An Amiable Charlatan

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"Lost anything, Lady Enterdean?" I asked.

"A most extraordinary thing has happened, my dear Paul!" she declared,
resting her hand on the bosom of her gown. "I am perfectly certain it was
there a quarter of an hour ago--my cameo brooch, you know, the one that
old Sir Henry brought home from Italy."

"Too large to lose anyway," I remarked cheerfully as I joined in the
search.

We pulled aside a table and I almost collided with one of my most
distinguished guests--Sir Blaydon Harrison, K.C.B. Sir Blaydon also, with
an eyeglass in his eye, was moving discontentedly backward and forward,
kicking the carpet.

"Silly thing!" he observed as he glanced up for a moment. "That little
diamond charm of mine has slipped off my fob. I saw it as we crossed the
foyer from the restaurant."

"Why, what has happened to us all!" my sister joined in. "Look at me--I've
lost my pendant! Paul, did you give us too much to drink, or what?"

I am not sure that this was not the most awful moment of my life! A cold
shiver of fear suddenly seized me. I looked from one to the other,
speechless. If appearances had gone for anything at that moment I must
indeed have looked guilty.

"Most extraordinary!" I mumbled.

"Oh! the things will turn up all right, without a doubt," Lady Enterdean
declared good-humoredly. "Could we have a couple of waiters in and search
properly, Paul? My knees are a little too old for this stooping."

"If you'll please all wait a few minutes," I begged earnestly, "I'll go
out and make inquiries. Sir Blaydon, take my place in that rubber of
bridge--there's a good fellow. I'll have the restaurant searched too.
Don't mind if I am away a few minutes."

I hurried out. As soon as the door of the private room was closed I made
for the entrance of the restaurant as fast as I could sprint. Without hat
or coat I jumped into a taxi, and in less than ten minutes I was mounting
the stairs of Number 17, Banton Street, with the hall porter blinking at
me from his office. I scarcely went through the formality of knocking at
the door. Mr. Parker and Eve were both standing at the table, their heads
close together. At the sound of my footsteps and precipitate entrance Mr.
Parker swung round. One hand was still behind him. Upon the table a white
silk handkerchief was lying.

"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "My dear Walmsley! What has happened?"

I opened my lips and closed them again. It really seemed impossible to say
anything! Mr. Parker's expression had never been so boyish, so earnest,
and yet so wistful. Eve was quivering with some emotion the nature of
which I could not at once divine. I felt very certain, however, that she
had been remonstrating with her father.

"Don't keep us in suspense, my dear fellow!" Mr. Parker implored. "What
has gone wrong? Eve and I were just--just talking over your delightful
party."

"And looking over the spoils!" I said grimly.

I went a little farther into the room, Mr. Parker, with a sigh, abandoned
his position. He unclosed the fingers of his hand and removed the silk
handkerchief. I saw upon the table my aunt's brooch, my sister's pendant
and Sir Blaydon Harrison's diamond pig. I said not a word. I looked at
them and I looked at Mr. Parker. He smiled weakly and scratched his chin.

"I didn't do so badly," he essayed apologetically. "To tell you the truth,
I really hadn't meant--"

"Never mind what you meant!" I interrupted. "Please give me those things
back again at once!"

Eve dropped them into the handkerchief, twisted them up and passed them
across to me.

"I told daddy it was rather a mean trick," she sighed; "but really, you
know, no people ought to carry about their valuables like that! It was
trying us a little too high, wasn't it? And dear Reggie--did he arrive?"

For the first time I was really angry with Eve.

"If you will allow me," I said, "I will pursue this conversation to-morrow
morning."

I tore downstairs, jumped into the waiting taxi and returned to the Milan.
I entered the private room with a grave face. Evidently I was only just in
time. The rubber of bridge had been broken up and my guests were standing
about in little groups talking. I closed the door behind me and held up my
hand.

"Blanche," I announced--"Lady Enterdean--I am delighted to say I have
recovered everything."

"My dear boy, how wonderfully clever of you!"

Lady Enterdean exclaimed. "How relieved I feel! Most satisfactory, I am
sure."

She sat down promptly. There was a little murmur of voices. My guests
gathered round me. I drew a long breath and continued on my mendacious
career.

"I have been closeted with the manager," I explained. "It was one of the
underwaiters--the little dark one who brought in the coffee. The
temptation seems to have been too much for him. He confessed directly he
was questioned. He has restored everything and I thought it best to have
him simply turned off without any fuss. Here is your pig, Sir Blaydon;
your pendant, Blanche; your brooch, Lady Enterdean. I am exceedingly sorry
you should have had any anxiety--but all's well that ends well!" I wound
up weakly.

