CHAPTER XIX
In the course of his financial peregrinations amongst the highways andbyways of the city, Mr. Dane Montague made many acquaintances. Itchanced that soon after the exploitation of the Shoreditch EmpressMusic Hall, a flotation which brought Mr. Montague many admirers fromthe underworlds of finance, it fell to his lot to give a luncheonparty to celebrate the culmination of a subsidiary financial swindleand to plan further activities in the same direction. His guests werePhilip Mason, the well-known man about town, and Joe Hartwell, thetrans-atlantic young adventurer. After the third bottle of champagne,it transpired that the luncheon party had a further object.
"It's queer that you should have run across the little beast, too,"Mr. Dane Montague observed. "Got it laid by for him, haven't you?"
Mason's good-looking but dissipated face was suddenly ugly.
"If I could wring his neck," he muttered, "I'd do it to-morrow andthank my stars."
"He'll get his some day from this guy," Joe Hartwell added earnestly."I'm kind of hanging round for the chance."
Mr. Montague ordered expensive cigars and the three men's heads drew alittle closer together.
"We ought to be able to put it across him," the host continued. "We'vebrains enough, and between us we know the ropes. The only thing isthat it's pretty difficult to hurt him financially. I believe it's afact that he's well on towards his second million."
"There are other ways," Hartwell remarked, draining his glass withslow, unwholesome deliberation. "If I'd got him in New York I shouldknow what to do. I guess there are back doors in this little village."
"Here's one of the clan!" Montague exclaimed, looking up. "Sit downand have a drink with us, Felixstowe."
Lord Felixstowe, who had paused at the table on his way through therestaurant, surveyed the little party without undue enthusiasm.
"Off it to-day, my children," he announced. "I'm playing polo atRanelagh this afternoon. Any one want to back the Crimson Sashes?"
Mr. Montague stretched out his hand and drew the young man a littlenearer.
"Look here, Felixstowe," he confided, "we're talking aboutPratt--Jacob Pratt. You know the little devil."
"What about him?" his lordship enquired, helping himself to a cigarfrom the box on the table.
"Philip here, and Hartwell, have got it up against him hard. So haveI. We think it's about time he was taught a lesson. There might besomething for you out of it."
"What's the scheme?" Felixstowe demanded. "It'll have to be a devilishclever one to land him."
"It need not necessarily be financial," Montague pointed out, twirlinghis black moustache. "There are other ways of teaching a man a lesson,and these two boys have something of their own to get back, somethingthat money won't pay for. Men with a six-figure balance at theirbanker's have had to face ruin before now."
"Count me on the other side of the hedge," Felixstowe declaredpromptly. "I wouldn't hurt a hair of Jacob Pratt's head. One of thebest-natured little bounders I ever knew."
Mason nodded.
"Fade away, Felix," he enjoined. "You're not in this show."
Felixstowe left the restaurant and, crossing the courtyard, seatedhimself in a disreputable little two-seated car jammed between twodignified limousines, in which, after a fierce and angry toot, hesped out into the Strand. With very scant regard to the amenitiesof the traffic laws, and stonily deaf to the warning cries of apoliceman, he threaded his way in and out of the stream of vehicles,shot across into Duncannon Street, and, with the blasphemous cries of amotor-omnibus driver still in his ears, pulled up before Jacob Pratt'soffices at the lower end of Regent Street. Jacob, who had justreturned from luncheon, welcomed him with a nod and indicated theeasy-chair, into which the young man sank with the air of one who hasearned repose.
"Old top," he announced, "they're getting ready to put it across you."
"Who are?" Jacob asked.
"The great Dane Montague, fresh from his city triumphs, Joe Hartwell,the American shark, and Philip Mason."
Jacob smiled a little contemptuously.
"I dare say they'd like to do me a bad turn if they could!"
The young man extended his hand for Jacob's case, took out a cigaretteand tapped it upon the desk, lit it, and subsided still farther intothe depths of his chair.
"Listen," he continued, "this is no idle gossip I bring you. Fiveminutes ago I left the trio at the Milan, discussing over severalempty bottles of Pommery and a badly hurt bottle of '68 brandy no lessa subject than your undoing."
"Any specific method?" Jacob enquired.
"When I declined to join the enterprise, they dried up. All the samethey mean mischief," Felixstowe declared emphatically.
"But why should you think that they can hurt me?"
