CHAPTER XVIII. THE SAUSAGE CHAPPIE
The personality that wins cost Archie two dollars in cash and a lot ofembarrassment when he asked for it at the store. To buy a treatise ofthat name would automatically seem to argue that you haven't a winningpersonality already, and Archie was at some pains to explain to the girlbehind the counter that he wanted it for a friend. The girl seemed moreinterested in his English accent than in his explanation, and Archiewas uncomfortably aware, as he receded, that she was practising it in anundertone for the benefit of her colleagues and fellow-workers. However,what is a little discomfort, if endured in friendship's name?
He was proceeding up Broadway after leaving the store when heencountered Reggie van Tuyl, who was drifting along in somnambulisticfashion near Thirty-Ninth Street.
"Hullo, Reggie old thing!" said Archie.
"Hullo!" said Reggie, a man of few words.
"I've just been buying a book for Bill Brewster," went on Archie. "Itappears that old Bill--What's the matter?"
He broke off his recital abruptly. A sort of spasm had passed acrosshis companion's features. The hand holding Archie's arm had tightenedconvulsively. One would have said that Reginald had received a shock.
"It's nothing," said Reggie. "I'm all right now. I caught sight of thatfellow's clothes rather suddenly. They shook me a bit. I'm all rightnow," he said, bravely.
Archie, following his friend's gaze, understood. Reggie van Tuyl wasnever at his strongest in the morning, and he had a sensitive eye forclothes. He had been known to resign from clubs because members exceededthe bounds in the matter of soft shirts with dinner-jackets. And theshort, thick-set man who was standing just in front of them in attitudeof restful immobility was certainly no dandy. His best friend couldnot have called him dapper. Take him for all in all and on the hoof, hemight have been posing as a model for a sketch of What the Well-DressedMan Should Not Wear.
In costume, as in most other things, it is best to take a definite lineand stick to it. This man had obviously vacillated. His neck was swathedin a green scarf; he wore an evening-dress coat; and his lower limbswere draped in a pair of tweed trousers built for a larger man. To thenorth he was bounded by a straw hat, to the south by brown shoes.
Archie surveyed the man's back carefully.
"Bit thick!" he said, sympathetically. "But of course Broadway isn'tFifth Avenue. What I mean to say is, Bohemian licence and what not.Broadway's crammed with deuced brainy devils who don't care how theylook. Probably this bird is a master-mind of some species."
"All the same, man's no right to wear evening-dress coat with tweedtrousers."
"Absolutely not! I see what you mean."
At this point the sartorial offender turned. Seen from the front, he waseven more unnerving. He appeared to possess no shirt, though this defectwas offset by the fact that the tweed trousers fitted snugly under thearms. He was not a handsome man. At his best he could never have beenthat, and in the recent past he had managed to acquire a scar that ranfrom the corner of his mouth half-way across his cheek. Even when hisface was in repose he had an odd expression; and when, as he chancedto do now, he smiled, odd became a mild adjective, quite inadequatefor purposes of description. It was not an unpleasant face, however.Unquestionably genial, indeed. There was something in it that had aquality of humorous appeal.
Archie started. He stared at the man, Memory stirred.
"Great Scot!" he cried. "It's the Sausage Chappie!"
Reginald van Tuyl gave a little moan. He was not used to this sort ofthing. A sensitive young man as regarded scenes, Archie's behaviourunmanned him. For Archie, releasing his arm, had bounded forward and wasshaking the other's hand warmly.
"Well, well, well! My dear old chap! You must remember me, what? No?Yes?"
The man with the scar seemed puzzled. He shuffled the brown shoes,patted the straw hat, and eyed Archie questioningly.
"I don't seem to place you," he said.
Archie slapped the back of the evening-dress coat. He linked his armaffectionately with that of the dress-reformer.
"We met outside St Mihiel in the war. You gave me a bit of sausage.One of the most sporting events in history. Nobody but a real sportsmanwould have parted with a bit of sausage at that moment to a stranger.Never forgotten it, by Jove. Saved my life, absolutely. Hadn't cheweda morsel for eight hours. Well, have you got anything on? I mean to say,you aren't booked for lunch or any rot of that species, are you? Fine!Then I move we all toddle off and get a bite somewhere." He squeezedthe other's arm fondly. "Fancy meeting you again like this! I've oftenwondered what became of you. But, by Jove, I was forgetting. Dashed rudeof me. My friend, Mr. van Tuyl."
