An Amiable Charlatan

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> An Amiable Charlatan

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

He recognized us with a little start, though he made no movement whatever
in our direction. He was certainly a changed being. He stood and looked at
us as though we were ghosts. Mr. Bundercombe waved his hand in friendly
fashion. It was not until then that Louis, with marked unwillingness, came
forward to greet us.

"Come to see your new quarters, Louis!" Mr. Bundercombe said cheerfully.
"Find us a table and serve us some of your special coffee. We will dine
here another evening."

Louis showed us to a table and handed us over to the care of an
unwholesome-looking German waiter, with only a very brief interchange of
courtesies. And then, with a word of excuse, he darted away. Mr.
Bundercombe looked after him wonderingly.

The coffee was brought by the waiter and served without Louis'
reappearance. The effect of his absence on Mr. Bundercombe, however, was
only to make him more determined than ever to get at the bottom of
whatever mystery there might be.

"Just tell Louis, the _maitre d'hotel_, I wish to speak to him," he
instructed the waiter.

The man departed. Ten minutes passed, but there was no sign of Louis. Mr.
Bundercombe sent another and more imperative message. This time Louis
obeyed it. As he crossed the room a little hesitatingly toward us, it was
almost sad to notice the alteration in his appearance. At Luigi's he had
been so smart, so upright, so well dressed. Here he was a changed being.
His hair needed cutting; his linen was no longer irreproachable; his
clothes were dusty and out of shape. The man seemed to have lost all care
of himself and all pride in his work. When at last he reached the table
Mr. Bundercombe did not beat about the bush.

"Louis," he said, "we have been to Stephano's tonight for the first time
for some weeks. I came along here to see you because of what Luigi told
me. Now you can just take this from me: You've got to tell me the truth.
There's something wrong with you! What is it?"

Louis extended his hands. He was making his one effort.

"There is nothing wrong with me," he declared. "I left Stephano's to--as
they say in this country--better myself. I am in charge here--next to
Monsieur Giatron himself. If Monsieur Giatron should go back to Italy I
should be manager. It seemed like a good post. Perhaps I was foolish to
leave."

"Louis," Mr. Bundercombe protested, "I guess I didn't come round here to
listen to lies. You and I had some little dealings together and I feel
I've the right to insist on the truth. Now, then, don't give us any more
trouble--there's a good fellow! If you'd rather talk to me alone invite me
into the office or behind that desk."

Louis looked round the room, which was almost empty, save for the waiters
preparing the tables for supper.

"Mr. Bundercombe," he said, with a little gesture of resignation, "it is
because of those dealings that I came to trouble."

Mr. Bundercombe eyed him steadily.

"Go on!" he ordered.

Louis moved closer still to the table.

"It was those banknotes, Mr. Bundercombe," he confessed. "You gave me one
packet to be destroyed in the kitchen. I obeyed; but I looked at them
first. Never did I see such wonderful work! Those notes--every one seemed
real! Every one, as I put it into the fire, gave my heart a pang.

"And then, the other time--when you slipped them under the table to me
because Mr. Cullen was about! I took them, too, to the fire. I destroyed
one, two, three, four, five--one dozen--two dozen; and then I came to the
last two or three, and my fingers--they went slow. I could not bear it. I
thought what could be done. My wife she was not well. I could send her to
Italy. I owe a little bill. The tips--they had not been good lately.
Behold! There was one ten-pound note left when all the others were
destroyed. I put him in my waistcoat pocket."

"Go on!" Mr. Bundercombe said encouragingly. "No one is blaming you. Upon
my word, it sounds natural enough."

Louis' voice grew a little bolder.

"For some time I hesitated how to change it. Then one day I came here to
see my friend Giatron--we came together from Italy. I hand him the note. I
ask him please change. He give me the change and I stay to have a drink
with the head waiter, who is a friend of mine. Presently Giatron comes
out. He calls me into the office. Then I begin to tremble. He looks at me
and I tremble more.