"Because you are on the straight and they are on the cross," was thewell-considered reply. "If three men of their brains mean mischief,well, they're worth watching. They know the dirty ways and you don't.The old game, you know--a feint in the front and a stab in the back.Keep your weather eye open, Jacob. Beware of them, whether they bringgifts or thunderbolts."
"Anyway, it's very friendly of you to come and warn me," Jacob saidgratefully.
"Not at all, old bean. I say, when are you going to get me a job?"
"What sort of a job do you want?"
"Your private secretary, couple of thou a year, and one of thesecadaverous, ink-smudged chaps to do the work. What-ho!"
"You're modest!"
"That's what the governor says. He was on to me about you yesterday.Coming the man-of-the-world stunt, you know. Hand on my shoulder witha fatherly grip. 'Jack,' he said solemnly, 'there's one golden rulewhich people in our position must never forget. Make use of yourfriends.'"
"And relations," Jacob murmured.
The young man grinned.
"To tell you the truth," he said, "the old man overshot the bolt a bitthere. Done 'em all in the eye for several thou of the best. I fancyhe's going to seek the seclusion of a distant clime for a month ortwo.... But as I was saying, he's always on to me about you. 'My boy,'he said, in his best Lord Chesterfield manner, 'you have contracted avaluable acquaintance with that very personable and shrewd youngfinancier whom you introduced to us at Ascot. It rests with you to seethat that acquaintance is made of profit to the family.'"
"I am afraid," Jacob observed, "that in that way I have been rather adisappointment."
"The governor isn't easily discouraged," Felixstowe replied, "and themater's got something up her sleeve for you. But placing their owninterests in the background, as my revered sire pointed out, it iscertainly, in his opinion, up to you to find me a job."
"You can go into the office and file letters, at three pounds a week,whenever you like," Jacob suggested.
The young man picked himself up in hurt fashion.
"See whether we win our heat this afternoon against the CrimsonSashes," he said. "I've a couple of ponies on, which ought to keep megoing till Thursday, if we win. Shall I tool you down to Ranelagh, oldchap?"
"What, in the bassinet I saw you in yesterday? There were threepolicemen running down St. James's Street after you."
"I can make her rip," the young man promised. "Come on."
"Not I!" Jacob replied, with a shudder. "Besides, you'd expect me topay the fines."
"So long, then," Felixstowe concluded, as he picked up his hat andturned to go. "Keep your weather eye open. If I lose the match, I'llprobably drop in for that post."
The young man, after a violent series of explosions from hisreluctantly started engine, shot into Pall Mall and disappeared in acloud of smoke. Jacob watched him from the window with a smile uponhis lips. When he resumed his seat, however, the smile had vanished.He sat with his head resting upon his left hand, idly sketching upon acorner of the blotting pad. Presently he rang the bell for Dauncey.
"Dick," he said, "Lord Felixstowe has just brought me a warning."
"A warning," Dauncey repeated.
"It appears," Jacob went on, "th
at in the course of variousinsignificant adventures which have occurred to me during the last fewmonths, I have made enemies. Mr. Dane Montague, Philip Mason, and JoeHartwell are out on the warpath against me."
"Financially?" Dauncey asked, with an incredulous smile.
Jacob shook his head.
"I think they've had enough of that. According to Felixstowe, they'replotting something a little lower down. Keep an eye on me, Dick, ifbeautiful woman inveigles, or a ragged messenger from a starvingfather tries to lure me into the slums."
Dauncey declined to take the matter lightly.
"You haven't a thing to do for four days," he remarked. "Why don't yougo down to Marlingden and see how the new 'Mrs. Fitzpatricks' areblooming?"
"It's an idea, Dick," Jacob declared. "I'm sick of town, anyway.Telephone Mrs. Harris and say I'm coming, and order the car around inhalf an hour. You can stay here till closing time and come across andsee me after supper."
The telephone tinkled at Jacob's elbow. He picked up the receiver andlistened for a moment. His own share of the conversation wasinsignificant.
"Of course you can," he said. "Certainly, I shall be here.... In fiveminutes?... Yes!"
He replaced the receiver.
"Lady Mary Felixstowe is calling here, Dauncey," he announced. "Shecan be shown in at once."
Lady Mary, very smart in white muslin and a black hat, followed hardupon her telephone message. She was full of curiosity and without theleast embarrassment.
"Don't tell me that all your money is made in a little office likethis!" she exclaimed, as she sank into the easy-chair.
"It isn't," he assured her. "It's all made in America. I simply sithere and try to keep it."
"Am I being at all unusual in visiting you like this?" she asked.
