty-five dollars for the chair." "me?" "you nodded," said willie, accusingly. "if,"he went on, reasoning closely, "you didn't want to bid, why did you nod?" archie was embarrassed. he could, of course,have pointed out that he had merely nodded in adhesion to the statement that the otherhad a face like jo-jo the dog-faced boy; but something seemed to tell him that a puristmight consider the excuse deficient in tact. he hesitated a moment, then handed over aten-dollar bill, the price of willie's feelings.
willie withdrew like a tiger slinking fromthe body of its victim. "i say, old thing," said archie to reggie,"this is a bit thick, you know. no purse will stand this drain." reggie considered the matter. his face seemeddrawn under the mental strain. "don't nod again," he advised. "if you aren'tcareful, you get into the habit of it. when you want to bid, just twiddle your fingers.yes, that's the thing. twiddle!" he sighed drowsily. the atmosphere of theauction room was close; you weren't allowed to smoke; and altogether he was beginningto regret that he had come. the service continued. objects of varying unattractiveness came andwent, eulogised by the officiating priest,
but coldly received by the congregation. relationsbetween the former and the latter were growing more and more distant. the congregation seemedto suspect the priest of having an ulterior motive in his eulogies, and the priest seemedto suspect the congregation of a frivolous desire to waste his time. he had begun tospeculate openly as to why they were there at all. once, when a particularly repellentstatuette of a nude female with an unwholesome green skin had been offered at two dollarsand had found no bidders—the congregation appearing silently grateful for his statementthat it was the only specimen of its kind on the continent—he had specifically accusedthem of having come into the auction room merely with the purpose of sitting down andtaking the weight off their feet.
"if your thing—your whatever-it-is, doesn'tcome up soon, archie," said reggie, fighting off with an effort the mists of sleep, "irather think i shall be toddling along. what was it you came to get?" "it's rather difficult to describe. it's arummy-looking sort of what-not, made of china or something. i call it pongo. at least, thisone isn't pongo, don't you know—it's his little brother, but presumably equally foulin every respect. it's all rather complicated, i know, but—hallo!" he pointed excitedly."by jove! we're off! there it is! look! willie's unleashing it now!" willie, who had disappeared through the goldcurtain, had now returned, and was placing
on a pedestal a small china figure of delicateworkmanship. it was the figure of a warrior in a suit of armour advancing with raisedspear upon an adversary. a thrill permeated archie's frame. parker had not been mistaken.this was undoubtedly the companion-figure to the redoubtable pongo. the two were identical.even from where he sat archie could detect on the features of the figure on the pedestalthe same expression of insufferable complacency which had alienated his sympathies from theoriginal pongo. the high-priest, undaunted by previous rebuffs,regarded the figure with a gloating enthusiasm wholly unshared by the congregation, who wereplainly looking upon pongo's little brother as just another of those things.
"this," he said, with a shake in his voice,"is something very special. china figure, said to date back to the ming dynasty. unique.nothing like it on either side of the atlantic. if i were selling this at christie's in london,where people," he said, nastily, "have an educated appreciation of the beautiful, therare, and the exquisite, i should start the bidding at a thousand dollars. this afternoon'sexperience has taught me that that might possibly be too high." his pince-nez sparkled militantly,as he gazed upon the stolid throng. "will anyone offer me a dollar for this unique figure?" "leap at it, old top," said reggie van tuyl."twiddle, dear boy, twiddle! a dollar's reasonable." archie twiddled.
"one dollar i am offered," said the high-priest,bitterly. "one gentleman here is not afraid to take a chance. one gentleman here knowsa good thing when he sees one." he abandoned the gently sarcastic manner for one of crispand direct reproach. "come, come, gentlemen, we are not here to waste time. will anyoneoffer me one hundred dollars for this superb piece of—" he broke off, and seemed fora moment almost unnerved. he stared at someone in one of the seats in front of archie. "thankyou," he said, with a sort of gulp. "one hundred dollars i am offered! one hundred—one hundred—onehundred—" archie was startled. this sudden, tremendousjump, this wholly unforeseen boom in pongos, if one might so describe it, was more thana little disturbing. he could not see who
his rival was, but it was evident that atleast one among those present did not intend to allow pongo's brother to slip by withouta fight. he looked helplessly at reggie for counsel, but reggie had now definitely givenup the struggle. exhausted nature had done its utmost, and now he was leaning back withclosed eyes, breathing softly through his nose. thrown on his own resources, archiecould think of no better course than to twiddle his fingers again. he did so, and the high-priest'schant took on a note of positive exuberance. "two hundred i am offered. much better! turnthe pedestal round, willie, and let them look at it. slowly! slowly! you aren't spinninga roulette-wheel. two hundred. two-two-two-two-two." he became suddenly lyrical. "two-two-two—therewas a young lady named lou, who was catching
a train at two-two. said the porter, 'don'tworry or hurry or scurry. it's a minute or two to two-two!' two-two-two-two-two!" archie's concern increased. he seemed to betwiddling at this voluble man across seas of misunderstanding. nothing is harder tointerpret to a nicety than a twiddle, and archie's idea of the language of twiddlesand the high-priest's idea did not coincide by a mile. the high-priest appeared to considerthat, when archie twiddled, it was his intention to bid in hundreds, whereas in fact archiehad meant to signify that he raised the previous bid by just one dollar. archie felt that,if given time, he could make this clear to the high-priest, but the latter gave him notime. he had got his audience, so to speak,
on the run, and he proposed to hustle thembefore they could rally. "two hundred—two hundred—two—three—thankyou, sir—three-three-three-four-four-five-five-six-six-seven-seven-seven—" archie sat limply in his wooden chair. hewas conscious of a feeling which he had only experienced twice in his life—once whenhe had taken his first lesson in driving a motor and had trodden on the accelerator insteadof the brake; the second time more recently, when he had made his first down-trip on anexpress lift. he had now precisely the same sensation of being run away with by an uncontrollablemachine, and of having left most of his internal organs at some little distance from the restof his body. emerging from this welter of emotion, stood out the one clear fact that,be the opposition bidding what it might, he
must nevertheless secure the prize. lucillehad sent him to new york expressly to do so. she had sacrificed her jewellery for the cause.she relied on him. the enterprise had become for archie something almost sacred. he feltdimly like a knight of old hot on the track of the holy grail. he twiddled again. the ring and the bracelethad fetched nearly twelve hundred dollars. up to that figure his hat was in the ring. "eight hundred i am offered. eight hundred.eight-eight-eight-eight—" a voice spoke from somewhere at the back ofthe room. a quiet, cold, nasty, determined voice.
"nine!" archie rose from his seat and spun round.this mean attack from the rear stung his fighting spirit. as he rose, a young man sitting immediatelyin front of him rose too and stared likewise. he was a square-built resolute-looking youngman, who reminded archie vaguely of somebody he had seen before. but archie was too busytrying to locate the man at the back to pay much attention to him. he detected him atlast, owing to the fact that the eyes of everybody in that part of the room were fixed upon him.he was a small man of middle age, with tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles. he might have been a professoror something of the kind. whatever he was, he was obviously a man to be reckoned with.he had a rich sort of look, and his demeanour
was the demeanour of a man who is preparedto fight it out on these lines if it takes all the summer. "nine hundred i am offered. nine-nine-nine-nine—" archie glared defiantly at the spectacledman. "a thousand!" he cried. the irruption of high finance into the placidcourse of the afternoon's proceedings had stirred the congregation out of its lethargy.there were excited murmurs. necks were craned, feet shuffled. as for the high-priest, hischeerfulness was now more than restored, and his faith in his fellow-man had soared fromthe depths to a very lofty altitude. he beamed
with approval. despite the warmth of his praisehe would have been quite satisfied to see pongo's little brother go at twenty dollars,and the reflection that the bidding had already reached one thousand and that his commissionwas twenty per cent, had engendered a mood of sunny happiness. "one thousand is bid!" he carolled. "now,gentlemen, i don't want to hurry you over this. you are all connoisseurs here, and youdon't want to see a priceless china figure of the ming dynasty get away from you at asacrifice price. perhaps you can't all see the figure where it is. willie, take it roundand show it to 'em. we'll take a little intermission while you look carefully at this wonderfulfigure. get a move on, willie! pick up your
feet!" archie, sitting dazedly, was aware that reggievan tuyl had finished his beauty sleep and was addressing the young man in the seat infront. "why, hallo," said reggie. "i didn't knowyou were back. you remember me, don't you? reggie van tuyl. i know your sister very well.archie, old man, i want you to meet my friend, bill brewster. why, dash it!" he chuckledsleepily. "i was forgetting. of course! he's your—" "how are you?" said the young man. "talkingof my sister," he said to reggie, "i suppose you haven't met her husband by any chance?i suppose you know she married some awful
chump?" "me," said archie. "how's that?" "i married your sister. my name's moffam." the young man seemed a trifle taken aback. "sorry," he said. "not at all," said archie. "i was only going by what my father said inhis letters," he explained, in extenuation. "i'm afraid your jolly old father doesn'tappreciate me. but i'm hoping for the best.
if i can rope in that rummy-looking littlechina thing that jo-jo the dog-faced boy is showing the customers, he will be all overme. i mean to say, you know, he's got another like it, and, if he can get a full house,as it were, i'm given to understand he'll be bucked, cheered, and even braced." the young man stared. "are you the fellow who's been bidding againstme?" "eh, what? were you bidding against me?" "i wanted to buy the thing for my father.i've a special reason for wanting to get in right with him just now. are you buying itfor him, too?"
"absolutely. as a surprise. it was lucille'sidea. his valet, a chappie named parker, tipped us off that the thing was to be sold." "parker? great scot! it was parker who tippedme off. i met him on broadway, and he told me about it." "rummy he never mentioned it in his letterto me. why, dash it, we could have got the thing for about two dollars if we had pooledour bids." "well, we'd better pool them now, and extinguishthat pill at the back there. i can't go above eleven hundred. that's all i've got." "i can't go above eleven hundred myself."
"there's just one thing. i wish you'd letme be the one to hand the thing over to father. i've a special reason for wanting to makea hit with him." "absolutely!" said archie, magnanimously."it's all the same to me. i only wanted to get him generally braced, as it were, if youknow what i mean." "that's awfully good of you." "not a bit, laddie, no, no, and far from it.only too glad." willie had returned from his rambles amongthe connoisseurs, and pongo's brother was back on his pedestal. the high-priest clearedhis throat and resumed his discourse. "now that you have all seen this superb figurewe will—i was offered one thousand—one
thousand-one-one-one-one—eleven hundred.thank you, sir. eleven hundred i am offered." the high-priest was now exuberant. you couldsee him doing figures in his head. "you do the bidding," said brother bill. he waved a defiant hand. "thirteen," said the man at the back. "fourteen, dash it!" "fifteen!" "sixteen!" "seventeen!"
"eighteen!" "nineteen!" "two thousand!" the high-priest did everything but sing. heradiated good will and bonhomie. "two thousand i am offered. is there any advanceon two thousand? come, gentlemen, i don't want to give this superb figure away. twenty-onehundred. twenty-one-one-one-one. this is more the sort of thing i have been accustomed to.when i was at sotheby's rooms in london, this kind of bidding was a common-place. twenty-two-two-two-two-two.one hardly noticed it. three-three-three. twenty-three-three-three. twenty-three hundreddollars i am offered."
he gazed expectantly at archie, as a man gazesat some favourite dog whom he calls upon to perform a trick. but archie had reached theend of his tether. the hand that had twiddled so often and so bravely lay inert beside histrouser-leg, twitching feebly. archie was through. "twenty-three hundred," said the high-priest,ingratiatingly. archie made no movement. there was a tensepause. the high-priest gave a little sigh, like one waking from a beautiful dream. "twenty-three hundred," he said. "once twenty-three.twice twenty-three. third, last, and final call, twenty-three. sold at twenty-three hundred.i congratulate you, sir, on a genuine bargain!"
reggie van tuyl had dozed off again. archietapped his brother-in-law on the shoulder. "may as well be popping, what?" they threaded their way sadly together throughthe crowd, and made for the street. they passed into fifth avenue without breaking the silence. "bally nuisance," said archie, at last. "rotten!" "wonder who that chappie was?" "some collector, probably." "well, it can't be helped," said archie.
brother bill attached himself to archie'sarm, and became communicative. "i didn't want to mention it in front of vantuyl," he said, "because he's such a talking-machine, and it would have been all over new york beforedinner-time. but you're one of the family, and you can keep a secret." "absolutely! silent tomb and what not." "the reason i wanted that darned thing wasbecause i've just got engaged to a girl over in england, and i thought that, if i couldhand my father that china figure-thing with one hand and break the news with the other,it might help a bit. she's the most wonderful girl!"
"i'll bet she is," said archie, cordially. "the trouble is she's in the chorus of oneof the revues over there, and father is apt to kick. so i thought—oh, well, it's nogood worrying now. come along where it's quiet, and i'll tell you all about her." "that'll be jolly," said archie. chapter xi. salvatore chooses the wrong moment archie reclaimed the family jewellery fromits temporary home next morning; and, having done so, sauntered back to the cosmopolis.he was surprised, on entering the lobby, to meet his father-in-law. more surprising still,mr. brewster was manifestly in a mood of extraordinary
geniality. archie could hardly believe hiseyes when the other waved cheerily to him—nor his ears a moment later when mr. brewster,addressing him as "my boy," asked him how he was and mentioned that the day was a warmone. obviously this jovial frame of mind must betaken advantage of; and archie's first thought was of the downtrodden salvatore, to the taleof whose wrongs he had listened so sympathetically on the previous day. now was plainly the momentfor the waiter to submit his grievance, before some ebb-tide caused the milk of human kindnessto flow out of daniel brewster. with a swift "cheerio!" in his father-in-law's direction,archie bounded into the grill-room. salvatore, the hour for luncheon being imminent but notyet having arrived, was standing against the
far wall in an attitude of thought. "laddie!" cried archie. "a most extraordinary thing has happened.good old brewster has suddenly popped up through a trap and is out in the lobby now. and what'sstill more weird, he's apparently bucked." "braced, you know. in the pink. pleased aboutsomething. if you go to him now with that yarn of yours, you can't fail. he'll kissyou on both cheeks and give you his bank-roll and collar-stud. charge along and ask thehead-waiter if you can have ten minutes off." salvatore vanished in search of the potentatenamed, and archie returned to the lobby to bask in the unwonted sunshine.
"well, well, well, what!" he said. "i thoughtyou were at brookport." "i came up this morning to meet a friend ofmine," replied mr. brewster genially. "professor binstead." "don't think i know him." "very interesting man," said mr. brewster,still with the same uncanny amiability. "he's a dabbler in a good many things—science,phrenology, antiques. i asked him to bid for me at a sale yesterday. there was a littlechina figure—" archie's jaw fell. "china figure?" he stammered feebly.
"yes. the companion to one you may have noticedon my mantelpiece upstairs. i have been trying to get the pair of them for years. i shouldnever have heard of this one if it had not been for that valet of mine, parker. verygood of him to let me know of it, considering i had fired him. ah, here is binstead."-hemoved to greet the small, middle-aged man with the tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles whowas bustling across the lobby. "well, binstead, so you got it?" "yes." "i suppose the price wasn't particularly stiff?" "twenty-three hundred."
"twenty-three hundred!" mr. brewster seemedto reel in his tracks. "twenty-three hundred!" "you gave me carte blanche." "yes, but twenty-three hundred!" "i could have got it for a few dollars, butunfortunately i was a little late, and, when i arrived, some young fool had bid it up toa thousand, and he stuck to me till i finally shook him off at twenty-three hundred. why,this is the very man! is he a friend of yours?" archie coughed. "more a relation than a friend, what? son-in-law,don't you know!" mr. brewster's amiability had vanished.
"what damned foolery have you been up to now?"he demanded. "can't i move a step without stubbing my toe on you? why the devil didyou bid?" "we thought it would be rather a fruity scheme.we talked it over and came to the conclusion that it was an egg. wanted to get hold ofthe rummy little object, don't you know, and surprise you." "who's we?" "lucille and i." "but how did you hear of it at all?" "parker, the valet-chappie, you know, wroteme a letter about it."
"parker! didn't he tell you that he had toldme the figure was to be sold?" "absolutely not!" a sudden suspicion cameto archie. he was normally a guileless young man, but even to him the extreme fishinessof the part played by herbert parker had become apparent. "i say, you know, it looks to meas if friend parker had been having us all on a bit, what? i mean to say it was jollyold herb, who tipped your son off—bill, you know—to go and bid for the thing." "bill! was bill there?" "absolutely in person! we were bidding againsteach other like the dickens till we managed to get together and get acquainted. and thenthis bird—this gentleman—sailed in and
started to slip it across us." professor binstead chuckled—the care-freechuckle of a man who sees all those around him smitten in the pocket, while he himselfremains untouched. "a very ingenious rogue, this parker of yours,brewster. his method seems to have been simple but masterly. i have no doubt that eitherhe or a confederate obtained the figure and placed it with the auctioneer, and then heensured a good price for it by getting us all to bid against each other. very ingenious!" mr. brewster struggled with his feelings.then he seemed to overcome them and to force himself to look on the bright side.
"well, anyway," he said. "i've got the pairof figures, and that's what i wanted. is that it in that parcel?" "this is it. i wouldn't trust an express companyto deliver it. suppose we go up to your room and see how the two look side by side." they crossed the lobby to the lift.-the cloudwas still on mr. brewster's brow as they stepped out and made their way to his suite. likemost men who have risen from poverty to wealth by their own exertions, mr. brewster objectedto parting with his money unnecessarily, and it was plain that that twenty-three hundreddollars still rankled. mr. brewster unlocked the door and crossedthe room. then, suddenly, he halted, stared,
and stared again. he sprang to the bell andpressed it, then stood gurgling wordlessly. "anything wrong, old bean?" queried archie,solicitously. "wrong! wrong! it's gone!" "gone?" "the figure!" the floor-waiter had manifested himself silentlyin answer to the bell, and was standing in the doorway. "simmons!" mr. brewster turned to him wildly."has anyone been in this suite since i went away?"
"no, sir." "nobody?" "nobody except your valet, sir—parker. hesaid he had come to fetch some things away. i supposed he had come from you, sir, withinstructions." "get out!" professor binstead had unwrapped his parcel,and had placed the pongo on the table. there was a weighty silence. archie picked up thelittle china figure and balanced it on the palm of his hand. it was a small thing, hereflected philosophically, but it had made quite a stir in the world.
mr. brewster fermented for a while withoutspeaking. "so," he said, at last, in a voice tremblingwith self-pity, "i have been to all this trouble—" "and expense," put in professor binstead,gently. "merely to buy back something which had beenstolen from me! and, owing to your damned officiousness," he cried, turning on archie,"i have had to pay twenty-three hundred dollars for it! i don't know why they make such afuss about job. job never had anything like you around!" "of course," argued archie, "he had one ortwo boils." "boils! what are boils?"
"dashed sorry," murmured archie. "acted forthe best. meant well. and all that sort of rot!" professor binstead's mind seemed occupiedto the exclusion of all other aspects of the affair, with the ingenuity of the absent parker. "a cunning scheme!" he said. "a very cunningscheme! this man parker must have a brain of no low order. i should like to feel hisbumps!" "i should like to give him some!" said thestricken mr. brewster. he breathed a deep breath. "oh, well," he said, "situated asi am, with a crook valet and an imbecile son-in-law, i suppose i ought to be thankful that i'vestill got my own property, even if i have
had to pay twenty-three hundred dollars forthe privilege of keeping it." he rounded on archie, who was in a reverie. the thoughtof the unfortunate bill had just crossed archie's mind. it would be many moons, many weary moons,before mr. brewster would be in a suitable mood to listen sympathetically to the storyof love's young dream. "give me that figure!" archie continued to toy absently with pongo.he was wondering now how best to break this sad occurrence to lucille. it would be a disappointmentfor the poor girl. "give me that figure!" archie started violently. there was an instantin which pongo seemed to hang suspended, like mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth,then the force of gravity asserted itself.
pongo fell with a sharp crack and disintegrated.and as it did so there was a knock at the door, and in walked a dark, furtive person,who to the inflamed vision of mr. daniel brewster looked like something connected with the executivestaff of the black hand. with all time at his disposal, the unfortunate salvatore hadselected this moment for stating his case. "get out!" bellowed mr. brewster. "i didn'tring for a waiter." archie, his mind reeling beneath the catastrophe,recovered himself sufficiently to do the honours. it was at his instigation that salvatore wasthere, and, greatly as he wished that he could have seen fit to choose a more auspiciousmoment for his business chat, he felt compelled to do his best to see him through.
"oh, i say, half a second," he said. "youdon't quite understand. as a matter of fact, this chappie is by way of being downtroddenand oppressed and what not, and i suggested that he should get hold of you and speak afew well-chosen words. of course, if you'd rather—some other time—" but mr. brewster was not permitted to postponethe interview. before he could get his breath, salvatore had begun to talk. he was a strong,ambidextrous talker, whom it was hard to interrupt; and it was not for some moments that mr. brewstersucceeded in getting a word in. when he did, he spoke to the point. though not a linguist,he had been able to follow the discourse closely enough to realise that the waiter was dissatisfiedwith conditions in his hotel; and mr. brewster,
as has been indicated, had a short way withpeople who criticised the cosmopolis. "you're fired!" said mr. brewster. "oh, i say!" protested archie. salvatore muttered what sounded like a passagefrom dante. "fired!" repeated mr. brewster resolutely."and i wish to heaven," he added, eyeing his son-in-law malignantly, "i could fire you!" "well," said professor binstead cheerfully,breaking the grim silence which followed this outburst, "if you will give me your cheque,brewster, i think i will be going. two thousand three hundred dollars. make it open, if youwill, and then i can run round the corner
and cash it before lunch. that will be capital!" chapter xii. bright eyes—and a fly the hermitage (unrivalled scenery, superbcuisine, daniel brewster, proprietor) was a picturesque summer hotel in the green heartof the mountains, built by archie's father-in-law shortly after he assumed control of the cosmopolis.mr. brewster himself seldom went there, preferring to concentrate his attention on his new yorkestablishment; and archie and lucille, breakfasting in the airy dining-room some ten days afterthe incidents recorded in the last chapter, had consequently to be content with two outof the three advertised attractions of the place. through the window at their side quitea slab of the unrivalled scenery was visible;
some of the superb cuisine was already onthe table; and the fact that the eye searched in vain for daniel brewster, proprietor, filledarchie, at any rate, with no sense of aching loss. he bore it with equanimity and evenwith positive enthusiasm. in archie's opinion, practically all a place needed to make itan earthly paradise was for mr. daniel brewster to be about forty-seven miles away from it. it was at lucille's suggestion that they hadcome to the hermitage. never a human sunbeam, mr. brewster had shown such a bleak frontto the world, and particularly to his son-in-law, in the days following the pongo incident,that lucille had thought that he and archie would for a time at least be better apart—aview with which her husband cordially agreed.
he had enjoyed his stay at the hermitage,and now he regarded the eternal hills with the comfortable affection of a healthy manwho is breakfasting well. "it's going to be another perfectly toppingday," he observed, eyeing the shimmering landscape, from which the morning mists were swiftlyshredding away like faint puffs of smoke. "just the day you ought to have been here." "yes, it's too bad i've got to go. new yorkwill be like an oven." "put it off." "i can't, i'm afraid. i've a fitting." archie argued no further. he was a marriedman of old enough standing to know the importance
of fittings. "besides," said lucille, "i want to see father."archie repressed an exclamation of astonishment. "i'll be back to-morrow evening. you willbe perfectly happy." "queen of my soul, you know i can't be happywith you away. you know—" "yes?" murmured lucille, appreciatively. shenever tired of hearing archie say this sort of thing. archie's voice had trailed off. he was lookingacross the room. "by jove!" he exclaimed. "what an awfullypretty woman!" "where?"
"over there. just coming in, i say, what wonderfuleyes! i don't think i ever saw such eyes. did you notice her eyes? sort of flashing!awfully pretty woman!" warm though the morning was, a suspicion ofchill descended upon the breakfast-table. a certain coldness seemed to come into lucille'sface. she could not always share archie's fresh young enthusiasms. "do you think so?" "wonderful figure, too!" "yes?" "well, what i mean to say, fair to medium,"said archie, recovering a certain amount of
that intelligence which raises man above thelevel of the beasts of the field. "not the sort of type i admire myself, of course." "you know her, don't you?" "absolutely not and far from it," said archie,hastily. "never met her in my life." "you've seen her on the stage. her name'svera silverton. we saw her in—" "of course, yes. so we did. i say, i wonderwhat she's doing here? she ought to be in new york, rehearsing. i remember meeting what's-his-name—youknow—chappie who writes plays and what not—george benham—i remember meeting george benham,and he told me she was rehearsing in a piece of his called—i forget the name, but i knowit was called something or other. well, why
isn't she?" "she probably lost her temper and broke hercontract and came away. she's always doing that sort of thing. she's known for it. shemust be a horrid woman." "i don't want to talk about her. she usedto be married to someone, and she divorced him. and then she was married to someone else,and he divorced her. and i'm certain her hair wasn't that colour two years ago, and i don'tthink a woman ought to make up like that, and her dress is all wrong for the country,and those pearls can't be genuine, and i hate the way she rolls her eyes about, and pinkdoesn't suit her a bit. i think she's an awful woman, and i wish you wouldn't keep on talkingabout her."
"right-o!" said archie, dutifully. they finished breakfast, and lucille wentup to pack her bag. archie strolled out on to the terrace outside the hotel, where hesmoked, communed with nature, and thought of lucille. he always thought of lucille whenhe was alone, especially when he chanced to find himself in poetic surroundings like thoseprovided by the unrivalled scenery encircling the hotel hermitage. the longer he was marriedto her the more did the sacred institution seem to him a good egg. mr. brewster mightregard their marriage as one of the world's most unfortunate incidents, but to archieit was, and always had been, a bit of all right. the more he thought of it the moredid he marvel that a girl like lucille should
have been content to link her lot with thatof a class c specimen like himself. his meditations were, in fact, precisely what a happily-marriedman's meditations ought to be. he was roused from them by a species of exclamationor cry almost at his elbow, and turned to find that the spectacular miss silverton wasstanding beside him. her dubious hair gleamed in the sunlight, and one of the criticisedeyes was screwed up. the other gazed at archie with an expression of appeal. "there's something in my eye," she said. "no, really!" "i wonder if you would mind? it would be sokind of you!"
archie would have preferred to remove himself,but no man worthy of the name can decline to come to the rescue of womanhood in distress.to twist the lady's upper lid back and peer into it and jab at it with the corner of hishandkerchief was the only course open to him. his conduct may be classed as not merely blamelessbut definitely praiseworthy. king arthur's knights used to do this sort of thing allthe time, and look what people think of them. lucille, therefore, coming out of the hoteljust as the operation was concluded, ought not to have felt the annoyance she did. but,of course, there is a certain superficial intimacy about the attitude of a man who istaking a fly out of a woman's eye which may excusably jar upon the sensibilities of hiswife. it is an attitude which suggests a sort
of rapprochement or camaraderie or, as archiewould have put it, what not. "thanks so much!" said miss silverton. "oh no, rather not," said archie. "such a nuisance getting things in your eye." "absolutely!" "i'm always doing it!" "rotten luck!" "but i don't often find anyone as clever asyou to help me." lucille felt called upon to break in on thisfeast of reason and flow of soul.
"archie," she said, "if you go and get yourclubs now, i shall just have time to walk round with you before my train goes." "oh, ah!" said archie, perceiving her forthe first time. "oh, ah, yes, right-o, yes, yes, yes!" on the way to the first tee it seemed to archiethat lucille was distrait and abstracted in her manner; and it occurred to him, not forthe first time in his life, what a poor support a clear conscience is in moments of crisis.dash it all, he didn't see what else he could have done. couldn't leave the poor femalestaggering about the place with squads of flies wedged in her eyeball. nevertheless—
"rotten thing getting a fly in your eye,"he hazarded at length. "dashed awkward, i mean." "or convenient." "eh?" "well, it's a very good way of dispensingwith an introduction." "oh, i say! you don't mean you think—" "she's a horrid woman!" "absolutely! can't think what people see inher." "well, you seemed to enjoy fussing over her!"
"no, no! nothing of the kind! she inspiredme with absolute what-d'you-call-it—the sort of thing chappies do get inspired with,you know." "you were beaming all over your face." "i wasn't. i was just screwing up my facebecause the sun was in my eye." "all sorts of things seem to be in people'seyes this morning!" archie was saddened. that this sort of misunderstandingshould have occurred on such a topping day and at a momentwhen they were to be torn asunder for about thirty-six hours made himfeel—well, it gave him the pip. he had an idea that there were wordswhich would have straightened
everything out, but he was not an eloquentyoung man and could not find them. he felt aggrieved. lucille, he considered,ought to have known that he was immune as regarded femaleswith flashing eyes and experimentally-coloured hair. why, dash it,he could have extracted flies from the eyes of cleopatra with onehand and helen of troy with the other, simultaneously, without givingthem a second thought. it was in depressed mood that he played a listlessnine holes; nor had life brightened for him when he came back to thehotel two hours later, after seeing lucille off in the train to new york.never till now had they had
anything remotely resembling a quarrel. life,archie felt, was a bit of a wash-out. he was disturbed and jumpy, andthe sight of miss silverton, talking to somebody on a settee in the cornerof the hotel lobby, sent him shooting off at right angles and broughthim up with a bump against the desk behind which the room-clerk sat. the room-clerk, always of a chatty disposition,was saying something to him, but archie did not listen. he nodded mechanically. it wassomething about his room. he caught the word "satisfactory." "oh, rather, quite!" said archie.
a fussy devil, the room-clerk! he knew perfectlywell that archie found his room satisfactory. these chappies gassed on like this so as totry to make you feel that the management took a personal interest in you. it was part oftheir job. archie beamed absently and went in to lunch. lucille's empty seat stared athim mournfully, increasing his sense of desolation. he was half-way through his lunch, when thechair opposite ceased to be vacant. archie, transferring his gaze from the scenery outsidethe window, perceived that his friend, george benham, the playwright, had materialised fromnowhere and was now in his midst. "hallo!" he said. george benham was a grave young man whosespectacles gave him the look of a mournful
owl. he seemed to have something on his mindbesides the artistically straggling mop of black hair which swept down over his brow.he sighed wearily, and ordered fish-pie. "i thought i saw you come through the lobbyjust now," he said. "oh, was that you on the settee, talking tomiss silverton?" "she was talking to me," said the playwright,moodily. "what are you doing here?" asked archie. hecould have wished mr. benham elsewhere, for he intruded on his gloom, but, the chappiebeing amongst those present, it was only civil to talk to him. "i thought you were in newyork, watching the rehearsals of your jolly old drama."