"Then he knows that he have got me. Giatron's a very cruel man, Mr.
Bundercombe. He make hard terms. He made me give up my good place at
Luigi's. He made me come here and be his head man. He gives me half as
much as Luigi and there are no tips; besides which the place offends me
every moment of the day. The service, the food, the wines--everything is
cheap and bad. I take no pride in my work.

"I go to Giatron and I pray him to let me go. But not so! I know my work
well. He thinks that I will bring clients. Nowhere else could he get a
head man so good as I at the wages of a common waiter. So I stay here--a
slave!"

The man's story was finished. In a sense it seemed ordinary enough, and
yet both Eve and I felt a curious thrill of sympathy as he finished. There
was something almost dramatic in the man's sad voice, his depressed
bearing, the story of this tragedy that had come so suddenly into his
life. One looked round and realized the truth of all he had said. One
realized something, even, of the bitterness of his daily life.

Mr. Bundercombe sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

"Tell me why you did not come to me or write, Louis?" he asked.

The man stretched out his hands.

"But it was to you, sir, that I had broken my word!" he pointed out. "When
you gave me that first little bundle you looked at me so steadfastly--when
you told me that every scrap was to be destroyed; and I promised--I
promised you faithfully. And you asked me afterward about that last batch.
You said to me: 'Louis, you are sure that they are all quite gone?
Remember that there is trouble in the possession of them!' And I told you
a lie!"

Mr. Bundercombe coughed and poured himself out a little more of the
coffee.

"Louis," he declared, "you are a fool! You are a blithering idiot! You are
a jackass! It never occurred to me before. I am the guilty one for placing
such a temptation in your way. Now where's this Monsieur Giatron of
yours?"

Louis looked at him wonderingly. There was a dawn of hope in his face,
blended with a startled fear.

"He arrives in ten minutes," he announced. "He comes down for the supper.
He is here."

Mr. Bundercombe glanced round. A stout man, with a black mustache, had
entered the room. His eyes fell at once on the little group. Mr.
Bundercombe turned round.

"So that is Monsieur Giatron?"

Louis bowed. Mr. Bundercombe beckoned the proprietor to approach.

"An old patron of Luigi's," Mr. Bundercombe explained, introducing
himself--"come round to see our friend Louis, here."

"Delighted, I am very sure!" Mr. Giatron exclaimed, bowing to all of us.
"It will be a great pleasure to us to do the very best possible for any of
Louis' friends."

Mr. Bundercombe rose to his feet. He pointed to the little glass-framed
office at the other side of the room.

"Mr. Giatron," he said, "I have always been a great patron of Louis. You
and I must have a chat. Will you not invite us into your little office and
show us whether there is not something better to be found than this
coffee? We will take a glass of brandy together and drink success to your
restaurant."

Giatron hastened to lead the way. Eve, in response to a glance from her
father, remained at the table; but I followed Mr. Bundercombe. We went
into the office; Giatron himself placed three glasses upon the desk and
produced from a cupboard a bottle of what appeared to be very superior
brandy. Mr. Bundercombe sipped his with relish. Then he glanced at the
closed door.

"Mr. Giatron," he began, "I have been having a chat with Louis. He has
told me of his troubles--told me the reason for his leaving Luigi and
accepting this post with you."

Giatron paused, with the bottle suspended in mid-air. He slowly set it
down. A frown appeared on his face.

"Mind you," Mr. Bundercombe continued, "I am not sympathizing with Louis.
If what he said is true I am inclined to think you have been very
merciful."

Giatron recovered his confidence.

"He tried--Louis tried--my old friend," he complained, "to take advantage
of me; to enrich himself at my expense by means of a false note."

"That is the only point," Mr. Bundercombe said.

"Was the note bad? Do you know I can scarcely bring myself to believe it!"

