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

"Where did you come across them again?" I asked.

"I met Mrs. Delaporte the other day," he said, "down at Ranelagh. We
chatted a little while. I couldn't feel any ill-will against the woman--
I'd enjoyed my evening so thoroughly. Then some people stopped and talked
to me, and she found out who I was. Soon afterward she began to throw out
hints of a willingness to marry again. Perhaps I wasn't very tactful.
Anyway she seemed a little huffed when she left me--and here we are! Say,
do you think those joshers can do anything?"

"It rather depends," I replied, "upon their own reputations. You'd better
let me make a few inquiries. I'll have to get off now, Eve's waiting. I'll
call round and see my solicitor later in the day."

"Shame to bother you," Mr. Bundercombe regretted. "So long!"

The affair Mr. Bundercombe had treated with his customary light-
heartedness seemed likely to develop most unpleasantly. Within forty-eight
hours he was the recipient of a writ from the firm of solicitors with
which Mr. Cheape was connected; and, though inquiries went to prove that
Captain Bannister, Mrs. Delaporte and their associates were certainly not
people of the highest respectability, there was yet nothing definite
against them. My solicitor, to whom I took Mr. Bundercombe, most
regretfully advised him to settle out of court.

"The friends Mr. Bundercombe is now making and may make in later life,"
the lawyer remarked, "will certainly not appreciate the adventurous spirit
that--er--induced him to make acquaintances among a certain class of
people. Therefore, in the interests of my client, Mr. Walmsley, as well as
your own, Mr. Bundercombe," he concluded, "I am afraid I must advise you,
very much against my own inclinations, to settle this matter."

Mr. Bundercombe left the lawyer's office thoroughly depressed.

"It isn't the money!" he declared gloomily. "It's being bested by this
little gang of thieves that irritates me!"

"I am sure," I told him, "that Mr. Wymans' advice is sound. If the case
goes into court and comes up before the committee--even of a rotten club
like the Sidney--I am afraid you would have to withdraw your membership
from the other places; and you might find the affair continually cropping
up and causing you annoyance."

Mr. Bundercombe heaved a mighty sigh.

"Well, we've got two days left," he said. "If nothing happens before then
I'll pay up."

* * * * *

Mr. Bundercombe rang me up on the morning of the last day appointed for
his decision.

"We've got a conference on, Paul," he announced dejectedly. "Will you come
round here for me at a quarter to eleven?"

I assented, and arrived at the house in Prince's Gardens a few minutes
before that time. Eve met me in the hall.

"Please tell me, dear," she begged, as she drew me into the morning room,
"why daddy is so low-spirited!"

"It isn't anything serious," I assured her. "It's just a little trouble
arising from one of his adventures. We shall get out of it all right."

"Poor daddy!" she exclaimed. "I am sure he has had no sleep for two
nights. I heard him walking up and down his room."

"Well, it will all be over to-day," I promised. "After all, it only means
a little money."

"Daddy does so hate to get the worst of anything," she sighed; "and I am
afraid, from the looks of his face, that this time he's in a fix."

"I am afraid so, too," I agreed. "Never mind; we have done the best we
can, and we are going to settle it up once and for all to-day. Perhaps
he'll tell you about it afterward."

We heard a door slam and Mr. Bundercombe's voice.

"He is asking for you," Eve whispered. "Hurry along and come back as soon
as you've got this business over."

I found Mr. Bundercombe exceedingly chastened, but in all other respects
his usual self.

"We are calling for Mr. Wymans," he said, "in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and
afterward we are going round to Mrs. Delaporte's flat. We are going to
meet Bannister there and his lawyer."

"Why do we concern ourselves in the matter at all?" I asked as we drove
off. "I don't see why we can't leave the lawyers to do this final
settlement."

Mr. Bundercombe shook his head.

"You leave too much to lawyers in this country," he remarked. "We
generally like to see the thing through ourselves over at home, even if we
take a lawyer along. This is an unpleasant business, if you like; but
there's no good in shirking it."

We called for Mr. Wymans and drove on to Mrs. Delaporte's flat. We were at
once admitted into an overheated and overperfumed room and found Captain
Bannister, Mrs. Delaporte, and Mr. Cheape awaiting us. Their demeanor
betokened anxiety. Mrs. Delaporte alone made a little conversation; and,
the habits of a lifetime asserting themselves, she made eyes at Mr.
Bundercombe.

Mr. Bundercombe, however, conducted himself very much like the deacon of a
chapel in the presence of his minister. His natural good humor seemed to
have departed. His manners matched the unusual solemnity of his attire.