"the rehearsals are hung up. and it looksas though there wasn't going to be any drama. good lord!" cried george benham, with honestwarmth, "with opportunities opening out before one on every side—with life extending prizesto one with both hands—when you see coal-heavers making fifty dollars a week and the fellowswho clean out the sewers going happy and singing about their work—why does a man deliberatelychoose a job like writing plays? job was the only man that ever lived who was really qualifiedto write a play, and he would have found it pretty tough going if his leading woman hadbeen anyone like vera silverton!" archie—and it was this fact, no doubt, whichaccounted for his possession of such a large and varied circle of friends—was alwaysable to shelve his own troubles in order to
listen to other people's hard-luck stories. "tell me all, laddie," he said. "release thefilm! has she walked out on you?" "left us flat! how did you hear about it?oh, she told you, of course?" archie hastened to try to dispel the ideathat he was on any such terms of intimacy with miss silverton. "no, no! my wife said she thought it mustbe something of that nature or order when we saw her come in to breakfast. i mean tosay," said archie, reasoning closely, "woman can't come into breakfast here and be rehearsingin new york at the same time. why did she administer the raspberry, old friend?"
mr. benham helped himself to fish-pie, andspoke dully through the steam. "well, what happened was this. knowing heras intimately as you do—" "i don't know her!" "well, anyway, it was like this. as you know,she has a dog—" "i didn't know she had a dog," protested archie.it seemed to him that the world was in conspiracy to link him with this woman. "well, she has a dog. a beastly great whackingbrute of a bulldog. and she brings it to rehearsal." mr. benham's eyes filled with tears, as inhis emotion he swallowed a mouthful of fish-pie some eighty-three degrees fahrenheit hotterthan it looked. in the intermission caused
by this disaster his agile mind skipped afew chapters of the story, and, when he was able to speak again, he said, "so then therewas a lot of trouble. everything broke loose!" "why?" archie was puzzled. "did the managementobject to her bringing the dog to rehearsal?" "a lot of good that would have done! she doeswhat she likes in the theatre." "then why was there trouble?" "you weren't listening," said mr. benham,reproachfully. "i told you. this dog came snuffling up to where i was sitting—it wasquite dark in the body of the theatre, you know—and i got up to say something aboutsomething that was happening on the stage, and somehow i must have given it a push withmy foot."
"i see," said archie, beginning to get therun of the plot. "you kicked her dog." "pushed it. accidentally. with my foot." "i understand. and when you brought off thiskick—" "push," said mr. benham, austerely. "this kick or push. when you administeredthis kick or push—" "it was more a sort of light shove." "well, when you did whatever you did, thetrouble started?" mr. benham gave a slight shiver. "she talked for a while, and then walked out,taking the dog with her. you see, this wasn't
the first time it had happened." "good lord! do you spend your whole time doingthat sort of thing?" "it wasn't me the first time. it was the stage-manager.he didn't know whose dog it was, and it came waddling on to the stage, and he gave it asort of pat, a kind of flick—" "a slosh?" "not a slosh," corrected mr. benham, firmly."you might call it a tap—with the promptscript. well, we had a lot of difficulty smoothingher over that time. still, we managed to do it, but she said that if anything of the sortoccurred again she would chuck up her part." "she must be fond of the dog," said archie,for the first time feeling a touch of goodwill
and sympathy towards the lady. "she's crazy about, it. that's what made itso awkward when i happened—quite inadvertently—to give it this sort of accidental shove. well,we spent the rest of the day trying to get her on the 'phone at her apartment, and finallywe heard that she had come here. so i took the next train, and tried to persuade herto come back. she wouldn't listen. and that's how matters stand." "pretty rotten!" said archie, sympathetically. "you can bet it's pretty rotten—for me.there's nobody else who can play the part. like a chump, i wrote the thing speciallyfor her. it means the play won't be produced
at all, if she doesn't do it. so you're mylast hope!" archie, who was lighting a cigarette, nearlyswallowed it. "i am?" "i thought you might persuade her. point outto her what a lot hangs on her coming back. jolly her along, you know the sort of thing!" "but, my dear old friend, i tell you i don'tknow her!" mr. benham's eyes opened behind their zarebaof glass. "well, she knows you. when you came throughthe lobby just now she said that you were the only real human being she had ever met."
"well, as a matter of fact, i did take a flyout of her eye. but—" "you did? well, then, the whole thing's simple.all you have to do is to ask her how her eye is, and tell her she has the most beautifuleyes you ever saw, and coo a bit." "but, my dear old son!" the frightful programmewhich his friend had mapped out stunned archie. "i simply can't! anything to oblige and allthat sort of thing, but when it comes to cooing, distinctly napoo!" "nonsense! it isn't hard to coo." "you don't understand, laddie. you're nota married man. i mean to say, whatever you say for or against marriage—personally i'mall for it and consider it a ripe egg—the
fact remains that it practically makes a chappiea spent force as a cooer. i don't want to dish you in any way, old bean, but i mustfirmly and resolutely decline to coo." mr. benham rose and looked at his watch. "i'll have to be moving," he said. "i've gotto get back to new york and report. i'll tell them that i haven't been able to do anythingmyself, but that i've left the matter in good hands. i know you will do your best." "but, laddie!" "think," said mr. benham, solemnly, "of allthat depends on it! the other actors! the small-part people thrown out of a job! myself—butno! perhaps you had better touch very lightly
or not at all on my connection with the thing.well, you know how to handle it. i feel i can leave it to you. pitch it strong! good-bye,my dear old man, and a thousand thanks. i'll do the same for you another time." he movedtowards the door, leaving archie transfixed. half-way there he turned and came back. "oh,by the way," he said, "my lunch. have it put on your bill, will you? i haven't time tostay and settle. good-bye! good-bye!" chapter xiii. rallying round percy it amazed archie through the whole of a longafternoon to reflect how swiftly and unexpectedly the blue and brilliant sky of life can cloudover and with what abruptness a man who fancies that his feet are on solid ground can findhimself immersed in fate's gumbo. he recalled,
with the bitterness with which one does recallsuch things, that that morning he had risen from his bed without a care in the world,his happiness unruffled even by the thought that lucille would be leaving him for a shortspace. he had sung in his bath. yes, he had chirruped like a bally linnet. and now— some men would have dismissed the unfortunateaffairs of mr. george benham from their mind as having nothing to do with themselves, butarchie had never been made of this stern stuff. the fact that mr. benham, apart from beingan agreeable companion with whom he had lunched occasionally in new york, had no claims uponhim affected him little. he hated to see his fellowman in trouble. on the other hand, whatcould he do? to seek miss silverton out and
plead with her—even if he did it withoutcooing—would undoubtedly establish an intimacy between them which, instinct told him, mighttinge her manner after lucille's return with just that suggestion of auld lang syne whichmakes things so awkward. his whole being shrank from extending to misssilverton that inch which the female artistic temperament is so apt to turn into an ell;and when, just as he was about to go in to dinner, he met her in the lobby and she smiledbrightly at him and informed him that her eye was now completely recovered, he shiedaway like a startled mustang of the prairie, and, abandoning his intention of worryingthe table d'hote in the same room with the amiable creature, tottered off to the smoking-room,where he did the best he could with sandwiches
and coffee. having got through the time as best he couldtill eleven o'clock, he went up to bed. the room to which he and lucille had beenassigned by the management was on the second floor, pleasantly sunny by day and at nightfilled with cool and heartening fragrance of the pines. hitherto archie had always enjoyedtaking a final smoke on the balcony overlooking the woods, but, to-night such was his mentalstress that he prepared to go to bed directly he had closed the door. he turned to the cupboardto get his pyjamas. his first thought, when even after a secondscrutiny no pyjamas were visible, was that this was merely another of those things whichhappen on days when life goes wrong. he raked
the cupboard for a third time with an annoyedeye. from every hook hung various garments of lucille's, but no pyjamas. he was breathinga soft malediction preparatory to embarking on a point-to-point hunt for his missing property,when something in the cupboard caught his eye and held him for a moment puzzled. he could have sworn that lucille did not possessa mauve neglige. why, she had told him a dozen times that mauve was a colour which she didnot like. he frowned perplexedly; and as he did so, from near the window came a soft cough. archie spun round and subjected the room toas close a scrutiny as that which he had bestowed upon the cupboard. nothing was visible. thewindow opening on to the balcony gaped wide.
the balcony was manifestly empty. "urrf!" this time there was no possibility of error.the cough had come from the immediate neighbourhood of the window. archie was conscious of a pringly sensationabout the roots of his closely-cropped back-hair, as he moved cautiously across the room. theaffair was becoming uncanny; and, as he tip-toed towards the window, old ghost stories, readin lighter moments before cheerful fires with plenty of light in the room, flitted throughhis mind. he had the feeling—precisely as every chappie in those stories had had—thathe was not alone.
nor was he. in a basket behind an arm-chair,curled up, with his massive chin resting on the edge of the wicker-work, lay a fine bulldog. "urrf!" said the bulldog. there was a lengthy pause in which the bulldoglooked earnestly at archie and archie looked earnestly at the bulldog. normally, archie was a dog-lover. his hurrywas never so great as to prevent him stopping, when in the street, and introducing himselfto any dog he met. in a strange house, his first act was to assemble the canine population,roll it on its back or backs, and punch it in the ribs. as a boy, his earliest ambitionhad been to become a veterinary surgeon; and,
though the years had cheated him of his career,he knew all about dogs, their points, their manners, their customs, and their treatmentin sickness and in health. in short, he loved dogs, and, had they met under happier conditions,he would undoubtedly have been on excellent terms with this one within the space of aminute. but, as things were, he abstained from fraternising and continued to goggledumbly. and then his eye, wandering aside, collidedwith the following objects: a fluffy pink dressing-gown, hung over the back of a chair,an entirely strange suit-case, and, on the bureau, a photograph in a silver frame ofa stout gentleman in evening-dress whom he had never seen before in his life.
much has been written of the emotions of thewanderer who, returning to his childhood home, finds it altered out of all recognition; butpoets have neglected the theme—far more poignant—of the man who goes up to his roomin an hotel and finds it full of somebody else's dressing-gowns and bulldogs. bulldogs! archie's heart jumped sideways andupwards with a wiggling movement, turning two somersaults, and stopped beating. thehideous truth, working its way slowly through the concrete, had at last penetrated to hisbrain. he was not only in somebody else's room, and a woman's at that. he was in theroom belonging to miss vera silverton. he could not understand it. he would havebeen prepared to stake the last cent he could
borrow from his father-in-law on the factthat he had made no error in the number over the door. yet, nevertheless, such was thecase, and, below par though his faculties were at the moment, he was sufficiently alertto perceive that it behoved him to withdraw. he leaped to the door, and, as he did so,the handle began to turn. the cloud which had settled on archie's mindlifted abruptly. for an instant he was enabled to think about a hundred times more quicklythan was his leisurely wont. good fortune had brought him to within easy reach of theelectric-light switch. he snapped it back, and was in darkness. then, diving silentlyand swiftly to the floor, he wriggled under the bed. the thud of his head against whatappeared to be some sort of joist or support,
unless it had been placed there by the makeras a practical joke, on the chance of this kind of thing happening some day, coincidedwith the creak of the opening door. then the light was switched on again, and the bulldogin the corner gave a welcoming woofle. "and how is mamma's precious angel?" rightly concluding that the remark had notbeen addressed to himself and that no social obligation demanded that he reply, archiepressed his cheek against the boards and said nothing. the question was not repeated, butfrom the other side of the room came the sound of a patted dog. "did he think his muzzer had fallen down deadand was never coming up?"
the beautiful picture which these words conjuredup filled archie with that yearning for the might-have-been which is always so painful.he was finding his position physically as well as mentally distressing. it was crampedunder the bed, and the boards were harder than anything he had ever encountered. also,it appeared to be the practice of the housemaids at the hotel hermitage to use the space belowthe beds as a depository for all the dust which they swept off the carpet, and muchof this was insinuating itself into his nose and mouth. the two things which archie wouldhave liked most to do at that moment were first to kill miss silverton—if possible,painfully—and then to spend the remainder of his life sneezing.
after a prolonged period he heard a draweropen, and noted the fact as promising. as the old married man, he presumed that it signifiedthe putting away of hair-pins. about now the dashed woman would be looking at herself inthe glass with her hair down. then she would brush it. then she would twiddle it up intothingummies. say, ten minutes for this. and after that she would go to bed and turn outthe light, and he would be able, after giving her a bit of time to go to sleep, to creepout and leg it. allowing at a conservative estimate three-quarters of— "come out!" archie stiffened. for an instant a feeblehope came to him that this remark, like the
others, might be addressed to the dog. "come out from under that bed!" said a sternvoice. "and mind how you come! i've got a pistol!" "well, i mean to say, you know," said archie,in a propitiatory voice, emerging from his lair like a tortoise and smiling as winninglyas a man can who has just bumped his head against the leg of a bed, "i suppose all thisseems fairly rummy, but—" "for the love of mike!" said miss silverton. the point seemed to archie well taken andthe comment on the situation neatly expressed. "what are you doing in my room?"
"well, if it comes to that, you know—shouldn'thave mentioned it if you hadn't brought the subject up in the course of general chit-chat—whatare you doing in mine?" "yours?" "well, apparently there's been a bloomer ofsome species somewhere, but this was the room i had last night," said archie. "but the desk-clerk said that he had askedyou if it would be quite satisfactory to you giving it up to me, and you said yes. i comehere every summer, when i'm not working, and i always have this room." "by jove! i remember now. the chappie didsay something to me about the room, but i
was thinking of something else and it ratherwent over the top. so that's what he was talking about, was it?" miss silverton was frowning. a moving-picturedirector, scanning her face, would have perceived that she was registering disappointment. "nothing breaks right for me in this darnedworld," she said, regretfully. "when i caught sight of your leg sticking out from underthe bed, i did think that everything was all lined up for a real find and, at last, i couldclose my eyes and see the thing in the papers. on the front page, with photographs: 'pluckyactress captures burglar.' darn it!" "fearfully sorry, you know!"
"i just needed something like that. i've gota press-agent, and i will say for him that he eats well and sleeps well and has justenough intelligence to cash his monthly cheque without forgetting what he went into the bankfor, but outside of that you can take it from me he's not one of the world's workers! he'sabout as much solid use to a girl with aspirations as a pain in the lower ribs. it's three weekssince he got me into print at all, and then the brightest thing he could think up wasthat my favourite breakfast-fruit was an apple. well, i ask you!" "rotten!" said archie. "i did think that for once my guardian angelhad gone back to work and was doing something
for me. 'stage star and midnight marauder,'"murmured miss silverton, wistfully. "'footlight favourite foils felon.'" "bit thick!" agreed archie, sympathetically."well, you'll probably be wanting to get to bed and all that sort of rot, so i may aswell be popping, what! cheerio!" a sudden gleam came into miss silverton'scompelling eyes. "wait!" "wait! i've got an idea!" the wistful sadnesshad gone from her manner. she was bright and alert. "sit down!" "sit down?"
"sure. sit down and take the chill off thearm-chair. i've thought of something." archie sat down as directed. at his elbowthe bulldog eyed him gravely from the basket. "do they know you in this hotel?" "know me? well, i've been here about a week." "i mean, do they know who you are? do theyknow you're a good citizen?" "well, if it comes to that, i suppose theydon't. but—" "fine!" said miss silverton, appreciatively."then it's all right. we can carry on!" "carry on!" "why, sure! all i want is to get the thinginto the papers. it doesn't matter to me if
it turns out later that there was a mistakeand that you weren't a burglar trying for my jewels after all. it makes just as gooda story either way. i can't think why that never struck me before. here have i been kickingbecause you weren't a real burglar, when it doesn't amount to a hill of beans whetheryou are or not. all i've got to do is to rush out and yell and rouse the hotel, and theycome in and pinch you, and i give the story to the papers, and everything's fine!" archie leaped from his chair. "i say! what!" "what's on your mind?" enquired miss silverton,considerately. "don't you think it's a nifty
scheme?" "nifty! my dear old soul! it's frightful!" "can't see what's wrong with it," grumbledmiss silverton. "after i've had someone get new york on the long-distance 'phone and givethe story to the papers you can explain, and they'll let you out. surely to goodness youdon't object, as a personal favour to me, to spending an hour or two in a cell? why,probably they haven't got a prison at all out in these parts, and you'll simply be lockedin a room. a child of ten could do it on his head," said miss silverton. "a child of six,"she emended. "but, dash it—i mean—what i mean to say—i'mmarried!"
"yes?" said miss silverton, with the politenessof faint interest. "i've been married myself. i wouldn't say it's altogether a bad thing,mind you, for those that like it, but a little of it goes a long way. my first husband,"she proceeded, reminiscently, "was a travelling man. i gave him a two-weeks' try-out, andthen i told him to go on travelling. my second husband—now, he wasn't a gentleman in anysense of the word. i remember once—" "you don't grasp the point. the jolly oldpoint! you fail to grasp it. if this bally thing comes out, my wife will be most frightfullysick!" miss silverton regarded him with pained surprise. "do you mean to say you would let a littlething like that stand in the way of my getting
on the front page of all the papers—withphotographs? where's your chivalry?" "never mind my dashed chivalry!" "besides, what does it matter if she doesget a little sore? she'll soon get over it. you can put that right. buy her a box of candy.not that i'm strong for candy myself. what i always say is, it may taste good, but lookwhat it does to your hips! i give you my honest word that, when i gave up eating candy, ilost eleven ounces the first week. my second husband—no, i'm a liar, it was my third—mythird husband said—say, what's the big idea? where are you going?" "out!" said archie, firmly. "bally out!"
a dangerous light flickered in miss silverton'seyes. "that'll be all of that!" she said, raisingthe pistol. "you stay right where you are, or i'll fire!" "right-o!" "i mean it!" "my dear old soul," said archie, "in the recentunpleasantness in france i had chappies popping off things like that at me all day and everyday for close on five years, and here i am, what! i mean to say, if i've got to choosebetween staying here and being pinched in your room by the local constabulary and havingthe dashed thing get into the papers and all
sorts of trouble happening, and my wife gettingthe wind up and—i say, if i've got to choose—" "suck a lozenge and start again!" said misssilverton. "well, what i mean to say is, i'd much rathertake a chance of getting a bullet in the old bean than that. so loose it off and the besto' luck!" miss silverton lowered the pistol, sank intoa chair, and burst into tears. "i think you're the meanest man i ever met!"she sobbed. "you know perfectly well the bang would send me into a fit!" "in that case," said archie, relieved, "cheerio,good luck, pip-pip, toodle-oo, and good-bye-ee! i'll be shifting!"
"yes, you will!" cried miss silverton, energetically,recovering with amazing swiftness from her collapse. "yes, you will, i by no means suppose!you think, just because i'm no champion with a pistol, i'm helpless. you wait! percy!" "my name is not percy." "i never said it was. percy! percy, come tomuzzer!" there was a creaking rustle from behind thearm-chair. a heavy body flopped on the carpet. out into the room, heaving himself along asthough sleep had stiffened his joints, and breathing stertorously through his tiltednose, moved the fine bulldog. seen in the open, he looked even more formidable thanhe had done in his basket.
"guard him, percy! good dog, guard him! oh,heavens! what's the matter with him?" and with these words the emotional woman,uttering a wail of anguish, flung herself on the floor beside the animal. percy was, indeed, in manifestly bad shape.he seemed quite unable to drag his limbs across the room. there was a curious arch in hisback, and, as his mistress touched him, he cried out plaintively, "percy! oh, what is the matter with him? hisnose is burning!" now was the time, with both sections of theenemy's forces occupied, for archie to have departed softly from the room. but never,since the day when at the age of eleven he
had carried a large, damp, and muddy terrierwith a sore foot three miles and deposited him on the best sofa in his mother's drawing-room,had he been able to ignore the spectacle of a dog in trouble. "he does look bad, what!" "he's dying! oh, he's dying! is it distemper?he's never had distemper." archie regarded the sufferer with the graveeye of the expert. he shook his head. "it's not that," he said. "dogs with distempermake a sort of snifting noise." "but he is making a snifting noise!" "no, he's making a snuffling noise. greatdifference between snuffling and snifting.
not the same thing at all. i mean to say,when they snift they snift, and when they snuffle they—as it were—snuffle. that'show you can tell. if you ask me"—he passed his hand over the dog's back. percy utteredanother cry. "i know what's the matter with him." "a brute of a man kicked him at rehearsal.do you think he's injured internally?" "it's rheumatism," said archie. "jolly oldrheumatism. that's all that's the trouble." "are you sure?" "but what can i do?" "give him a good hot bath, and mind and dryhim well. he'll have a good sleep then, and
won't have any pain. then, first thing to-morrow,you want to give him salicylate of soda." "i'll never remember that."-"i'll write itdown for you. you ought to give him from ten to twenty grains three times a day in an ounceof water. and rub him with any good embrocation." "and he won't die?" "die! he'll live to be as old as you are!-imean to say—" "i could kiss you!" said miss silverton, emotionally. archie backed hastily. "no, no, absolutely not! nothing like thatrequired, really!" "you're a darling!"
"yes. i mean no. no, no, really!" "i don't know what to say. what can i say?" "good night," said archie. "i wish there was something i could do! ifyou hadn't been here, i should have gone off my head!" a great idea flashed across archie's brain. "do you really want to do something?" "anything!" "then i do wish, like a dear sweet soul, youwould pop straight back to new york to-morrow
and go on with those rehearsals." miss silverton shook her head. "i can't do that!" "oh, right-o! but it isn't much to ask, what!" "not much to ask! i'll never forgive thatman for kicking percy!" "now listen, dear old soul. you've got thestory all wrong. as a matter of fact, jolly old benham told me himself that he has thegreatest esteem and respect for percy, and wouldn't have kicked him for the world. and,you know it was more a sort of push than a kick. you might almost call it a light shove.the fact is, it was beastly dark in the theatre,
and he was legging it sideways for some reasonor other, no doubt with the best motives, and unfortunately he happened to stub histoe on the poor old bean." "then why didn't he say so?" "as far as i could make out, you didn't givehim a chance." miss silverton wavered. "i always hate going back after i've walkedout on a show," she said. "it seems so weak!" "not a bit of it! they'll give three heartycheers and think you a topper. besides, you've got to go to new york in any case. to takepercy to a vet., you know, what!" "of course. how right you always are!" misssilverton hesitated again. "would you really
be glad if i went back to the show?" "i'd go singing about the hotel! great palof mine, benham. a thoroughly cheery old bean, and very cut up about the whole affair. besides,think of all the coves thrown out of work—the thingummabobs and the poor what-d'you-call-'ems!" "very well." "you'll do it?" "i say, you really are one of the best! absolutelylike mother made! that's fine! well, i think i'll be saying good night." "good night. and thank you so much!"
"oh, no, rather not!" archie moved to the door. "oh, by the way." "if i were you, i think i should catch thevery first train you can get to new york. you see—er—you ought to take percy tothe vet. as soon as ever you can." "you really do think of everything," saidmiss silverton. "yes," said archie, meditatively. chapter xiv. the sad case of looney biddle archie was a simple soul, and, as is the casewith most simple souls, gratitude came easily
to him. he appreciated kind treatment. andwhen, on the following day, lucille returned to the hermitage, all smiles and affection,and made no further reference to beauty's eyes and the flies that got into them, hewas conscious of a keen desire to show some solid recognition of this magnanimity. fewwives, he was aware, could have had the nobility and what not to refrain from occasionallyturning the conversation in the direction of the above-mentioned topics. it had notneeded this behaviour on her part to convince him that lucille was a topper and a corkerand one of the very best, for he had been cognisant of these facts since the first momenthe had met her: but what he did feel was that she deserved to be rewarded in no uncertainmanner. and it seemed a happy coincidence
to him that her birthday should be comingalong in the next week or so. surely, felt archie, he could whack up some sort of a notunjuicy gift for that occasion—something pretty ripe that would make a substantialhit with the dear girl. surely something would come along to relieve his chronic impecuniosityfor just sufficient length of time to enable him to spread himself on this great occasion. and, as if in direct answer to prayer, analmost forgotten aunt in england suddenly, out of an absolutely blue sky, shot no lessa sum than five hundred dollars across the ocean. the present was so lavish and unexpectedthat archie had the awed feeling of one who participates in a miracle. he felt, like herbertparker, that the righteous was not forsaken.
it was the sort of thing that restored a fellow'sfaith in human nature. for nearly a week he went about in a happy trance: and when, bythrift and enterprise—that is to say, by betting reggie van tuyl that the new yorkgiants would win the opening game of the series against the pittsburg baseball team—he contrivedto double his capital, what it amounted to was simply that life had nothing more to offer.he was actually in a position to go to a thousand dollars for lucille's birthday present. hegathered in mr. van tuyl, of whose taste in these matters he had a high opinion, and draggedhim off to a jeweller's on broadway. the jeweller, a stout, comfortable man, leanedon the counter and fingered lovingly the bracelet which he had lifted out of its nest of blueplush. archie, leaning on the other side of
the counter, inspected the bracelet searchingly,wishing that he knew more about these things; for he had rather a sort of idea that themerchant was scheming to do him in the eyeball. in a chair by his side, reggie van tuyl, halfasleep as usual, yawned despondently. he had permitted archie to lug him into this shop;and he wanted to buy something and go. any form of sustained concentration fatigued reggie. "now this," said the jeweller, "i could doat eight hundred and fifty dollars." "grab it!" murmured mr. van tuyl. the jeweller eyed him approvingly, a man afterhis own heart; but archie looked doubtful. it was all very well for reggie to tell himto grab it in that careless way. reggie was
a dashed millionaire, and no doubt boughtbracelets by the pound or the gross or what not; but he himself was in an entirely differentposition. "eight hundred and fifty dollars!" he said,hesitating. "worth it," mumbled reggie van tuyl. "more than worth it," amended the jeweller."i can assure you that it is better value than you could get anywhere on fifth avenue." "yes?" said archie. he took the bracelet andtwiddled it thoughtfully. "well, my dear old jeweller, one can't say fairer than that,can one—or two, as the case may be!" he frowned. "oh, well, all right! but it's rummythat women are so fearfully keen on these
little thingummies, isn't it? i mean to say,can't see what they see in them. stones, and all that. still, there, it is, of course!" "there," said the jeweller, "as you say, itis, sir." "yes, there it is!" "yes, there it is," said the jeweller, "fortunatelyfor people in my line of business. will you take it with you, sir?" "no. no, not take it with me. the fact is,you know, my wife's coming back from the country to-night, and it's her birthday to-morrow,and the thing's for her, and, if it was popping about the place to-night, she might see it,and it would sort of spoil the surprise. i
mean to say, she doesn't know i'm giving ither, and all that!" "besides," said reggie, achieving a certainanimation now that the tedious business interview was concluded, "going to the ball-game thisafternoon—might get pocket picked—yes, better have it sent." "where shall i send it, sir?" "eh? oh, shoot it along to mrs. archibaldmoffam, at the cosmopolis. not to-day, you know. buzz it in first thing to-morrow." having completed the satisfactory deal, thejeweller threw off the business manner and became chatty.
"so you are going to the ball-game? it shouldbe an interesting contest." reggie van tuyl, now—by his own standards—completelyawake, took exception to this remark. "not a bit of it!" he said, decidedly. "nocontest! can't call it a contest! walkover for the pirates!" archie was stung to the quick. there is thatabout baseball which arouses enthusiasm and the partisan spirit in the unlikeliest bosoms.it is almost impossible for a man to live in america and not become gripped by the game;and archie had long been one of its warmest adherents. he was a whole-hearted supporterof the giants, and his only grievance against reggie, in other respects an estimable youngman, was that the latter, whose money had
been inherited from steel-mills in that city,had an absurd regard for the pirates of pittsburg. "what absolute bally rot!" he exclaimed. "lookwhat the giants did to them yesterday!" "yesterday isn't to-day," said reggie. "no, it'll be a jolly sight worse," said archie."looney biddle'll be pitching for the giants to-day." "that's just what i mean. the pirates havegot him rattled. look what happened last time." archie understood, and his generous naturechafed at the innuendo. looney biddle—so-called by an affectionately admiring public as theresult of certain marked eccentricities—was beyond dispute the greatest left-handed pitchernew york had possessed in the last decade.
but there was one blot on mr. biddle's otherwisestainless scutcheon. five weeks before, on the occasion of the giants' invasion of pittsburg,he had gone mysteriously to pieces. few native-born partisans, brought up to baseball from thecradle, had been plunged into a profounder gloom on that occasion than archie; but hissoul revolted at the thought that that sort of thing could ever happen again. "i'm not saying," continued reggie, "thatbiddle isn't a very fair pitcher, but it's cruel to send him against the pirates, andsomebody ought to stop it. his best friends should interfere. once a team gets a pitcherrattled, he's never any good against them again. he loses his nerve."
the jeweller nodded approval of this sentiment. "they never come back," he said, sententiously. the fighting blood of the moffams was nowthoroughly stirred. archie eyed his friend sternly. reggie was a good chap—in manyrespects an extremely sound egg—but he must not be allowed to talk rot of this descriptionabout the greatest left-handed pitcher of the age. "it seems to me, old companion," he said,"that a small bet is indicated at this juncture. how about it?" "don't want to take your money."