The restaurant keeper smiled. Very deliberately he produced a great bunch
of keys from his pocket and opened the safe, which stood in a corner of
the office. Mr. Bundercombe whispered a scarcely audible word in my ear
and became absorbed once more in the brandy. Presently Giatron returned.
He laid on the desk and smoothed out carefully what was to all appearances
a ten-pound note.

"If you will examine that carefully, sir," he begged, "you will see that
it is the truth. That note, he is very well made; but he is not a good
Bank of England note."

Mr. Bundercombe slowly adjusted his glasses, placed the note in front of
him and smoothed it carefully with his large hand. "This is very
interesting," he murmured. "Allow me to make a close examination. I've
seen some high-class printing in my----"

Giatron started as though he were shot and jumped round toward me. With
unpardonable clumsiness I had upset my glass in leaning over to look at
the note.

"I'm awfully sorry!" I exclaimed, glancing ruefully at my trousers. "Would
you give me a napkin quickly?"

Giatron hastened to the door of the office and called to a passing waiter.
The napkin was soon procured and I rubbed myself dry. The restaurant
keeper returned to the desk at Mr. Bundercombe's side.

"All I can say," Mr. Bundercombe declared, as he drew away from the note,
which he had been examining, "is that I do not wonder you were deceived,
Mr. Giatron. This note is the most perfect imitation I have ever seen in
my life. A wicked piece of work, sir!"

"You recognize the fact, however, that the note is beyond question
counterfeit?" Mr. Giatron persisted.

"I fear you are right," Mr. Bundercombe admitted. "There is a slight
imperfection. Yes, yes--a very bad business, Mr. Giatron! We must come
here often and try to see whether we cannot make you a second Luigi."

Giatron returned to the safe with the note, which he carefully locked up.

"Very excellent brandy!" Mr. Bundercombe pronounced warmly. "You will see
a great deal more of us, my friend. I promise you that. We shall haunt
you!"

Mr. Giatron bowed to the ground.

"You are always very welcome--and the young lady!"

We rejoined Eve, paid our bill, and made our way to the door. Louis,
looking very pathetic, was in the background. Mr. Bundercombe beckoned to
him.

"Louis, you can give your shark of an employer a week's notice to-night! I
have the note in my pocket," he whispered. "It's cost me a good one; but I
owed you that. On Monday week, Louis, I shall order my dinner from you at
Luigi's."

The man's face was wonderful! He came a little closer. He was shaking at
the knees, his hands were trembling, and his mouth was twitching. "Mr.
Bundercombe," he pleaded hoarsely, "you would not deceive me!"

Mr. Bundercombe looked at him steadfastly.

"On my honor, Louis, the note is in my pocket, already torn in four pieces
when I put my hand into my waistcoat pocket to pay my bill. In three
minutes it will be in a hundred pieces--gone! You need have no fear. The
note Mr. Giatron is guarding so carefully is a very excellent ten-pound
note of my own."

At a quarter to eight on the following Monday week Mr. Bundercombe and I
entered Luigi's restaurant. Louis himself advanced to greet us--the old
Louis, whose linen was irreproachable, whose bearing and deportment and
gracious smile all denoted the Louis of old. Mr. Bundercombe ordered
dinner and beckoned Louis to come a little nearer.

"Was there any trouble?" he inquired.

"For me, no," Louis replied; "but Monsieur Giatron--never, never have I
seen a man like it! He fetched out the note. 'Now,' he said, 'I take your
notice! You take mine! Ring up the police! Or shall I?'

"Then I tell him. I say: 'I don't believe the note bad at all!' He laughed
at me. He got it from the safe and laid it on the desk. 'Not bad!' he
jeered. 'Not bad!' Then he stood looking at it.

"Mr. Bundercombe, I see his face change. His mouth came wide open; his
eyes looked as though they would drop out. He bend over that note. He
looked at it and looked at it; and then he looked at me.