Reggie gulped. The longer he looked at it, the harder this man's costumewas to bear. His eye passed shudderingly from the brown shoes to thetweed trousers, to the green scarf, from the green scarf to the strawhat.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Just remembered. Important date. Late already.Er--see you some time--"
He melted away, a broken man. Archie was not sorry to see him go. Reggiewas a good chap, but he would undoubtedly have been de trop at thisreunion.
"I vote we go to the Cosmopolis," he said, steering his newly-foundfriend through the crowd. "The browsing and sluicing isn't bad there,and I can sign the bill which is no small consideration nowadays."
The Sausage Chappie chuckled amusedly.
"I can't go to a place like the Cosmopolis looking like this."
Archie, was a little embarrassed.
"Oh, I don't know, you know, don't you know!" he said. "Still, since youhave brought the topic up, you DID get the good old wardrobe a bit mixedthis morning what? I mean to say, you seem absent-mindedly, as itwere, to have got hold of samples from a good number of your varioussuitings."
"Suitings? How do you mean, suitings? I haven't any suitings! Who do youthink I am? Vincent Astor? All I have is what I stand up in."
Archie was shocked. This tragedy touched him. He himself had never hadany money in his life, but somehow he had always seemed to manage tohave plenty of clothes. How this was he could not say. He had always hada vague sort of idea that tailors were kindly birds who never failed tohave a pair of trousers or something up their sleeve to present to thedeserving. There was the drawback, of course, that once they had givenyou things they were apt to write you rather a lot of letters about it;but you soon managed to recognise their handwriting, and then it was asimple task to extract their communications from your morning mail anddrop them in the waste-paper basket. This was the first case he hadencountered of a man who was really short of clothes.
"My dear old lad," he said, briskly, "this must be remedied! Oh,positively! This must be remedied at once! I suppose my things wouldn'tfit you? No. Well, I tell you what. We'll wangle something frommy father-in-law. Old Brewster, you know, the fellow who runs theCosmopolis. His'll fit you like the paper on the wall, because he'sa tubby little blighter, too. What I mean to say is, he's also one ofthose sturdy, square, fine-looking chappies of about the middle height.By the way, where are you stopping these days?"
"Nowhere just at present. I thought of taking one of thoseself-contained Park benches."
"Are you broke?"
"Am I!"
Archie was concerned.
"You ought to get a job."
"I ought. But somehow I don't seem able to."
"What did you do before the war?"
"I've forgotten."
"Forgotten!"
"Forgotten."
"How do you mean--forgotten? You can't mean--FORGOTTEN?"
"Yes. It's quite gone."
"But I mean to say. You can't have forgotten a thing like that."
"Can't I! I've forgotten all sorts of things. Where I was born. How oldI am. Whether I'm married or single. What my name is--"
"Well, I'm dashed!" said Archie, staggered. "But you remembered aboutgiving me a bit of sausage outside St. Mihiel?"
"No, I didn't. I'm taking your word for it. For all I know you may beluring m
e into some den to rob me of my straw hat. I don't know youfrom Adam. But I like your conversation--especially the part abouteating--and I'm taking a chance."
Archie was concerned.
"Listen, old bean. Make an effort. You must remember that sausageepisode? It was just outside St. Mihiel, about five in the evening. Yourlittle lot were lying next to my little lot, and we happened to meet,and I said 'What ho!' and you said 'Halloa!' and I said 'What ho! Whatho!' and you said 'Have a bit of sausage?' and I said 'What ho! What ho!What HO!'"
"The dialogue seems to have been darned sparkling but I don't rememberit. It must have been after that that I stopped one. I don't seem quiteto have caught up with myself since I got hit."
"Oh! That's how you got that scar?"
"No. I got that jumping through a plate-glass window in London onArmistice night."
"What on earth did you do that for?"
"Oh, I don't know. It seemed a good idea at the time."
"But if you can remember a thing like that, why can't you remember yourname?"
"I remember everything that happened after I came out of hospital. It'sthe part before that's gone."
Archie patted him on the shoulder.
"I know just what you want. You need a bit of quiet and repose, to thinkthings over and so forth. You mustn't go sleeping on Park benches. Won'tdo at all. Not a bit like it. You must shift to the Cosmopolis. It isn'thalf a bad spot, the old Cosmop. I didn't like it much the first nightI was there, because there was a dashed tap that went drip-drip-drip allnight and kept me awake, but the place has its points."
"Is the Cosmopolis giving free board and lodging these days?"
"Rather! That'll be all right. Well, this is the spot. We'll start bytrickling up to the old boy's suite and looking over his reach-me-downs.I know the waiter on his floor. A very sound chappie. He'll let us inwith his pass-key."