"you won't have to! in the cool twilight ofthe merry old summer evening i, friend of my youth and companion of my riper years,shall be trousering yours." reggie yawned. the day was very hot, and thisargument was making him feel sleepy again. "well, just as you like, of course. doubleor quits on yesterday's bet, if that suits you." for a moment archie hesitated. firm as hisfaith was in mr. biddle's stout left arm, he had not intended to do the thing on quitethis scale. that thousand dollars of his was earmarked for lucille's birthday present,and he doubted whether he ought to risk it. then the thought that the honour of new yorkwas in his hands decided him. besides, the
risk was negligible. betting on looney biddlewas like betting on the probable rise of the sun in the east. the thing began to seem toarchie a rather unusually sound and conservative investment. he remembered that the jeweller,until he drew him firmly but kindly to earth and urged him to curb his exuberance and talkbusiness on a reasonable plane, had started brandishing bracelets that cost about twothousand. there would be time to pop in at the shop this evening after the game and changethe one he had selected for one of those. nothing was too good for lucille on her birthday. "right-o!" he said. "make it so, old friend!" archie walked back to the cosmopolis. no misgivingscame to mar his perfect contentment. he felt
no qualms about separating reggie from anotherthousand dollars. except for a little small change in the possession of the messrs. rockefellerand vincent astor, reggie had all the money in the world and could afford to lose. hehummed a gay air as he entered the lobby and crossed to the cigar-stand to buy a few cigarettesto see him through the afternoon. the girl behind the cigar counter welcomedhim with a bright smile. archie was popular with all the employes of the cosmopolis. "'s a great day, mr. moffam!" "one of the brightest and best," agreed archie."could you dig me out two, or possibly three, cigarettes of the usual description? i shallwant something to smoke at the ball-game."
"you going to the ball-game?" "rather! wouldn't miss it for a fortune." "no?" "absolutely no! not with jolly old biddlepitching." the cigar-stand girl laughed amusedly. "is he pitching this afternoon? say, thatfeller's a nut? d'you know him?" "know him? well, i've seen him pitch and soforth." "i've got a girl friend who's engaged to him!" archie looked at her with positive respect.it would have been more dramatic, of course,
if she had been engaged to the great man herself,but still the mere fact that she had a girl friend in that astounding position gave hera sort of halo. "no, really!" he said. "i say, by jove, really!fancy that!" "yes, she's engaged to him all right. beenengaged close on a coupla months now." "i say! that's frightfully interesting! fearfullyinteresting, really!" "it's funny about that guy," said the cigar-standgirl. "he's a nut! the fellow who said there's plenty of room at the top must have been thinkingof gus biddle's head! he's crazy about m' girl friend, y' know, and, whenever they havea fuss, it seems like he sort of flies right off the handle."
"goes in off the deep end, eh?" "yes, sir! loses what little sense he's got.why, the last time him and m' girl friend got to scrapping was when he was going onto pittsburg to play, about a month ago. he'd been out with her the day he left for there,and he had a grouch or something, and he started making low, sneaky cracks about her unclesigsbee. well, m' girl friend's got a nice disposition, but she c'n get mad, and shejust left him flat and told him all was over. and he went off to pittsburg, and, when hestarted in to pitch the opening game, he just couldn't keep his mind on his job, and lookwhat them assassins done to him! five runs in the first innings! yessir, he's a nut allright!"
archie was deeply concerned. so this was theexplanation of that mysterious disaster, that weird tragedy which had puzzled the sportingpress from coast to coast. "good god! is he often taken like that?" "oh, he's all right when he hasn't had a fusswith m' girl friend," said the cigar-stand girl, indifferently. her interest in baseballwas tepid. women are too often like this—mere butterflies, with no concern for the deeperside of life. "yes, but i say! what i mean to say, you know!are they pretty pally now? the good old dove of peace flapping its little wings fairlybriskly and all that?" "oh, i guess everything's nice and smoothjust now. i seen m' girl friend yesterday,
and gus was taking her to the movies lastnight, so i guess everything's nice and smooth." archie breathed a sigh of relief. "took her to the movies, did he? stout fellow!" "i was at the funniest picture last week,"said the cigar-stand girl. "honest, it was a scream! it was like this—" archie listened politely; then went in toget a bite of lunch. his equanimity, shaken by the discovery of the rift in the peerlessone's armour, was restored. good old biddle had taken the girl to the movies last night.probably he had squeezed her hand a goodish bit in the dark. with what result? why, thefellow would be feeling like one of those
chappies who used to joust for the smilesof females in the middle ages. what he meant to say, presumably the girl would be at thegame this afternoon, whooping him on, and good old biddle would be so full of beansand buck that there would be no holding him. encouraged by these thoughts, archie lunchedwith an untroubled mind. luncheon concluded, he proceeded to the lobby to buy back hishat and stick from the boy brigand with whom he had left them. it was while he was conductingthis financial operation that he observed that at the cigar-stand, which adjoined thecoat-and-hat alcove, his friend behind the counter had become engaged in conversationwith another girl. this was a determined looking young womanin a blue dress and a large hat of a bold
and flowery species, archie happening to attracther attention, she gave him a glance out of a pair of fine brown eyes, then, as if shedid not think much of him, turned to her companion and resumed their conversation—which, beingof an essentially private and intimate nature, she conducted, after the manner of her kind,in a ringing soprano which penetrated into every corner of the lobby. archie, waitingwhile the brigand reluctantly made change for a dollar bill, was privileged to hearevery word. "right from the start i seen he was in a uglymood. you know how he gets, dearie! chewing his upper lip and looking at you as if youwere so much dirt beneath his feet! how was i to know he'd lost fifteen dollars fifty-fiveplaying poker, and anyway, i don't see where
he gets a licence to work off his groucheson me. and i told him so. i said to him, 'gus,' i said, 'if you can't be bright and smilingand cheerful when you take me out, why do you come round at all? was i wrong or right,dearie?" the girl behind the counter heartily endorsedher conduct. "once you let a man think he could use you as a door-mat, where were you?" "what happened then, honey?" "well, after that we went to the movies." archie started convulsively. the change fromhis dollar-bill leaped in his hand. some of it sprang overboard and tinkled across thefloor, with the brigand in pursuit. a monstrous
suspicion had begun, to take root in his mind. "well, we got good seats, but—well, youknow how it is, once things start going wrong. you know that hat of mine, the one with thedaisies and cherries and the feather—i'd taken it off and given it him to hold whenwe went in, and what do you think that fell'r'd done? put it on the floor and crammed it underthe seat, just to save himself the trouble of holding it on his lap! and, when i showedhim i was upset, all he said was that he was a pitcher and not a hatstand!" archie was paralysed. he paid no attentionto the hat-check boy, who was trying to induce him to accept treasure-trove to the amountof forty-five cents. his whole being was concentrated
on this frightful tragedy which had burstupon him like a tidal wave. no possible room for doubt remained. "gus" was the only gusin new york that mattered, and this resolute and injured female before him was the girlfriend, in whose slim hands rested the happiness of new york's baseball followers, the destinyof the unconscious giants, and the fate of his thousand dollars. a strangled croak proceededfrom his parched lips. "well, i didn't say anything at the moment.it just shows how them movies can work on a girl's feelings. it was a bryant washburnfilm, and somehow, whenever i see him on the screen, nothing else seems to matter. i justget that goo-ey feeling, and couldn't start a fight if you asked me to. so we go off tohave a soda, and i said to him, 'that sure
was a lovely film, gus!' and would you believeme, he says straight out that he didn't think it was such a much, and he thought bryantwashburn was a pill! a pill!" the girl friend's penetrating voice shook with emotion. "he never!" exclaimed the shocked cigar-standgirl. "he did, if i die the next moment! i wasn'tmore than half-way through my vanilla and maple, but i got up without a word and lefthim. and i ain't seen a sight of him since. so there you are, dearie! was i right or wrong?" the cigar-stand girl gave unqualified approval.what men like gus biddle needed for the salvation of their souls was an occasional good joltright where it would do most good.
"i'm glad you think i acted right, dearie,"said the girl friend. "i guess i've been too weak with gus, and he's took advantage ofit. i s'pose i'll have to forgive him one of these old days, but, believe me, it won'tbe for a week." the cigar-stand girl was in favour of a fortnight. "no," said the girl friend, regretfully. "idon't believe i could hold out that long. but, if i speak to him inside a week, well—!well, i gotta be going. goodbye, honey." the cigar-stand girl turned to attend to animpatient customer, and the girl friend, walking with the firm and decisive steps which indicatecharacter, made for the swing-door leading to the street. and as she went, the paralysiswhich had pipped archie released its hold.
still ignoring the forty-five cents whichthe boy continued to proffer, he leaped in her wake like a panther and came upon herjust as she was stepping into a car. the car was full, but not too full for archie. hedropped his five cents into the box and reached for a vacant strap. he looked down upon theflowered hat. there she was. and there he was. archie rested his left ear against theforearm of a long, strongly-built young man in a grey suit who had followed him into thecar and was sharing his strap, and pondered. chapter xv. summer storms of course, in a way, the thing was simple.the wheeze was, in a sense, straightforward and uncomplicated. what he wanted to do wasto point out to the injured girl all that
hung on her. he wished to touch her heart,to plead with her, to desire her to restate her war-aims, and to persuade her—beforethree o'clock when that stricken gentleman would be stepping into the pitcher's box toloose off the first ball against the pittsburg pirates—to let bygones be bygones and forgiveaugustus biddle. but the blighted problem was, how the deuce to find the opportunityto start. he couldn't yell at the girl in a crowded street-car; and, if he let go ofhis strap and bent over her, somebody would step on his neck. the girl friend, who for the first five minuteshad remained entirely concealed beneath her hat, now sought diversion by looking up andexamining the faces of the upper strata of
passengers. her eye caught archie's in a glanceof recognition, and he smiled feebly, endeavouring to register bonhomie and good-will. he wassurprised to see a startled expression come into her brown eyes. her face turned pink.at least, it was pink already, but it turned pinker. the next moment, the car having stoppedto pick up more passengers, she jumped off and started to hurry across the street. archie was momentarily taken aback. when embarkingon this business he had never intended it to become a blend of otter-hunting and a moving-picturechase. he followed her off the car with a sense that his grip on the affair was slipping.preoccupied with these thoughts, he did not perceive that the long young man who had sharedhis strap had alighted too. his eyes were
fixed on the vanishing figure of the girlfriend, who, having buzzed at a smart pace into sixth avenue, was now legging it in thedirection of the staircase leading to one of the stations of the elevated railroad.dashing up the stairs after her, he shortly afterwards found himself suspended as beforefrom a strap, gazing upon the now familiar flowers on top of her hat. from another strapfarther down the carriage swayed the long young man in the grey suit. the train rattled on. once or twice, whenit stopped, the girl seemed undecided whether to leave or remain. she half rose, then sankback again. finally she walked resolutely out of the car, and archie, following, foundhimself in a part of new york strange to him.
the inhabitants of this district appearedto eke out a precarious existence, not by taking in one another's washing, but by sellingone another second-hand clothes. archie glanced at his watch. he had lunchedearly, but so crowded with emotions had been the period following lunch that he was surprisedto find that the hour was only just two. the discovery was a pleasant one. with a fullhour before the scheduled start of the game, much might be achieved. he hurried after thegirl, and came up with her just as she turned the corner into one of those forlorn new yorkside-streets which are populated chiefly by children, cats, desultory loafers, and emptymeat-tins. the girl stopped and turned. archie smileda winning smile.
"i say, my dear sweet creature!" he said."i say, my dear old thing, one moment!" "is that so?" said the girl friend. "i beg your pardon?" "is that so?" archie began to feel certain tremors. hereyes were gleaming, and her determined mouth had become a perfectly straight line of scarlet.it was going to be difficult to be chatty to this girl. she was going to be a hard audience.would mere words be able to touch her heart? the thought suggested itself that, properlyspeaking, one would need to use a pick-axe. "if you could spare me a couples of minutesof your valuable time—"
"say!" the lady drew herself up menacingly."you tie a can to yourself and disappear! fade away, or i'll call a cop!" archie was horrified at this misinterpretationof his motives. one or two children, playing close at hand, and a loafer who was tryingto keep the wall from falling down, seemed pleased. theirs was a colourless existenceand to the rare purple moments which had enlivened it in the past the calling of a cop had beenthe unfailing preliminary. the loafer nudged a fellow-loafer, sunning himself against thesame wall. the children, abandoning the meat-tin round which their game had centred, drew closer. "my dear old soul!" said archie. "you don'tunderstand!"
"don't i! i know your sort, you trailing arbutus!" "no, no! my dear old thing, believe me! iwouldn't dream!" "are you going or aren't you?" eleven more children joined the ring of spectators.the loafers stared silently, like awakened crocodiles. "but, i say, listen! i only wanted—" at this point another voice spoke. "say!" the word "say!" more almost than any wordin the american language, is capable of a
variety of shades of expression. it can begenial, it can be jovial, it can be appealing. it can also be truculent the "say!" whichat this juncture smote upon archie's ear-drum with a suddenness which made him leap in theair was truculent; and the two loafers and twenty-seven children who now formed the audiencewere well satisfied with the dramatic development of the performance. to their experienced earsthe word had the right ring. archie spun round. at his elbow stood a long,strongly-built young man in a grey suit. "well!" said the young man, nastily. and heextended a large, freckled face toward archie's. it seemed to the latter, as he backed againstthe wall, that the young man's neck must be composed of india-rubber. it appeared to begrowing longer every moment. his face, besides
being freckled, was a dull brick-red in colour;his lips curled back in an unpleasant snarl, showing a gold tooth; and beside him, swayingin an ominous sort of way, hung two clenched red hands about the size of two young legsof mutton. archie eyed him with a growing apprehension. there are moments in life when,passing idly on our way, we see a strange face, look into strange eyes, and with a suddenglow of human warmth say to ourselves, "we have found a friend!" this was not one ofthose moments. the only person archie had ever seen in his life who looked less friendlywas the sergeant-major who had trained him in the early days of the war, before he hadgot his commission. "i've had my eye on you!" said the young man.
he still had his eye on him. it was a hot,gimlet-like eye, and it pierced the recesses of archie's soul. he backed a little fartheragainst the wall. archie was frankly disturbed. he was no poltroon,and had proved the fact on many occasions during the days when the entire german armyseemed to be picking on him personally, but he hated and shrank from anything in the natureof a bally public scene. "what," enquired the young man, still bearingthe burden of the conversation, and shifting his left hand a little farther behind hisback, "do you mean by following this young lady?" archie was glad he had asked him. this wasprecisely what he wanted to explain.
"my dear old lad—" he began. in spite of the fact that he had asked a questionand presumably desired a reply, the sound of archie's voice seemed to be more than theyoung man could endure. it deprived him of the last vestige of restraint. with a raspingsnarl he brought his left fist round in a sweeping semicircle in the direction of archie'shead. archie was no novice in the art of self-defence.since his early days at school he had learned much from leather-faced professors of thescience. he had been watching this unpleasant young man's eyes with close attention, andthe latter could not have indicated his scheme of action more clearly if he had sent hima formal note. archie saw the swing all the
way. he stepped nimbly aside, and the fistcrashed against the wall. the young man fell back with a yelp of anguish. "gus!" screamed the girl friend, boundingforward. she flung her arms round the injured man,who was ruefully examining a hand which, always of an out-size, was now swelling to stillfurther dimensions. "gus, darling!" a sudden chill gripped archie. so engrossedhad he been with his mission that it had never occurred to him that the love-lorn pitchermight have taken it into his head to follow the girl as well in the hope of putting ina word for himself. yet such apparently had
been the case. well, this had definitely tornit. two loving hearts were united again in complete reconciliation, but a fat lot ofgood that was. it would be days before the misguided looney biddle would be able to pitchwith a hand like that. it looked like a ham already, and was still swelling. probablythe wrist was sprained. for at least a week the greatest left-handed pitcher of his timewould be about as much use to the giants in any professional capacity as a cold in thehead. and on that crippled hand depended the fate of all the money archie had in the world.he wished now that he had not thwarted the fellow's simple enthusiasm. to have had hishead knocked forcibly through a brick wall would not have been pleasant, but the ultimateoutcome would not have been as unpleasant
as this. with a heavy heart archie preparedto withdraw, to be alone with his sorrow. at this moment, however, the girl friend,releasing her wounded lover, made a sudden dash for him, with the plainest intentionof blotting him from the earth. "no, i say! really!" said archie, boundingbackwards. "i mean to say!" in a series of events, all of which had beena bit thick, this, in his opinion, achieved the maximum of thickness. it was the extremeragged, outside edge of the limit. to brawl with a fellow-man in a public street had beenbad, but to be brawled with by a girl—the shot was not on the board. absolutely noton the board. there was only one thing to be done. it was dashed undignified, no doubt,for a fellow to pick up the old waukeesis
and leg it in the face of the enemy, but therewas no other course. archie started to run; and, as he did so, one of the loafers madethe mistake of gripping him by the collar of his coat. "i got him!" observed the loafer.-there isa time for all things. this was essentially not the time for anyone of the male sex togrip the collar of archie's coat. if a syndicate of dempsey, carpentier, and one of the zoogorillas had endeavoured to stay his progress at that moment, they would have had reasonto consider it a rash move. archie wanted to be elsewhere, and the blood of generationsof moffams, many of whom had swung a wicked axe in the free-for-all mix-ups of the middleages, boiled within him at any attempt to
revise his plans. there was a good deal ofthe loafer, but it was all soft. releasing his hold when archie's heel took him shrewdlyon the shin, he received a nasty punch in what would have been the middle of his waistcoatif he had worn one, uttered a gurgling bleat like a wounded sheep, and collapsed againstthe wall. archie, with a torn coat, rounded the corner, and sprinted down ninth avenue. the suddenness of the move gave him an initialadvantage. he was halfway down the first block before the vanguard of the pursuit pouredout of the side street. continuing to travel well, he skimmed past a large dray which hadpulled up across the road, and moved on. the noise of those who pursued was loud and clamorousin the rear, but the dray hid him momentarily
from their sight, and it was this fact whichled archie, the old campaigner, to take his next step. it was perfectly obvious—he was aware ofthis even in the novel excitement of the chase—that a chappie couldn't hoof it at twenty-fivemiles an hour indefinitely along a main thoroughfare of a great city without exciting remark. hemust take cover. cover! that was the wheeze. he looked about him for cover. "you want a nice suit?" it takes a great deal to startle your commercialnew yorker. the small tailor, standing in his doorway, seemed in no way surprised atthe spectacle of archie, whom he had seen
pass at a conventional walk some five minutesbefore, returning like this at top speed. he assumed that archie had suddenly rememberedthat he wanted to buy something. this was exactly what archie had done. morethan anything else in the world, what he wanted to do now was to get into that shop and havea long talk about gents' clothing. pulling himself up abruptly, he shot past the smalltailor into the dim interior. a confused aroma of cheap clothing greeted him. except fora small oasis behind a grubby counter, practically all the available space was occupied by suits.stiff suits, looking like the body when discovered by the police, hung from hooks. limp suits,with the appearance of having swooned from exhaustion, lay about on chairs and boxes.the place was a cloth morgue, a sargasso sea
of serge. archie would not have had it otherwise. inthese quiet groves of clothing a regiment could have lain hid. "something nifty in tweeds?" enquired thebusiness-like proprietor of this haven, following him amiably into the shop, "or, maybe, yes,a nice serge? say, mister, i got a sweet thing in blue serge that'll fit you like the paperon the wall!" archie wanted to talk about clothes, but notyet. "i say, laddie," he said, hurriedly. "lendme, your ear for half a jiffy!" outside the baying of the pack had become imminent. "stowme away for a moment in the undergrowth, and
i'll buy anything you want." he withdrew into the jungle. the noise outsidegrew in volume. the pursuit had been delayed for a priceless few instants by the arrivalof another dray, moving northwards, which had drawn level with the first dray and dexterouslybottled up the fairway. this obstacle had now been overcome, and the original searchers,their ranks swelled by a few dozen more of the leisured classes, were hot on the trailagain. "you done a murder?" enquired the voice ofthe proprietor, mildly interested, filtering through a wall of cloth. "well, boys willbe boys!" he said, philosophically. "see anything there that you like? there some sweet thingsthere!"
"i'm inspecting them narrowly," replied archie."if you don't let those chappies find me, i shouldn't be surprised if i bought one." "one?" said the proprietor, with a touch ofausterity. "two," said archie, quickly. "or possiblythree or six." the proprietor's cordiality returned. "you can't have too many nice suits," he said,approvingly, "not a young feller like you that wants to look nice. all the nice girlslike a young feller that dresses nice. when you go out of here in a suit i got hangingup there at the back, the girls 'll be all over you like flies round a honey-pot."
"would you mind," said archie, "would youmind, as a personal favour to me, old companion, not mentioning that word 'girls'?" he broke off. a heavy foot had crossed thethreshold of the shop. "say, uncle," said a deep voice, one of thosebeastly voices that only the most poisonous blighters have, "you seen a young feller runpast here?" "young feller?" the proprietor appeared toreflect. "do you mean a young feller in blue, with a homburg hat?" "that's the duck! we lost him. where did hego?" "him! why, he come running past, quick ashe could go. i wondered what he was running
for, a hot day like this. he went round thecorner at the bottom of the block." there was a silence. "well, i guess he's got away," said the voice,regretfully. "the way he was travelling," agreed the proprietor,"i wouldn't be surprised if he was in europe by this. you want a nice suit?" the other, curtly expressing a wish that theproprietor would go to eternal perdition and take his entire stock with him, stumped out. "this," said the proprietor, tranquilly, burrowinghis way to where archie stood and exhibiting a saffron-coloured outrage, which appearedto be a poor relation of the flannel family,
"would put you back fifty dollars. and cheap!" "fifty dollars!" "sixty, i said. i don't speak always distinct." archie regarded the distressing garment witha shuddering horror. a young man with an educated taste in clothes, it got right in among hisnerve centres. "but, honestly, old soul, i don't want tohurt your feelings, but that isn't a suit, it's just a regrettable incident!" the proprietor turned to the door in a listeningattitude. "i believe i hear that feller coming back,"he said.
archie gulped. "how about trying it on?" he said. "i'm notsure, after all, it isn't fairly ripe." "that's the way to talk," said the proprietor,cordially. "you try it on. you can't judge a suit, not a real nice suit like this, bylooking at it. you want to put it on. there!" he led the way to a dusty mirror at the backof the shop. "isn't that a bargain at seventy dollars?...why, say, your mother would beproud if she could see her boy now!" a quarter of an hour later, the proprietor,lovingly kneading a little sheaf of currency bills, eyed with a fond look the heap of clotheswhich lay on the counter. "as nice a little lot as i've ever had inmy shop!" archie did not deny this. it was,
he thought, probably only too true. "i only wish i could see you walking up fifthavenue in them!" rhapsodised the proprietor. "you'll give 'em a treat! what you going todo with 'em? carry 'em under your arm?" archie shuddered strongly. "well, then, i can send'em for you anywhere you like. it's all the same to me. where'll i send 'em?" archie meditated. the future was black enoughas it was. he shrank from the prospect of being confronted next day, at the height ofhis misery, with these appalling reach-me-downs. an idea struck him. "yes, send 'em," he said.
"what's the name and address?" "daniel brewster," said archie, "hotel cosmopolis." it was a long time since he had given hisfather-in-law a present. archie went out into the street, and beganto walk pensively down a now peaceful ninth avenue. out of the depths that covered him,black as the pit from pole to pole, no single ray of hope came to cheer him. he could not,like the poet, thank whatever gods there be for his unconquerable soul, for his soul waslicked to a splinter. he felt alone and friendless in a rotten world. with the best intentions,he had succeeded only in landing himself squarely amongst the ribstons. why had he not beencontent with his wealth, instead of risking
it on that blighted bet with reggie? why hadhe trailed the girl friend, dash her! he might have known that he would only make an assof himself, and, because he had done so, looney biddle's left hand, that priceless left handbefore which opposing batters quailed and wilted, was out of action, resting in a sling,careened like a damaged battleship; and any chance the giants might have had of beatingthe pirates was gone—gone—as surely as that thousand dollars which should have boughta birthday present for lucille. a birthday present for lucille! he groanedin bitterness of spirit. she would be coming back to-night, dear girl, all smiles and happiness,wondering what he was going to give her tomorrow. and when to-morrow dawned, all he would beable to give her would be a kind smile. a
nice state of things! a jolly situation! athoroughly good egg, he did not think! it seemed to archie that nature, contraryto her usual custom of indifference to human suffering, was mourning with him. the skywas overcast, and the sun had ceased to shine. there was a sort of sombreness in the afternoon,which fitted in with his mood. and then something splashed on his face. it says much for archie's pre-occupation thathis first thought, as, after a few scattered drops, as though the clouds were submittingsamples for approval, the whole sky suddenly began to stream like a shower-bath, was thatthis was simply an additional infliction which he was called upon to bear, on top of allhis other troubles he would get soaked to
the skin or have to hang about in some doorway.he cursed richly, and sped for shelter. the rain was setting about its work in earnest.the world was full of that rending, swishing sound which accompanies the more violent summerstorms. thunder crashed, and lightning flicked out of the grey heavens. out in the streetthe raindrops bounded up off the stones like fairy fountains. archie surveyed them moroselyfrom his refuge in the entrance of a shop. and then, suddenly, like one of those flasheswhich were lighting up the gloomy sky, a thought lit up his mind. "by jove! if this keeps up, there won't bea ball-game to-day!" with trembling fingers he pulled out his watch.the hands pointed to five minutes to three.
a blessed vision came to him of a moist anddisappointed crowd receiving rain-checks up at the polo grounds. "switch it on, you blighters!" he cried, addressingthe leaden clouds. "switch it on more and more!" it was shortly before five o'clock that ayoung man bounded into a jeweller's shop near the hotel cosmopolis—a young man who, inspite of the fact that his coat was torn near the collar and that he oozed water from everyinch of his drenched clothes, appeared in the highest spirits.. it was only when hespoke that the jeweller recognised in the human sponge the immaculate youth who hadlooked in that morning to order a bracelet.
"i say, old lad," said this young man, "youremember that jolly little what-not you showed me before lunch?" "the bracelet, sir?" "as you observe with a manly candour whichdoes you credit, my dear old jeweller, the bracelet. well, produce, exhibit, and bringit forth, would you mind? trot it out! slip it across on a lordly dish!" "you wished me, surely, to put it aside andsend it to the cosmopolis to-morrow?" the young man tapped the jeweller earnestlyon his substantial chest. "what i wished and what i wish now are twobally separate and dashed distinct things,
friend of my college days! never put off tillto-morrow what you can do to-day, and all that! i'm not taking any more chances. notfor me! for others, yes, but not for archibald! here are the doubloons, produce the jollybracelet thanks!" the jeweller counted the notes with the sameunction which archie had observed earlier in the day in the proprietor of the second-handclothes-shop. the process made him genial. "a nasty, wet day, sir, it's been," he observed,chattily. "old friend," he said, "you're all wrong.far otherwise, and not a bit like it, my dear old trafficker in gems! you've put your fingeron the one aspect of this blighted p.m. that really deserves credit and respect. rarelyin the experience of a lifetime have i encountered
a day so absolutely bally in nearly everyshape and form, but there was one thing that saved it, and that was its merry old wetness!toodle-oo, laddie!" "good evening, sir," said the jeweller. chapter xvi. archie accepts a situation lucille moved her wrist slowly round, thebetter to examine the new bracelet. "you really are an angel, angel!" she murmured. "like it?" said archie complacently. "like it! why, it's gorgeous! it must havecost a fortune." "oh, nothing to speak of. just a few hard-earnedpieces of eight. just a few doubloons from
the old oak chest." "but i didn't know there were any doubloonsin the old oak chest." "well, as a matter of fact," admitted archie,"at one point in the proceedings there weren't. but an aunt of mine in england—peace beon her head!—happened to send me a chunk of the necessary at what you might call thepsychological moment." "and you spent it all on a birthday presentfor me! archie!" lucille gazed at her husband adoringly. "archie, do you know what i think?" "you're the perfect man!" "no, really! what ho!"
"yes," said lucille firmly. "i've long suspectedit, and now i know. i don't think there's anybody like you in the world." archie patted her hand. "it's a rummy thing," he observed, "but yourfather said almost exactly that to me only yesterday. only i don't fancy he meant thesame as you. to be absolutely frank, his exact expression was that he thanked god there wasonly one of me." a troubled look came into lucille's grey eyes. "it's a shame about father. i do wish he appreciatedyou. but you mustn't be too hard on him." "me?" said archie. "hard on your father? well,dash it all, i don't think i treat him with
what you might call actual brutality, what!i mean to say, my whole idea is rather to keep out of the old lad's way and curl upin a ball if i can't dodge him. i'd just as soon be hard on a stampeding elephant! i wouldn'tfor the world say anything derogatory, as it were, to your jolly old pater, but thereis no getting away from the fact that he's by way of being one of our leading man-eatingfishes. it would be idle to deny that he considers that you let down the proud old name of brewstera bit when you brought me in and laid me on the mat." "anyone would be lucky to get you for a son-in-law,precious." "i fear me, light of my life, the dad doesn'tsee eye to eye with you on that point. no,
every time i get hold of a daisy, i give himanother chance, but it always works out at 'he loves me not!'" "you must make allowances for him, darling." "right-o! but i hope devoutly that he doesn'tcatch me at it. i've a sort of idea that if the old dad discovered that i was making allowancesfor him, he would have from ten to fifteen fits." "he's worried just now, you know." "i didn't know. he doesn't confide in me much." "he's worried about that waiter."