"Madam," he said, bowing to Mrs. Delaporte, "Mr. Cheape and Captain
Bannister, I have suggested this conference because I believe in settling
these affairs myself and not leaving everything to lawyers--no disrespect
to present company. I have made an idiot of myself and I am ready to pay--
a certain amount."

Mr. Cheape rose to his feet. He was sitting in front of a writing desk,
with a clean sheet of paper in front of him, as though prepared to take
notes of the proceedings.

"So that there may be no possible misunderstanding," he intervened, "my
clients will take not a penny less than the five thousand pounds
mentioned."

"And I," Mr. Bundercombe declared sadly but very firmly, "will not give a
penny more than four thousand pounds."

Mr. Cheape shrugged his shoulders as though to intimate that the
conference was at an end. Captain Bannister made a few remarks to the
effect that if he had not been a moderate man, and willing to conduct the
affair in a gentlemanly manner, he should have asked for ten thousand.
Mrs. Delaporte alluded to five thousand pounds as though the amount
represented the outcome of a day's shopping. It was astonishing how little
they seemed to regard the value of money!

"Now," Mr. Bundercombe went on, "if I've brought you all together here on
false pretenses, I am sorry. There's nothing to be done in that case but
to say good morning and meet in the law court. But," he added, striking
the back of a chair with his clenched fist and looking more like Napoleon
than I had ever seen him, "I swear, by the word of Joseph H. Bundercombe,
which has never yet been broken, that I will not hand over one cent more
than four thousand pounds!"

The protests were this time a little weaker. Mr. Bundercombe sat with
folded arms, with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling and an air of being
altogether disinterested in the proceedings, while the three who comprised
the other party whispered together.

Presently Mr. Cheape rose to his feet.

"Mr. Wymans," he began, punctiliously addressing the lawyer first, "and
Mr. Bundercombe, my clients are only too anxious to end this unhappy
matter. They feel that their demands have been most moderate, but at my
advice they have consented to accept a reduction of five hundred pounds."

Mr. Bundercombe rose heavily to his feet.

"Mr. Wymans," he said, "and Paul, come along! I do not bargain. I wish you
all good morning."

He turned toward the door and we followed him. It was already opened when
we were called back. Captain Bannister and Mr. Cheape were whispering
eagerly together. Mr. Cheape rose once more to his feet.

"In order to prove," he announced, "how entirely devoid my clients are of
mercenary considerations, they agree, Mr. Bundercombe, to accept the sum
of four thousand pounds."

Mr. Bundercombe put down his hat again. Then he drew a sheet of paper from
his pocket.

"Condition number one, then," he observed, "is now agreed upon. We proceed
to condition number two. Mrs. Delaporte, Captain Bannister, and Mr.
Cheape," he went on earnestly, "I have been guilty of an indiscretion the
proof of which is in your hands. Having decided to make London my home for
a time, I desire once and for all to extinguish all possibility of this
affair ever cropping up again in any shape or form."

Mr. Cheape rose to his feet.

"Sir," he said to Mr. Bundercombe, "my clients will give you their written
undertaking that the affair shall be consigned to oblivion."

Mr. Bundercombe waved him down.

"My reasons for feeling so strongly on the matter," he continued, "will be
appreciated by you, Captain Bannister, as a man of position and in
society"--Captain Bannister bowed--"when I tell you that my future son-in-
law, Mr. Walmsley, M.P., has proposed me for membership in two of the most
exclusive clubs in London. This affair, therefore, must be killed beyond
any manner of doubt. I am handing over to you four thousand pounds, which
is a very considerable sum; but in return for it I desire that my future
immunity be purchased by your signatures to this document."

Mr. Cheape rose at once to his feet. "A document!" he observed. "Let me
read it." Mr. Bundercombe handed it over. Mr. Cheape read it out aloud:

"We, the undersigned, desire to apologize most sincerely to Mr. Joseph H.
Bundercombe for any allegations we have made against him with regard to a
certain episode that took place on March eighteenth, or thereabout, in the
flat of Mrs. Delaporte. We admit that we were mistaken in the supposition
which we certainly entertained at the time--that Mr. Bundercombe had been
guilty of cheating--and we withdraw such allegations unreservedly, and
tender our apologies."

"Ridiculous!" Captain Bannister exclaimed.

"Absurd!" Mrs. Delaporte echoed.

"I may add," Mr. Cheape joined in, "that I could not possibly recommend my
clients to sign such a document."

Mr. Bundercombe took up his hat.