Every one was talking cheerfully. The great topic now was one of ethics:
Had I acted properly in not charging the waiter? Fortunately some one
discovered a little later that it was twelve o'clock and my little party
broke up.

CHAPTER VII--"ONE OF US"

I was not altogether surprised to receive, on the following morning before
I had finished breakfast, a visit from Reggie.

"Cheero!" he said brightly as he seated himself in my easy-chair and
tapped the end of one of my cigarettes upon the tablecloth. "I haven't
been up so early for months, but I had to find you before you went out--
about these Bundercombes."

"What about them?"

"I want their address, of course," Reggie continued. "The mater wants to
call this afternoon and I'm all for seeing Miss Bundercombe again. Ripping
girl, isn't she?"

"Then prepare yourself for a disappointment, my friend," I advised,
glancing at the clock. "They left for Paris by the nine o'clock train this
morning."

Reggie stared at me blankly.

"Gone already?"

I nodded and invented a little difficulty with my coffee pot.

"Theirs was only a flying visit," I explained. "I was lucky to get hold of
them for my dinner."

"I'm hanged if I understand this!" Reggie remarked, looking at me
suspiciously. "Why, I spent the best part of three weeks with them in that
Godforsaken hole out West, and they were as keen as mustard on my taking
them round London. How long have they been here?"

"Not long," I answered. "Sure you won't have some coffee?"

Reggie ignored the invitation.

"They've got my address and there are the directories," he continued. "The
funny part of it is, too, that I heard from Mrs. Bundercombe a week or so
ago, and she never said a word about any of them coming over."

"They seem to have made their minds up all of a sudden," I explained.
"They spoke of it as quite a flying trip."

Reggie coughed and stared for a moment at the end of his boot.

"Can't understand it at all!" he repeated. "Devilish queer thing, anyway!
I say, Paul, you're sure it's all right, I suppose?"

"All right? What do you mean?"

"Between you and me," he went on--"don't give it away outside this room,
you know--but there have been rumors going about concerning an American
and his pretty daughter over here--regular wrong 'uns! They've been up to
all sorts of tricks and only kept out of prison by a fluke."

"You're not associating these people, whoever they may be, with Mr. and
Miss Bundercombe?" I asked sternly.

Reggie gazed once more at the point of his boot.

"The thing is," he remarked, "are your friends Mr. and Miss Bundercombe at
all?"

"Don't talk rot!"

"It may be rot," Reggie admitted slowly, "or it may not. By the by, where
did you meet them?"

"If you don't mind," I answered, "we won't discuss them any longer."

"At least," Reggie insisted, "will you tell me this: Where have they been
staying in London? I shall go there and see whether they have left any
address for letters to be forwarded."

"I shall tell you nothing," I decided. "As a matter of fact I am finding
you rather a nuisance."

Reggie picked up his hat.

"There is something more in this," he said didactically, "than meets the
eye!"

"Machiavellian!" I scoffed. "Be off, Reggie!"

I had tea with Eve that afternoon and broached the subject of Reggie's
visit as delicately as I could.

"You remember Lord Reggie Sidley?" I asked.

"Lord Reggie what!" Eve exclaimed.

"Sidley," I repeated firmly. "He spent three weeks with you out at your
home in Okata. His threatened arrival last night was the cause of your
father's precipitate retreat, and yours."

"Oh, that young man!" Eve remarked airily. "Well, what about him?"

"He has been round to see me this morning," I told her--"wanted your
address."

She sighed.

"London will be getting too hot for us soon!" she murmured. "Am I engaged
to him or anything?"

"Eve," I said, "when are you going to let me announce our engagement?"

"Our what?" she demanded.

"Engagement," I repeated. "I have proposed to you two or three times. I
will do it again if you like."

"Pray don't!" she begged. "You are not going to tell me, are you," she
added, looking at me with wide-open eyes, "that I have accepted you?"

"You haven't refused me," I pointed out.

"If I haven't," she assured me, "it has been simply to save your
feelings."

I gulped down a little rising storm of indignation.

"You must marry sometime. Eve," I said. "There isn't any one in America,
is there?"

"There are a great many," she assured me. "It was to get away from them,
as much as anything, that I came over with father on this business trip."

"Business trip!" I groaned.

"Oh! I dare say it all seems very disgraceful to any one like you--you who
were born with plenty of money and have never been obliged to earn any,
and have mixed with respectable people all your life!" she exclaimed. "All
the same, let me tell you there are plenty of charming and delightful
people going about the world earning their living by their wits--simply
because they are forced to. There is more than one code of morals, you
know."

