An Amiable Charlatan

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The girl patted him on the shoulder.

"That's all right, Bundy!" she declared. "I hope you'll take me out to
lunch again! As for him," she added, her eyebrows coming together and
looking toward Harding, "perhaps he'll understand now how well it pays to
be a liar!"

She turned round and left the room amid a stricken silence. Mr.
Bundercombe came back to his place.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I will be brief with you. It has given me the
utmost pleasure to arrange this little meeting on behalf of my friend, Mr.
Stanley. In the room on the other side of the passage is waiting my
lawyer, who will draw up a renewal of your partnership deed with Mr.
Stanley upon terms that we can discuss amicably. In the room behind this
is waiting a particular friend of mine--Mr. Cullen, a detective.

"Remember," Mr. Bundercombe added, his voice suddenly very stern and
threatening, "that through all the years that man--your rightful partner--
has been in prison, through all the agony of his trial, the humiliation of
his sentence, the name of neither one of you has passed his lips! Is it
your wish that the truth shall now be told?"

They shrank back. Harding was pale to the lips. Densmore was shivering.

"Very well, gentlemen," Mr. Bundercombe concluded. "If I send for the
lawyer Mr. Cullen can go. If you choose Mr. Cullen the lawyer can go."

Mr. Harding moistened his lips with his tongue. "We will make an
arrangement," he said. "We have been wrong. Now that I see you here,
Stanley," he continued, looking up with the first show of courage either
of them had exhibited, "I am ashamed! It was a dirty trick! Forget it!
After you were lagged we decided to turn over a new leaf and be honest.
We've been honest--inside the law, at any rate--and we've made money. Come
and take your share of it and forgive!"

"We were brutes!" Densmore agreed.

They were both bending over Stanley. Somehow or other his hands stole out
to them. Mr. Bundercombe and I strolled outside.

"You might tell Mr. Cullen that we shall not require him this evening,"
Mr. Bundercombe instructed the butler. "Bring a bottle of champagne, and
tell the gentleman from Wymans & Wymans and his clerk that we shall be
ready for them in ten minutes."

CHAPTER XI--MR. BUNDERCOMBE'S WINK

I scarcely recognized Mr. Cullen when he first accosted me in the
courtyard of the Milan. At no time of distinguished appearance, a certain
carelessness of dress and gait had brought him now almost on a level with
the loafer in the street. His clothes needed brushing, he was unshaved,
and he looked altogether very much in need of a bath and a new outfit.

"May I have a word with you, Mr. Walmsley?" he asked, standing in the
middle of the pavement in front of me and blocking my progress toward the
Strand.

I hesitated for a moment. His identity was only just then beginning to
dawn upon me.

"Mr. Cullen!" I exclaimed.

"At your service, sir."

I turned round and led the way back into the court.

"This is not a professional visit, I trust?" I said as we passed into the
smoke room.

"Not entirely, sir," Mr. Cullen admitted. "At the same time--" He paused
and looked out the window steadily for a moment, as though in search of
inspiration.

"I trust," I began hastily, "that Mr. Bundercombe has not--"

"Precisely about him, sir, that I came to see you," Mr. Cullen
interrupted. "I am bound to admit that a few weeks ago there was no man in
the world I would have laid my hands on so readily. That day at the Ritz,
however, changed my views completely. I feel," he added, with a dry smile,
"that I got more than level with Mr. Bundercombe when I sent for his
wife."

"So it was you who sent the cables that brought her over!" I remarked.

"But please remember, sir," he begged apologetically, "that I had never
seen the lady. I sent the cables, confidently anticipating that she would
disclaim all knowledge of Mr. Bundercombe. When she arrived, and I
realized that she was actually his wife, I forgave him freely for all the
small annoyances he had caused me: my visit to you this morning, in fact,
is entirely in his interests."

"What has Mr. Bundercombe been up to now?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing serious--at any rate, that I know of," Mr. Cullen assured me.
"For the last fortnight--ever since Mrs. Bundercombe's arrival, in fact--
Mr. Bundercombe has somehow or other managed to keep away from all his old
associates and out of any sort of mischief. Last night, however, I was out
on duty--I haven't had time to go home and change my clothes yet--in a
pretty bad part, shadowing one of the most dangerous swell mobsmen in
Europe--a man you may have heard of, sir. He is commonly known as Dagger
Rodwell."

I hastily disclaimed any acquaintance with the person in question.

"Tell me, though," I begged, "what this has to do with Mr. Bundercombe?"