"'I don't believe that note ever was bad!' I say. 'I told you when you
charged me I didn't believe it. That is why I have made up my mind to give
you notice, to go away from here. And if that note is bad then you can put
me in prison.'

"Monsieur Giatron--he went back to the safe. He rummaged round among a
pile of papers and soon he came out again. He was looking pasty-colored.
'Louis,' he said, 'some one has been very clever! You can go to hell!' And
so, Mr. Bundercombe," Louis wound up, beaming, "here I am!"

CHAPTER XIII--"THE SHORN LAMB"

I never remembered seeing Mr. Bundercombe look more cheerful than when, at
his urgent summons, I left Eve in the drawing-room and made my way into
the study. He was standing on the hearthrug, with the tails of his morning
coat drooping over his arms and an expression on his face that I can only
describe as cherubic. Seated on chairs, a yard or so away from him, were
two visitors of whom at first glance I formed a most unfavorable opinion.
One was a flashily dressed, middle-aged man, with fair mustache, puffy
cheeks, and a superfluity of jewelry. The other I might at first have
taken for an undertaker's mute. He had an exceedingly red nose, watery
eyes, and was dressed in deep mourning.

"Paul," Mr. Bundercombe said, "let me introduce you to Captain Duncan
Bannister and Mr. Cheape, his solicitor."

The two men rose and bowed in turn. I found it difficult to maintain a
tolerant attitude, but I did my best.

"These two gentlemen," Mr. Bundercombe continued cheerfully, "have come
round to blackmail me."

"Sir!" Captain Bannister exclaimed, with a great show of anger.

"Mr. Bundercombe!" the person called Mr. Cheape echoed.

They made rather a poor show of it, however. Mr. Bundercombe, wholly
unperturbed by their righteous indignation, smiled still benignly upon
them.

"Come, come!" he expostulated. "This is a business interview. Why mince
words?"

Captain Bannister rose to his feet. He turned toward me.

"Mr. Bundercombe," he explained, "either willfully or otherwise,
misinterprets the object of our coming. It is possible that his
nationality may have something to do with it. I have always understood
that the standard among Americans with regard to affairs of honor is
scarcely so high as in this country."

"Mr. Bundercombe has a habit of taking a common-sense view of things," I
remarked. "I cannot criticize his attitude, because I am ignorant of the
particulars. Since he has sent for me, however, I presume that I am to be
informed."

"Quite so--quite so!" Mr. Bundercombe murmured. "You go ahead, Captain
Bannister. You tell your story."

"My story," Captain Bannister said, "is told in a very few words. I made
the acquaintance of Mr. Bundercombe in the smoking room at the Milan some
months ago. We met several times; and on one occasion I presented him to a
friend of mine, the widow of a colonel in the Indian Army, Mrs.
Delaporte."

At this stage, Mr. Bundercombe, who was quite irrepressible, winked at me
slowly. I took no notice of him whatever.

"On the particular evening to which I refer," Captain Bannister continued,
"it was suggested, by Mrs. Delaporte, I think, that we should go round to
her rooms and play _chemin de fer_. There were five of us altogether--Mr.
Bundercombe, Mrs. Delaporte, myself, a Mr. Dimsdale, and the Honorable
Montague Pelham, a young gentleman of the best family. When we arrived at
Mrs. Delaporte's rooms, however, it transpired that Mr. Bundercombe was
wholly ignorant of _chemin de fer_, and the game was accordingly changed
to poker.

"In the course of the game I was shocked to detect Mr. Bundercombe
cheating. For Mrs. Delaporte's sake I conceived it best to try and hush up
the matter entirely. I looked upon Mr. Bundercombe as a card sharper of
the ordinary type, and I simply blamed myself for having introduced him to
my friends. I accordingly made some excuse to terminate the party."

"Did any one else besides yourself," I inquired, "observe this alleged
irregularity?"