I flatter myself that at this point I was tactful.

"My dear Eve," I reminded her, "you forget that I have joined the gang--I
mean," I corrected myself hastily, "that I have offered to associate
myself with you and your father in any of your enterprises. I am perfectly
willing to give up anything in life you may consider too respectable. At
the same time I must say there are limits so far as you are concerned."

She pouted a little.

"I hate being out of things," she said.

"No need for you to be, altogether!" I continued.

"Now if I could institute a real big affair in the shape of a bucketshop
swindle, in which your father and I could play the principal parts and you
become merely a subordinate, such as a typist or something--what about
that, eh?"

"It doesn't sound very amusing for me," she objected. "How much should we
make?"

"Thousands," I assured her, "if it were properly engineered."

"I think," she said reflectively, "that father would be very glad of a few
thousands just now. He says the market over here, for such little trifles
as we have come across, is very restricted."

I groaned under my breath. In imagination I could see Mr. Parker bartering
with some shady individual for Lady Enterdean's cameo brooch! I reverted
to our previous subject of conversation.

"Eve," I went on, "I hate to seem tedious--but the question of our
engagement still hangs fire."

"You persistent person!" she sighed, "Tell me, if I married you would all
those people we met last night be nice to me?"

"Of course they would," I assured her. "They are only waiting for a word
from you. I think they must have an idea already. I am not in the habit of
giving dinner parties with a young lady as guest of honor."

She was thoughtful for a few moments, and her eyes lit up with reminiscent
humor.

"Dear me!" she murmured. "If only they knew! They hadn't any suspicions, I
suppose, about those--those little trifles?"

"None," I replied. "I put it all on to a waiter."

"How clever of you! You really do seem to be a most capable person--and so
masterful! I begin to fear that some day you'll have your own way."

Her eyes laughed at me. There was something softly provocative in them--a
new and kinder light. I bent over her and kissed her. She sat quite still.

"Mr. Walmsley!"

"It's usual among engaged couples," I pleaded.

"Is it!" she remarked coldly. "Doesn't the man, as a rule, wait to be
quite sure he is engaged?"

"Not in this country," I declared: "I have heard that Americans are rather
shy about that sort of thing. Englishmen----"

"Oh, bother Englishmen!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "I don't
believe a word I've ever heard about them. I suppose now I shall have to
marry you!"

"I don't see any way out of it," I agreed readily.

She held up her finger. The door was quietly opened. Mr. Parker entered.

He was followed by the most utterly objectionable and repulsive-looking
person I have ever set eyes on in my life--a young man, thin, and of less
than medium height, flashily dressed in cheap clothes, with patent boots
and brilliant necktie. His cheeks were sallow; and his eyes, deeply inset,
were closer together than any I have ever seen.

"My dear," Mr. Parker exclaimed, "let me present Mr. Moss--my daughter,
sir; Mr. Walmsley--also one of us. I have been privileged," Mr. Parker
continued, dropping his voice a little, "to watch Mr. Moss at work this
afternoon; and I can assure you that a more consummate artist I have never
seen--in Wall Street, at a racetrack meeting, or anywhere else."

Mr. Moss smiled deprecatingly and jerked his head sideways.

"The old un's pretty fly!" he remarked, as he laid his hat on the table.

"I am very glad to know Mr. Moss, of course," Eve said; "but I am not in
the least in sympathy with the--er--branch of our industry he represents.
You know, daddy, it's much too dangerous and not a bit remunerative."

"To a certain extent, my dear," her father admitted, "I am with you. Not
all the way, though. One needs, of course, to discriminate. Personally I
must admit that the nerve and actual genius required in finger
manipulation have always attracted me."

Mr. Moss paused, with his glass halfway to his lips. He jerked his head in
the direction of Mr. Parker.

"He is one for the gab, ain't he?" he remarked confidentially to me.

For the life of me, at that moment I could not tell whether to leave the
room in a fit of angry disgust or to accept the ludicrous side of the
situation and laugh. Fortunately for me, perhaps, I caught Eve's eye, in
which there was more than the suspicion of a twinkle. I chose, therefore,
the latter alternative. Mr. Moss watched us for a moment curiously.

"What might your line be, guvnor?" he asked as he set down his glass.

"Oh, anything that's going," I replied carelessly. "City work is rather my
specialty."

"I know!" Mr. Moss exclaimed quickly. "Slap-up offices; thousands of
letters a day full of postal orders; shutters up suddenly--and bunco! Fine
appearance for the job!" he added admiringly.