"what waiter, queen of my soul?" "a man called salvatore. father dismissedhim some time ago." "salvatore!" "probably you don't remember him. he usedto wait on this table." "why—" "and father dismissed him, apparently, andnow there's all sorts of trouble. you see, father wants to build this new hotel of his,and he thought he'd got the site and everything and could start building right away: and nowhe finds that this man salvatore's mother owns a little newspaper and tobacco shop rightin the middle of the site, and there's no
way of getting him out without buying theshop, and he won't sell. at least, he's made his mother promise that she won't sell." "a boy's best friend is his mother," saidarchie approvingly. "i had a sort of idea all along—" "so father's in despair." archie drew at his cigarette meditatively. "i remember a chappie—a policeman he was,as a matter of fact, and incidentally a fairly pronounced blighter—remarking to me sometime ago that you could trample on the poor man's face but you mustn't be surprised ifhe bit you in the leg while you were doing
it. apparently this is what has happened tothe old dad. i had a sort of idea all along that old friend salvatore would come out strongin the end if you only gave him time. brainy sort of feller! great pal of mine."-lucille'ssmall face lightened. she gazed at archie with proud affection. she felt that she oughtto have known that he was the one to solve this difficulty. "you're wonderful, darling! is he really afriend of yours?" "absolutely. many's the time he and i havechatted in this very grill-room." "then it's all right. if you went to him andargued with him, he would agree to sell the shop, and father would be happy. think howgrateful father would be to you! it would
make all the difference." archie turned this over in his mind. "something in that," he agreed. "it would make him see what a pet lambkinyou really are!" "well," said archie, "i'm bound to say thatany scheme which what you might call culminates in your father regarding me as a pet lambkinought to receive one's best attention. how much did he offer salvatore for his shop?" "i don't know. there is father.—call himover and ask him." archie glanced over to where mr. brewsterhad sunk moodily into a chair at a neighbouring
table. it was plain even at that distancethat daniel brewster had his troubles and was bearing them with an ill grace. he wasscowling absently at the table-cloth. "you call him," said archie, having inspectedhis formidable relative. "you know him better." "let's go over to him." they crossed the room. lucille sat down oppositeher father.-archie draped himself over a chair in the background. "father, dear," said lucille. "archie hasgot an idea." "archie?" said mr. brewster incredulously. "this is me," said archie, indicating himselfwith a spoon. "the tall, distinguished-looking
bird." "what new fool-thing is he up to now?" "it's a splendid idea, father. he wants tohelp you over your new hotel." "wants to run it for me, i suppose?" "by jove!" said archie, reflectively. "that'snot a bad scheme! i never thought of running an hotel. i shouldn't mind taking a stab atit." "he has thought of a way of getting rid ofsalvatore and his shop." for the first time mr. brewster's interestin the conversation seemed to stir. he looked sharply at his son-in-law.
"he has, has he?" he said. archie balanced a roll on a fork and inserteda plate underneath. the roll bounded away into a corner. "sorry!" said archie. "my fault, absolutely!i owe you a roll. i'll sign a bill for it. oh, about this sportsman salvatore, well,it's like this, you know. he and i are great pals. i've known him for years and years.at least, it seems like years and years. lu was suggesting that i seek him out in hislair and ensnare him with my diplomatic manner and superior brain power and what not." "it was your idea, precious," said lucille.
mr. brewster was silent.—much as it wentagainst the grain to have to admit it, there seemed to be something in this. "what do you propose to do?" "become a jolly old ambassador. how much didyou offer the chappie?" "three thousand dollars. twice as much asthe place is worth. he's holding out on me for revenge." "ah, but how did you offer it to him, what?i mean to say, i bet you got your lawyer to write him a letter full of whereases, peradventures,and parties of the first part, and so forth. no good, old companion!"
"don't call me old companion!" "all wrong, laddie! nothing like it, dearheart! no good at all, friend of my youth! take it from your uncle archibald! i'm a studentof human nature, and i know a thing or two." "that's not much," growled mr. brewster, whowas finding his son-in-law's superior manner a little trying. "now, don't interrupt, father," said lucille,severely. "can't you see that archie is going to be tremendously clever in a minute?" "he's got to show me!" "what you ought to do," said archie, "is tolet me go and see him, taking the stuff in
crackling bills. i'll roll them about on thetable in front of him. that'll fetch him!" he prodded mr. brewster encouragingly witha roll. "i'll tell you what to do. give me three thousand of the best and crispest, andi'll undertake to buy that shop. it can't fail, laddie!" "don't call me laddie!" mr. brewster pondered."very well," he said at last. "i didn't know you had so much sense," he added grudgingly. "oh, positively!" said archie. "beneath arugged exterior i hide a brain like a buzz-saw. sense? i exude it, laddie; i drip with it." there were moments during the ensuing dayswhen mr. brewster permitted himself to hope;
but more frequent were the moments when hetold himself that a pronounced chump like his son-in-law could not fail somehow to makea mess of the negotiations. his relief, therefore, when archie curveted into his private roomand announced that he had succeeded was great. "you really managed to make that wop sellout?" archie brushed some papers off the desk witha careless gesture, and seated himself on the vacant spot. "absolutely! i spoke to him as one old friendto another, sprayed the bills all over the place; and he sang a few bars from 'rigoletto,'and signed on the dotted line." "you're not such a fool as you look," ownedmr. brewster.
archie scratched a match on the desk and lita cigarette. "it's a jolly little shop," he said. "i tookquite a fancy to it. full of newspapers, don't you know, and cheap novels, and some weird-lookingsort of chocolates, and cigars with the most fearfully attractive labels. i think i'llmake a success of it. it's bang in the middle of a dashed good neighbourhood. one of thesedays somebody will be building a big hotel round about there, and that'll help tradea lot. i look forward to ending my days on the other side of the counter with a fullset of white whiskers and a skull-cap, beloved by everybody. everybody'll say, 'oh, you mustpatronise that quaint, delightful old blighter! he's quite a character.'"
mr. brewster's air of grim satisfaction hadgiven way to a look of discomfort, almost of alarm. he presumed his son-in-law was merelyindulging in badinage; but even so, his words were not soothing. "well, i'm much obliged," he said. "that infernalshop was holding up everything. now i can start building right away." archie raised his eyebrows. "but, my dear old top, i'm sorry to spoilyour daydreams and stop you chasing rainbows, and all that, but aren't you forgetting thatthe shop belongs to me? i don't at all know that i want to sell, either!"
"i gave you the money to buy that shop!" "and dashed generous of you it was, too!"admitted archie, unreservedly. "it was the first money you ever gave me, and i shallalways, tell interviewers that it was you who founded my fortunes. some day, when i'mthe newspaper-and-tobacco-shop king, i'll tell the world all about it in my autobiography." mr. brewster rose dangerously from his seat. "do you think you can hold me up, you—youworm?" "well," said archie, "the way i look at itis this. ever since we met, you've been after me to become one of the world's workers, andearn a living for myself, and what not; and
now i see a way to repay you for your confidenceand encouragement. you'll look me up sometimes at the good old shop, won't you?" he slidoff the table and moved towards the door. "there won't be any formalities where youare concerned. you can sign bills for any reasonable amount any time you want a cigaror a stick of chocolate. well, toodle-oo!" "stop!" "now what?" "how much do you want for that damned shop?" "i don't want money.-i want a job.-if youare going to take my life-work away from me, you ought to give me something else to do."
"what job?" "you suggested it yourself the other day.i want to manage your new hotel." "don't be a fool! what do you know about managingan hotel?" "nothing. it will be your pleasing task toteach me the business while the shanty is being run up." there was a pause, while mr. brewster chewedthree inches off a pen-holder. "very well," he said at last. "topping!" said archie. "i knew you'd, seeit. i'll study your methods, what! adding some of my own, of course. you know, i'vethought of one improvement on the cosmopolis
already." "improvement on the cosmopolis!" cried mr.brewster, gashed in his finest feelings. "yes. there's one point where the old cosmopslips up badly, and i'm going to see that it's corrected at my little shack. customerswill be entreated to leave their boots outside their doors at night, and they'll find themcleaned in the morning. well, pip, pip! i must be popping. time is money, you know,with us business men." chapter xvii. brother bill's romance "her eyes," said bill brewster, "are like—like—what'sthe word i want?" he looked across at lucille and archie. lucillewas leaning forward with an eager and interested
face; archie was leaning back with his finger-tipstogether and his eyes closed. this was not the first time since their meeting in beale'sauction rooms that his brother-in-law had touched on the subject of the girl he hadbecome engaged to marry during his trip to england. indeed, brother bill had touchedon very little else: and archie, though of a sympathetic nature and fond of his youngrelative, was beginning to feel that he had heard all he wished to hear about mabel winchester.lucille, on the other hand, was absorbed. her brother's recital had thrilled her. "like—" said bill. "like—" "stars?" suggested lucille.
"stars," said bill gratefully. "exactly theword. twin stars shining in a clear sky on a summer night. her teeth are like—whatshall i say?" "pearls?" "pearls. and her hair is a lovely brown, likeleaves in autumn. in fact," concluded bill, slipping down from the heights with somethingof a jerk, "she's a corker. isn't she, archie?" archie opened his eyes. "quite right, old top!" he said. "it was theonly thing to do." "what the devil are you talking about?" demandedbill coldly. he had been suspicious all along of archie's statement that he could listenbetter with his eyes shut.
"eh? oh, sorry! thinking of something else." "you were asleep." "no, no, positively and distinctly not. frightfullyinterested and rapt and all that, only i didn't quite get what you said." "i said that mabel was a corker." "oh, absolutely in every respect." "there!" bill turned to lucille triumphantly."you hear that? and archie has only seen her photograph. wait till he sees her in the flesh." "my dear old chap!" said archie, shocked."ladies present! i mean to say, what!"
"i'm afraid that father will be the one you'llfind it hard to convince." "yes," admitted her brother gloomily. "your mabel sounds perfectly charming, but—well,you know what father is. it is a pity she sings in the chorus." "she-hasn't much of a voice,"-argued bill-inextenuation. "all the same—" archie, the conversation having reached atopic on which he considered himself one of the greatest living authorities—to wit,the unlovable disposition of his father-in-law—addressed the meeting as one who has a right to be heard.
"lucille's absolutely right, old thing.—absolutelycorrect-o! your esteemed progenitor is a pretty tough nut, and it's no good trying to getaway from it.-and i'm sorry to have to say it, old bird, but, if you come bounding inwith part of the personnel of the ensemble on your arm and try to dig a father's blessingout of him, he's extremely apt to stab you in the gizzard." "i wish," said bill, annoyed, "you wouldn'ttalk as though mabel were the ordinary kind of chorus-girl. she's only on the stage becauseher mother's hard-up and she wants to educate her little brother." "i say," said archie, concerned. "take mytip, old top. in chatting the matter over
with the pater, don't dwell too much on thataspect of the affair.—i've been watching him closely, and it's about all he can stick,having to support me. if you ring in a mother and a little brother on him, he'll crack underthe strain." "well, i've got to do something about it.mabel will be over here in a week." "great scot! you never told us that." "yes. she's going to be in the new billingtonshow. and, naturally, she will expect to meet my family. i've told her all about you." "did you explain father to her?" asked lucille. "well, i just said she mustn't mind him, ashis bark was worse than his bite."
"well," said archie, thoughtfully, "he hasn'tbitten me yet, so you may be right. but you've got to admit that he's a bit of a barker." lucille considered. "really, bill, i think your best plan wouldbe to go straight to father and tell him the whole thing.—you don't want him to hearabout it in a roundabout way." "the trouble is that, whenever i'm with father,i can't think of anything to say." archie found himself envying his father-in-lawthis merciful dispensation of providence; for, where he himself was concerned, therehad been no lack of eloquence on bill's part. in the brief period in which he had knownhim, bill had talked all the time and always
on the one topic. as unpromising a subjectas the tariff laws was easily diverted by him into a discussion of the absent mabel. "when i'm with father," said bill, "i sortof lose my nerve, and yammer." "dashed awkward," said archie, politely. hesat up suddenly. "i say! by jove! i know what you want, old friend! just thought of it!" "that busy brain is never still," explainedlucille. "saw it in the paper this morning. an advertisementof a book, don't you know." "i've no time for reading." "you've time for reading this one, laddie,for you can't afford to miss it. it's a what-d'you-call-it
book. what i mean to say is, if you read itand take its tips to heart, it guarantees to make you a convincing talker. the advertisementsays so. the advertisement's all about a chappie whose name i forget, whom everybody lovedbecause he talked so well. and, mark you, before he got hold of this book—the personalitythat wins was the name of it, if i remember rightly—he was known to all the lads inthe office as silent samuel or something. or it may have been tongue-tied thomas. well,one day he happened by good luck to blow in the necessary for the good old p. that w.'s,and now, whenever they want someone to go and talk rockefeller or someone into lendingthem a million or so, they send for samuel. only now they call him sammy the spell-binderand fawn upon him pretty copiously and all
that. how about it, old son? how do we go?" "what perfect nonsense," said lucille. "i don't know," said bill, plainly impressed."there might be something in it." "absolutely!" said archie. "i remember itsaid, 'talk convincingly, and no man will ever treat you with cold, unresponsive indifference.'well, cold, unresponsive indifference is just what you don't want the pater to treat youwith, isn't it, or is it, or isn't it, what? i mean, what?" "it sounds all right," said bill. "it is all right," said archie. "it's a scheme!i'll go farther. it's an egg!"
"the idea i had," said bill, "was to see ifi couldn't get mabel a job in some straight comedy. that would take the curse off thething a bit. then i wouldn't have to dwell on the chorus end of the business, you see." "much more sensible," said lucille. "but what a-deuce of a sweat"—argued archie."i mean to say, having to pop round and nose about and all that." "aren't you willing to take a little troublefor your stricken brother-in-law, worm?" said lucille severely. "oh, absolutely! my idea was to get this bookand coach the dear old chap. rehearse him,
don't you know. he could bone up the earlychapters a bit and then drift round and try his convincing talk on me." "it might be a good idea," said bill reflectively. "well, i'll tell you what i'm going to do,"said lucille. "i'm going to get bill to introduce me to his mabel, and, if she's as nice ashe says she is, i'll go to father and talk convincingly to him." "you're an ace!" said bill. "absolutely!" agreed archie cordially. "mypartner, what! all the same, we ought to keep the book as a second string, you know. i meanto say, you are a young and delicately nurtured
girl—full of sensibility and shrinking what's-its-nameand all that—and you know what the jolly old pater is. he might bark at you and putyou out of action in the first round. well, then, if anything like that happened, don'tyou see, we could unleash old bill, the trained silver-tongued expert, and let him have ashot. personally, i'm all for the p. that w.'s."-"me, too," said bill. lucille looked at her watch. "good gracious! it's nearly one o'clock!" "no!" archie heaved himself up from his chair."well, it's a shame to break up this feast of reason and flow of soul and all that, but,if we don't leg it with some speed, we shall
be late." "we're lunching at the nicholson's!" explainedlucille to her brother. "i wish you were coming too." "lunch!" bill shook his head with a kind oftolerant scorn. "lunch means nothing to me these days. i've other things to think ofbesides food." he looked as spiritual as his rugged features would permit. "i haven't writtento her yet to-day." "but, dash it, old scream, if she's goingto be over here in a week, what's the good of writing? the letter would cross her." "i'm not mailing my letters to england." saidbill. "i'm keeping them for her to read when
she arrives." "my sainted aunt!" said archie. devotion like this was something beyond hisoutlook. chapter xviii. the sausage chappie the personality that wins cost archie twodollars in cash and a lot of embarrassment when he asked for it at the store. to buya treatise of that name would automatically seem to argue that you haven't a winning personalityalready, and archie was at some pains to explain to the girl behind the counter that he wantedit for a friend. the girl seemed more interested in his english accent than in his explanation,and archie was uncomfortably aware, as he
receded, that she was practising it in anundertone for the benefit of her colleagues and fellow-workers. however, what is a littlediscomfort, if endured in friendship's name? he was proceeding up broadway after leavingthe store when he encountered reggie van tuyl, who was drifting along in somnambulistic fashionnear thirty-ninth street. "hullo, reggie old thing!" said archie. "hullo!" said reggie, a man of few words. "i've just been buying a book for bill brewster,"went on archie. "it appears that old bill—what's the matter?" he broke off his recital abruptly. a sortof spasm had passed across his companion's
features. the hand holding archie's arm hadtightened convulsively. one would have said that reginald had received a shock. "it's nothing," said reggie. "i'm all rightnow. i caught sight of that fellow's clothes rather suddenly. they shook me a bit. i'mall right now," he said, bravely. archie, following his friend's gaze, understood.reggie van tuyl was never at his strongest in the morning, and he had a sensitive eyefor clothes. he had been known to resign from clubs because members exceeded the boundsin the matter of soft shirts with dinner-jackets. and the short, thick-set man who was standingjust in front of them in attitude of restful immobility was certainly no dandy. his bestfriend could not have called him dapper. take
him for all in all and on the hoof, he mighthave been posing as a model for a sketch of what the well-dressed man should not wear. in costume, as in most other things, it isbest to take a definite line and stick to it. this man had obviously vacillated. hisneck was swathed in a green scarf; he wore an evening-dress coat; and his lower limbswere draped in a pair of tweed trousers built for a larger man. to the north he was boundedby a straw hat, to the south by brown shoes. archie surveyed the man's back carefully. "bit thick!" he said, sympathetically. "butof course broadway isn't fifth avenue. what i mean to say is, bohemian licence and whatnot. broadway's crammed with deuced brainy
devils who don't care how they look. probablythis bird is a master-mind of some species." "all the same, man's no right to wear evening-dresscoat with tweed trousers." "absolutely not! i see what you mean." at this point the sartorial offender turned.seen from the front, he was even more unnerving. he appeared to possess no shirt, though thisdefect was offset by the fact that the tweed trousers fitted snugly under the arms. hewas not a handsome man. at his best he could never have been that, and in the recent pasthe had managed to acquire a scar that ran from the corner of his mouth half-way acrosshis cheek. even when his face was in repose he had an odd expression; and when, as hechanced to do now, he smiled, odd became a
mild adjective, quite inadequate for purposesof description. it was not an unpleasant face, however. unquestionably genial, indeed. therewas something in it that had a quality of humorous appeal. archie started. he stared at the man, memorystirred. "great scot!" he cried. "it's the sausagechappie!" reginald van tuyl gave a little moan. he wasnot used to this sort of thing. a sensitive young man as regarded scenes, archie's behaviourunmanned him. for archie, releasing his arm, had bounded forward and was shaking the other'shand warmly. "well, well, well! my dear old chap! you mustremember me, what? no? yes?"
the man with the scar seemed puzzled. he shuffledthe brown shoes, patted the straw hat, and eyed archie questioningly. "i don't seem to place you," he said. archie slapped the back of the evening-dresscoat. he linked his arm affectionately with that of the dress-reformer. "we met outside st mihiel in the war. yougave me a bit of sausage. one of the most sporting events in history. nobody but a realsportsman would have parted with a bit of sausage at that moment to a stranger. neverforgotten it, by jove. saved my life, absolutely. hadn't chewed a morsel for eight hours. well,have you got anything on? i mean to say, you
aren't booked for lunch or any rot of thatspecies, are you? fine! then i move we all toddle off and get a bite somewhere." he squeezedthe other's arm fondly. "fancy meeting you again like this! i've often wondered whatbecame of you. but, by jove, i was forgetting. dashed rude of me. my friend, mr. van tuyl." reggie gulped. the longer he looked at it,the harder this man's costume was to bear. his eye passed shudderingly from the brownshoes to the tweed trousers, to the green scarf, from the green scarf to the straw hat. "sorry," he mumbled. "just remembered. importantdate. late already. er—see you some time—" he melted away, a broken man. archie was notsorry to see him go. reggie was a good chap,
but he would undoubtedly have been de tropat this reunion. "i vote we go to the cosmopolis," he said,steering his newly-found friend through the crowd. "the browsing and sluicing isn't badthere, and i can sign the bill which is no small consideration nowadays." the sausage chappie chuckled amusedly. "i can't go to a place like the cosmopolislooking like this." archie, was a little embarrassed. "oh, i don't know, you know, don't you know!"he said. "still, since you have brought the topic up, you did get the good old wardrobea bit mixed this morning what? i mean to say,
you seem absent-mindedly, as it were, to havegot hold of samples from a good number of your various suitings." "suitings? how do you mean, suitings? i haven'tany suitings! who do you think i am? vincent astor? all i have is what i stand up in." archie was shocked. this tragedy touched him.he himself had never had any money in his life, but somehow he had always seemed tomanage to have plenty of clothes. how this was he could not say. he had always had avague sort of idea that tailors were kindly birds who never failed to have a pair of trousersor something up their sleeve to present to the deserving. there was the drawback, ofcourse, that once they had given you things
they were apt to write you rather a lot ofletters about it; but you soon managed to recognise their handwriting, and then it wasa simple task to extract their communications from your morning mail and drop them in thewaste-paper basket. this was the first case he had encountered of a man who was reallyshort of clothes. "my dear old lad," he said, briskly, "thismust be remedied! oh, positively! this must be remedied at once! i suppose my things wouldn'tfit you? no. well, i tell you what. we'll wangle something from my father-in-law. oldbrewster, you know, the fellow who runs the cosmopolis. his'll fit you like the paperon the wall, because he's a tubby little blighter, too. what i mean to say is, he's also oneof those sturdy, square, fine-looking chappies
of about the middle height. by the way, whereare you stopping these days?" "nowhere just at present. i thought of takingone of those self-contained park benches." "are you broke?" "am i!" archie was concerned. "you ought to get a job." "i ought. but somehow i don't seem able to." "what did you do before the war?" "i've forgotten."
"forgotten!" "forgotten." "how do you mean—forgotten? you can't mean—forgotten?" "yes. it's quite gone." "but i mean to say. you can't have forgottena thing like that." "can't i! i've forgotten all sorts of things.where i was born. how old i am. whether i'm married or single. what my name is—" "well, i'm dashed!" said archie, staggered."but you remembered about giving me a bit of sausage outside st. mihiel?"
"no, i didn't. i'm taking your word for it.for all i know you may be luring me into some den to rob me of my straw hat. i don't knowyou from adam. but i like your conversation—especially the part about eating—and i'm taking a chance." "listen, old bean. make an effort. you mustremember that sausage episode? it was just outside st. mihiel, about five in the evening.your little lot were lying next to my little lot, and we happened to meet, and i said 'whatho!' and you said 'halloa!' and i said 'what ho! what ho!' and you said 'have a bit ofsausage?' and i said 'what ho! what ho! what ho!'" "the dialogue seems to have been darned sparklingbut i don't remember it. it must have been
after that that i stopped one. i don't seemquite to have caught up with myself since i got hit." "oh! that's how you got that scar?" "no. i got that jumping through a plate-glasswindow in london on armistice night." "what on earth did you do that for?" "oh, i don't know. it seemed a good idea atthe time." "but if you can remember a thing like that,why can't you remember your name?" "i remember everything that happened afteri came out of hospital. it's the part before that's gone."
archie patted him on the shoulder. "i know just what you want. you need a bitof quiet and repose, to think things over and so forth. you mustn't go sleeping on parkbenches. won't do at all. not a bit like it. you must shift to the cosmopolis. it isn'thalf a bad spot, the old cosmop. i didn't like it much the first night i was there,because there was a dashed tap that went drip-drip-drip all night and kept me awake, but the placehas its points." "is the cosmopolis giving free board and lodgingthese days?" "rather! that'll be all right. well, thisis the spot. we'll start by trickling up to the old boy's suite and looking over his reach-me-downs.i know the waiter on his floor. a very sound
chappie. he'll let us in with his pass-key." and so it came about that mr. daniel brewster,returning to his suite in the middle of lunch in order to find a paper dealing with thesubject he was discussing with his guest, the architect of his new hotel, was awareof a murmur of voices behind the closed door of his bedroom. recognising the accents ofhis son-in-law, he breathed an oath and charged in. he objected to archie wandering at largeabout his suite. the sight that met his eyes when he openedthe door did nothing to soothe him. the floor was a sea of clothes. there were coats onthe chairs, trousers on the bed, shirts on the bookshelf. and in the middle of his welterstood archie, with a man who, to mr. brewster's
heated eye, looked like a tramp comedian outof a burlesque show. "great godfrey!" ejaculated mr. brewster. archie looked up with a friendly smile. "oh, halloa-halloa!" he said, affably, "wewere just glancing through your spare scenery to see if we couldn't find something for mypal here. this is mr. brewster, my father-in-law, old man." archie scanned his relative's twisted features.something in his expression seemed not altogether encouraging. he decided that the negotiationshad better be conducted in private. "one moment, old lad," he said to his new friend. "i justwant to have a little talk with my father-in-law
in the other room. just a little friendlybusiness chat. you stay here." in the other room mr. brewster turned on archielike a wounded lion of the desert. "what the—!" archie secured one of his coat-buttons andbegan to massage it affectionately. "ought to have explained!" said archie, "onlydidn't want to interrupt your lunch. the sportsman on the horizon is a dear old pal of mine—" mr. brewster wrenched himself free. "what the devil do you mean, you worm, bybringing tramps into my bedroom and messing about with my clothes?"
"that's just what i'm trying to explain, ifyou'll only listen. this bird is a bird i met in france during the war. he gave me abit of sausage outside st. mihiel—" "damn you and him and the sausage!" "absolutely. but listen. he can't rememberwho he is or where he was born or what his name is, and he's broke; so, dash it, i mustlook after him. you see, he gave me a bit of sausage." mr. brewster's frenzy gave way to an ominouscalm. "i'll give him two seconds to clear out ofhere. if he isn't gone by then i'll have him thrown out."
archie was shocked. "you don't mean that?" "i do mean that." "but where is he to go?" "outside." "but you don't understand. this chappie haslost his memory because he was wounded in the war. keep that fact firmly fixed in theold bean. he fought for you. fought and bled for you. bled profusely, by jove. and he savedmy life!" "if i'd got nothing else against him, thatwould be enough."
"but you can't sling a chappie out into thecold hard world who bled in gallons to make the world safe for the hotel cosmopolis." mr. brewster looked ostentatiously at hiswatch. "two seconds!" he said. there was a silence. archie appeared to bethinking. "right-o!" he said at last. "no need to get the wind up. i know where he cango. it's just occurred to me i'll put him up at my little shop." the purple ebbed from mr. brewster's face.such was his emotion that he had forgotten that infernal shop. he sat down. there wasmore silence.
"oh, gosh!" said mr. brewster. "i knew you would be reasonable about it,"said archie, approvingly. "now, honestly, as man to man, how do we go?" "what do you want me to do?" growled mr. brewster. "i thought you might put the chappie up fora while, and give him a chance to look round and nose about a bit." "i absolutely refuse to give any more loafersfree board and lodging." "any more?" "well, he would be the second, wouldn't he?"
archie looked pained. "it's true," he said, "that when i first camehere i was temporarily resting, so to speak; but didn't i go right out and grab the managershipof your new hotel? positively!" "i will not adopt this tramp." "well, find him a job, then." "what sort of a job?" "oh, any old sort" "he can be a waiter if he likes." "all right; i'll put the matter before him."
he returned to the bedroom. the sausage chappiewas gazing fondly into the mirror with a spotted tie draped round his neck. "i say, old top," said archie, apologetically,"the emperor of the blighters out yonder says you can have a job here as waiter, and hewon't do another dashed thing for you. how about it?" "do waiters eat?" "i suppose so. though, by jove, come to thinkof it, i've never seen one at it." "that's good enough for me!" said the sausagechappie. "when do i begin?" chapter xix. reggie comes to life
the advantage of having plenty of time onone's hands is that one has leisure to attend to the affairs of all one's circle of friends;and archie, assiduously as he watched over the destinies of the sausage chappie, didnot neglect the romantic needs of his brother-in-law bill. a few days later, lucille, returningone morning to their mutual suite, found her husband seated in an upright chair at thetable, an unusually stern expression on his amiable face. a large cigar was in the cornerof his mouth. the fingers of one hand rested in the armhole of his waistcoat: with theother hand he tapped menacingly on the table. as she gazed upon him, wondering what couldbe the matter with him, lucille was suddenly aware of bill's presence. he had emerged sharplyfrom the bedroom and was walking briskly across
the floor. he came to a halt in front of thetable. "father!" said bill. archie looked up sharply, frowning heavilyover his cigar. "well, my boy," he said in a strange, raspingvoice. "what is it? speak up, my boy, speak up! why the devil can't you speak up? thisis my busy day!" "what on earth are you doing?" asked lucille. archie waved her away with the large gestureof a man of blood and iron interrupted while concentrating. "leave us, woman! we would be alone! retireinto the jolly old background and amuse yourself
for a bit. read a book. do acrostics. chargeahead, laddie." "father!" said bill, again. "yes, my boy, yes? what is it?" "father!" archie picked up the red-covered volume thatlay on the table. "half a mo', old son. sorry to stop you, buti knew there was something. i've just remembered. your walk. all wrong!" "all wrong?" "all wrong! where's the chapter on the art.of walking? here we are. listen, dear old
soul. drink this in. 'in walking, one shouldstrive to acquire that swinging, easy movement from the hips. the correctly-poised walkerseems to float along, as it were.' now, old bean, you didn't float a dam' bit. you justgalloped in like a chappie charging into a railway restaurant for a bowl of soup whenhis train leaves in two minutes. dashed important, this walking business, you know. get startedwrong, and where are you? try it again.... much better." he turned to lucille. "noticehim float along that time? absolutely skimmed, what?" lucille had taken a seat,-and was waitingfor enlightenment. "are you and bill going into vaudeville?"she asked.
archie, scrutinising-his-brother-in-law closely,had further criticism to make. "'the man of self-respect and self-confidence,'"he read, "'stands erect in an easy, natural, graceful attitude. heels not too far apart,head erect, eyes to the front with a level gaze'—get your gaze level, old thing!—'shouldersthrown back, arms hanging naturally at the sides when not otherwise employed'—thatmeans that, if he tries to hit you, it's all right to guard—'chest expanded naturally,and abdomen'—this is no place for you, lucille. leg it out of earshot—'ab—what i saidbefore—drawn in somewhat and above all not protruded.' now, have you got all that? yes,you look all right. carry on, laddie, carry on. let's have two-penn'orth of the dynamicvoice and the tone of authority—some of
the full, rich, round stuff we hear so muchabout!" bill fastened a gimlet eye upon his brother-in-lawand drew a deep breath. "father!" he said. "father!" "you'll have to brighten up bill's dialoguea lot," said lucille, critically, "or you will never get bookings." "i mean, it's all right as far as it goes,but it's sort of monotonous. besides, one of you ought to be asking questions and theother answering. bill ought to be saying, 'who was that lady i saw you coming down thestreet with?' so that you would be able to say, 'that wasn't a lady. that was my wife.'i know! i've been to lots of vaudeville shows."
bill relaxed his attitude. he deflated hischest, spread his heels, and ceased to draw in his abdomen. "we'd better try this another time, when we'realone," he said, frigidly. "i can't do myself justice." "why do you want to do yourself justice?"asked lucille. "right-o!" said archie, affably, casting offhis forbidding expression like a garment. "rehearsal postponed. i was just putting oldbill through it," he explained, "with a view to getting him into mid-season form for thejolly old pater." "oh!" lucille's voice was the voice of onewho sees light in darkness. "when bill walked
in like a cat on hot bricks and stood therelooking stuffed, that was just the personality that wins!" "that was it." "well, you couldn't blame me for not recognisingit, could you?" archie patted her head paternally. "a little less of the caustic critic stuff,"he said. "bill will be all right on the night. if you hadn't come in then and put him offhis stroke, he'd have shot out some amazing stuff, full of authority and dynamic accentsand what not. i tell you, light of my soul, old bill is all right! he's got the winningpersonality up a tree, ready whenever he wants
to go and get it. speaking as his backer andtrainer, i think he'll twist your father round his little finger. absolutely! it wouldn'tsurprise me if at the end of five minutes the good old dad started pumping through hoopsand sitting up for lumps of sugar." "it would surprise me." "ah, that's because you haven't seen old billin action. you crabbed his act before he had begun to spread himself." "it isn't that at all. the reason why i thinkthat bill, however winning his personality may be, won't persuade father to let him marrya girl in the chorus is something that happened last night."