"Both Mrs. Delaporte and Mr. Dimsdale distinctly saw the very flagrant
piece of cheating that first attracted my attention," Captain Bannister
declared. "They understood at once the position when I suggested the
termination of the game. Our party broke up hurriedly. Since that day I
have not seen Mr. Bundercombe."

I turned toward my prospective father-in-law. Mr. Bundercombe for the
first time was looking a little annoyed.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said, addressing Captain Bannister, "that
both that young jay Dimsdale and Mrs. Delaporte saw me pass up that ace?"

"Without a doubt," Captain Bannister assented, a little taken aback.

"Guess my fingers must be getting a bit clumsy," Mr. Bundercombe sighed.
"Well, well! There the matter is."

"But, Mr. Bundercombe," I asked seriously, "what have you to say in reply
to Captain Bannister's statement?"

"Don't seem to me there's much to be said," Mr. Bundercombe replied.

"But he accuses you of cheating!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, I cheated all right!" Mr. Bundercombe admitted readily.

Captain Bannister turned toward me triumphantly.

"After that confession from Mr. Bundercombe before witnesses," he said, "I
do not imagine that our case will require very much more proof."

I was completely nonplussed--Mr. Bundercombe's confession was so ready,
his demeanor so unalterably good-tempered. I went on to ask, however, what
certainly seemed to me the most important question under the
circumstances.

"If you were content, Captain Bannister," I inquired, "to let the matter
drop a few months ago, why are you here now?"

"Aha!" Mr. Bundercombe exclaimed. "Put his finger on the crux of the whole
affair straight off! Smart young fellow, my son-in-law that is to be! Now,
then, Captain Bannister and Mr. Cheape, speak up like men and let us know
the truth. You let me walk out of that flat, Captain Bannister, and were
jolly glad to see the back of me. Why this visit with a legal adviser, and
both of you with faces as long as fiddles?"

Captain Bannister ignored Mr. Bundercombe and addressed me.

"Mr. Bundercombe," he said, "calling himself, by the by, Mr. Parker, as an
American card sharper was of no interest to us. We were simply ashamed and
disgusted to think that we should have permitted such a person the entree
to our society. When we discovered, however, that, instead of being a
professional card sharper," Captain Bannister continued, with emphasis,
"Mr. Bundercombe enjoys a recognized position in society, and that he is
reputed to be a man of great wealth, the affair assumes an altogether
different complexion."

"Worth going for, ain't I?" Mr. Bundercombe chuckled.

"I feel sure, Mr. Walmsley," Captain Bannister continued, "that some
portion of your sympathy, at any rate, as an English gentleman of social
distinction, will be with us in this matter. The affair we were content to
let drop against Mr. Parker, the adventurer, we feel it our duty to pursue
against Mr. Bundercombe, the millionaire."

"We would save time," I remarked coldly, "if you were to put your demands
into plain words. What is it you want or expect from Mr. Bundercombe?"

"Not what you appear to think, sir," Captain Bannister replied stiffly.
"We require from Mr. Bundercombe a written confession and his resignation
from the Sidney Club."

"The what club?" I asked dubiously.

"The Sidney Club," Captain Bannister repeated, with dignity. "The club in
question may not be very large, but it is quite well known, and I had the
misfortune to act as Mr. Bundercombe's sponsor there."

I glanced toward my prospective father-in-law. He nodded.

"They put me up for some sort of a pothouse," he admitted, "and I handed
over a tenner, I think it was, for my subscription. Rotten little hole
somewhere near the Haymarket! I've never been in since. I'll resign, with
pleasure!"

"And write a confession of your misdemeanor, sir?" Captain Bannister
persisted.

Mr. Bundercombe scratched his chin.

"I'll write an account of the whole affair," he remarked dryly.

Captain Bannister took up his hat.

"I regret," he declared, "that Mr. Bundercombe's attitude does not
encourage a continuation of this conversation. We will not detain you
further, gentlemen."

Mr. Cheape also rose. They moved toward the door.