"When I started out this morning," he declared, "I felt convinced that
this conference would come to nothing. I told Mr. Wymans here that I was
prepared to settle, but on my own terms--and my own terms only. I don't
want any undertaking not to molest me in the future. That isn't good
enough. I want to be able to show a document such as you have there, which
completely exculpates me from any charge that might at any time be
brought. And without it," he added, once more bringing his fist down upon
the back of the chair, "I do not part with one penny of my four thousand
pounds!"

Mr. Cheape read out a document he himself had prepared, but Mr.
Bundercombe waved it away.

"Come, Paul!" he said to me with a sigh. "Come, Mr. Wymans! I disclaim all
responsibility for the failure of this conference. I have done my best. It
cannot matter a snap of the fingers to our friends here in what form the
document is couched that they give me in exchange for my four thousand
pounds. Since they are so particular about a trifle, I have finished with
them!"

He led the way toward the door and there was an appearance of finality
about his tone and shoulders exceedingly convincing. We had reached the
threshold and were, indeed, indulging in a little skirmish as to who
should pass through the door first, when Mr. Cheape's resigned voice
checked us.

"My clients," he announced slowly, "will sign your document, Mr.
Bundercombe. They protest--they protest vigorously against its wording;
but they are anxious to show you in how large-spirited and gentlemanly a
manner they wish this affair to be concluded. Once more they yield."

Mr. Bundercombe, without any signs of exultation, returned to his former
place, put down his hat upon the chair and drew a checkbook from his
breast coat pocket.

"If you will give me a seat and a pen," he said, "I will write you a check
for the amount."

Captain Bannister stared at the checkbook. He glanced at Mr. Cheape and
Mr. Cheape very vigorously shook his head.

"I am sorry," he objected; "but my clients cannot think of accepting a
check in settlement of this matter."

Mr. Bundercombe began to show symptoms of annoyance.

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "Isn't the check of Joseph H. Bundercombe
good enough for you?"

Mr. Cheape laid his hand soothingly upon Mr. Bundercombe's shoulder.

"It isn't that we doubt your check, sir," he pointed out; "but in a
transaction of this sort it is best that no evidences of a lasting nature
should exist. A check is not, as you know, legal tender, and a check my
clients certainly could not accept."

Mr. Bundercombe folded up his checkbook and replaced it in his pocket.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"Where is your bank?" Mr. Cheape inquired.

"In Pall Mall," Mr. Bundercombe answered.

"Then I am afraid," Mr. Cheape decided, "there is nothing for it but to
ask you to repair there and cash your own check."

Mr. Bundercombe rose to his feet.

"All right!" he agreed. "I suppose we had better finish the affair while
we are about it. One of you had better come with me."

Captain Bannister promptly volunteered. He and I and Mr. Bundercombe
descended the stairs and entered the car. We pulled up in a few minutes at
the door of Mr. Bundercombe's bank.

"Will you come in with me?" Mr. Bundercombe invited, turning to Captain
Bannister.

Captain Bannister excused himself.

"I will wait here with Mr. Walmsley," he said, "if you will allow me."

Mr. Bundercombe departed inside the bank and reappeared in the course of a
few moments. His breast coat pocket was bulging. On our way back he drew
out five packets of banknotes, which he counted carefully. Captain
Bannister watched him out of the corner of his eye with a hungry
expression. We were only absent from the flat altogether about a quarter
of an hour, and the rest of the affair was promptly settled. The notes
were counted by Mr. Cheape, the document signed by Captain Bannister and
Mrs. Delaporte.

"I am sure," Captain Bannister declared, holding the notes in his left
hand, "that no one can be more glad than Mrs. Delaporte and myself that
this little affair has been concluded so amicably. If you will allow me,
Mr. Bundercombe, to offer you a little refreshment----" Mr. Bundercombe
sighed.

"Well," he said, "I suppose it's all in the day's work for you people. I
don't mind admitting, though, money wasn't so easily earned in my days
that I can watch four thousand pounds go without feeling it. Thank you;
that'll do nicely," he added, accepting the brandy-and-soda Captain
Bannister handed him.

Mr. Wymans looked on with stern disapproval and I must say I sympathized
with him. Mr. Bundercombe, however, not only drained the glass with relish
but accepted the outstretched hand of Captain Bannister and afterward
shook hands also with Mrs. Delaporte.

"If you are passing at any time----" she whispered in his ear.

I had had enough of it and I dragged Mr. Bundercombe away. We drove back
to Prince's Gardens in somewhat ominous silence. Mr. Wymans would have
taken his leave, but Mr. Bundercombe begged him to come into the library.

"One moment!" he insisted. "James," he said, addressing the butler, "Mr.
Wymans will stay to lunch. One moment!"