"I've had visits from lady clients before," he replied. "Let us assumethat you have come to consult me about an eight-roomed villa atCropstone."
"Cropstone?" she repeated. "That is the sort of garden city place,isn't it, where one has a doll's house with fifty feet of garden, alecture hall with free cookery lectures twice a week, and a strap-hangin a motor-car to the station every morning."
"One might accept that as a pessimistic impression of the place,"Jacob conceded.
Lady Mary sighed.
"That is where I shall have to live," she said, "if I marry Maurice."
Jacob was suddenly thoughtful. He was thinking of a small rose gardenat Cropstone and a watering can.
"If you care enough," he ventured gravely, "the conditions of lifedon't seem to matter so much, do they?"
She made a little grimace.
"How is Miss Bultiwell?" she asked, with apparent irrelevance.
"I was going to ask you," Jacob replied. "I have not seen her sincethe night I dined at your house."
"She is still with my aunt, I believe," Lady Mary continued. "Thechildren adore her."
"Have you seen her lately?" Jacob asked.
"Last week. Promise you won't be broken-hearted if I tell yousomething?"
"I'll try."
"I met her in the Park--with whom do you think?"
"No idea."
"With Maurice. Of course, I didn't ask any questions, and they mighthave met accidentally, but I never saw Maurice look such an idiot. Ithink a man ought to be able to conceal his feelings, don't you, Mr.Pratt? Should you look an idiot, now, if your fiancee were to discoveryou with another girl?"
"Such a thing would probably never happen," Jacob answered. "I am ofan extraordinarily faithful disposition."
She laughed at him across the desk.
"Isn't that queer! So am I! What a lot we have in common, Mr. Pratt!"
"I am beginning to realise it," Jacob assented.
"If only I could make you forget Sybil!"
"If only Sybil would allow me to forget her!" Jacob groaned.
"What you need," she said earnestly, "is to see more of othernice-looking, attractive young women of somewhat similar type."
"There may be something in that," he conceded.
"Apropos of which, let me explain my visit. I was told to telephone toyou, but I hate a conversation down a tube, don't you?"
"I certainly prefer your visit."
"We've such a rag on," Lady Mary continued. "We're going to have apicnic fortnight up at our place in Scotland. We want to know whetheryou'll come. Dad told me to say that there was plenty of fishing and agrouse moor for later on. Sailing, of course."
"It sounds delightful," Jacob replied enthusiastically. "Right up inScotland you say? To tell you the truth, I was just wondering whetherI couldn't drop out of things quietly for a week or so."
"It will be absolutely the end of us," she declared, smiling out ofher very blue eyes. "Maurice has been a perfect brute to me lately,apart from his flirtation with Miss Bultiwell, and I have almost leftoff loving him. I know we shall both fall. I'm so affectionate," shesighed.
Jacob felt suddenly soothed. Lady Mary was looking very attractive andher eyes were full of challenge.
"But tell me," he asked, "isn't it very early for you to leave town?"
She nodded.
"To tell you the truth," she confided, "dad seems to have got intoterrible disgrace with all his relatives lately. Something to do witha money scheme, I think, in which they were all interested, and inwhich he seems to have done better than they did."
"I quite understand," Jacob murmured. "I think this temporaryisolation is an excellent idea of your father's. Sort of place, Isuppose, where you get a post once a week and no telegrams."
"You won't mind?"
"Not I!"
"And you'll come?"
"Rather! When do you start?"
"Some servants are going up to-day," she replied, "and I think weshall go with them by the midnight train. Poor dad is being soworried. We'd like you to come to-morrow, or as soon as you can. Andthere's just one thing more. Except for your own people here, dadwould like you not to mention where you are going. He wants a littlepeace, poor man."
"I won't tell a soul except my secretary," Jacob promised.
"Not even Jack," Lady Mary persisted.
"Very well. Not even Lord Felixstowe."
She rose, and he escorted her to the door.
"It's going to be such an adventure," she whispered, with a partinglook.
Jacob called Dauncey into the office.
"Stroke of luck, Dick," the former announced. "I shall be able todo better than Marlingden--drop out of it altogether, in fact.Felixstowe's people have asked me to go up and stay with them inScotland for a fortnight."
"Capital!" Dauncey exclaimed. "You'll be well out of the way there."
"I shall leave my address with you and with no one else, Dick. For afortnight you can consider me wiped off the face of the earth. Watchthe investment accounts closely and act on your own initiative ifnecessary; but, above all things, see that Harris tries the new blightcure on 'Mrs. Fitzpatrick.'"
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