"last night?" "well, at three o'clock this morning. it'son the front page of the early editions of the evening papers. i brought one in for youto see, only you were so busy. look! there it is!" archie seized the paper. "oh, great scot!" "what is it?" asked bill, irritably. "don'tstand goggling there! what the devil is it?" "listen to this, old thing!" revelry by night.spirited battle royal at hotel
cosmopolis.the hotel detective had a good heart but pauline packed the punch. the logical contender for jack dempsey's championshiphonours has been discovered; and, in an age where women are stealing men's jobs all thetime, it will not come as a surprise to our readers to learn that she belongs to the sexthat is more deadly than the male. her name is miss pauline preston, and her wallop isvouched for under oath—under many oaths—by mr. timothy o'neill, known to his intimatesas pie-face, who holds down the arduous job of detective at the hotel cosmopolis. at three o'clock this morning, mr. o'neillwas advised by the night-clerk that the occupants
of every room within earshot of number 618had 'phoned the desk to complain of a disturbance, a noise, a vocal uproar proceeding from theroom mentioned. thither, therefore, marched mr. o'neill, his face full of cheese-sandwich,(for he had been indulging in an early breakfast or a late supper) and his heart of devotionto duty. he found there the misses pauline preston and "bobbie" st. clair, of the personnelof the chorus of the frivolities, entertaining a few friends of either sex. a pleasant timewas being had by all, and at the moment of mr. o'neill's entry the entire strength ofthe company was rendering with considerable emphasis that touching ballad, "there's aplace for me in heaven, for my baby-boy is there."
the able and efficient officer at once suggestedthat there was a place for them in the street and the patrol-wagon was there; and, beinga man of action as well as words, proceeded to gather up an armful of assorted guestsas a preliminary to a personally-conducted tour onto the cold night. it was at this pointthat miss preston stepped into the limelight. mr. o'neill contends that she hit him witha brick, an iron casing, and the singer building. be that as it may, her efforts were sufficientlyable to induce him to retire for reinforcements, which, arriving, arrested the supper-partyregardless of age or sex. at the police-court this morning miss prestonmaintained that she and her friends were merely having a quiet home-evening and that mr. o'neillwas no gentleman. the male guests gave their
names respectively as woodrow wilson, davidlloyd-george, and william j. bryan. these, however, are believed to be incorrect. butthe moral is, if you want excitement rather than sleep, stay at the hotel cosmopolis. bill may have quaked inwardly as he listenedto this epic but outwardly he was unmoved. "well," he said, "what about it?" "what about it!" said lucille. "what about it!" said archie. "why, my dearold friend, it simply means that all the time we've been putting in making your personalitywinning has been chucked away. absolutely a dead loss! we might just as well have reada manual on how to knit sweaters."
"i don't see it," maintained bill, stoutly. lucille turned apologetically to her husband. "you mustn't judge me by him, archie, darling.this sort of thing doesn't run in the family.-we are supposed to be rather bright on the whole.but poor bill was dropped by his nurse when he was a baby, and fell on his head." "i suppose what you're driving at," said thegoaded bill, "is that what has happened will make father pretty sore against girls whohappen to be in the chorus?" "that's absolutely it, old thing, i'm sorryto say. the next person who mentions the word chorus-girl in the jolly old governor's presenceis going to take his life in his hands. i
tell you, as one man to another, that i'dmuch rather be back in france hopping over the top than do it myself." "what darned nonsense! mabel may be in thechorus, but she isn't like those girls." "poor old bill!" said lucille. "i'm awfullysorry, but it's no use not facing facts. you know perfectly well that the reputation ofthe hotel is the thing father cares more about than anything else in the world, and thatthis is going to make him furious with all the chorus-girls in creation. it's no goodtrying to explain to him that your mabel is in the chorus but not of the chorus, so tospeak." "deuced well put!" said archie, approvingly."you're absolutely right. a chorus-girl by
the river's brim, so to speak, a simple chorus-girlis to him, as it were, and she is nothing more, if you know what i mean." "so now," said lucille, "having shown youthat the imbecile scheme which you concocted with my poor well-meaning husband is no goodat all, i will bring you words of cheer. your own original plan—of getting your mabela part in a comedy—was always the best one. and you can do it. i wouldn't have brokenthe bad news so abruptly if i hadn't had some consolation to give you afterwards. i metreggie van tuyl just now, wandering about as if the cares of the world were on his shoulders,and he told me that he was putting up most of the money for a new play that's going intorehearsal right away. reggie's an old friend
of yours. all you have to do is to go to himand ask him to use his influence to get your mabel a small part. there's sure to be a maidor something with only a line or two that won't matter." "a ripe scheme!" said archie. "very soundand fruity!" the cloud did not lift from bill's corrugatedbrow. "that's all very well," he said. "but youknow what a talker reggie is. he's an obliging sort of chump, but his tongue's fastened onat the middle and waggles at both ends. i don't want the whole of new york to know aboutmy engagement, and have somebody spilling the news to father, before i'm ready."
"that's all right," said lucille. "archiecan speak to him. there's no need for him to mention your name at all. he can just saythere's a girl he wants to get a part for. you would do it, wouldn't you, angel-face?" "like a bird, queen of my soul." "then that's splendid. you'd better give archiethat photograph of mabel to give to reggie, bill." "photograph?" said bill. "which photograph?i have twenty-four!" archie found reggie van tuyl brooding in awindow of his club that looked over fifth avenue. reggie was a rather melancholy youngman who suffered from elephantiasis of the
bank-roll and the other evils that arise fromthat complaint. gentle and sentimental by nature, his sensibilities had been much woundedby contact with a sordid world; and the thing that had first endeared archie to him wasthe fact that the latter, though chronically hard-up, had never made any attempt to borrowmoney from him. reggie would have parted with it on demand, but it had delighted him tofind that archie seemed to take a pleasure in his society without having any ulteriormotives. he was fond of archie, and also of lucille; and their happy marriage was a constantsource of gratification to him. for reggie was a sentimentalist. he wouldhave liked to live in a world of ideally united couples, himself ideally united to some charmingand affectionate girl. but, as a matter of
cold fact, he was a bachelor, and most ofthe couples he knew were veterans of several divorces. in reggie's circle, therefore, thehome-life of archie and lucille shone like a good deed in a naughty world. it inspiredhim. in moments of depression it restored his waning faith in human nature. consequently, when archie, having greetedhim and slipped into a chair at his side, suddenly produced from his inside pocket thephotograph of an extremely pretty girl and asked him to get her a small part in the playwhich he was financing, he was shocked and disappointed. he was in a more than usuallysentimental mood that afternoon, and had, indeed, at the moment of archie's arrival,been dreaming wistfully of soft arms clasped
snugly about his collar and the patter oflittle feet and all that sort of thing.-he gazed reproachfully at archie. "archie!" his voice quivered with emotion."is it worth it?, is it worth it, old man?-think of the poor little woman at home!" archie was puzzled. "eh, old top? which poor little woman?" "think of her trust in you, her faith—". "i don't absolutely get you, old bean." "what would lucille say if she knew aboutthis?"
"oh, she does. she knows all about it." "good heavens!" cried reggie.-he was shockedto the core of his being.-one of the articles of his faith was, that the union of lucilleand archie was different from those loose partnerships which were the custom in hisworld.-he had not been conscious of such a poignant feeling that the foundations of theuniverse were cracked and tottering and that there was no light and sweetness in life sincethe morning, eighteen months back, when a negligent valet had sent him out into fifthavenue with only one spat on. "it was lucille's idea," explained archie.he was about to mention his brother-in-law's connection with the matter, but checked himselfin time, remembering bill's specific objection
to having his secret revealed to reggie. "it'slike this, old thing, i've never met this female, but she's a pal of lucille's"-he comfortedhis conscience by the reflection that, if she wasn't now, she would be in a few days-"andlucille wants to do her a bit of good. she's been on the stage in england, you know, supportinga jolly old widowed mother and educating a little brother and all that kind and speciesof rot, you understand, and now she's coming over to america, and lucille wants you torally round and shove her into your show and generally keep the home fires burning andso forth. how do we go?" reggie beamed with relief. he felt just ashe had felt on that other occasion at the moment when a taxi-cab had rolled up and enabledhim to hide his spatless leg from the public
gaze. "oh, i see!" he said. "why, delighted, oldman, quite delighted!" "any small part would do. isn't there a maidor something in your bob's-worth of refined entertainment who drifts about saying, 'yes,madam,' and all that sort of thing? well, then that's just the thing. topping! i knewi could rely on you, old bird. i'll get lucille to ship her round to your address when shearrives. i fancy she's due to totter in somewhere in the next few days. well, i must be popping.toodle-oo!" "pip-pip!" said reggie. it was about a week later that lucille cameinto the suite at the
hotel cosmopolis that was her home, and foundarchie lying on the couch, smoking a refreshing pipe after the laboursof the day. it seemed to archie that his wife was not in her usualcheerful frame of mind. he kissed her, and, having relieved her of herparasol, endeavoured without success to balance it on his chin. havingpicked it up from the floor and placed it on the table, he became awarethat lucille was looking at him in a despondent sort of way. her greyeyes were clouded. "halloa, old thing," said archie. "what'sup?" lucille sighed wearily.
"archie, darling, do you know any really goodswear-words?" "well," said archie, reflectively, "let mesee. i did pick up a few tolerably ripe and breezy expressions out in france. all throughmy military career there was something about me—some subtle magnetism, don't you know,and that sort of thing—that seemed to make colonels and blighters of that order ratherinventive. i sort of inspired them, don't you know. i remember one brass-hat addressingme for quite ten minutes, saying something new all the time. and even then he seemedto think he had only touched the fringe of the subject. as a matter of fact, he saidstraight out in the most frank and confiding way that mere words couldn't do justice tome. but why?"
"because i want to relieve my feelings." "anything wrong?" "everything's wrong. i've just been havingtea with bill and his mabel." "oh, ah!" said archie, interested. "and what'sthe verdict?" "guilty!" said lucille. "and the sentence,if i had anything to do with it, would be transportation for life." she peeled off hergloves irritably. "what fools men are! not you, precious! you're the only man in theworld that isn't, it seems to me. you did marry a nice girl, didn't you? you didn'tgo running round after females with crimson hair, goggling at them with your eyes poppingout of your head like a bulldog waiting for
a bone." "oh, i say! does old bill look like that?" "worse!" archie rose to a point of order. "but one moment, old lady. you speak of crimsonhair. surely old bill—in the extremely jolly monologues he used to deliver whenever i didn'tsee him coming and he got me alone—used to allude to her hair as brown." "it isn't brown now. it's bright scarlet.good gracious, i ought to know. i've been looking at it all the afternoon. it dazzledme. if i've got to meet her again, i mean
to go to the oculist's and get a pair of thosesmoked glasses you wear at palm beach." lucille brooded silently for a while over the tragedy."i don't want to say anything against her, of course." "no, no, of course not." "but of all the awful, second-rate girls iever met, she's the worst! she has vermilion hair and an imitation oxford manner. she'sso horribly refined that it's dreadful to listen to her. she's a sly, creepy, slinky,made-up, insincere vampire! she's common! she's awful! she's a cat!" "you're quite right not to say anything againsther," said archie, approvingly. "it begins
to look," he went on, "as if the good oldpater was about due for another shock. he has a hard life!" "if bill dares to introduce that girl to father,he's taking his life in his hands." "but surely that was the idea—the scheme—thewheeze, wasn't it? or do you think there's any chance of his weakening?" "weakening! you should have seen him lookingat her! it was like a small boy flattening his nose against the window of a candy-store." "bit thick!" lucille kicked the leg of the table.
"and to think," she said, "that, when i wasa little girl, i used to look up to bill as a monument of wisdom. iused to hug his knees and gaze into his face and wonder how anyone couldbe so magnificent." she gave the unoffending table another kick. "ifi could have looked into the future," she said, with feeling, "i'dhave bitten him in the ankle!" in the days which followed, archie found himselfa little out of touch with bill and his romance. lucille referredto the matter only when he brought the subject up, and made itplain that the topic of her future sister-in-law was not one whichshe enjoyed discussing. mr.
brewster, senior, when archie, by way of delicatelypreparing his mind for what was about to befall, asked him ifhe liked red hair, called him a fool, and told him to go away and bothersomeone else when they were busy. the only person who could have kepthim thoroughly abreast of the trend of affairs was bill himself; and experiencehad made archie wary in the matter of meeting bill. the positionof confidant to a young man in the early stages of love is no sinecure,and it made archie sleepy even to think of having to talk to his brother-in-law.he sedulously avoided his love-lorn relative, and it waswith a sinking feeling
one day that, looking over his shoulder ashe sat in the cosmopolis grill-room preparatory to ordering lunch,he perceived bill bearing down upon him, obviously resolved upon joininghis meal. to his surprise, however, bill did not instantlyembark upon his usual monologue. indeed, he hardly spoke at all. he champed a chop, andseemed to archie to avoid his eye. it was not till lunch was over and they were smokingthat he unburdened himself. "archie!" he said. "hallo, old thing!" said archie. "still there?i thought you'd died or something. talk about our old pals, tongue-tied thomas and silentsammy! you could beat 'em both on the same
evening." "it's enough to make me silent." "what is?" bill had relapsed into a sort of waking dream.he sat frowning sombrely, lost to the world. archie, having waited what seemed to him asufficient length of time for an answer to his question, bent forward and touched hisbrother-in-law's hand gently with the lighted end of his cigar. bill came to himself witha howl. "what is?" said archie. "what is what?" said bill.
"now listen, old thing," protested archie."life is short and time is flying. suppose we cut out the cross-talk. you hinted therewas something on your mind—something worrying the old bean—and i'm waiting to hear whatit is." bill fiddled a moment with his coffee-spoon. "i'm in an awful hole," he said at last. "what's the trouble?" "it's about that darned girl!" archie blinked. "what!"
"that darned girl!" archie could scarcely credit his senses. hehad been prepared—indeed, he had steeled himself—to hear bill allude to his affinityin a number of ways. but "that darned girl" was not one of them. "companion of my riper years," he said, "let'sget this thing straight. when you say 'that darned girl,' do you by any possibility alludeto—?" "of course i do!" "but, william, old bird—" "oh, i know, i know, i know!" said bill, irritably."you're surprised to hear me talk like that
about her?" "a trifle, yes. possibly a trifle. when lastheard from, laddie, you must recollect, you were speaking of the lady as your soul-mate,and at least once—if i remember rightly—you alluded to her as your little dusky-hairedlamb." a sharp howl escaped bill. "don't!" a strong shudder convulsed his frame."don't remind me of it!" "there's been a species of slump, then, indusky-haired lambs?" "how," demanded bill, savagely, "can a girlbe a dusky-haired lamb when her hair's bright scarlet?"
"dashed difficult!" admitted archie. "i suppose lucille told you about that?" "she did touch on it. lightly, as it were.with a sort of gossamer touch, so to speak." bill threw off the last fragments of reserve. "archie, i'm in the devil of a fix. i don'tknow why it was, but directly i saw her—things seemed so different over in england—i mean."he swallowed ice-water in gulps. "i suppose it was seeing her with lucille. old lu issuch a thoroughbred. seemed to kind of show her up. like seeing imitation pearls by theside of real pearls. and that crimson hair! it sort of put the lid on it." bill broodedmorosely. "it ought to be a criminal offence
for women to dye their hair. especially red.what the devil do women do that sort of thing for?" "don't blame me, old thing. it's not my fault." bill looked furtive and harassed. "it makes me feel such a cad. here am i, feelingthat i would give all i've got in the world to get out of the darned thing, and all thetime the poor girl seems to be getting fonder of me than ever." "how do you know?" archie surveyed his brother-in-lawcritically. "perhaps her feelings have changed too. very possibly she may not like the colourof your hair. i don't myself. now if you were
to dye yourself crimson—" "oh, shut up! of course a man knows when agirl's fond of him." "by no means, laddie. when you're my age—" "i am your age." "so you are! i forgot that. well, now, approachingthe matter from another angle, let us suppose, old son, that miss what's-her-name—the partyof the second part—" "stop it!" said bill suddenly. "here comesreggie!" "here comes reggie van tuyl. i don't wanthim to hear us talking about the darned thing." archie looked over his shoulder and perceivedthat it was indeed so. reggie was threading
his way among the tables. "well, he looks pleased with things, anyway,"said bill, enviously. "glad somebody's happy." he was right. reggie van tuyl's usual modeof progress through a restaurant was a somnolent slouch. now he was positively bounding along.furthermore, the usual expression on reggie's face was a sleepy sadness. now he smiled brightlyand with animation. he curveted towards their table, beaming and erect, his head up, hisgaze level, and his chest expanded, for all the world as if he had been reading the hintsin "the personality that wins." archie was puzzled. something had plainlyhappened to reggie. but what? it was idle to suppose that somebody had left him money,for he had been left practically all the money
there was a matter of ten years before. "hallo, old bean," he said, as the new-comer,radiating good will and bonhomie, arrived at the table and hung over it like a noon-daysun. "we've finished. but rally round and we'll watch you eat. dashed interesting, watchingold reggie eat. why go to the zoo?" reggie shook his head. "sorry, old man. can't. just on my way tothe ritz. stepped in because i thought you might be here. i wanted you to be the firstto hear the news." "news?" "i'm the happiest man alive!"
"you look it, darn you!" growled bill, onwhose mood of grey gloom this human sunbeam was jarring heavily. "i'm engaged to be married!" "congratulations, old egg!" archie shook hishand cordially. "dash it, don't you know, as an old married man i like to see you youngfellows settling down." "i don't know how to thank you enough, archie,old man," said reggie, fervently. "thank me?" "it was through you that i met her. don'tyou remember the girl you sent to me? you wanted me to get her a small part—"
he stopped, puzzled. archie had uttered asound that was half gasp and half gurgle, but it was swallowed up in the extraordinarynoise from the other side of the table. bill brewster was leaning forward with bulgingeyes and soaring eyebrows. "are you engaged to mabel winchester?" "why, by george!" said reggie. "do you knowher?" archie recovered himself. "slightly," he said. "slightly. old bill knowsher slightly, as it were. not very well, don't you know, but—how shall i put it?" "slightly," suggested bill.
"just the word. slightly." "splendid!" said reggie van tuyl. "why don'tyou come along to the ritz and meet her now?" bill stammered. archie came to the rescueagain. "bill can't come now. he's got a date." "a date?" said bill. "a date," said archie. "an appointment, don'tyou know. a—a—in fact, a date." "but—er—wish her happiness from me," saidbill, cordially. "thanks very much, old man," said reggie. "and say i'm delighted, will you?"
"certainly." "you won't forget the word, will you? delighted." "delighted." "that's right. delighted." reggie looked at his watch. "halloa! i must rush!" bill and archie watched him as he boundedout of the restaurant. "poor old reggie!" said bill, with a fleetingcompunction. "not necessarily," said archie. "what i meanto say is, tastes differ, don't you know.
one man's peach is another man's poison, andvice versa." "there's something in that." "absolutely! well," said archie, judicially,"this would appear to be, as it were, the maddest, merriest day in all the glad newyear, yes, no?" bill drew a deep breath. "you bet your sorrowful existence it is!"he said. "i'd like to do something to celebrate it." "the right spirit!" said archie. "absolutelythe right spirit! begin by paying for my lunch!" chapter xx. the-sausage-chappie-clicks
rendered restless by relief, bill brewsterdid not linger long at the luncheon-table. shortly after reggie van tuyl had retired,he got up and announced his intention of going for a bit of a walk to calm his excited mind.archie dismissed him with a courteous wave of the hand; and, beckoning to the sausagechappie, who in his role of waiter was hovering near, requested him to bring the best cigarthe hotel could supply. the padded seat in which he sat was comfortable; he had no engagements;and it seemed to him that a pleasant half-hour could be passed in smoking dreamily and watchinghis fellow-men eat. the grill-room had filled up. the sausagechappie, having brought archie his cigar, was attending to a table close by, at whicha woman with a small boy in a sailor suit
had seated themselves. the woman was engrossedwith the bill of fare, but the child's attention seemed riveted upon the sausage chappie. hewas drinking him in with wide eyes. he seemed to be brooding on him. archie, too, was brooding on the sausage chappie,the latter made an excellent waiter: he was brisk and attentive, and did the work as ifhe liked it; but archie was not satisfied. something seemed to tell him that the manwas fitted for higher things. archie was a grateful soul. that sausage, coming at theend of a five-hour hike, had made a deep impression on his plastic nature. reason told him thatonly an exceptional man could have parted with half a sausage at such a moment; andhe could not feel that a job as waiter at
a new york hotel was an adequate job for anexceptional man. of course, the root of the trouble lay in the fact that the fellow couldnot remember what his real life-work had been before the war. it was exasperating to reflect,as the other moved away to take his order to the kitchen, that there, for all one knew,went the dickens of a lawyer or doctor or architect or what not. his meditations were broken by the voice ofthe child. "mummie," asked the child interestedly, followingthe sausage chappie with his eyes as the latter disappeared towards the kitchen, "why hasthat man got such a funny face?" "hush, darling."
"yes, but why has he?" "i don't know, darling." the child's faith in the maternal omniscienceseemed to have received a shock. he had the air of a seeker after truth who has been baffled.his eyes roamed the room discontentedly. "he's got a funnier face than that man there,"he said, pointing to archie. "hush, darling!" "but he has. much funnier." in a way it was a sort of compliment, butarchie felt embarrassed. he withdrew coyly into the cushioned recess. presently the sausagechappie returned, attended to the needs of
the woman and the child, and came over toarchie. his homely face was beaming. "say, i had a big night last night," he said,leaning on the table. "yes?" said archie. "party or something?" "no, i mean i suddenly began to remember things.something seems to have happened to the works." archie sat up excitedly. this was great news. "no, really? my dear old lad, this is absolutelytopping. this is priceless." "yessir! first thing i remembered was thati was born at springfield, ohio. it was like a mist starting to lift. springfield, ohio.that was it. it suddenly came back to me." "splendid! anything else?"
"yessir! just before i went to sleep i rememberedmy name as well." archie was stirred to his depths. "why, the thing's a walk-over!" he exclaimed."now you've once got started, nothing can stop you. what is your name?" "why, it's—that's funny! it's gone again.i have an idea it began with an s. what was it? skeffington? skillington?" "sanderson?" "no; i'll get it in a moment. cunningham?carrington? wilberforce? debenham?" "dennison?" suggested archie, helpfully.—"no,no, no. it's on the tip of my tongue. barrington?
montgomery? hepplethwaite? i've got it! smith!" "by jove! really?" "certain of it." "what's the first name?" an anxious expression came into the man'seyes. he hesitated. he lowered his voice. "i have a horrible feeling that it's lancelot!" "it couldn't really be that, could it?" archie looked grave. he hated to give pain,but he felt he must be honest. "it might," he said. "people give their childrenall sorts of rummy names. my second name's
tracy. and i have a pal in england who waschristened cuthbert de la hay horace. fortunately everyone calls him stinker." the head-waiter began to drift up like a bankof fog, and the sausage chappie returned to his professional duties. when he came back,he was beaming again. "something else i remembered," he said, removingthe cover. "i'm married!" "at least i was before the war. she had blueeyes and brown hair and a pekingese dog." "what was her name?" "i don't know." "well, you're coming on," said archie. "i'lladmit that. you've still got a bit of a way
to go before you become like one of thoseblighters who take the memory training courses in the magazine advertisements—i mean tosay, you know, the lads who meet a fellow once for five minutes, and then come acrosshim again ten years later and grasp him by the hand and say, 'surely this is mr. watkinsof seattle?' still, you're doing fine. you only need patience. everything comes to himwho waits." archie sat up, electrified. "i say, by jove, that's rather good, what! everythingcomes to him who waits, and you're a waiter, what, what. i mean to say, what!" "mummie," said the child at the other table,still speculative, "do you think something trod on his face?"
"perhaps it was bitten by something?" "eat your nice fish, darling," said the mother,who seemed to be one of those dull-witted persons whom it is impossible to interestin a discussion on first causes. archie felt stimulated. not even the adventof his father-in-law, who came in a few moments later and sat down at the other end of theroom, could depress his spirits. the sausage chappie came to his table again. "it's a funny thing," he said. "like wakingup after you've been asleep. everything seems to be getting clearer. the dog's name wasmarie. my wife's dog, you know. and she had a mole on her chin."
"the dog?" "no. my wife. little beast! she bit me inthe leg once." "your wife?" "no. the dog. good lord!" said the sausagechappie. archie looked up and followed his gaze. a couple of tables away, next to a sideboardon which the management exposed for view the cold meats and puddings and pies mentionedin volume two of the bill of fare ("buffet froid"), a man and a girl had just seatedthemselves. the man was stout and middle-aged. he bulged in practically every place in whicha man can bulge, and his head was almost entirely
free from hair. the girl was young and pretty.her eyes were blue. her hair was brown. she had a rather attractive little mole on theleft side of her chin. "good lord!" said the sausage chappie. "now what?" said archie. "who's that? over at the table there?" archie, through long attendance at the cosmopolisgrill, knew most of the habitues by sight. "that's a man named gossett. james j. gossett.he's a motion-picture man. you must have seen his name around." "i don't mean him. who's the girl?"
"i've never seen her before." "it's my wife!" said the sausage chappie. "your wife!" "yes!" "of course i'm sure!" "well, well, well!" said archie. "many happyreturns of the day!" at the other table, the girl, unconsciousof the drama which was about to enter her life, was engrossed in conversation with thestout man. and at this moment the stout man leaned forward and patted her on the cheek.
it was a paternal pat, the pat which a genialuncle might bestow on a favourite niece, but it did not strike the sausage chappie in thatlight. he had been advancing on the table at a fairly rapid pace, and now, stirred tohis depths, he bounded forward with a hoarse cry. archie was at some pains to explain to hisfather-in-law later that, if the management left cold pies and things about all over theplace, this sort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. he urged that it was puttingtemptation in people's way, and that mr. brewster had only himself to blame. whatever the rightsof the case, the buffet froid undoubtedly came in remarkably handy at this crisis inthe sausage chappie's life. he had almost
reached the sideboard when the stout man pattedthe girl's cheek, and to seize a huckleberry pie was with him the work of a moment. thenext instant the pie had whizzed past the other's head and burst like a shell againstthe wall. there are, no doubt, restaurants where thissort of thing would have excited little comment, but the cosmopolis was not one of them. everybodyhad something to say, but the only one among those present who had anything sensible tosay was the child in the sailor suit. "do it again!" said the child, cordially. the sausage chappie did it again. he tookup a fruit salad, poised it for a moment, then decanted it over mr. gossett's bald head.the child's happy laughter rang over the restaurant.
whatever anybody else might think of the affair,this child liked it and was prepared to go on record to that effect. epic events have a stunning quality. theyparalyse the faculties. for a moment there was a pause. the world stood still. mr. brewsterbubbled inarticulately. mr. gossett dried himself sketchily with a napkin. the sausagechappie snorted. the girl had risen to her feet and was staringwildly. "john!" she cried. even at this moment of crisis the sausagechappie was able to look relieved. "so it is!" he said. "and i thought it waslancelot!"
"i thought you were dead!" "i'm not!" said the sausage chappie. mr. gossett, speaking thickly through thefruit-salad, was understood to say that he regretted this. and then confusion broke looseagain. everybody began to talk at once. "i say!" said archie. "i say! one moment!" of the first stages of this interesting episodearchie had been a paralysed spectator. the thing had numbed him. and then— sudden a thought came, like a full-blown rose.flushing his brow. when he reached the gesticulating group, hewas calm and business-like. he had a constructive
policy to suggest. "i say," he said. "i've got an idea!" "go away!" said mr. brewster. "this is badenough without you butting in." archie quelled him with a gesture. "leave us," he said. "we would be alone. iwant to have a little business-talk with mr. gossett." he turned to the movie-magnate,who was gradually emerging from the fruit-salad rather after the manner of a stout venus risingfrom the sea. "can you spare me a moment of your valuable time?" "i'll have him arrested!"
"don't you do it, laddie. listen!" "the man's mad. throwing pies!" archie attached himself to his coat-button. "be calm, laddie. calm and reasonable!" for the first time mr. gossett seemed to becomeaware that what he had been looking on as a vague annoyance was really an individual. "who the devil are you?" archie drew himself up with dignity. "i am this gentleman's representative," hereplied, indicating the sausage chappie with
a motion of the hand. "his jolly old personalrepresentative. i act for him. and on his behalf i have a pretty ripe proposition tolay before you. reflect, dear old bean," he proceeded earnestly. "are you going to letthis chance slip? the opportunity of a lifetime which will not occur again. by jove, you oughtto rise up and embrace this bird. you ought to clasp the chappie to your bosom! he hasthrown pies at you, hasn't he? very well. you are a movie-magnate. your whole fortuneis founded on chappies who throw pies. you probably scour the world for chappies whothrow pies. yet, when one comes right to you without any fuss or trouble and demonstratesbefore your very eyes the fact that he is without a peer as a pie-propeller, you getthe wind up and talk about having him arrested.
consider! (there's a bit of cherry just behindyour left ear.) be sensible. why let your personal feeling stand in the way of doingyourself a bit of good? give this chappie a job and give it him quick, or we go elsewhere.did you ever see fatty arbuckle handle pastry with a surer touch? has charlie chaplin gotthis fellow's speed and control. absolutely not. i tell you, old friend, you're in dangerof throwing away a good thing!" he paused. the sausage chappie beamed. "i've aways wanted to go into the movies,"he said. "i was an actor before the war. just remembered." mr. brewster attempted to speak. archie wavedhim down.