Eve sat down and began to laugh softly to herself. She had a habit of
laughing almost altogether with her eyes in a way that expressed more
genuine enjoyment than anything I have ever realized. She rocked herself
gently backward and forward. Mr. Moss looked at us both a little
suspiciously.

"Seem to be missing the joke a bit--I do!" he remarked.

Eve sat up and was instantly grave.

"It is your clear-sighted way of putting things," she explained softly.
"You seem to understand people so thoroughly."

"I don't generally make no mistake about the number of beans in the game,"
Mr. Moss observed in a self-congratulatory tone. "I can tell a crook from
a mug a bit quicker than most."

"I have suggested to Mr. Moss, my dear," Mr. Parker intervened, turning
toward us with beaming face, "just a little early dinner--say, at
Stephano's--just as we are, you know. Will this be agreeable to you?"

"Certainly!" Eve assented promptly.

"Mr. Moss will tell us some of his little adventures," Mr. Parker
continued, with satisfaction. "Considering that he has had twelve years'
continual work, I think you'll all agree with me that his is a wonderful
record. He has been compelled to enter into a little involuntary--er--
retirement only once during the whole of that time."

Mr. Moss looked a little puzzled.

"He means lagged, don't he?" he remarked, a light breaking in on him.
"Only once in my life--and that for a trifling beano--a lady's bag and a
couple of wipes. I tell you it's no joke nowadays, though. They do watch
you! The profession ain't what it was."

"You will come with us, won't you, Mr. Walmsley?" Eve begged, turning to
me.

"I shall be delighted," I answered, with strenuous mendacity. "Did you say
Stephano's, or what do you think of one of these places closer at hand? I
was told of a little restaurant in Soho the other day, where the cooking
is remarkable."

"I'm all for Stephano's," Mr. Moss declared, grinning; "and the sooner the
better. One of the neatest pieces of business I ever did in my life I
brought off there in the old bar. To tell you the truth, I'm getting a bit
peckish."

"There is no reason," Mr. Parker agreed, "why we should not dine at once.
It is very nearly seven o'clock. What do you say?"

"Yoicks! Tally-ho, for the Strand!" Mr. Moss exclaimed, with spirit.

We started off--four in a taxi. It was Mr. Moss who, with florid
politeness, handed Eve to her seat; and it was Mr. Moss who entertained us
on the way with light conversation.

CHAPTER VIII--AT THE ALHAMBRA

Luigi's face, when he met the Parkers and myself at the entrance of the
restaurant, was a study. His polite bow and smile of welcome seemed
suddenly frozen on his face as his eyes fell upon Mr. Moss. Mr. Moss was
still wearing his hat, which was a black bowler with a small brim, set at
a jaunty angle a little on one side and affording a liberal view of his
black curls underneath. His linen failed completely to stand the test of
the clear, soft light of the restaurant, and one might have been excused
for entertaining certain doubts with regard to the diamond pin in his
mauve tie and the ring that flashed from his not overwhite hand as he
tardily removed his headgear.

"Bit of all right--this place!" Mr. Moss remarked, handing his hat to
Luigi. "Who'll have a short one with me before we feed?"

Luigi passed the hat from the tips of his fingers to a subordinate. He
showed us a table quite silently, handed the menu over to a _maitre
d'hotel_ and promptly departed. Looking round a little nervously I could
see him gazing at us from his sanctum over the top of the blind!

"Mr. Moss, I see, has American tastes," Mr. Parker declared. "He likes an
_aperitif_ before dinner. Leave it to me, please."

Mr. Parker ordered a somewhat extensive dinner. Throughout the meal we
listened to a series of adventures in which the hero was always Mr. Moss.
We heard of wonderful hauls and wonderful escapes; detectives outwitted--
exploits that reminded me more of the motor bandits of Paris than of our
own sober capital.

Mr. Parker's attention never flagged. Halfway through the meal Mr. Moss
suddenly put down his knife and fork. He broke off in the middle of a
fascinating narration of an episode during which he had ju-jutsued one
detective, knocked another down, locked them both in an empty room, and
strolled away with a cigar abstracted from the case of one of them and his
pockets full of uncut emeralds. With his mouth open he was gazing fixedly
across the room. There was a considerable change in his tone.

"'Ware 'tec'!" he said sharply.

We all looked in the direction he indicated, and we all recognized Mr.
Cullen, who was apparently returning with interest our observation. I saw
a grim smile upon his lips as he disappeared for a moment behind the menu
card. For a man who had in his time treated detectives in such a cavalier
way, Mr. Moss' change of color and subdued manner was a little
extraordinary. He cheered up, however, after a little while.