"Just this," Mr. Cullen explained: "I ran my man to ground in a place
where I wouldn't be seen except professionally--and with him was Mr.
Bundercombe."

"They were not engaged," I asked quickly, "in any lawbreaking escapade at
the time, I trust!"

Mr. Cullen shook his head reassuringly.

"Rodwell only goes in for the very big coups," he said. "Two or three in a
lifetime, if he brought them off, would be enough for him. All the same
there's something planning now and he's fairly got hold of Mr.
Bundercombe. He's a smooth-tongued rascal--absolutely a gentleman to look
at and speak to. What I want you to do, sir, if you're sufficiently
interested, is to take Mr. Bundercombe away for a time."

"Interested!" I groaned. "He'll be my father-in-law in a couple of
months."

"Then if you want him to attend the ceremony, sir," Mr. Cullen advised
earnestly, "you'll get him out of London. He's restless. You may have
noticed that yourself. He's spoiling for an adventure, and Dagger Rodwell
is just the man to make use of him and then leave him high and dry--the
booby for us to save our bacon with. I don't wish any harm to Mr.
Bundercombe, sir--and that's straight! Until the day I met Mrs.
Bundercombe at Liverpool I am free to confess that I was feeling sore
against him. To-day that's all wiped out. We had a pleasant little time at
the Ritz that afternoon, and my opinion of the gentleman is that he's the
right sort, I'm here to give you the office, sir, to get him away from
London--and get him away quick. I may know a trifle more than I've told
you, or I may not; but you'll take my advice if you want to escape
trouble."

"I'll do what I can," I assured him a little blankly. "To tell you the
truth I have been fearing something of this sort. During the last few days
especially his daughter tells me he has been making all sorts of excuses
to get away. I'll do what I can--and many thanks, Mr. Cullen. Let me offer
you something."

Mr. Cullen declined anything except a cigar and went on his way. I called
a taxi and drove round to the very delightful house the Bundercombes had
taken in Prince's Gardens. I caught Mr. Bundercombe on the threshold. He
would have hurried off, but I laid a detaining hand on his arm.

"Come back with me, if you please," I begged. "I have some news. I need to
consult you all."

Mr. Bundercombe glanced at his watch. His manner was a little furtive. He
was not dressed as usual--in frock coat, white waistcoat and silk hat, a
costume that seemed to render more noticeable his great girth and smooth
pink-and-white face--but in a blue serge, double-breasted suit, a bowler
hat, and a style of neckgear a little reminiscent of the Bowery. Something
in his very appearance seemed to me a confirmation of Mr. Cullen's
warning. He looked at his watch and muttered something about an
appointment.

"I promise not to keep you more than a very few minutes," I assured him.
"Come along!"

I kept my arm on his and led him back into the house.

"Eve is in the morning room," he whispered. "Let's go in quietly and
perhaps we shan't be heard."

We crossed the hall on tiptoe in the manner of conspirators. Before we
could enter the room, however, our progress was arrested by a somewhat
metallic cough. Mrs. Bundercombe, in a gray tweed coat and skirt of homely
design, a black hat and black gloves, with a satchel in her hand, from
which were protruding various forms of pamphlet literature, appeared
suddenly on the threshold of the room she had insisted upon having
allotted for her private use, and which she was pleased to call her study.

"Mr. Bundercombe!" she exclaimed portentously, taking no notice whatever
of me.

"My dear?" he replied.

"May I ask the meaning of your leaving the house like a truant schoolboy
at this hour of the morning, and in such garb!" demanded Mrs. Bundercombe,
eying him severely through her pince-nez. "Is your memory failing you,
Joseph Henry? Did you or did you not arrange to accompany me this morning
to a meeting at the offices of the Women's Social Federation?"

"I fear I--er--I had forgotten the matter," Mr. Bundercombe stammered. "An
affair of business--I was rung up on the telephone."

Mrs. Bundercombe stared at him. She said nothing; expression was
sufficient. She turned to me.

"Eve is in the morning room, Mr. Walmsley," she said. "I presume your
visit at this hour of the morning was intended for her."

"Precisely," I admitted. "I will go in and see her."

I opened the door and Mr. Bundercombe rather precipitately preceded me. If
he had contemplated escape, however, he was doomed to disappointment. Mrs.
Bundercombe followed us in. She reminded us of her presence by a hard
cough as Eve saluted me in a somewhat light-hearted fashion.

"Mind, there's mother!" Eve whispered, with a little grimace. "Tell me why
you have come so early, Paul. Are you going to take me out motoring all
day? Or are you going to the dressmaker's with me? I really ought to have
a chaperon of some sort, you know, and mother is much too busy making
friends with the leaders of the Cause over here."