And so it came about that Mr. Daniel Brewster, returning to his suite inthe middle of lunch in order to find a paper dealing with the subject hewas discussing with his guest, the architect of his new hotel, was awareof a murmur of voices behind the closed door of his bedroom. Recognisingthe accents of his son-in-law, he breathed an oath and charged in. Heobjected to Archie wandering at large about his suite.
The sight that met his eyes when he opened the door did nothing tosoothe him. The floor was a sea of clothes. There were coats on thechairs, trousers on the bed, shirts on the bookshelf. And in the middleof his welter stood Archie, with a man who, to Mr. Brewster's heatedeye, looked like a tramp comedian out of a burlesque show.
"Great Godfrey!" ejaculated Mr. Brewster.
Archie looked up with a friendly smile.
"Oh, halloa-halloa!" he said, affably, "We were just glancing throughyour spare scenery to see if we couldn't find something for my pal here.This is Mr. Brewster, my father-in-law, old man."
Archie scanned his relative's twisted features. Something in hisexpression seemed not altogether encouraging. He decided that thenegotiations had better be conducted in private. "One moment, old lad,"he said to his new friend. "I just want to have a little talk with myfather-in-law in the other room. Just a little friendly business chat.You stay here."
In the other room Mr. Brewster turned on Archie like a wounded lion ofthe desert.
"What the--!"
Archie secured one of his coat-buttons and began to massage itaffectionately.
"Ought to have explained!" said Archie, "only didn't want to interruptyour lunch. The sportsman on the horizon is a dear old pal of mine--"
Mr. Brewster wrenched himself free.
"What the devil do you mean, you worm, by bringing tramps into mybedroom and messing about with my clothes?"
"That's just what I'm trying to explain, if you'll only listen. Thisbird is a bird I met in France during the war. He gave me a bit ofsausage outside St. Mihiel--"
"Damn you and him and the sausage!"
"Absolutely. But listen. He can't remember who he is or where he wasborn or what his name is, and he's broke; so, dash it, I must look afterhim. You see, he gave me a bit of sausage."
Mr. Brewster's frenzy gave way to an ominous calm.
"I'll give him two seconds to clear out of here. If he isn't gone bythen I'll have him thrown out."
Archie was shocked.
"You don't mean that?"
"I do mean that."
"But where is he to go?"
"Outside."
"But you don't understand. This chappie has lost his memory because hewas wounded in the war. Keep that fact firmly fixed in the old bean. Hefought for you. Fought and bled for you. Bled profusely, by Jove. AND hesaved my life!"
"If I'd got nothing else against him, that would be enough."
"But you can't sling a chappie out into the cold hard world who bled ingallons to make the world safe for the Hotel Cosmopolis."
Mr. Brewster looked ostentatiously at his watch.
"Two seconds!" he said.
There was a silence. Archie appeared to be thinking. "Right-o!" he saidat last. "No need to get the wind up. I know where he can go. It's justoccurred to me I'll put him up at my little shop."
The purple ebbed from Mr. Brewster's face. Such was his emotion that hehad forgotten that infernal shop. He sat down. There was more silence.
"Oh, gosh!" said Mr. Brewster.
"I knew you would be reasonable about it," said Archie, approvingly."Now, honestly, as man to man, how do we go?"
"What do you want me to do?" growled Mr. Brewster.
"I thought you might put the chappie up for a while, and give him achance to look round and nose about a bit."
"I absolutely refuse to give any more loafers free board and lodging."
"Any MORE?"
"Well, he would be the second, wouldn't he?"
Archie looked pained.
"It's true," he said, "that when I first came here I was temporarilyresting, so to speak; but didn't I go right out and grab the managershipof your new hotel? Positively!"
"I will NOT adopt this tramp."
"Well, find him a job, then."
"What sort of a job?"
"Oh, any old sort"
"He can be a waiter if he likes."
"All right; I'll put the matter before him."
He returned to the bedroom. The Sausage Chappie was gazing fondly intothe mirror with a spotted tie draped round his neck.
"I say, old top," said Archie, apologetically, "the Emperor of theBlighters out yonder says you can have a job here as waiter, and hewon't do another dashed thing for you. How about it?"
"Do waiters eat?"
"I suppose so. Though, by Jove, come to think of it, I've never seen oneat it."
"That's good enough for me!" said the Sausage Chappie. "When do Ibegin?"
Indiscretions of Archie Page 18