Mr. Bundercombe went to the telephone. Mechanically he handed me the
additional receiver. He asked for a number and presently received a reply.

"Say, is that Captain Bannister I am speaking to?" he said. "I thought I
recognized the voice. This is Mr. Bundercombe. Yes, yes!--No, there's
nothing we'd forgotten. I just rang you up, though, to give you a word of
advice. You want to be just a _leetle_ careful where you try to change
those notes!"

"What do you mean, sir?" I heard Captain Bannister demand in startled
accents. "What do you mean, Mr. Bundercombe?"

"Well," Mr. Bundercombe continued, "those notes are just about the
cleverest things I ever came across; but, after all, they aren't exactly
the genuine article. I got four thousand pounds' worth of them from a
young fellow I was interested in, and I had them put in a safe at my bank
so that no one should get into any trouble. It just occurred to me, since
we began our little negotiations, that I saw a good way of making use of
them. I had only four thousand pounds' worth; so I had to beat you down a
bit. However, that'll be all right, captain, only, as I say, use them a
bit carefully.... Jove! Ain't he making the telephone sing!" Mr.
Bundercombe added, turning to me. "I guess I'll ring off!" He put down the
receiver. Once more the accustomed smile was creeping over his face. Mr.
Wymans was looking dazed. The butler had entered the room with the
cocktails.

"Say, Paul," Mr. Bundercombe expostulated, "you didn't really think I was
parting with four thousand pounds to a sloppy gang like that, did you? I
knew a young chap who was very clever at making those notes," he explained
to Mr. Wymans. "I liked him and converted him; and I sent him over to the
States, where he's got a good situation and is working honestly for his
living. This was the remainder of his stock. I had 'em lying in the safe
deposit of the bank, meaning some day to destroy 'em. You've got that
apology all right?"

Mr. Wymans slowly smiled. He raised his glass to his lips.

"You are a very clever man, Mr. Bundercombe!" he said.

CHAPTER XIV--MR. BUNDERCOMBE'S LOVE AFFAIR

Mr. Bundercombe who, notwithstanding his wife's temporary absence in the
country, had not been in the best of spirits for several days, during the
course of our tete-a-tete dinner at Luigi's became suddenly and
unexpectedly animated. The change in him was so noticeable that I leaned
forward in my place to see what could have produced it.

Two people had entered the restaurant and were in conversation now with
Luigi about a table. Mr. Bundercombe, who in the affairs of every-day life
had no idea of concealing his feelings, was regarding them with every
appearance of lively interest.

"Paul," he whispered, "you must notice these two people. Watch them--
there's a good fellow!"

They took their places at a table almost opposite ours. The girl, though
she was more quietly and tastefully dressed and seemed to me to be better
looking, I recognized at once as Mr. Bundercombe's companion at Prince's
Restaurant on one memorable occasion.

The man I had never seen before. He appeared to be of about medium height;
slim, with a sallow skin; dark, sleepy eyes, which suggested the
foreigner; a mouth that, straight and firm though it was, turned up a
little at the corners, as though in contradiction of his somewhat indolent
general appearance. He was exceedingly well-dressed and carried himself
with the quiet assurance of a man accustomed to moving in the world.

"Most interesting!" Mr. Bundercombe murmured, having with an effort
withdrawn his eyes from the pair. "The girl you doubtless recognize. She
was once a typist in the office of Messrs. Harding & Densmore. She was
quite lately, as I dare say you remember, able to give me some very useful
information; in fact it is through her that Mr. Stanley did not leave this
country for South Africa with a hundred pounds in his pocket."

"And the man?" I asked.

Mr. Bundercombe was thoroughly enjoying himself. He drew his chair a
little closer to mine and waited until he was quite sure that no one was
within earshot.

"The man," he replied, "is one of the world's most famous criminals."

"He doesn't look it," I remarked, glancing across the room with some
interest.

Mr. Bundercombe smiled.

"Great criminals are not all of the same type," he reminded me
reprovingly. "That is where you people who don't understand the cult of
criminology make your foolish mistakes. Our friend opposite is, without a
doubt, of gentle though not of aristocratic birth. I know nothing of his
bringing up, but his instincts do all that is necessary for him. The first
time I saw him was in one of the criminal courts in New York. He was being
tried for his life for an attempted robbery in Fifth Avenue and the murder
of a policeman. He defended himself and did it brilliantly. In the end he
got off. There is scarcely a person, however, who doubts but that he was
guilty."

I looked across at the subject of our discussion with renewed interest.

"He shot him, I suppose?" I asked.