She made a face at me from behind a vase of flowers. Mrs. Bundercombe
apparently thought it well to explain her position.

"I find it," she said, "absolutely incumbent upon me, while on a visit to
this metropolis, to cultivate the acquaintance of the women of this
country who are in sympathy with the great movement in the States with
which I am associated. It is expected of me that I should make my presence
over here known."

"Naturally," I agreed; "naturally, Mrs. Bundercombe. I see by the papers
that you were speaking at a meeting last night. That reminds me," I went
on, "that I really did come down this morning on rather an important
matter, and perhaps it is as well that you are all here, as I should like
your advice. I have received an invitation to stand for the division of
the county in which I live."

They all looked puzzled.

"To stand for Parliament, I mean," I hastily explained to them. "It seems
really rather a good opportunity--as, of course, I am fairly well known in
the district, and the majority against us was only seventy or eighty at
the last election."

"Say, that's interesting!" Mr. Bundercombe declared, putting down his hat,
"I didn't know you were by way of being a professional man, though."

"I'm not," I replied. "You wouldn't call politics a profession exactly."

Mr. Bundercombe was more puzzled than ever. His hand caressed his chin in
familiar fashion.

"Well, it's one way of making a living, isn't it?" he asked. "We call it a
profession on our side."

"It isn't a way of making a living at all!" I assured him. "It costs one a
great deal more than can be made out of it."

Mr. Bundercombe stopped scratching his chin.

Mrs. Bundercombe sat down opposite me and I was perfectly certain that she
would presently have a few remarks to offer. Eve was looking delightfully
interested.

"Say, I'm not quite sure I follow you," Mr. Bundercombe observed. "I am
with you all right when you say that the direct pecuniary payment for
being in Parliament doesn't amount to anything; but what's your pull
worth, eh?"

"My what?" I inquired.

"Dash it all!" Mr. Bundercombe continued a little testily. "I only want to
get at the common sense of the matter. You are thinking of trying for a
seat in Parliament, and you say the four hundred a year you get for it is
nothing. Well, of course, it's nothing. What I want to know is just what
you get out of it indirectly? You get the handling of so much patronage, I
suppose? What is it worth to you, and how much is there?"

I spent the next five minutes in an eloquent attempt to explain the
difference between English and American politics. Mr. Bundercombe was
partly convinced, but more than ever sure that he had found his way into a
country of half-witted people. Eve, however, was much quicker at grasping
the situation.

"I think it's perfectly delightful, Paul!" she declared. "I have read no
end of stories of English electioneering, and they sound such fun! I want
to come down and help. I have tons of new dresses--and I can read up all
about politics going down on the train."

"That brings me," I went on, "to the real object of my visit. I want you
and your father--I want you all," I added heroically--"to come down with
me to Bedfordshire and help. You were coming anyway next week for a little
time, you know. I want to carry you off at once."

Mrs. Bundercombe, who had been only waiting for her opportunity, broke in
at this juncture.

"Young man," she said impressively; "Mr. Walmsley, before I consent to
attend one of your meetings or to associate myself in any way with your
cause, I must ask you one plain and simple question, and insist upon a
plain and simple answer: What are your views as to Woman Suffrage?"

"The views of my party," I answered, with futile diplomacy.

"Enunciate as briefly as possible, but clearly, what the views of your
party are," Mrs. Bundercombe bade me.

"I won't have him heckled!" Eve protested, coming over to my side.

I coughed.

"We are entirely in sympathy," I explained, "with the enfranchisement of
women up to a certain point. We think that unmarried women who own
property and pay taxes should have the vote."

"Rubbish!" Mrs. Bundercombe exclaimed firmly. "We want universal suffrage.
We want men and women placed on exactly the same footing, politically and
socially."

"That," I said, "I am afraid no political party would be prepared to grant
at present."

"Then, save as an opponent, I can attend no political meetings in this
country," Mrs. Bundercombe declared, rising to her feet with a fearsome
air of finality.

I sighed.

"In that case," I confessed, "I am afraid it is useless for me to appeal
to you for help. Perhaps you and your father----" I added, turning to Eve.

"Let them go down to you in the country by all means!" Mrs. Bundercombe
interrupted. "For my part, though my visit to Europe was wholly undesired
--was forced upon me, in fact, by dire circumstances," she added
emphatically, glaring at Mr. Bundercombe--"since I am here I find so much
work ready to my hand, so much appalling ignorance, so much prejudice,
that I conceive it to be my duty to take up during my stay the work which
presents itself here. I accordingly shall not leave London."