"how many times have i got to tell you notto butt in?" he said, severely. mr. gossett's militant demeanour had becomea trifle modified during archie's harangue. first and foremost a man of business, mr.gossett was not insensible to the arguments which had been put forward. he brushed a sliceof orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile. "how do i know this fellow would screen well?"he said, at length. "screen well!" cried archie. "of course he'llscreen well. look at his face. i ask you! the map! i call your attention to it." heturned apologetically to the sausage chappie. "awfully sorry, old lad, for dwelling on this,but it's business, you know." he turned to
mr. gossett. "did you ever see a face likethat? of course not. why should i, as this gentleman's personal representative, let aface like that go to waste? there's a fortune in it. by jove, i'll give you two minutesto think the thing over, and, if you don't talk business then, i'll jolly well take myman straight round to mack sennett or someone. we don't have to ask for jobs. we consideroffers." there was a silence. and then the clear voiceof the child in the sailor suit made itself heard again. "mummie!" "yes, darling?"
"is the man with the funny face going to throwany more pies?" "no, darling." the child uttered a scream of disappointedfury. "i want the funny man to throw some more pies!i want the funny man to throw some more pies!" a look almost of awe came into mr. gossett'sface. he had heard the voice of the public. he had felt the beating of the public's pulse. "out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,"he said, picking a piece of banana off his right eyebrow, "out of the mouths of babesand sucklings. come round to my office!" chapter xxi. the growing boy
the lobby of the cosmopolis hotel was a favouritestamping-ground of mr. daniel brewster, its proprietor. he liked to wander about there,keeping a paternal eye on things, rather in the manner of the jolly innkeeper (hereinafterto be referred to as mine host) of the old-fashioned novel. customers who, hurrying in to dinner,tripped over mr. brewster, were apt to mistake him for the hotel detective—for his eyewas keen and his aspect a trifle austere—but, nevertheless, he was being as jolly an innkeeperas he knew how. his presence in the lobby supplied a personal touch to the cosmopoliswhich other new york hotels lacked, and it undeniably made the girl at the book-stallextraordinarily civil to her clients, which was all to the good.
most of the time mr. brewster stood in onespot and just looked thoughtful; but now and again he would wander to the marble slab behindwhich he kept the desk-clerk and run his eye over the register, to see who had booked rooms—likea child examining the stocking on christmas morning to ascertain what santa claus hadbrought him. as a rule, mr. brewster concluded this performanceby shoving the book back across the marble slab and resuming his meditations. but onenight a week or two after the sausage chappie's sudden restoration to the normal, he variedthis procedure by starting rather violently, turning purple, and uttering an exclamationwhich was manifestly an exclamation of chagrin. he turned abruptly and cannoned into archie,who, in company with lucille, happened to
be crossing the lobby at the moment on hisway to dine in their suite. mr. brewster apologised gruffly; then, recognisinghis victim, seemed to regret having done so. "oh, it's you! why can't you look where you'regoing?" he demanded. he had suffered much from his son-in-law. "frightfully sorry," said archie, amiably."never thought you were going to fox-trot backwards all over the fairway." "you mustn't bully archie," said lucille,severely, attaching herself to her father's back hair and giving it a punitive tug, "becausehe's an angel, and i love him, and you must learn to love him, too."
"give you lessons at a reasonable rate," murmuredarchie. mr. brewster regarded his young relative witha lowering eye. "what's the matter, father darling?" askedlucille. "you seem upset" "i am upset!" mr. brewster snorted. "somepeople have got a nerve!" he glowered forbiddingly at an inoffensive young man in a light overcoatwho had just entered, and the young man, though his conscience was quite clear and mr. brewsteran entire stranger to him, stopped dead, blushed, and went out again—to dine elsewhere. "somepeople have got the nerve of an army mule!" "why, what's happened?" "those darned mccalls have registered here!"
"no!" "bit beyond me, this," said archie, insinuatinghimself into the conversation. "deep waters and what not! who are the mccalls?" "some people father dislikes," said lucille."and they've chosen his hotel to stop at. but, father dear, you mustn't mind. it's reallya compliment. they've come because they know it's the best hotel in new york." "absolutely!" said archie. "good accommodationfor man and beast! all the comforts of home! look on the bright side, old bean. no goodgetting the wind up. cherrio, old companion!" "eh, what? oh, right-o!"
lucille steered her husband out of the dangerzone, and they entered the lift. "poor father!" she said, as they went to theirsuite, "it's a shame. they must have done it to annoy him. this man mccall has a placenext to some property father bought in westchester, and he's bringing a law-suit against fatherabout a bit of land which he claims belongs to him. he might have had the tact to go toanother hotel. but, after all, i don't suppose it was the poor little fellow's fault. hedoes whatever his wife tells him to." "we all do that," said archie the marriedman. lucille eyed him fondly. "isn't it a shame, precious, that all husbandshaven't nice wives like me?"
"when i think of you, by jove," said archie,fervently, "i want to babble, absolutely babble!" "oh, i was telling you about the mccalls.mr. mccall is one of those little, meek men, and his wife's one of those big, bullyingwomen. it was she who started all the trouble with father. father and mr. mccall were veryfond of each other till she made him begin the suit. i feel sure she made him come tothis hotel just to annoy father. still, they've probably taken the most expensive suite inthe place, which is something." archie was at the telephone. his mood wasnow one of quiet peace. of all the happenings which went to make up existence in new york,he liked best the cosy tete-a-tete dinners with lucille in their suite, which, owingto their engagements—for lucille was a popular
girl, with many friends—occurred all tooseldom. "touching now the question of browsing andsluicing," he said. "i'll be getting them to send along a waiter." "oh, good gracious!" "what's the matter?" "i've just remembered. i promised faithfullyi would go and see jane murchison to-day. and i clean forgot. i must rush." "but light of my soul, we are about to eat.pop around and see her after dinner." "i can't. she's going to a theatre to-night."
"give her the jolly old miss-in-baulk, then,for the nonce, and spring round to-morrow." "she's sailing for england to-morrow morning,early. no, i must go and see her now. what a shame! she's sure to make me stop to dinner,i tell you what. order something for me, and, if i'm not back in half an hour, start." "jane murchison," said archie, "is a ballynuisance." "yes. but i've known her since she was eight." "if her parents had had any proper feeling,"said archie, "they would have drowned her long before that." he unhooked the receiver, and asked despondentlyto be connected with room service. he thought
bitterly of the exigent jane, whom he recollecteddimly as a tall female with teeth. he half thought of going down to the grill-room onthe chance of finding a friend there, but the waiter was on his way to the room. hedecided that he might as well stay where he was. the waiter arrived, booked the order, anddeparted. archie had just completed his toilet after a shower-bath when a musical clinkingwithout announced the advent of the meal. he opened the door. the waiter was there witha table congested with things under covers, from which escaped a savoury and appetisingodour. in spite of his depression, archie's soul perked up a trifle.
suddenly he became aware that he was not theonly person present who was deriving enjoyment from the scent of the meal. standing besidethe waiter and gazing wistfully at the foodstuffs was a long, thin boy of about sixteen. hewas one of those boys who seem all legs and knuckles. he had pale red hair, sandy eyelashes,and a long neck; and his eyes, as he removed them from the-table and raised them to archie's,had a hungry look. he reminded archie of a half-grown, half-starved hound. "that smells good!" said the long boy. heinhaled deeply. "yes, sir," he continued, as one whose mind is definitely made up, "thatsmells good!" before archie could reply, the telephone bellrang. it was lucille, confirming her prophecy
that the pest jane would insist on her stayingto dine. "jane," said archie, into the telephone, "isa pot of poison. the waiter is here now, setting out a rich banquet, and i shall have to eattwo of everything by myself." he hung up the receiver, and, turning, metthe pale eye of the long boy, who had propped himself up in the doorway. "were you expecting somebody to dinner?" askedthe boy. "why, yes, old friend, i was." "i wish—" "oh, nothing."
the waiter left. the long boy hitched hisback more firmly against the doorpost, and returned to his original theme. "that surely does smell good!" he basked amoment in the aroma. "yes, sir! i'll tell the world it does!" archie was not an abnormally rapid thinker,but he began at this point to get a clearly defined impression that this lad, if invited,would waive the formalities and consent to join his meal. indeed, the idea archie gotwas that, if he were not invited pretty soon, he would invite himself. "yes," he agreed. "it doesn't smell bad, what!"
"it smells good!" said the boy. "oh, doesn'tit! wake me up in the night and ask me if it doesn't!" "poulet en casserole," said archie. "golly!" said the boy, reverently. there was a pause. the situation began toseem to archie a trifle difficult. he wanted to start his meal, but it began to appearthat he must either do so under the penetrating gaze of his new friend or else eject the latterforcibly. the boy showed no signs of ever wanting to leave the doorway. "you've dined, i suppose, what?" said archie.
"i never dine." "not really dine, i mean. i only get vegetablesand nuts and things." "dieting?" "mother is." "i don't absolutely catch the drift, old bean,"said archie. the boy sniffed with half-closed eyes as a wave of perfume from the pouleten casserole floated past him. he seemed to be anxious to intercept as much of it as possiblebefore it got through the door. "mother's a food-reformer," he vouchsafed."she lectures on it. she makes pop and me live on vegetables and nuts and things."
archie was shocked. it was like listeningto a tale from the abyss. "my dear old chap, you must suffer agonies—absoluteshooting pains!" he had no hesitation now. common humanity pointed out his course. "wouldyou care to join me in a bite now?" "would i!" the boy smiled a wan smile. "wouldi! just stop me on the street and ask me!" "come on in, then," said archie, rightly takingthis peculiar phrase for a formal acceptance. "and close the door. the fatted calf is gettingcold." archie was not a man with a wide visiting-listamong people with families, and it was so long since he had seen a growing boy in actionat the table that he had forgotten what sixteen is capable of doing with a knife and fork,when it really squares its elbows, takes a
deep breath, and gets going. the spectaclewhich he witnessed was consequently at first a little unnerving. the long boy's idea oftrifling with a meal appeared to be to swallow it whole and reach out for more. he ate likea starving eskimo. archie, in the time he had spent in the trenches making the worldsafe for the working-man to strike in, had occasionally been quite peckish, but he satdazed before this majestic hunger. this was real eating. there was little conversation. the growingboy evidently did not believe in table-talk when he could use his mouth for more practicalpurposes. it was not until the final roll had been devoured to its last crumb that theguest found leisure to address his host. then
he leaned back with a contented sigh. "mother," said the human python, "says youought to chew every mouthful thirty-three times...." "yes, sir! thirty-three times!" he sighedagain, "i haven't ever had meal like that." "all right, was it, what?" "was it! was it! call me up on the 'phoneand ask me!-yes, sir!-mother's tipped off these darned waiters not to serve-me anythingbut vegetables and nuts and things, darn it!" "the mater seems to have drastic ideas aboutthe good old feed-bag, what!" "i'll say she has! pop hates it as much asme, but he's scared to kick. mother says vegetables
contain all the proteins you want. mothersays, if you eat meat, your blood-pressure goes all blooey. do you think it does?" "mine seems pretty well in the pink." "she's great on talking," conceded the boy."she's out to-night somewhere, giving a lecture on rational eating to some ginks. i'll haveto be slipping up to our suite before she gets back." he rose, sluggishly. "that isn'ta bit of roll under that napkin, is it?" he asked, anxiously. archie raised the napkin. "no. nothing of that species."
"oh, well!" said the boy, resignedly. "theni believe i'll be going. thanks very much for the dinner." "not a bit, old top. come again if you'reever trickling round in this direction." the long boy removed himself slowly, loathto leave. at the door he cast an affectionate glance back at the table. "some meal!" he said, devoutly. "considerablemeal!" archie lit a cigarette. he felt like a boyscout who has done his day's act of kindness. on the following morning it chanced that archieneeded a fresh supply of tobacco. it was his custom, when this happened, to repair to asmall shop on sixth avenue which he had discovered
accidentally in the course of his ramblesabout the great city. his relations with jno. blake, the proprietor, were friendly and intimate.the discovery that mr. blake was english and had, indeed, until a few years back maintainedan establishment only a dozen doors or so from archie's london club, had served as abond. to-day he found mr. blake in a depressed mood.the tobacconist was a hearty, red-faced man, who looked like an english sporting publican—thekind of man who wears a fawn-coloured top-coat and drives to the derby in a dog-cart; andusually there seemed to be nothing on his mind except the vagaries of the weather, concerningwhich he was a great conversationalist. but now moodiness had claimed him for its own.after a short and melancholy "good morning,"
he turned to the task of measuring out thetobacco in silence. archie's sympathetic nature was perturbed.—"what'sthe matter, laddie?" he enquired. "you would seem to be feeling a bit of an onion thisbright morning, what, yes, no? i can see it with the naked eye." mr. blake grunted sorrowfully. "i've had a knock, mr. moffam." "tell me all, friend of my youth." mr. blake, with a jerk of his thumb, indicateda poster which hung on the wall behind the counter. archie had noticed it as he camein, for it was designed to attract the eye.
it was printed in black letters on a yellowground, and ran as follows: clover-leaf social and outing club grand contest pie-eating championship of the west side spike o'dowd(champion) v. blake's unknown for a purse of $50 and side-bet archie examined this document gravely. itconveyed nothing to him except—what he had
long suspected—that his sporting-lookingfriend had sporting blood as well as that kind of exterior. he expressed a kindly hopethat the other's unknown would bring home the bacon. mr. blake laughed one of those hollow, mirthlesslaughs. "there ain't any blooming unknown," he said,bitterly. this man had plainly suffered. "yesterday, yes, but not now." archie sighed. "in the midst of life—dead?" he enquired,delicately. "as good as," replied the stricken tobacconist.he cast aside his artificial restraint and
became voluble. archie was one of those sympatheticsouls in whom even strangers readily confided their most intimate troubles. he was to thosein travail of spirit very much what catnip is to a cat. "it's 'ard, sir, it's blooming'ard! i'd got the event all sewed up in a parcel, and now this young feller-me-lad 'asto give me the knock. this lad of mine—sort of cousin 'e is; comes from london, like youand me—'as always 'ad, ever since he landed in this country, a most amazing knack of stowingaway grub. 'e'd been a bit underfed these last two or three years over in the old country,what with food restrictions and all, and 'e took to the food over 'ere amazing. i'd 'avebacked 'im against a ruddy orstridge! orstridge! i'd 'ave backed 'im against 'arff a dozenorstridges—take 'em on one after the other
in the same ring on the same evening—andgiven 'em a handicap, too! 'e was a jewel, that boy. i've seen him polish off four poundsof steak and mealy potatoes and then look round kind of wolfish, as much as to ask whendinner was going to begin! that's the kind of a lad 'e was till this very morning. 'ewould have out-swallowed this 'ere o'dowd without turning a hair, as a relish before'is tea! i'd got a couple of 'undred dollars on 'im, and thought myself lucky to get theodds. and now—" mr. blake relapsed into a tortured silence. "but what's the matter with the blighter?why can't he go over the top? has he got indigestion?" "indigestion?" mr. blaife laughed anotherof his hollow laughs. "you couldn't give that
boy indigestion if you fed 'im in on safety-razorblades. religion's more like what 'e's got." "religion?" "well, you can call it that. seems last night,instead of goin' and resting 'is mind at a picture-palace like i told him to, 'e sneakedoff to some sort of a lecture down on eighth avenue. 'e said 'e'd seen a piece about itin the papers, and it was about rational eating, and that kind of attracted 'im. 'e sort ofthought 'e might pick up a few hints, like. 'e didn't know what rational eating was, butit sounded to 'im as if it must be something to do with food, and 'e didn't want to missit. 'e came in here just now," said mr. blake, dully, "and 'e was a changed lad! scared todeath 'e was! said the way 'e'd been goin'
on in the past, it was a wonder 'e'd got anystummick left! it was a lady that give the lecture, and this boy said it was amazingwhat she told 'em about blood-pressure and things 'e didn't even know 'e 'ad. she showed'em pictures, coloured pictures, of what 'appens inside the injudicious eater's stummick whodoesn't chew his food, and it was like a battlefield! 'e said 'e would no more think of eatin' alot of pie than 'e would of shootin' 'imself, and anyhow eating pie would be a quicker death.i reasoned with 'im, mr. moffam, with tears in my eyes. i asked 'im was he goin' to chuckaway fame and wealth just because a woman who didn't know what she was talking abouthad shown him a lot of faked pictures. but there wasn't any doin' anything with him.'e give me the knock and 'opped it down the
street to buy nuts." mr. blake moaned. "two'undred dollars and more gone pop, not to talk of the fifty dollars 'e would have wonand me to get twenty-five of!" archie took his tobacco and walked pensivelyback to the hotel. he was fond of jno. blake, and grieved for the trouble that had comeupon him. it was odd, he felt, how things seemed to link themselves up together. thewoman who had delivered the fateful lecture to injudicious eaters could not be other thanthe mother of his young guest of last night. an uncomfortable woman! not content with starvingher own family—archie stopped in his tracks. a pedestrian, walking behind him, chargedinto his back, but archie paid no attention. he had had one of those sudden, luminous ideas,which help a man who does not do much thinking
as a rule to restore his average. he stoodthere for a moment, almost dizzy at the brilliance of his thoughts; then hurried on. napoleon,he mused as he walked, must have felt rather like this after thinking up a hot one to springon the enemy. as if destiny were suiting her plans to his,one of the first persons he saw as he entered the lobby of the cosmopolis was the long boy.he was standing at the bookstall, reading as much of a morning paper as could be readfree under the vigilant eyes of the presiding girl. both he and she were observing the unwrittenrules which govern these affairs—to wit, that you may read without interference asmuch as can be read without touching the paper. if you touch the paper, you lose, and haveto buy.
"well, well, well!" said archie. "here weare again, what!" he prodded the boy amiably in the lower ribs. "you're just the chap iwas looking for. got anything on for the time being?" the boy said he had no engagements. "then i want you to stagger round with meto a chappie i know on sixth avenue. it's only a couple of blocks away. i think i cando you a bit of good. put you on to something tolerably ripe, if you know what i mean. tricklealong, laddie. you don't need a hat." they found mr. blake brooding over his troublesin an empty shop. "cheer up, old thing!" said archie. "the reliefexpedition has arrived." he directed his companion's
gaze to the poster. "cast your eye over that.how does that strike you?" the long boy scanned the poster. a gleam appearedin his rather dull eye. "some people have all the luck!" said thelong boy, feelingly. "would you like to compete, what?" the boy smiled a sad smile. "would i! would i! say!..." "i know," interrupted archie. "wake you upin the night and ask you! i knew i could rely on you, old thing." he turned to mr. blake."here's the fellow you've been wanting to meet. the finest left-and-right-hand eatereast of the rockies! he'll fight the good
fight for you." mr. blake's english training had not beenwholly overcome by residence in new york. he still retained a nice eye for the distinctionsof class. "but this is young gentleman's a young gentleman,"he urged, doubtfully, yet with hope shining in his eye. "he wouldn't do it." "of course, he would. don't be ridic, oldthing." "wouldn't do what?" asked the boy. "why save the old homestead by taking on thechampion. dashed sad case, between ourselves! this poor egg's nominee has given him theraspberry at the eleventh hour, and only you
can save him. and you owe it to him to dosomething you know, because it was your jolly old mater's lecture last night that made thenominee quit. you must charge in and take his place. sort of poetic justice, don't youknow, and what not!" he turned to mr. blake. "when is the conflict supposed to start? two-thirty?you haven't any important engagement for two-thirty, have you?" "no. mother's lunching at some ladies' club,and giving a lecture afterwards. i can slip away." archie patted his head. "then leg it where glory waits you, old bean!"
the long boy was gazing earnestly at the poster.it seemed to fascinate him. "pie!" he said in a hushed voice. the word was like a battle-cry. chapter xxii. washy steps into the hall offame at about nine o'clock next morning, in a suiteat the hotel cosmopolis, mrs. cora bates mccall, the eminent lecturer on rational eating, wasseated at breakfast with her family. before her sat mr. mccall, a little hunted-lookingman, the natural peculiarities of whose face were accentuated by a pair of glasses of semicircularshape, like half-moons with the horns turned up. behind these, mr. mccall's eyes playeda perpetual game of peekaboo, now peering
over them, anon ducking down and hiding behindthem. he was sipping a cup of anti-caffeine. on his right, toying listlessly with a platefulof cereal, sat his son, washington. mrs. mccall herself was eating a slice of health breadand nut butter. for she practised as well as preached the doctrines which she had strivenfor so many years to inculcate in an unthinking populace. her day always began with a lightbut nutritious breakfast, at which a peculiarly uninviting cereal, which looked and tastedlike an old straw hat that had been run through a meat chopper, competed for first place inthe dislike of her husband and son with a more than usually offensive brand of imitationcoffee. mr. mccall was inclined to think that he loathed the imitation coffee rather morethan the cereal, but washington held strong
views on the latter's superior ghastliness.both washington and his father, however, would have been fair-minded enough to admit thatit was a close thing. mrs. mccall regarded her offspring with graveapproval. "i am glad to see, lindsay," she said to herhusband, whose eyes sprang dutifully over the glass fence as he heard his name, "thatwashy has recovered his appetite. when he refused his dinner last night, i was afraidthat he might be sickening for something. especially as he had quite a flushed look.you noticed his flushed look?" "he did look flushed." "very flushed. and his breathing was almoststertorous. and, when he said that he had
no appetite, i am bound to say that i wasanxious. but he is evidently perfectly well this morning. you do feel perfectly well thismorning, washy?" the heir of the mccall's looked up from hiscereal. he was a long, thin boy of about sixteen, with pale red hair, sandy eyelashes, and along neck. "uh-huh," he said. mrs. mccall nodded. "surely now you will agree, lindsay, thata careful and rational diet is what a boy needs? washy's constitution is superb. hehas a remarkable stamina, and i attribute it entirely to my careful supervision of hisfood. i shudder when i think of the growing
boys who are permitted by irresponsible peopleto devour meat, candy, pie—" she broke off. "what is the matter, washy?" it seemed that the habit of shuddering atthe thought of pie ran in the mccall family, for at the mention of the word a kind of internalshimmy had convulsed washington's lean frame, and over his face there had come an expressionthat was almost one of pain. he had been reaching out his hand for a slice of health bread,but now he withdrew it rather hurriedly and sat back breathing hard. "i'm all right," he said, huskily. "pie," proceeded mrs. mccall, in her platformvoice. she stopped again abruptly. "whatever
is the matter, washington? you are makingme feel nervous." "i'm all right." mrs. mccall had lost the thread of her remarks.moreover, having now finished her breakfast, she was inclined for a little light reading.one of the subjects allied to the matter of dietary on which she felt deeply was the questionof reading at meals. she was of the opinion that the strain on the eye, coinciding withthe strain on the digestion, could not fail to give the latter the short end of the contest;and it was a rule at her table that the morning paper should not even be glanced at till theconclusion of the meal. she said that it was upsetting to begin the day by reading thepaper, and events were to prove that she was
occasionally right. all through breakfast the new york chroniclehad been lying neatly folded beside her plate. she now opened it, and, with a remark aboutlooking for the report of her yesterday's lecture at the butterfly club, directed hergaze at the front page, on which she hoped that an editor with the best interests ofthe public at heart had decided to place her. mr. mccall, jumping up and down behind hisglasses, scrutinised her face closely as she began to read. he always did this on theseoccasions, for none knew better than he that his comfort for the day depended largely onsome unknown reporter whom he had never met. if this unseen individual had done his workproperly and as befitted the importance of
his subject, mrs. mccall's mood for the nexttwelve hours would be as uniformly sunny as it was possible for it to be. but sometimesthe fellows scamped their job disgracefully; and once, on a day which lived in mr. mccall'smemory, they had failed to make a report at all. to-day, he noted with relief, all seemed tobe well. the report actually was on the front page, an honour rarely accorded to his wife'sutterances. moreover, judging from the time it took her to read the thing, she had evidentlybeen reported at length. "good, my dear?" he ventured. "satisfactory?" "eh?" mrs. mccall smiled meditatively. "oh,yes, excellent. they have used my photograph,
too. not at all badly reproduced." "splendid!" said mr. mccall. mrs. mccall gave a sharp shriek, and the paperfluttered from her hand. "my dear!" said mr. mccall, with concern. his wife had recovered the paper, and wasreading with burning eyes. a bright wave of colour had flowed over her masterful features.she was breathing as stertorously as ever her son washington had done on the previousnight. "washington!" a basilisk glare shot across the table andturned the long boy to stone—all except
his mouth, which opened feebly. "washington! is this true?" washy closed his mouth, then let it slowlyopen again. "my dear!" mr. mccall's voice was alarmed."what is it?" his eyes had climbed up over his glasses and remained there. "what is thematter? is anything wrong?" "wrong! read for yourself!" mr. mccall was completely mystified. he couldnot even formulate a guess at the cause of the trouble. that it appeared to concern hisson washington seemed to be the one solid fact at his disposal, and that only made thematter still more puzzling. where, mr. mccall
asked himself, did washington come in? he looked at the paper, and received immediateenlightenment. headlines met his eyes: good stuff in this boy.about a ton of it. son of cora bates mccallfamous food-reform lecturer wins pie-eating championship ofwest side. there followed a lyrical outburst. so upliftedhad the reporter evidently felt by the importance of his news that he had been unable to confinehimself to prose:— my children, if you fail to shine or triumphin your special line; if, let us say, your hopes arebent on
some day being president, and folks ignoreyour proper worth, and say you've not a chance on earth—cheerup! for in these stirring days fame may be wonin many ways. consider, when your spirits fall, the caseof washington mccall. yes, cast your eye on washy, please! he looksjust like a piece of cheese: he's not a brilliant sortof chap: he has a dull and vacant map: his eyes are blank,his face is red, his ears stick out beside his head.in fact, to
end these compliments, he would be dear atthirty cents. yet fame has welcomed to her hall this self-samewashington mccall. his mother (nee miss cora bates) is one whofrequently orates upon the proper kind of food whichevery menu should include. with eloquence the world sheweans from chops and steaks and pork and beans. suchhorrid things she'd like to crush, and make us live on milkand mush. but oh! the thing that makes her sigh is whenshe sees us eating pie. (we heard her lecture lastjuly upon "the
nation's menace—pie.") alas, the hit itmade was small with master washington mccall. for yesterday we took a trip to see the greatpie championship, where men with bulging cheeksand eyes consume vast quantities of pies. a fashionablewest side crowd beheld the champion, spike o'dowd, endeavourto defend his throne against an upstart, blake'sunknown. he wasn't an unknown at all. he was youngwashington we freely own we'd give a leg if we couldborrow, steal,
or beg the skill old homer used to show. (hewrote the iliad, you know.) old homer swung a wickedpen, but we are ordinary men, and cannot even start todream of doing justice to our theme. the subject ofthat great repast is too magnificent and vast. we can'tdescribe (or even try) the way those rivals wolfedtheir pie. enough to say that, when for hours each hadextended all his pow'rs, toward the quiet evenfall o'dowdsuccumbed to young mccall.
the champion was a willing lad. he gave thepublic all he had. his was a genuine fighting soul. he'dlots of speed and much control. no yellow streak didhe evince. he tackled apple-pie and mince. this was themotto on his shield—"o'dowds may burst. they neveryield." his eyes began to start and roll. he eased hisbelt another hole. poor fellow! with a single glance onesaw that he had not a chance. a python would have hadto crawl and own defeat from young mccall.
at last, long last, the finish came. his featuresovercast with shame, o'dowd, who'd faltered once ortwice, declined to eat another slice. he tottered off,and kindly men rallied around with oxygen. but washy,cora bates's son, seemed disappointed it was done. hesomehow made those present feel he'd barely started onhis meal. we ask him, "aren't you feeling bad?" "me!"said the lion-hearted lad. "lead me"—he started for thestreet—"where i can get a bite to eat!" oh, what alesson does it teach to all of us, that splendid
speech!how better can the curtain fall on master washingtonmccall! mr. mccall read this epic through, then helooked at his son. he first looked at him over his glasses, then through his glasses,then over his glasses again, then through his glasses once more. a curious expressionwas in his eyes. if such a thing had not been so impossible, one would have said that hisgaze had in it something of respect, of admiration, even of reverence. "but how did they find out your name?" heasked, at length. mrs. mccall exclaimed impatiently.
"is that all you have to say?" "no, no, my dear, of course not, quite so.but the point struck me as curious." "wretched boy," cried mrs. mccall, "were youinsane enough to reveal your name?" washington wriggled uneasily. unable to endurethe piercing stare of his mother, he had withdrawn to the window, and was looking out with hisback turned. but even there he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck. "i didn't think it 'ud matter," he mumbled."a fellow with tortoiseshell-rimmed specs asked me, so i told him. how was i to know—" his stumbling defence was cut short by theopening of the door.
"hallo-allo-allo! what ho! what ho!" archie was standing in the doorway, beamingingratiatingly on the family. the apparition of an entire stranger servedto divert the lightning of mrs. mccall's gaze from the unfortunate washy. archie, catchingit between the eyes, blinked and held on to the wall. he had begun to regret that he hadyielded so weakly to lucille's entreaty that he should look in on the mccalls and use themagnetism of his personality upon them in the hope of inducing them to settle the lawsuit.he wished, too, if the visit had to be paid that he had postponed it till after lunch,for he was never at his strongest in the morning. but lucille had urged him to go now and getit over, and here he was.
"i think," said mrs. mccall, icily, "thatyou must have mistaken your room." archie rallied his shaken forces. "oh, no. rather not. better introduce myself,what? my name's moffam, you know. i'm old brewster's son-in-law, and all that sort ofrot, if you know what i mean." he gulped and continued. "i've come about this jolly oldlawsuit, don't you know." mr. mccall seemed about to speak, but hiswife anticipated him. "mr. brewster's attorneys are in communicationwith ours. we do not wish to discuss the matter." archie took an uninvited seat, eyed the healthbread on the breakfast table for a moment with frank curiosity, and resumed his discourse.