"Much obliged to you for calling," Mr. Bundercombe said hospitably. "Drop
in and have a little game of cards with me any afternoon you like. I am a
bit out of practice, but I fancy I am still in your class."

Captain Bannister turned round suddenly. He replaced his hat upon the
table and stood with folded arms.

"Sir," he announced, "I have changed my mind. You have insulted me. Five
minutes ago I was prepared to treat you like a gentleman. I would have
accepted your resignation from the Sidney Club and your written apology.
Now I have changed my mind. You have slandered me, both by imputation and
directly."

"How much?" Mr. Bundercombe asked cheerfully.

"Five thousand pounds!" Captain Bannister answered firmly.

"How much more if I call you a lying, card-sharping swindler?" Mr.
Bundercombe demanded, with unabated good humor.

Captain Bannister looked dangerous, but he ignored the question.

"You have your terms, sir," he said. "Unless you are prepared to hand over
the sum of five thousand pounds, my solicitor, Mr. Cheape here, will at
once commence proceedings against you with reference to the affair in Mrs.
Delaporte's flat. Remember, we have four witnesses to bring into court as
to your having cheated--not including your son-in-law here, who heard your
confession. For any countercharge you might be disposed to make," Captain
Bannister concluded, "you have not a single scrap of evidence."

"Got me on toast, haven't they, Paul?" Mr. Bundercombe observed
cheerfully. "Five thousand pounds is a lot of money, Captain Bannister,"
he added. "I'll pay your taxi fare back to wherever you came from. That's
my best offer."

Captain Bannister turned toward the door.

"Come along, Mr. Cheape!" he said. "You know my address, sir. Talk this
matter over with your--with Mr. Walmsley, if you please. If we hear
nothing from you on Monday morning a writ will be issued."

"Before Monday," Mr. Bundercombe declared, in a hollow voice, "my body
will be found in the Thames. Kick 'em out, Walmsley, and look after the
coats in the hall!"

I infused a shade more civility into my leavetaking than Mr. Bundercombe's
words invited. As soon as the door was closed behind the two men I
returned to the study. Mr. Bundercombe was still standing upon the
hearthrug, but the smile had faded from his lips. He looked at me a little
anxiously.

"Rotten lot of thieves!" he remarked. "I told you they were here for
blackmail."

"It's a beastly affair," I pointed out gloomily, "You see, they've nothing
to lose, with a lawyer who's standing in with them, in taking the case
into court; and you're just up for a couple of very good clubs. What did
happen?"

"Simple as ABC!" Mr. Bundercombe explained. "You see these two fellows,
Dimsdale and Pelham, really looked like mugs. I knew that Bannister was a
wrong 'un from the first; and Mrs. Delaporte, of course, was in the thing.
When they proposed a game of cards I chipped in, thinking to watch the
fun. When we started playing Dimsdale and Pelham were the losers. Then
they began to get at me. Bannister palmed a king into his hand and I
palmed an ace. That seemed fair enough, eh?"

Mr. Bundercombe's expression as he looked at me was the expression of an
appealing child. I bit my lip.

"A minute or two later I tumbled to the whole situation," he went on.
"Dimsdale and Pelham weren't jays at all. It was a gang of four and they
raked me in for the mug. After I'd tumbled to that I must confess I took
some interest in the game. If they had given me another quarter of an hour
I should have won every chip there was going. My boy," Mr. Bundercombe
went on, a sudden grin transfiguring his expressive countenance, "it was
worth a fortune to see their faces!

"I was a bit out of practice, but I guarantee I'd make a living with my
fingers and a pack of cards anywhere yet and defy detection. I had 'em all
guessing before long; and, Paul, you should have seen their faces when
they tumbled to it! I tell you they bundled me out in double-quick time
and I laughed all the way home. Four sharks to pitch upon me as a victim!"

He began to laugh again, but the sight of my grave face checked him. He at
once assumed the appearance of a penitent.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14