Mr. Bundercombe cheered up perceptibly at these words.

"I am rather busy myself," he said; "but perhaps a day or two----"

I thrust my arm through his.

"I rely upon you to help me canvass," I told him. "A lot is done by
personal persuasion."

"Canvass!" Mr. Bundercombe repeated reflectively. "Say, just what do you
mean by that?"

"It is very simple," I assured him. "You go and talk to the farmers and
voters generally, and put a few plain issues before them--we'll post you
up all right as to what to say. Then you wind up by asking for their votes
and interest on my behalf."

"I do that--do I?" Mr. Bundercombe murmured. "Talk to them in a plain,
straightforward way, eh?"

"That's it," I agreed. "A man with sound common sense like yourself could
do me a lot of good."

Mr. Bundercombe was thoughtful, I am convinced that at that moment the
germs of certain ideas which bore fruit a little later on were born in his
mind. I saw him blink several times as he gazed up at the ceiling. I saw a
faint smile gradually expand over his face. A premonition of trouble, even
at that moment, forced itself on me.

"You'll have to be careful, you know," I explained, a little
apprehensively. "You'll have to keep friends with the fellows all the
time. They wouldn't appreciate practical jokes down there and the law as
to bribery and corruption is very strict."

Mr. Bundercombe nodded solemnly.

"If I take the job on," he said, "you can trust me. It seems as though
there might be something in it."

"You'll come down with me, then," I begged, "both of you? Come this
afternoon! The dressmakers can follow you, Eve. It isn't far--an hour in
the train and twenty minutes in the motor. We may have to picnic a little
just to start with, but I know that the most important of the servants are
there, ready and waiting."

"Pray do not let me stand in your way," Mrs. Bundercombe declared, rising.
"My time will be fully occupied. I wish you good morning, Mr. Walmsley. I
have an appointment at a quarter to twelve. You can let me know your final
decision at luncheon-time."

She left the room. Mr. Bundercombe, Eve, and I exchanged glances.

"How far away did you say your place was, Paul?" Mr. Bundercombe asked.

"Right in the country," I told him--"takes you about an hour and a half to
get there."

"I think we'll come," Mr. Bundercombe decided, looking absently out the
window and watching his wife eloquently admonish a taxicab driver, who had
driven up with a cigarette in his mouth. "Yes, I'm all for it!"

My little party at Walmsley Hall was in most respects a complete success.
My sister was able to come and play hostess, and Eve was charmed with my
house and its surroundings. Mr. Bundercombe, however, was a source of some
little anxiety. On the first morning, when we were all preparing to go
out, he drew me on one side.

"Paul," he said--he had, with some difficulty, got into the way of calling
me by my Christian name occasionally --"I want to get wise to this thing.
Where does your political boss hang out?"

"We haven't such a person," I told him.

He seemed troubled. The more he inquired into our electioneering habits,
the less he seemed to understand them.

"What's your platform, anyway?" he asked.

I handed him a copy of my election address, which he read carefully
through, with a large cigar in the corner of his mouth. He handed it back
to me with a somewhat depressed air.

"Seems to kind of lack grit," he remarked, a little doubtfully. "Why don't
you go for the other side a bit more?"

"Look here!" I suggested, mindful that Eve was waiting for me. "You run
down and have a chat with my agent. You'll find him just opposite the town
hall in Bildborough. There's a car going down now."

"I'm on!" he agreed. "Anyway I must get to understand this business."

He departed presently and returned to luncheon with a distinctly
crestfallen air. He beckoned me mysteriously into the library and laid his
hand upon my shoulder in friendly fashion.

"Look here, Paul," he said, "is it too late to change your ticket?"

"Change my what?" I asked him.

"Change your platform--or whatever you call it! You're on the wrong horse,
Paul, my boy. Even your own agent admits it--though I never mentioned your
name at first or told him who I was. All the people round here with votes
are farmers, agricultural laborers and small shopkeepers. Your platform's
of no use to them."

"Well, that's what we've got to find out!" I protested. "Personally, I am
convinced that it is."

"Now look here!" Mr. Bundercombe argued; "these chaps, though they seem
stupid enough, are all out for themselves. They want to vote for what's
going to make life easier for them. What's the good of sticking it into
'em about the Empire! Between you and me I don't think they care a fig for
it. Then all this talk about military service----Gee! They ain't big
enough for it! Disestablishment too--what do they care about that! You let
me write your address for you. Promise 'em a land bill. Promise them the
food on their tables at a bit less. Stick something in about a reduction
in the price of beer. I've seen the other chap's address and it's a
corker! Mostly lies, but thundering good ones. You let me touch yours up a
bit."