"Our friend Cullen," Mr. Parker murmured, "seems to have taken quite a
fancy to this restaurant."

"Used to be on my lay," Mr. Moss remarked. "He's much too big a duke now
for the street, though. They say he gets nearly all the high-class forgery
and swindling cases."

"We have come into contact with him ourselves," Mr. Parker observed
genially. "Seems to me there's a kind of want of snap about him compared
with our American detectives; but I dare say he knows his business."

"Is your father really enjoying this?" I asked Eve.

"He absolutely loves it!" she replied.

I sighed.

"And I think," she added suddenly, "you are behaving beautifully--I almost
love you for it."

I looked at her quickly and I felt rewarded for all I had gone through.
Her attitude toward me was subtly different. Somehow I felt that I was
being permitted a glimpse of the real Eve. Her eyes were soft; she patted
my hand under the table. I could almost have shaken hands with Mr. Moss!

"What about a music hall afterward?" I proposed in the fullness of my
heart. "Shall I send for stalls at the Alhambra?"

My proposal was received with unanimous approval. Our departure from the
restaurant a few minutes later evoked almost as much comment as our
arrival. Mr. Moss led the way, his hands in his trousers pockets and a
large cigar, pointing toward the ceiling, protruding from the corner of
his mouth. His slight uneasiness with regard to the whereabouts of his hat
having been dispelled by its appearance before we finished our meal, he
placed it on his head at its usual angle before we left the room.

Mr. Parker took his arm as they passed out, and I saw Mr. Cullen's eyes
follow them from behind his newspaper. The two got into a taxi and Eve and
I followed them in another, an arrangement that Mr. Moss appeared to
regard with disfavor. Eve's hand stole into mine as we drove off.

"Do you know," she said seriously, "I think it's perfectly horrid to drag
you about in such company! It's all very well for us, because we belong
and we are in a strange city; but I saw some of your friends look at you
and whisper. They must think you are mad!"

"So long as you are in it, dear," I assured her, "I don't care where I go
or with whom."

"You don't look like that a bit, you know!" she sighed.

"As for the rest," I went on, "if you are really sorry for me--why, then,
end it! Your father could spare us for a little time."

I could see she was becoming serious again. Lights flashed upon her face.
I felt a sudden wave of pity mingled with my love for her. After all,
there were times when her anxiety must have been almost insupportable.

"Eve, dearest," I whispered, "you must let me take you away from this. You
must! You are too good and sweet ever to mix with these people--to live
this life."

She half closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at me again she was
laughing.

"You're a dear boy!" she said. "Now help me out, please. We have arrived."
We found four stalls reserved for us near the front at the music hall;
and, after settling a slight preliminary difficulty, owing to Mr. Moss'
reluctance to parting with his hat, we sat down to enjoy the performance.
Mr. Moss seemed a little disappointed, too, that his bright and snappy
order for drinks to the powdered official who showed us to our places was
not at once executed; but otherwise he made himself very much at home.

We had been there perhaps half an hour when I saw a sudden change in his
demeanor, which was almost at once reflected in the serious expression
that had stolen into Mr. Parker's benign countenance. An old gentleman,
white-haired, with rubicund face and a jovial air, had taken the seat next
to them. He had the appearance of having come from the country and of
having spent a happy day in town. Even from where I sat I could see
protruding from his breast-pocket a brown leather pocketbook.

I watched them as though fascinated. The change in Mr. Moss was amazing.
His reckless air of enjoyment had departed. He was still smoking, but he
was all alert, like a cat ready to spring. Mr. Parker, too, was
interested. I saw him whisper something in Mr. Moss' ear and I felt a cold
foreboding of what was going to happen.

"I'm for a drink !" Mr. Moss declared in a rather loud tone. "Come on,
guv'nor!"

They both rose. The old gentleman drew in his legs to let them pass.
Though I watched with fixed eyes I was absolutely unable to follow their
movements, but when they had passed the old gentleman I could see from
where I sat that his pocketbook was gone.

"Did you see that?" I whispered to Eve.

She shook her head.

"The old gentleman's pocketbook," I groaned; "they've got it!"

Eve for a moment sat quite still; she, too, seemed nervous. I was looking
away again at the retreating figures of Mr. Parker and Mr. Moss. Suddenly
my heart sank. I saw the old gentleman spring to his feet and hurry after
them; and I saw, too, at the end of the line of stalls, Mr. Cullen and a
companion standing, waiting. I rose quickly to my feet.

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