"no, but i say, you know! i'll tell you whathappened. i hate to totter in where i'm not wanted and all that, but my wife made sucha point of it. rightly or wrongly she regards me as a bit of a hound in the diplomacy line,and she begged me to look you up and see whether we couldn't do something about settling thejolly old thing. i mean to say, you know, the old bird—old brewster, you know—isconsiderably perturbed about the affair—hates the thought of being in a posish where hehas either got to bite his old pal mccall in the neck or be bitten by him—and—well,and so forth, don't you know! how about it?" he broke off. "great scot! i say, what!" so engrossed had he been in his appeal thathe had not observed the presence of the pie-eating
champion, between whom and himself a largepotted plant intervened. but now washington, hearing the familiar voice, had moved fromthe window and was confronting him with an accusing stare. "he made me do it!" said washy, with the sternjoy a sixteen-year-old boy feels when he sees somebody on to whose shoulders he can shifttrouble from his own. "that's the fellow who took me to the place!" "what are you talking about, washington?" "i'm telling you! he got me into the thing." "do you mean this—this—" mrs. mccall shuddered."are you referring to this pie-eating contest?"
"you bet i am!" "is this true?" mrs. mccall glared stonilyat archie, "was it you who lured my poor boy into that—that—" "oh, absolutely. the fact is, don't you know,a dear old pal of mine who runs a tobacco shop on sixth avenue was rather in the soup.he had backed a chappie against the champion, and the chappie was converted by one of yourlectures and swore off pie at the eleventh hour. dashed hard luck on the poor chap, don'tyou know! and then i got the idea that our little friend here was the one to step inand save the situash, so i broached the matter to him. and i'll tell you one thing," saidarchie, handsomely, "i don't know what sort
of a capacity the original chappie had, buti'll bet he wasn't in your son's class. your son has to be seen to be believed! absolutely!you ought to be proud of him!" he turned in friendly fashion to washy. "rummy we shouldmeet again like this! never dreamed i should find you here. and, by jove, it's absolutelymarvellous how fit you look after yesterday. i had a sort of idea you would be groaningon a bed of sickness and all that." there was a strange gurgling sound in thebackground. it resembled something getting up steam. and this, curiously enough, is preciselywhat it was. the thing that was getting up steam was mr. lindsay mccall. the first effect of the washy revelationson mr. mccall had been merely to stun him.
it was not until the arrival of archie thathe had had leisure to think; but since archie's entrance he had been thinking rapidly anddeeply. for many years mr. mccall had been in a stateof suppressed revolution. he had smouldered, but had not dared to blaze. but this startlingupheaval of his fellow-sufferer, washy, had acted upon him like a high explosive. therewas a strange gleam in his eye, a gleam of determination. he was breathing hard. "washy!" his voice had lost its deprecating mildness.it rang strong and clear. "yes, pop?"
"how many pies did you eat yesterday?" washy considered. "a good few." "how many? twenty?" "more than that. i lost count. a good few." "and you feel as well as ever?" "i feel fine." mr. mccall dropped his glasses. he gloweredfor a moment at the breakfast table. his eye took in the health bread, the imitation coffee-pot,the cereal, the nut-butter. then with a swift
movement he seized the cloth, jerked it forcibly,and brought the entire contents rattling and crashing to the floor. "lindsay!" mr. mccall met his wife's eye with quiet determination.it was plain that something had happened in the hinterland of mr. mccall's soul. "cora," he said, resolutely, "i have cometo a decision. i've been letting you run things your own way a little too long in this family.i'm going to assert myself. for one thing, i've had all i want of this food-reform foolery.look at washy! yesterday that boy seems to have consumed anything from a couple of hundredweightto a ton of pie, and he has thriven on it!
thriven! i don't want to hurt your feelings,cora, but washington and i have drunk our last cup of anti-caffeine! if you care togo on with the stuff, that's your look-out. but washy and i are through." he silenced his wife with a masterful gestureand turned to archie. "and there's another thing. i never liked the idea of that lawsuit,but i let you talk me into it. now i'm going to do things my way. mr. moffam, i'm gladyou looked in this morning. i'll do just what you want. take me to dan brewster now, andlet's call the thing off, and shake hands on it." "are you mad, lindsay?"
it was cora bates mccall's last shot. mr.mccall paid no attention to it. he was shaking hands with archie. "i consider you, mr. moffam," he said, "themost sensible young man i have ever met!" archie blushed modestly. "awfully good of you, old bean," he said."i wonder if you'd mind telling my jolly old father-in-law that? it'll be a bit of newsfor him!" chapter xxiii. mother's knee archie moffam's connection with that devastatinglypopular ballad, "mother's knee," was one to which he always looked back later with a certainpride. "mother's knee," it will be remembered,
went through the world like a pestilence.scots elders hummed it on their way to kirk; cannibals crooned it to their offspring inthe jungles of borneo; it was a best-seller among the bolshevists. in the united statesalone three million copies were disposed of. for a man who has not accomplished anythingoutstandingly great in his life, it is something to have been in a sense responsible for asong like that; and, though there were moments when archie experienced some of the emotionsof a man who has punched a hole in the dam of one of the larger reservoirs, he neverreally regretted his share in the launching of the thing. it seems almost bizarre now to think thatthere was a time when even one person in the
world had not heard "mother's knee"; but itcame fresh to archie one afternoon some weeks after the episode of washy, in his suite atthe hotel cosmopolis, where he was cementing with cigarettes and pleasant conversationhis renewed friendship with wilson hymack, whom he had first met in the neighbourhoodof armentieres during the war. "what are you doing these days?" enquiredwilson hymack. "me?" said archie. "well, as a matter of fact,there is what you might call a sort of species of lull in my activities at the moment. butmy jolly old father-in-law is bustling about, running up a new hotel a bit farther down-town,and the scheme is for me to be manager when it's finished. from what i have seen in thisplace, it's a simple sort of job, and i fancy
i shall be somewhat hot stuff. how are youfilling in the long hours?" "i'm in my uncle's office, darn it!" "starting at the bottom and learning the businessand all that? a noble pursuit, no doubt, but i'm bound to say it would give me the pipin no uncertain manner." "it gives me," said wilson hymack, "a painin the thorax. i want to be a composer." "a composer, eh?" archie felt that he should have guessed this.the chappie had a distinctly artistic look. he wore a bow-tie and all that sort of thing.his trousers bagged at the knees, and his hair, which during the martial epoch of hiscareer had been pruned to the roots, fell
about his ears in luxuriant disarray. "say! do you want to hear the best thing i'veever done?" "indubitably," said archie, politely. "carryon, old bird!" "i wrote the lyric as well as the melody,"said wilson hymack, who had already seated himself at the piano. "it's got the greatesttitle you ever heard. it's a lallapaloosa! it's called 'it's a long way back to mother'sknee.' how's that? poor, eh?" archie expelled a smoke-ring doubtfully. "isn't it a little stale?" "stale? what do you mean, stale? there's alwaysroom for another song boosting mother."
"oh, is it boosting mother?" archie's facecleared. "i thought it was a hit at the short skirts. why, of course, that makes all thedifference. in that case, i see no reason why it should not be ripe, fruity, and prettywell all to the mustard. let's have it." wilson hymack pushed as much of his hair outof his eyes as he could reach with one hand, cleared his throat, looked dreamily over thetop of the piano at a photograph of archie's father-in-law, mr. daniel brewster, playeda prelude, and began to sing in a weak, high, composer's voice. all composers sing exactlyalike, and they have to be heard to be believed. "one night a young man wandered through theglitter of broadway: his money he had squandered. for a meal he couldn't pay."
"tough luck!" murmured archie, sympathetically. "he thought about the village where his boyhoodhe had spent, and yearned for all the simple joyswith which he'd been content." "the right spirit!" said archie, with approval."i'm beginning to like this chappie!" "don't interrupt!" "oh, right-o! carried away and all that!" "he looked upon the city, so frivolous andgay; and, as he heaved a weary sigh, these words hethen did say:
it's a long way back to mother's knee,mother's knee, mother's knee:it's a long way back to mother's knee, where i used to stand and prattlewith my teddy-bear and rattle: oh, those childhood days in tennessee,they sure look good to me! it's a long, long way, but i'm gonna startto-day! i'm going back,believe me, oh! i'm going back(i want to go!) i'm going back—back—on the seven-threeto the dear old shack where i used to be! i'm going back to mother's knee!"
wilson hymack's voice cracked on the finalhigh note, which was of an altitude beyond his powers. he turned with a modest cough. "that'll give you an idea of it!" "it has, old thing, it has!" "is it or is it not a ball of fire?" "it has many of the earmarks of a sound egg,"admitted archie. "of course—" "of course, it wants singing." "just what i was going to suggest." "it wants a woman to sing it. a woman whocould reach out for that last high note and
teach it to take a joke. the whole refrainis working up to that. you need tetrazzini or someone who would just pick that note offthe roof and hold it till the janitor came round to lock up the building for the night." "i must buy a copy for my wife. where cani get it?" "you can't get it! it isn't published. writingmusic's the darndest job!" wilson hymack snorted fiercely. it was plain that the man was pouringout the pent-up emotion of many days. "you write the biggest thing in years and you goround trying to get someone to sing it, and they say you're a genius and then shove thesong away in a drawer and forget about it." archie lit another cigarette.
"i'm a jolly old child in these matters, oldlad," he said, "but why don't you take it direct to a publisher? as a matter of fact,if it would be any use to you, i was foregathering with a music-publisher only the other day.a bird of the name of blumenthal. he was lunching in here with a pal of mine, and we got tolerablymatey. why not let me tool you round to the office to-morrow and play it to him?" "no, thanks. much obliged, but i'm not goingto play that melody in any publisher's office with his hired gang of tin-pan alley composerslistening at the keyhole and taking notes. i'll have to wait till i can find somebodyto sing it. well, i must be going along. glad to have seen you again. sooner or later i'lltake you to hear that high note sung by someone
in a way that'll make your spine tie itselfin knots round the back of your neck." "i'll count the days," said archie, courteously."pip-pip!" hardly had the door closed behind the composerwhen it opened again to admit lucille. "hallo, light of my soul!" said archie, risingand embracing his wife. "where have you been all the afternoon? i was expecting you thismany an hour past. i wanted you to meet—" "i've been having tea with a girl down ingreenwich village. i couldn't get away before. who was that who went out just as i came alongthe passage?" "chappie of the name of hymack. i met himin france. a composer and what not." "we seem to have been moving in artistic circlesthis afternoon. the girl i went to see is
a singer. at least, she wants to sing, butgets no encouragement." "precisely the same with my bird. he wantsto get his music sung but nobody'll sing it. but i didn't know you knew any greenwich villagewarblers, sunshine of my home. how did you meet this female?" lucille sat down and gazed forlornly at himwith her big grey eyes. she was registering something, but archie could not gather whatit was. "archie, darling, when you married me youundertook to share my sorrows, didn't you?" "absolutely! it's all in the book of words.for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, all-down-set-'em-up-in-the-other-alley.regular iron-clad contract!"
"then share 'em!" said lucille. "bill's inlove again!" "bill? when you say bill, do you mean bill?your brother bill? my brother-in-law bill? jolly old william, the son and heir of thebrewsters?" "i do." "you say he's in love? cupid's dart?" "even so!" "but, i say! isn't this rather—what i meanto say is, the lad's an absolute scourge! the great lover, what! also ran, brigham young,and all that sort of thing! why, it's only a few weeks ago that he was moaning brokenlyabout that vermilion-haired female who subsequently
hooked on to old reggie van tuyl!" "she's a little better than that girl, thankgoodness. all the same, i don't think father will approve." "of what calibre is the latest exhibit?" "well, she comes from the middle west, andseems to be trying to be twice as bohemian as the rest of the girls down in greenwichvillage. she wears her hair bobbed and goes about in a kimono. she's probably read magazinestories about greenwich village, and has modelled herself on them. it's so silly, when you cansee hicks corners sticking out of her all the time."
"that one got past me before i could grabit. what did you say she had sticking out of her?" "i meant that anybody could see that she camefrom somewhere out in the wilds. as a matter of fact, bill tells me that she was broughtup in snake bite, michigan." "snake bite? what rummy names you have inamerica! still, i'll admit there's a village in england called nether wallop, so who ami to cast the first stone? how is old bill? pretty feverish?" "he says this time it is the real thing." "that's what they all say! i wish i had adollar for every time—forgotten what i was
going to say!" broke off archie, prudently."so you think," he went on, after a pause, "that william's latest is going to be onemore shock for the old dad?" "i can't imagine father approving of her." "i've studied your merry old progenitor prettyclosely," said archie, "and, between you and me, i can't imagine him approving of anybody!" "i can't understand why it is that bill goesout of his way to pick these horrors. i know at least twenty delightful girls, all prettyand with lots of money, who would be just the thing for him; but he sneaks away andgoes falling in love with someone impossible. and the worst of it is that one always feelsone's got to do one's best to see him through."
"absolutely! one doesn't want to throw a spannerinto the works of love's young dream. it behoves us to rally round. have you heard this girlsing?" "yes. she sang this afternoon." "what sort of a voice has she got?" "well, it's—loud!" "could she pick a high note off the roof andhold it till the janitor came round to lock up the building for the night?" "what on earth do you mean?" "answer me this, woman, frankly. how is herhigh note? pretty lofty?"
"why, yes." "then say no more," said archie. "leave thisto me, my dear old better four-fifths! hand the whole thing over toarchibald, the man who never lets you down. i have a scheme!" as archie approached his suite on the followingafternoon he heard through the closed door the drone of a gruffmale voice; and, going in, discovered lucille in the company of his brother-in-law.lucille, archie thought, was looking a trifle fatigued. bill,on the other hand, was in great shape. his eyes were shining, and hisface looked so like that of
a stuffed frog that archie had no difficultyin gathering that he had been lecturing on the subject of his latestenslaver. "hallo, bill, old crumpet!" he said. "hallo, archie!" "i'm so glad you've come," said lucille. "billis telling me all about spectatia." "spectatia. the girl, you know. her name isspectatia huskisson." "it can't be!" said archie, incredulously. "why not?" growled bill. "well, how could it?" said archie, appealingto him as a reasonable man. "i mean to say!
spectatia huskisson! i gravely doubt whetherthere is such a name." "what's wrong with it?" demanded the incensedbill. "it's a darned sight better name than archibald moffam." "don't fight, you two children!" intervenedlucille, firmly. "it's a good old middle west name. everybody knows the huskissons of snakebite, michigan. besides, bill calls her tootles." "pootles," corrected bill, austerely. "oh, yes, pootles. he calls her pootles." "young blood! young blood!" sighed archie. "i wish you wouldn't talk as if you were mygrandfather."
"i look on you as a son, laddie, a favouriteson!" "if i had a father like you—!"-"ah, butyou haven't, young-feller-me-lad, and that's the trouble. if you had, everything wouldbe simple. but as your actual father, if you'll allow me to say so, is one of the finest specimensof the human vampire-bat in captivity, something has got to be done about it, and you're dashedlucky to have me in your corner, a guide, philosopher, and friend, full of the fruitiestideas. now, if you'll kindly listen to me for a moment—" "i've been listening to you ever since youcame in." "you wouldn't speak in that harsh tone ofvoice if you knew all! william, i have a scheme!"
"the scheme to which i allude is what maeterlinckwould call a lallapaloosa!" "what a little marvel he is!" said lucille,regarding her husband affectionately. "he eats a lot of fish, bill. that's what makeshim so clever!" "shrimps!" diagnosed bill, churlishly. "do you know the leader of the orchestra inthe restaurant downstairs?" asked archie, ignoring the slur. "i know there is a leader of the orchestra.what about him?" "a sound fellow. great pal of mine. i've forgottenhis name—" "call him pootles!" suggested lucille.
"desist!" said archie, as a wordless growlproceeded from his stricken brother-in-law. "temper your hilarity with a modicum of reserve.this girlish frivolity is unseemly. well, i'm going to have a chat with this chappieand fix it all up." "fix what up?" "the whole jolly business. i'm going to killtwo birds with one stone. i've a composer chappie popping about in the background whoseone ambish. is to have his pet song sung before a discriminating audience. you have a singerstraining at the leash. i'm going to arrange with this egg who leads the orchestra thatyour female shall sing my chappie's song downstairs one night during dinner. how about it? isit or is it not a ball of fire?"
"it's not a bad idea," admitted bill, brighteningvisibly. "i wouldn't have thought you had it in you." "why not?" "well—" "it's a capital idea," said lucille. "quiteout of the question, of course." "how do you mean?" "don't you know that the one thing fatherhates more than anything else in the world is anything like a cabaret? people are alwayscoming to him, suggesting that it would brighten up the dinner hour if he had singers and things,and he crushes them into little bits. he thinks
there's nothing that lowers the tone of aplace more. he'll bite you in three places when you suggest it to him!" "ah! but has it escaped your notice, lightingsystem of my soul, that the dear old dad is not at present in residence? he went off tofish at lake what's-its-name this morning." "you aren't dreaming of doing this withoutasking him?" "that was the general idea." "but he'll be furious when he finds out." "but will he find out? i ask you, will he?" "of course he will."
"i don't see why he should," said bill, onwhose plastic mind the plan had made a deep impression. "he won't," said archie, confidently. "thiswheeze is for one night only. by the time the jolly old guv'nor returns, bitten to thebone by mosquitoes, with one small stuffed trout in his suit-case, everything will beover and all quiet once more along the potomac. the scheme is this. my chappie wants his songheard by a publisher. your girl wants her voice heard by one of the blighters who getup concerts and all that sort of thing. no doubt you know such a bird, whom you couldinvite to the hotel for a bit of dinner?" "i know carl steinburg. as a matter of fact,i was thinking of writing to him about spectatia."
"you're absolutely sure that is her name?"said archie, his voice still tinged with incredulity. "oh, well, i suppose she told you so herself,and no doubt she knows best. that will be topping. rope in your pal and hold him downat the table till the finish. lucille, the beautiful vision on the sky-line yonder, andi will be at another table entertaining maxie blumenthal" "who on earth is maxie blumenthal?" askedlucille. "one of my boyhood chums. a music-publisher.i'll get him to come along, and then we'll all be set. at the conclusion of the performancemiss—" archie winced—"miss spectatia huskisson will be signed up for a forty weeks' tour,and jovial old blumenthal will be making all
arrangements for publishing the song. twobirds, as i indicated before, with one stone! "it's a winner," said bill. "of course," said archie, "i'm not urgingyou. i merely make the suggestion. if you know a better 'ole go to it!" "it's terrific!" said bill. "it's absurd!" said lucille. "my dear old partner of joys and sorrows,"said archie, wounded, "we court criticism, but this is mere abuse. what seems to be thedifficulty?" "the leader of the orchestra would be afraidto do it."
"ten dollars—supplied by william here—pushit over, bill, old man—will remove his tremors." "and father's certain to find out." "am i afraid of father?" cried archie, manfully."well, yes, i am!" he added, after a moment's reflection. "but i don't see how he can possiblyget to know." "of course he can't," said bill, decidedly."fix it up as soon as you can, archie. this is what the doctor ordered." chapter xxiv. the melting of mr. connolly the main dining-room of the hotel cosmopolisis a decorous place. the lighting is artistically dim, and the genuine old tapestries on thewalls seem, with their mediaeval calm, to
discourage any essay in the riotous. soft-footedwaiters shimmer to and fro over thick, expensive carpets to the music of an orchestra whichabstains wholly from the noisy modernity of jazz. to archie, who during the past few dayshad been privileged to hear miss huskisson rehearsing, the place had a sort of broodingquiet, like the ocean just before the arrival of a cyclone. as lucille had said, miss huskisson'svoice was loud. it was a powerful organ, and there was no doubt that it would take thecloistered stillness of the cosmopolis dining-room and stand it on one ear. almost unconsciously,archie found himself bracing his muscles and holding his breath as he had done in franceat the approach of the zero hour, when awaiting the first roar of a barrage. he listened mechanicallyto the conversation of mr. blumenthal.
the music-publisher was talking with somevehemence on the subject of labour. a recent printers' strike had bitten deeply into mr.blumenthal's soul. the working man, he considered, was rapidly landing god's country in the soup,and he had twice upset his glass with the vehemence of his gesticulation. he was anenergetic right-and-left-hand talker. "the more you give 'em the more they want!"he complained. "there's no pleasing 'em! it isn't only in my business. there's your father,mrs. moffam!" "good god! where?" said archie, starting. "i say, take your father's case. he's doingall he knows to get this new hotel of his finished, and what happens? a man gets firedfor loafing on his job, and connolly calls
a strike. and the building operations areheld up till the thing's settled! it isn't right!" "it's a great shame," agreed lucille. "i wasreading about it in the paper this morning." "that man connolly's a tough guy. you'd think,being a personal friend of your father, he would—" "i didn't know they were friends." "been friends for years. but a lot of differencethat makes. out come the men just the same. it isn't right! i was saying it wasn't right!"repeated mr. blumenthal to archie, for he was a man who liked the attention of everymember of his audience.
archie did not reply. he was staring glassilyacross the room at two men who had just come in. one was a large, stout, square-faced manof commanding personality. the other was mr. daniel brewster. mr. blumenthal followed his gaze. "why, there is connolly coming in now!" "father!" gasped lucille. her eyes met archie's. archie took a hastydrink of ice-water. "this," he murmured, "has torn it!" "archie, you must do something!"
"i know! but what?" "what's the trouble?" enquired mr. blumenthal,mystified. "go over to their table and talk to them,"said lucille. "me!" archie quivered. "no, i say, old thing,really!" "get them away!" "i know!" cried lucille, inspired, "fatherpromised that you should be manager of the new hotel when it was built. well, then, thisstrike affects you just as much as anybody else. you have a perfect right to talk itover with them. go and ask them to have dinner up in our suite where you can discuss it quietly.say that up there they won't be disturbed
by the—the music." at this moment, while archie wavered, hesitatinglike a diver on the edge of a spring-board who is trying to summon up the necessary nerveto project himself into the deep, a bell-boy approached the table where the messrs. brewsterand connolly had seated themselves. he murmured something in mr. brewster's ear, and the proprietorof the cosmopolis rose and followed him out of the room. "quick! now's your chance!" said lucille,eagerly. "father's been called to the telephone. hurry!" archie took another drink of ice-water tosteady his shaking nerve-centers, pulled down
his waistcoat, straightened his tie, and then,with something of the air of a roman gladiator entering the arena, tottered across the room.lucille turned to entertain the perplexed music-publisher. the nearer archie got to mr. aloysius connollythe less did he like the looks of him. even at a distance the labour leader had had aformidable aspect. seen close to, he looked even more uninviting. his face had the appearanceof having been carved out of granite, and the eye which collided with archie's as thelatter, with an attempt at an ingratiating smile, pulled up a chair and sat down at thetable was hard and frosty. mr. connolly gave the impression that he would be a good manto have on your side during a rough-and-tumble
fight down on the water-front or in some lumber-camp,but he did not look chummy. "hallo-allo-allo!" said archie. "who the devil," inquired mr. connolly, "areyou?" "my name's archibald moffam." "that's not my fault." "i'm jolly old brewster's son-in-law." "glad to meet you." "glad to meet you," said archie, handsomely. "well, good-bye!" said mr. connolly.
"run along and sell your papers. your father-in-lawand i have business to discuss." "yes, i know." "private," added mr. connolly. "oh, but i'm in on this binge, you know. i'mgoing to be the manager of the new hotel." "you!" "well, well!" said mr. connolly, noncommittally. archie, pleased with the smoothness with whichmatters had opened, bent forward winsomely. "i say, you know! it won't do, you know! absolutelyno! not a bit like it! no, no, far from it! well, how about it? how do we go? what? yes?no?"
"what on earth are you talking about?" "call it off, old thing!" "call what off?" "this festive old strike." "not on your—hallo, dan! back again?" mr. brewster, looming over the table likea thundercloud, regarded archie with more than his customary hostility. life was nopleasant thing for the proprietor of the cosmopolis just now. once a man starts building hotels,the thing becomes like dram-drinking. any hitch, any sudden cutting-off of the dailydose, has the worst effects; and the strike
which was holding up the construction of hislatest effort had plunged mr. brewster into a restless gloom. in addition to having thisstrike on his hands, he had had to abandon his annual fishing-trip just when he had begunto enjoy it; and, as if all this were not enough, here was his son-in-law sitting athis table. mr. brewster had a feeling that this was more than man was meant to bear. "what do you want?" he demanded. "hallo, old thing!" said archie. "come andjoin the party!" "don't call me old thing!" "right-o, old companion, just as you say.i say, i was just going to suggest to mr.
connolly that we should all go up to my suiteand talk this business over quietly." "he says he's the manager of your new hotel,"said mr. connolly. "is that right?" "i suppose so," said mr. brewster, gloomily. "then i'm doing you a kindness," said mr.connolly, "in not letting it be built." archie dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief.the moments were flying, and it began to seem impossible to shift these two men. mr. connollywas as firmly settled in his chair as some primeval rock. as for mr. brewster, he, too,had seated himself, and was gazing at archie with a weary repulsion. mr. brewster's glancealways made archie feel as though there were soup on his shirt-front.
and suddenly from the orchestra at the otherend of the room there came a familiar sound, the prelude of "mother's knee." "so you've started a cabaret, dan?" said mr.connolly, in a satisfied voice. "i always told you you were behind the times here!" mr. brewster jumped. "cabaret!" he stared unbelievingly at the white-robedfigure which had just mounted the orchestra dais, and then concentrated his gaze on archie. archie would not have looked at his father-in-lawat this juncture if he had had a free and
untrammelled choice; but mr. brewster's eyedrew his with something of the fascination which a snake's has for a rabbit. mr. brewster'seye was fiery and intimidating. a basilisk might have gone to him with advantage fora course of lessons. his gaze went right through archie till the latter seemed to feel hisback-hair curling crisply in the flames. "is this one of your fool-tricks?" even in this tense moment archie found timealmost unconsciously to admire his father-in-law's penetration and intuition. he seemed to havea sort of sixth sense. no doubt this was how great fortunes were made. "well, as a matter of fact—to be absolutelyaccurate—it was like this—"
"say, cut it out!" said mr. connolly. "canthe chatter! i want to listen." archie was only too ready to oblige him. conversationat the moment was the last thing he himself desired. he managed with a strong effort todisengage himself from mr. brewster's eye, and turned to the orchestra dais, where missspectatia huskisson was now beginning the first verse of wilson hymack's masterpiece. miss huskisson, like so many of the femaledenizens of the middle west, was tall and blonde and constructed on substantial lines.she was a girl whose appearance suggested the old homestead and fried pancakes and popcoming home to dinner after the morning's ploughing. even her bobbed hair did not altogetherdestroy this impression. she looked big and
strong and healthy, and her lungs were obviouslygood. she attacked the verse of the song with something of the vigour and breadth of treatmentwith which in other days she had reasoned with refractory mules. her diction was thediction of one trained to call the cattle home in the teeth of western hurricanes. whetheryou wanted to or not, you heard every word. the subdued clatter of knives and forks hadceased. the diners, unused to this sort of thing at the cosmopolis, were trying to adjusttheir faculties to cope with the outburst. waiters stood transfixed, frozen, in attitudesof service. in the momentary lull between verse and refrain archie could hear the deepbreathing of mr. brewster. involuntarily he turned to gaze at him once more, as refugeesfrom pompeii may have turned to gaze upon
vesuvius; and, as he did so, he caught sightof mr. connolly, and paused in astonishment. mr. connolly was an altered man. his wholepersonality had undergone a subtle change. his face still looked as though hewn fromthe living rock, but into his eyes had crept an expression which in another man might almosthave been called sentimental. incredible as it seemed to archie, mr. connolly's eyes weredreamy. there was even in them a suggestion of unshed tears. and when with a vast culminationof sound miss huskisson reached the high note at the end of the refrain and, after holdingit as some storming-party, spent but victorious, holds the summit of a hard-won redoubt, brokeoff suddenly, in the stillness which followed there proceeded from mr. connolly a deep sigh.
miss huskisson began the second verse. andmr. brewster, seeming to recover from some kind of a trance, leaped to his feet. "great godfrey!" "sit down!" said mr. connolly, in a brokenvoice. "sit down, dan!" "he went back to his mother on the train thatvery day: he knew there was no other who could makehim bright and gay:he kissed her on the forehead and he whispered, 'i've comehome!' he told her he was never going any more toroam.
and onward through the happy years, till hegrew old and grey,he never once regretted those brave words he once did say:it's a long way back to mother's knee—" the last high note screeched across the roomlike a shell, and the applause that followed was like a shell's bursting. one could hardlyhave recognised the refined interior of the cosmopolis dining-room. fair women were wavingnapkins; brave men were hammering on the tables with the butt-end of knives, for all the worldas if they imagined themselves to be in one of those distressing midnight-revue places.miss huskisson bowed, retired, returned, bowed, and retired again, the tears streaming downher ample face. over in a corner archie could
see his brother-in-law clapping strenuously.a waiter, with a display of manly emotion that did him credit, dropped an order of newpeas. "thirty years ago last october," said mr.connolly, in a shaking voice, "i—" mr. brewster interrupted him violently. "i'll fire that orchestra-leader! he goesto-morrow! i'll fire—" he turned on archie. "what the devil do you mean by it, you—you—" "thirty years ago," said mr. connolly, wipingaway a tear with his napkin, "i left me dear old home in the old country—" "my hotel a bear-garden!"
"frightfully sorry and all that, old companion—" "thirty years ago last october! 'twas a fineautumn evening the finest ye'd ever wish to see. me old mother, she came to the stationto see me off." mr. brewster, who was not deeply interestedin mr. connolly's old mother, continued to splutter inarticulately, like a firework tryingto go off. "'ye'll always be a good boy, aloysius?' shesaid to me," said mr. connolly, proceeding with, his autobiography. "and i said: 'yes,mother, i will!'" mr. connolly sighed and applied the napkin again. "'twas a liar iwas!" he observed, remorsefully. "many's the dirty i've played since then. 'it's a longway back to mother's knee.' 'tis a true word!"
he turned impulsively to mr. brewster. "dan,there's a deal of trouble in this world without me going out of me way to make more. the strikeis over! i'll send the men back tomorrow! there's me hand on it!" mr. brewster, who had just managed to co-ordinatehis views on the situation and was about to express them with the generous strength whichwas ever his custom when dealing with his son-in-law, checked himself abruptly. he staredat his old friend and business enemy, wondering if he could have heard aright. hope beganto creep back into mr. brewster's heart, like a shamefaced dog that has been away from homehunting for a day or two. "you'll what!"