"Where have you been?" I asked, a strange misgiving stealing into my mind.
"Have you been talking to Mr. Ansell like this?"

"Ansell? No! Who's he?" Mr. Bundercombe inquired.

"My agent."

Mr. Bundercombe shook his head.

"Chap I palled up with was called Harrison."

I groaned.

"You've been to the other fellow's agent," I told him; "the agent for the
Radical candidate."

Mr. Bundercombe whistled.

"You don't say!" he murmured. "Well, I'll tell you what it is, Paul, there
are no flies on that chap! He's a real nippy little worker--that's what he
is! If you take my advice," he went on persuasively, "you'll swap. We'll
make it worth his while to come over. I've seen your Mr. Ansell--if that's
his name. I saw the name on a brass plate and I saw him come out of his
office--stiff, starched sort of chap, with a thin face and gray side
whiskers!"

"That's the man," I admitted. "He and his father before him, and his
grandfather, have been solicitors to my people for I don't know how many
years!"

"He looked it!" Mr. Bundercombe declared. "A withered old skunk, if ever
there was one! You want a live man to see you through this, Paul. You let
me go down and sound Harrison this afternoon. No reason that I can see why
we shouldn't use this fellow's address, too, if we can make terms with
him."

"Look here!" I said. "Politics over on this side don't admit of such
violent changes. My address is in the printer's hands and I've got to
stick to it; and Ansell will have to be my agent whatever happens. It
isn't all talk that wins these elections. The Walmsleys are well known in
the county and we've done a bit for the country during the last hundred
years. This other fellow--Horrocks, his name is--has never been near the
place before. I grant you he's going to promise a lot of very interesting
things, but that's been going on just a little too long. The people have
had enough of that sort of thing. I think you'll find they'll put more
trust in the little we can promise than in that rigmarole of Harrison's."

Mr. Bundercombe shook his head doubtfully.

"Well," he sighed, "I'm only on the outside edge of this thing yet. I must
give it another morning."

We had a pleasant luncheon party, at which Mr. Bundercombe was introduced
to some of my supporters, with whom--as he usually did with every one--he
soon made himself popular. Eve and I then made our first little effort at
canvassing. Eve's methods differed from her father's.

"I am so sorry," she said as she shook hands with a very influential but
very doubtful voter of the farmer class, "but I don't know anything about
English politics; so I can't talk to you about it as I'd like to. But you
know I am going to marry Mr. Walmsley and come to live here, and it would
be so nice to feel that all my friends had voted for him. If you have a
few minutes to spare, Mr. Brown, would you please tell me just where you
don't agree with Paul? I should so much like to hear, because he tells me
that if once you were on his side he would feel almost comfortable."

Mr. Brown, who had always met my advances with a grim taciturnity that
made conversation exceedingly difficult, proceeded to dissertate upon one
or two of the vexed questions of the day. I ventured to put in a few words
now and then, and after a time he invited us in to tea. When we left he
was more gracious than I had ever known him to be.

"And you must vote for Mr. Walmsley!" Eve declared at the end of her
little speech of thanks, "because I want so much to have you come and take
tea with me on the Terrace at the House of Commons--and I can't unless
Paul is a member, can I?"

"Bribery and corruption!" Mr. Brown laughed. "However, we'll see.
Certainly I have been very much pleased to hear Mr. Walmsley's views upon
several matters. When did you say the village meeting was, Mr. Walmsley?"

"Thursday night," I replied.

"Well, I'll come," he promised.

"You'll take the chair?" I begged. "Nothing could do me more good than
that; and I feel sure, if you look at things----" I was going to be very
eloquent, but Eve interrupted me.

"Let me sit next to you, please," she said, looking up at him with her
large, unusually innocent eyes.

"Oh, well--if you like!" Mr. Brown assented.

We drove off down the avenue in complete silence. When we had turned the
corner Eve gave a little sigh.

"Paul," she declared, "I don't think there's anything I've ever come
across in my life that's half so much fun as electioneering! Please take
me to the next most difficult."

If Eve was a success, however, Mr. Bundercombe was to turn out a great
disappointment. He came home a little later for dinner, looking very
gloomy.

"Paul," he said, as we met for a moment in the smoking room, "Paul, I've
sad news for you."

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