"On the contrary," Mr. Bundercombe replied, "he throttled him. The man has
the sinews of an ox. The second time I saw him was at a dancing-hall in
New York. He was there with a very gay party indeed; but one of them, the
wealthiest, mysteriously disappeared. Rodwell--Dagger Rodwell was his
nickname--came to England. I saw him once or twice just before I visited
you down in Bedfordshire. Cullen warned me off him, however; wouldn't let
me have a word to say to him."

"He doesn't sound the best companion in the world for your little typist
friend," I remarked.

Mr. Bundercombe glanced across the room and at that moment the girl
noticed him. She bowed and waved her hand. Mr. Bundercombe responded
gallantly.

"I fancy," he murmured, "that she can take care of herself. Come, I really
feel that I am in an interesting atmosphere once more."

Mr. Bundercombe's deportment was certainly more cheerful. For the last
week or two he had been depressed. He had paid visits with Eve and myself,
and devoted a reasonable amount of time to his wife. The demands on his
complete respectability, however, had been irksome. He was too obviously
finding no savor in life.

I really was not altogether sorry at first to notice the improvement in
his spirits, though my sentiments changed when, a little later in the
evening, the girl opposite left her place and came over to us. She greeted
Mr. Bundercombe with the most brilliant of smiles and he held her hand
quite as long as was necessary. He presented me and I learned that her
name was Miss Blanche Spencer.

"I must not stay long," she said, laughing. "The gentleman I am with is a
sort of cousin of mine and we don't get on very well; but I mustn't be
rude."

Mr. Bundercombe and she seemed to have a good deal to say to each other
and presently I noticed that their heads were drawing closer together. The
girl dropped her voice. She was proposing something to which Mr.
Bundercombe was listening with keen interest. I heard him sigh.

"If it weren't for certain changes," he explained regretfully, "I guess I
wouldn't hesitate a moment. But--"

I heard a whispered reference to myself as his daughter's fiance and an
allusion to the continued presence of his wife in London. She nodded
sympathetically.

"Now if there were any other way," Mr. Bundercombe concluded, "in which I
could still further show my gratitude to you personally for a certain
little matter, why I'm all for hearing about it. I consider the balance is
still on my side."

She laughed.

"You're really rather a dear!" she declared. "Do you know I am thinking of
starting in business for myself?"

"Where, and what as?" Mr. Bundercombe inquired.

I shook open an evening paper and heard no more. The girl's leavetaking,
however, a few minutes later, was both reluctant and impressive. I felt it
my duty to allude to the matter as soon as we were alone.

"You know, sir," I said, "this helping young women to set up in business
is a proceeding that's very likely to be misunderstood over here. I am not
in the least sure that even Eve would quite approve."

Mr. Bundercombe smiled the smile of a man of the world.

"One can't tell one's womenkind everything!" he declared grandiloquently.

I was a little puzzled. I felt convinced that Mr. Bundercombe was
concealing something from me.

"Furthermore," I continued, feeling it my duty to speak frankly to my
future father-in-law, "a man of your position needs to be very careful
when he has financial transactions with a good-looking young woman like
Miss Blanche. The young lady herself might take advantage of it."

Mr. Bundercombe appeared to be giving my words full consideration.

"Well, well!" he said, a little vaguely. "We shall see. I don't mind
telling you, though, Paul, that I would have nothing to say to her first
suggestion--on your account, my boy. There's a scheme on foot in which her
interesting companion is concerned, which needs financing. I haven't the
least doubt that it is something entirely interesting--probably a mammoth
jewel robbery or something of the sort."

I looked across at the man, who seemed to be reproaching the girl for her
long absence. Almost at that moment he looked up and our eyes met for a
brief instant. There seemed to be nothing in his gaze beyond a measure of
polite and not too pointed interest. Nevertheless, when I looked away I
begged Mr. Bundercombe to call for the bill.

"I have had enough of this place!" I declared, a little abruptly. "Next
time Eve goes to bed with a headache I shall take you to the club."

* * * * *

I was walking down Bond Street with Eve one morning when my suspicions as
to Mr. Bundercombe and a certain matter were first roused. As we neared
the Piccadilly end I distinctly saw him vanish through a doorway on the
lefthand side. He was most carefully dressed and carried in his hand a
long paper parcel that could contain nothing but flowers. Upon some excuse
I prevailed upon Eve to cross the road. There was one small brass plate
only on the side of the entrance through which Mr. Bundercombe had
disappeared. It was scarcely larger than my hand and on it was engraved in
very elegant characters: BLANCHE MANICURE.

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