"i'll send the men back to-morrow! that songwas sent to guide me, dan! it was meant! thirty years ago last october me dear old mother—" mr. brewster bent forward attentively. hisviews on mr. connolly's dear old mother had changed. he wanted to hear all about her. "'twas that last note that girl sang broughtit all back to me as if 'twas yesterday. as we waited on the platform, me old mother andi, out comes the train from the tunnel, and the engine lets off a screech the way ye'dhear it ten miles away. 'twas thirty years ago—" archie stole softly from the table. he feltthat his presence, if it had ever been required,
was required no longer. looking back, he couldsee his father-in-law patting mr. connolly affectionately on the shoulder. archie and lucille lingered over their coffee.mr. blumenthal was out in the telephone-box settling the business end with wilson hymack.the music-publisher had been unstinted in his praise of "mother's knee." it was sure-fire,he said. the words, stated mr. blumenthal, were gooey enough to hurt, and the tune remindedhim of every other song-hit he had ever heard. there was, in mr. blumenthal's opinion, nothingto stop this thing selling a million copies. archie smoked contentedly. "not a bad evening's work, old thing," hesaid. "talk about birds with one stone!" he
looked at lucille reproachfully. "you don'tseem bubbling over with joy." "oh, i am, precious!" lucille sighed. "i wasonly thinking about bill." "what about bill?" "well, it's rather awful to think of him tiedfor life to that-that steam-siren." "oh, we mustn't look on the jolly old darkside. perhaps—hallo, bill, old top! we were just talking about you." "were you?" said bill brewster, in a dispiritedvoice. "i take it that you want congratulations,what?" "i want sympathy!"
"sympathy?" "sympathy! and lots of it! she's gone!" "gone! who?" "spectatia!" "how do you mean, gone?" bill glowered at the tablecloth. "gone home. i've just seen her off in a cab.she's gone back to washington square to pack. she's catching the ten o'clock train backto snake bite. it was that damned song!" muttered bill, in a stricken voice. "she says she neverrealised before she sang it to-night how hollow
new york was. she said it suddenly came overher. she says she's going to give up her career and go back to her mother. what the deuceare you twiddling your fingers for?" he broke off, irritably. "sorry, old man. i was just counting." "counting? counting what?" "birds, old thing. only birds!" said archie. chapter xxv. the wigmore venus the morning was so brilliantly fine; the populacepopped to and fro in so active and cheery a manner; and everybody appeared to be soabsolutely in the pink, that a casual observer
of the city of new york would have said thatit was one of those happy days. yet archie moffam, as he turned out of the sun-bathedstreet into the ramshackle building on the third floor of which was the studio belongingto his artist friend, james b. wheeler, was faintly oppressed with a sort of a kind offeeling that something was wrong. he would not have gone so far as to say that he hadthe pip—it was more a vague sense of discomfort. and, searching for first causes as he madehis way upstairs, he came to the conclusion that the person responsible for this nebulousdepression was his wife, lucille. it seemed to archie that at breakfast that morning lucille'smanner had been subtly rummy. nothing you could put your finger on, still—rummy.
musing thus, he reached the studio, and foundthe door open and the room empty. it had the air of a room whose owner has dashed in tofetch his golf-clubs and biffed off, after the casual fashion of the artist temperament,without bothering to close up behind him. and such, indeed, was the case. the studiohad seen the last of j. b. wheeler for that day: but archie, not realising this and feelingthat a chat with mr. wheeler, who was a light-hearted bird, was what he needed this morning, satdown to wait. after a few moments, his gaze, straying over the room, encountered a handsomelyframed picture, and he went across to take a look at it. j. b. wheeler was an artist who made a largeannual income as an illustrator for the magazines,
and it was a surprise to archie to find thathe also went in for this kind of thing. for the picture, dashingly painted in oils, representeda comfortably plump young woman who, from her rather weak-minded simper and the factthat she wore absolutely nothing except a small dove on her left shoulder, was plainlyintended to be the goddess venus. archie was not much of a lad around the picture-galleries,but he knew enough about art to recognise venus when he saw her; though once or twice,it is true, artists had double-crossed him by ringing in some such title as "day dreams,"or "when the heart is young." he inspected this picture for awhile, then,returning to his seat, lit a cigarette and began to meditate on lucille once more. "yes,the dear girl had been rummy at breakfast.
she had not exactly said anything or doneanything out of the ordinary; but—well, you know how it is. we husbands, we lads ofthe for-better-or-for-worse brigade, we learn to pierce the mask. there had been in lucille'smanner that curious, strained sweetness which comes to women whose husbands have failedto match the piece of silk or forgotten to post an important letter. if his consciencehad not been as clear as crystal, archie would have said that that was what must have beenthe matter. but, when lucille wrote letters, she just stepped out of the suite and droppedthem in the mail-chute attached to the elevator. it couldn't be that. and he couldn't haveforgotten anything else, because—" "oh my sainted aunt!"
archie's cigarette smouldered, neglected,between his fingers. his jaw had fallen and his eyes were staring glassily before him.he was appalled. his memory was weak, he knew; but never before had it let him down, so scurvilyas this. this was a record. it stood in a class by itself, printed in red ink and markedwith a star, as the bloomer of a lifetime. for a man may forget many things: he may forgethis name, his umbrella, his nationality, his spats, and the friends of his youth: but thereis one thing which your married man, your in-sickness-and-in-health lizard must notforget: and that is the anniversary of his wedding-day. remorse swept over archie like a wave. hisheart bled for lucille. no wonder the poor
girl had been rummy at breakfast. what girlwouldn't be rummy at breakfast, tied for life to a ghastly outsider like himself? he groanedhollowly, and sagged forlornly in his chair: and, as he did so, the venus caught his eye.for it was an eye-catching picture. you might like it or dislike it, but you could not ignoreit. as a strong swimmer shoots to the surfaceafter a high dive, archie's soul rose suddenly from the depths to which it had descended.he did not often get inspirations, but he got one now. hope dawned with a jerk. theone way out had presented itself to him. a rich present! that was the wheeze. if he returnedto her bearing a rich present, he might, with the help of heaven and a face of brass, succeedin making her believe that he had merely pretended
to forget the vital date in order to enhancethe surprise. it was a scheme. like some great general forminghis plan of campaign on the eve of battle, archie had the whole binge neatly worked outinside a minute. he scribbled a note to mr. wheeler, explaining the situation and promisingreasonable payment on the instalment system; then, placing the note in a conspicuous positionon the easel, he leaped to the telephone: and presently found himself connected withlucille's room at the cosmopolis. "hullo, darling," he cooed. there was a slight pause at the other endof the wire. "oh, hullo, archie!"
lucille's voice was dull and listless, andarchie's experienced ear could detect that she had been crying. he raised his right foot,and kicked himself indignantly on the left ankle. "many happy returns of the day, old thing!" a muffled sob floated over the wire. "have you only just remembered?" said lucillein a small voice. archie, bracing himself up, cackled gleefullyinto the receiver. "did i take you in, light of my home? do youmean to say you really thought i had forgotten? for heaven's sake!"
"you didn't say a word at breakfast." "ah, but that was all part of the devilishcunning. i hadn't got a present for you then. at least, i didn't know whether it was ready." "oh, archie, you darling!" lucille's voicehad lost its crushed melancholy. she trilled like a thrush, or a linnet, or any bird thatgoes in largely for trilling. "have you really got me a present?" "it's here now. the dickens of a fruity picture.one of j. b. wheeler's things. you'll like "oh, i know i shall. i love his work. youare an angel. we'll hang it over the piano." "i'll be round with it in something underthree ticks, star of my soul. i'll take a
taxi." "yes, do hurry! i want to hug you!" "right-o!" said archie. "i'll take two taxis." it is not far from washington square to thehotel cosmopolis, and archie made the journey without mishap. there was a little unpleasantnesswith the cabman before starting—he, on the prudish plea that he was a married man witha local reputation to keep up, declining at first to be seen in company with the masterpiece.but, on archie giving a promise to keep the front of the picture away from the publicgaze, he consented to take the job on; and, some ten minutes later, having made his wayblushfully through the hotel lobby and endured
the frank curiosity of the boy who workedthe elevator, archie entered his suite, the picture under his arm. he placed it carefully against the wall inorder to leave himself more scope for embracing lucille, and when the joyful reunion—orthe sacred scene, if you prefer so to call it, was concluded, he stepped forward to turnit round and exhibit it. "why, it's enormous," said lucille. "i didn'tknow mr. wheeler ever painted pictures that size. when you said it was one of his, i thoughtit must be the original of a magazine drawing or something like—oh!" archie had moved back and given her an uninterruptedview of the work of art, and she had started
as if some unkindly disposed person had drivena bradawl into her. "pretty ripe, what?" said archie enthusiastically. lucille did not speak for a moment. it mayhave been sudden joy that kept her silent. or, on the other hand, it may not. she stoodlooking at the picture with wide eyes and parted lips. "a bird, eh?" said archie. "y—yes," said lucille. "i knew you'd like it," proceeded archie withanimation, "you see? you're by way of being a picture-hound—know all about the things,and what not—inherit it from the dear old
dad, i shouldn't wonder. personally, i can'ttell one picture from another as a rule, but i'm bound to say, the moment i set eyes onthis, i said to myself 'what ho!' or words to that effect, i rather think this will adda touch of distinction to the home, yes, no? i'll hang it up, shall i? 'phone down to theoffice, light of my soul, and tell them to send up a nail, a bit of string, and the hotelhammer." "one moment, darling. i'm not quite sure." "where it ought to hang, i mean. you see—" "over the piano, you said. the jolly old piano." "yes, but i hadn't seen it then."
a monstrous suspicion flitted for an instantinto archie's mind. "i say, you do like it, don't you?" he saidanxiously. "oh, archie, darling! of course i do!-andit was so sweet of you to give it to me. but, what i was trying to say was that this pictureis so—so striking that i feel that we ought to wait a little while and decide where itwould have the best effect. the light over the piano is rather strong." "you think it ought to hang in a dimmish light,what?" "yes, yes. the dimmer the—i mean, yes, ina dim light. suppose we leave it in the corner for the moment—over there—behind the sofa,and—and i'll think it over. it wants a lot
of thought, you know." "right-o! here?" "yes, that will do splendidly. oh, and, archie." "hullo?" "i think perhaps... just turn its face tothe wall, will you?" lucille gave a little gulp. "it will prevent it getting dusty." it perplexed archie a little during the nextfew days to notice in lucille, whom he had always looked on as pre-eminently a girl whoknew her own mind, a curious streak of vacillation. quite half a dozen times he suggested variousspots on the wall as suitable for the venus,
but lucille seemed unable to decide. archiewished that she would settle on something definite, for he wanted to invite j. b. wheelerto the suite to see the thing. he had heard nothing from the artist since the day he hadremoved the picture, and one morning, encountering him on broadway, he expressed his appreciationof the very decent manner in which the other had taken the whole affair. "oh, that!" said j. b. wheeler. "my dear fellow,you're welcome." he paused for a moment. "more than welcome," he added. "you aren't muchof an expert on pictures, are you?" "well," said archie, "i don't know that you'dcall me an absolute nib, don't you know, but of course i know enough to see that this particularexhibit is not a little fruity. absolutely
one of the best things you've ever done, laddie." a slight purple tinge manifested itself inmr. wheeler's round and rosy face. his eyes bulged. "what are you talking about, you tishbite?you misguided son of belial, are you under the impression that i painted that thing?" "didn't you?" mr. wheeler swallowed a little convulsively. "my fiancee painted it," he said shortly. "your fiancee? my dear old lad, i didn't knowyou were engaged. who is she? do i know her?"
"her name is alice wigmore. you don't knowher." "and she painted that picture?" archie wasperturbed. "but, i say! won't she be apt to wonder where the thing has got to?" "i told her it had been stolen. she thoughtit a great compliment, and was tickled to death. so that's all right." "and, of course, she'll paint you another." "not while i have my strength she won't,"said j. b. wheeler firmly. "she's given up painting since i taught her golf, thank goodness,and my best efforts shall be employed in seeing that she doesn't have a relapse."
"but, laddie," said archie, puzzled, "youtalk as though there were something wrong with the picture. i thought it dashed hotstuff." "god bless you!" said j. b. wheeler. archie proceeded on his way, still mystified.then he reflected that artists as a class were all pretty weird and rummy and talkedmore or less consistently through their hats. you couldn't ever take an artist's opinionon a picture. nine out of ten of them had views on art which would have admitted themto any looney-bin, and no questions asked. he had met several of the species who absolutelyraved over things which any reasonable chappie would decline to be found dead in a ditchwith. his admiration for the wigmore venus,
which had faltered for a moment during hisconversation with j. b. wheeler, returned in all its pristine vigour. absolute rot,he meant to say, to try to make out that it wasn't one of the ones and just like motherused to make. look how lucille had liked it! at breakfast next morning, archie once morebrought up the question of the hanging of the picture. it was absurd to let a thinglike that go on wasting its sweetness behind a sofa with its face to the wall. "touching the jolly old masterpiece," he said,"how about it? i think it's time we hoisted it up somewhere." lucille fiddled pensively with her coffee-spoon.
"archie, dear," she said, "i've been thinking." "and a very good thing to do," said archie."i've often meant to do it myself when i got a bit of time." "about that picture, i mean. did you knowit was father's birthday to-morrow?" "why no, old thing, i didn't, to be absolutelyhonest. your revered parent doesn't confide in me much these days, as a matter of fact." "well, it is. and i think we ought to givehim a present." "absolutely. but how? i'm all for spreadingsweetness and light, and cheering up the jolly old pater's sorrowful existence, but i haven'ta bean. and, what is more, things have come
to such a pass that i scan the horizon withoutseeing a single soul i can touch. i suppose i could get into reggie van tuyl's ribs fora bit, but—i don't know—touching poor old reggie always seems to me rather likepotting a sitting bird." "of course, i don't want you to do anythinglike that. i was thinking—archie, darling, would you be very hurt if i gave father thepicture?" "oh, i say!" "well, i can't think of anything else." "but wouldn't you miss it most frightfully?" "oh, of course i should. but you see—father'sbirthday—"
archie had always thought lucille the dearestand most unselfish angel in the world, but never had the fact come home to him so forciblyas now. he kissed her fondly. "by jove!" he exclaimed. "you really are,you know! this is the biggest thing since jolly old sir philip what's-his-name gavethe drink of water to the poor blighter whose need was greater than his, if you recall theincident. i had to sweat it up at school, i remember. sir philip, poor old bean, hada most ghastly thirst on, and he was just going to have one on the house, so to speak,when... but it's all in the history-books. this is the sort of thing boy scouts do! well,of course, it's up to you, queen of my soul. if you feel like making the sacrifice, right-o!shall i bring the pater up here and show him
the picture?" "no, i shouldn't do that. do you think youcould get into his suite to-morrow morning and hang it up somewhere? you see, if he hadthe chance of—what i mean is, if—yes, i think it would be best to hang it up andlet him discover it there." "it would give him a surprise, you mean, what?" lucille sighed inaudibly. she was a girl witha conscience, and that conscience was troubling her a little. she agreed with archie thatthe discovery of the wigmore venus in his artistically furnished suite would give mr.brewster a surprise. surprise, indeed, was perhaps an inadequate word. she was sorryfor her father, but the instinct of self-preservation
is stronger than any other emotion. archie whistled merrily on the following morningas, having driven a nail into his father-in-law's wallpaper, he adjusted the cord from whichthe wigmore venus was suspended. he was a kind-hearted young man, and, though mr. danielbrewster had on many occasions treated him with a good deal of austerity, his simplesoul was pleased at the thought of doing him a good turn, he had just completed his workand was stepping cautiously down, when a voice behind him nearly caused him to overbalance. "what the devil?" archie turned beamingly.
"hullo, old thing! many happy returns of theday!" mr. brewster was standing in a frozen attitude.his strong face was slightly flushed. "what—what—?" he gurgled. mr. brewster was not in one of his sunniestmoods that morning. the proprietor of a large hotel has many things to disturb him, andto-day things had been going wrong. he had come up to his suite with the idea of restoringhis shaken nerve system with a quiet cigar, and the sight of his son-in-law had, as sofrequently happened, made him feel worse than ever. but, when archie had descended fromthe chair and moved aside to allow him an uninterrupted view of the picture, mr. brewsterrealised that a worse thing had befallen him
than a mere visit from one who always madehim feel that the world was a bleak place. he stared at the venus dumbly. unlike mosthotel-proprietors, daniel brewster was a connoisseur of art. connoisseuring was, in fact, his hobby.even the public rooms of the cosmopolis were decorated with taste, and his own privatesuite was a shrine of all that was best and most artistic. his tastes were quiet and restrained,and it is not too much to say that the wigmore venus hit him behind the ear like a stuffedeel-skin. so great was the shock that for some momentsit kept him silent, and before he could recover speech archie had explained. "it's a birthday present from lucille, don'tyou know."
mr. brewster crushed down the breezy speechhe had intended to utter. "lucille gave me—that?" he muttered. he swallowed pathetically. he was suffering,but the iron courage of the brewsters stood him in good stead. this man was no weakling.presently the rigidity of his face relaxed. he was himself again. of all things in theworld he loved his daughter most, and if, in whatever mood of temporary insanity, shehad brought herself to suppose that this beastly daub was the sort of thing he would like fora birthday present, he must accept the situation like a man. he would on the whole have preferreddeath to a life lived in the society of the wigmore venus, but even that torment mustbe endured if the alternative was the hurting
of lucille's feelings. "i think i've chosen a pretty likely spotto hang the thing, what?" said archie cheerfully. "it looks well alongside those japanese prints,don't you think? sort of stands out." mr. brewster licked his dry lips and grinneda ghastly grin. "it does stand out!" he agreed. chapter xxvi. a tale of a grandfather archie was not a man who readily allowed himselfto become worried, especially about people who were not in his own immediate circle offriends, but in the course of the next week he was bound to admit that he was not altogethereasy in his mind about his father-in-law's
mental condition. he had read all sorts ofthings in the sunday papers and elsewhere about the constant strain to which captainsof industry are subjected, a strain which sooner or later is only too apt to make thevictim go all blooey, and it seemed to him that mr. brewster was beginning to find thegoing a trifle too tough for his stamina. undeniably he was behaving in an odd manner,and archie, though no physician, was aware that, when the american business-man, thatrestless, ever-active human machine, starts behaving in an odd manner, the next thingyou know is that two strong men, one attached to each arm, are hurrying him into the cabbound for bloomingdale. he did not confide his misgivings to lucille,not wishing to cause her anxiety. he hunted
up reggie van tuyl at the club, and soughtadvice from him. "i say, reggie, old thing—present companyexcepted—have there been any loonies in your family?" reggie stirred in the slumber which alwaysgripped him in the early afternoon. "loonies?" he mumbled, sleepily. "rather!my uncle edgar thought he was twins." "twins, eh?" "yes. silly idea! i mean, you'd have thoughtone of my uncle edgar would have been enough for any man." "how did the thing start?" asked archie.
"start? well, the first thing we noticed waswhen he began wanting two of everything. had to set two places for him at dinner and soon. always wanted two seats at the theatre. ran into money, i can tell you." "he didn't behave rummily up till then? imean to say, wasn't sort of jumpy and all that?" "not that i remember. why?" archie's tone became grave. "well, i'll tell you, old man, though i don'twant it to go any farther, that i'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law.i believe he's about to go in off the deep-end.
i think he's cracking under the strain. dashedweird his behaviour has been the last few "such as?" murmured mr. van tuyl. "well, the other morning i happened to bein his suite—incidentally he wouldn't go above ten dollars, and i wanted twenty-five-andhe suddenly picked up a whacking big paper-weight and bunged it for all he was worth." "at you?" "not at me. that was the rummy part of it.at a mosquito on the wall, he said. well, i mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weightsat mosquitoes? i mean, is it done?" "smash anything?"
"curiously enough, no. but he only just misseda rather decent picture which lucille had given him for his birthday. another foot tothe left and it would have been a goner." "sounds queer." "and, talking of that picture, i looked inon him about a couple of afternoons later, and he'd taken it down from the wall and laidit on the floor and was staring at it in a dashed marked sort of manner. that was peculiar,what?" "on the floor?" "on the jolly old carpet. when i came in,he was goggling at it in a sort of glassy way. absolutely rapt, don't you know. my comingin gave him a start—seemed to rouse him
from a kind of trance, you know—and he jumpedlike an antelope; and, if i hadn't happened to grab him, he would have trampled bang onthe thing. it was deuced unpleasant, you know. his manner was rummy. he seemed to be broodingon something. what ought i to do about it, do you think? it's not my affair, of course,but it seams to me that, if he goes on like this, one of these days he'll be stabbing,someone with a pickle-fork." to archie's relief, his father-in-law's symptomsshowed no signs of development. in fact, his manner reverted to the normal once more, anda few days later, meeting archie in the lobby of the hotel, he seemed quite cheerful. itwas not often that he wasted his time talking to his son-in-law, but on this occasion hechatted with him for several minutes about
the big picture-robbery which had formed thechief item of news on the front pages of the morning papers that day. it was mr. brewster'sopinion that the outrage had been the work of a gang and that nobody was safe. daniel brewster had spoken of this matterwith strange earnestness, but his words had slipped from archie's mind when he made hisway that night to his father-in-law's suite. archie was in an exalted mood. in the courseof dinner he had had a bit of good news which was occupying his thoughts to the exclusionof all other matters. it had left him in a comfortable, if rather dizzy, condition ofbenevolence to all created things. he had smiled at the room-clerk as he crossed thelobby, and if he had had a dollar, he would
have given it to the boy who took him up inthe elevator. he found the door of the brewster suite unlockedwhich at any other time would have struck him as unusual; but to-night he was in noframe of mind to notice these trivialities. he went in, and, finding the room dark andno one at home, sat down, too absorbed in his thoughts to switch on the lights, andgave himself up to dreamy meditation. there are certain moods in which one losescount of time, and archie could not have said how long he had been sitting in the deep arm-chairnear the window when he first became aware that he was not alone in the room. he hadclosed his eyes, the better to meditate, so had not seen anyone enter. nor had he heardthe door open. the first intimation he had
that somebody had come in was when some hardsubstance knocked against some other hard object, producing a sharp sound which broughthim back to earth with a jerk. he sat up silently. the fact that the roomwas still in darkness made it obvious that something nefarious was afoot. plainly therewas dirty work in preparation at the cross-roads. he stared into the blackness, and, as hiseyes grew accustomed to it, was presently able to see an indistinct form bending oversomething on the floor. the sound of rather stertorous breathing came to him. archie had many defects which prevented himbeing the perfect man, but lack of courage was not one of them. his somewhat rudimentaryintelligence had occasionally led his superior
officers during the war to thank god thatgreat britain had a navy, but even these stern critics had found nothing to complain of inthe manner in which he bounded over the top. some of us are thinkers, others men of action.archie was a man of action, and he was out of his chair and sailing in the directionof the back of the intruder's neck before a wiser man would have completed his planof campaign. the miscreant collapsed under him with a squashy sound, like the wind goingout of a pair of bellows, and archie, taking a firm seat on his spine, rubbed the other'sface in the carpet and awaited the progress of events. at the end of half a minute it became apparentthat there was going to be no counter-attack.
the dashing swiftness of the assault had apparentlyhad the effect of depriving the marauder of his entire stock of breath. he was gurglingto himself in a pained sort of way and making no effort to rise. archie, feeling that itwould be safe to get up and switch on the light, did so, and, turning after completingthis manoeuvre, was greeted by the spectacle of his father-in-law, seated on the floorin a breathless and dishevelled condition, blinking at the sudden illumination. on thecarpet beside mr. brewster lay a long knife, and beside the knife lay the handsomely framedmasterpiece of j. b. wheeler's fiancee, miss alice wigmore. archie stared at this collectiondumbly. "oh, what-ho!" he observed at length, feebly.
a distinct chill manifested itself in theregion of archie's spine. this could mean only one thing. his fears had been realised.the strain of modern life, with all its hustle and excitement, had at last proved too muchfor mr. brewster. crushed by the thousand and one anxieties and worries of a millionaire'sexistence, daniel brewster had gone off his onion. archie was nonplussed. this was his firstexperience of this kind of thing. what, he asked himself, was the proper procedure ina situation of this sort? what was the local rule? where, in a word, did he go from here?he was still musing in an embarrassed and baffled way, having taken the precaution ofkicking the knife under the sofa, when mr.
brewster spoke. and there was in, both thewords and the method of their delivery so much of his old familiar self that archiefelt quite relieved. "so it's you, is it, you wretched blight,you miserable weed!" said mr. brewster, having recovered enough breath to be going on with.he glowered at his son-in-law despondently. "i might have, expected it! if i was at thenorth pole, i could count on you butting in!" "shall i get you a drink of water?" said archie. "what the devil," demanded mr. brewster, "doyou imagine i want with a drink of water?" "well—" archie hesitated delicately. "ihad a sort of idea that you had been feeling the strain a bit. i mean to say, rush of modernlife and all that sort of thing—"
"what are you doing in my room?" said mr.brewster, changing the subject. "well, i came to tell you something, and icame in here and was waiting for you, and i saw some chappie biffing about in the dark,and i thought it was a burglar or something after some of your things, so, thinking itover, i got the idea that it would be a fairly juicy scheme to land on him with both feet.no idea it was you, old thing! frightfully sorry and all that. meant well!" mr. brewster sighed deeply. he was a justman, and he could not but realise that, in the circumstances, archie had behaved notunnaturally. "oh, well!" he said. "i might have known somethingwould go wrong."
"awfully sorry!" "it can't be helped. what was it you wantedto tell me?" he eyed his son-in-law piercingly. "not a cent over twenty dollars!" he saidcoldly. archie hastened to dispel the pardonable error. "oh, it wasn't anything like that," he said."as a matter of fact, i think it's a good egg. it has bucked me up to no inconsiderabledegree. i was dining with lucille just now, and, as we dallied with the food-stuffs, shetold me something which—well, i'm bound to say, it made me feel considerably braced.she told me to trot along and ask you if you would mind—"
"i gave lucille a hundred dollars only lasttuesday." archie was pained. "adjust this sordid outlook, old thing!" heurged. "you simply aren't anywhere near it. right off the target, absolutely! what lucilletold me to ask you was if you would mind—at some tolerably near date—being a grandfather!rotten thing to be, of course," proceeded archie commiseratingly, "for a chappie ofyour age, but there it is!" mr. brewster gulped. "do you mean to say—?" "i mean, apt to make a fellow feel a bit ofa patriarch. snowy hair and what not. and,
of course, for a chappie in the prime of lifelike you—" "do you mean to tell me—? is this true?" "absolutely! of course, speaking for myself,i'm all for it. i don't know when i've felt more bucked. i sang as i came up here—absolutelywarbled in the elevator. but you—" a curious change had come over mr. brewster.he was one of those men who have the appearance of having been hewn out of the solid rock,but now in some indescribable way he seemed to have melted. for a moment he gazed at archie,then, moving quickly forward, he grasped his hand in an iron grip. "this is the best news i've ever had!" hemumbled.
"awfully good of you to take it like this,"said archie cordially. "i mean, being a grandfather—" mr. brewster smiled. of a man of his appearanceone could hardly say that he smiled playfully; but there was something in his expressionthat remotely suggested playfulness. "my dear old bean," he said. archie started. "my dear old bean," repeated mr. brewsterfirmly, "i'm the happiest man in america!" his eye fell on the picture which lay on thefloor. he gave a slight shudder, but recovered himself immediately. "after this," he said,"i can reconcile myself to living with that thing for the rest of my life. i feel it doesn'tmatter."
"i say," said archie, "how about that? wouldn'thave brought the thing up if you hadn't introduced the topic, but, speaking as man to man, whatthe dickens were you up to when i landed on your spine just now?" "i suppose you thought i had gone off my head?" "well, i'm bound to say—" mr. brewster cast an unfriendly glance atthe picture. "well, i had every excuse, after living withthat infernal thing for a week!" archie looked at him, astonished. "i say, old thing, i don't know if i havegot your meaning exactly, but you somehow
give me the impression that you don't likethat jolly old work of art." "like it!" cried mr. brewster. "it's nearlydriven me mad! every time it caught my eye, it gave me a pain in the neck. to-night ifelt as if i couldn't stand it any longer. i didn't want to hurt lucille's feelings,by telling her, so i made up my mind i would cut the damned thing out of its frame andtell her it had been stolen." "what an extraordinary thing! why, that'sexactly what old wheeler did." "who is old wheeler?" "artist chappie. pal of mine. his fianceepainted the thing, and, when i lifted it off him, he told her it had been stolen. he didn'tseem frightfully keen on it, either."
"your friend wheeler has evidently good taste." archie was thinking. "well, all this rather gets past me," he said."personally, i've always admired the thing. dashed ripe bit of work, i've always considered.still, of course, if you feel that way—" "you may take it from me that i do!" "well, then, in that case—you know whata clumsy devil i am—you can tell lucille it was all my fault—" the wigmore venus smiled up at archie—itseemed to archie with a pathetic, pleading smile. for a moment he was conscious of afeeling of guilt; then, closing his eyes and
hardening his heart, he sprang lightly inthe air and descended with both feet on the picture. there was a sound of rending canvas,and the venus ceased to smile. "golly!" said archie, regarding the wreckageremorsefully. mr. brewster did not share his remorse. forthe second time that night he gripped him by the hand. "my boy!" he quavered. he stared at archieas if he were seeing him with new eyes. "my dear boy, you were through the war, were younot?" "eh? oh yes! right through the jolly old war." "what was your rank?"
"oh, second lieutenant." "you ought to have been a general!" mr. brewsterclasped his hand once more in a vigorous embrace. "i only hope," he added "that your son willbe like you!" there are certain compliments, or complimentscoming from certain sources, before which modesty reels, stunned. archie's did. he swallowed convulsively. he had never thoughtto hear these words from daniel brewster. "how would it be, old thing," he said almostbrokenly, "if you and i trickled down to the bar and had a spot of sherbet?"