An Amiable Charlatan Part 41

Mr. Bundercombe regarded him with a certain wistfulness which I did not at that moment understand. Just then Lord Porthoning made his way toward us.

As I watched him approach I realized more than ever the justice of Mr.

Bundercombe's description. He was undersized, bent nearly double, and on his wizened face and shining out of his narrow black eyes was an indescribable expression of malevolence. Even the smile with which he greeted me had something unpleasant in it.

"Well, Paul!" he exclaimed. "Well, my boy, so you're hooked at last, are you?"

Considering that I was enjoying a few minutes' respite in my task of helping Eve receive our wedding guests, the statement, though crude, was obvious enough.

"Glad to see you, Lord Porthoning!" I said, lying miserably. "Do you know my father-in-law, Mr. Bundercombe?"

Mr. Bundercombe extended his ready hand, which my connection, however, appeared not to see.

"Yes, yes!" he admitted. "Some one pointed him out to me. I asked who on earth it could be. No offense, mind," Lord Porthoning continued; "but I hate all Americans and our connections with them. I have been looking at your presents, Paul. A poorish lot--a poorish lot! Now I was at d.i.c.k Stanley's wedding last week--married Colonel Morrison's daughter, you know. Never saw such jewelry in my life! Four necklaces; and a tiara from the d.u.c.h.ess of Westshire that must have been worth a cool ten thousand pounds."

"I am sorry my wedding presents do not meet with your approval," I remarked. "Personally I think it is very kind of my friends to send me anything at all."

"Rubbish, Paul! Rubbish!" my amiable connection interjected irritably.

"Don't talk like an idiot! You know they send you things because they've got to. You've been through it yourself. Must have cost you a pretty penny in your time sending out wedding presents! Now you reap the harvest."

"I suppose," I observed dryly, "that yours is the reasonable point of view."

"Absolutely, my dear fellow--absolutely!" Lord Porthoning declared. "Of course you couldn't expect quite the same enthusiasm on the part of your friends when you marry a young lady who is a stranger to all of them and who comes from the backwoods of America. Can't think how it is you young Englishmen can marry nothing, nowadays, unless it shows its legs upon the stage or has a transatlantic drawl. I am going in to see if the champagne they're opening now is any better. The first gla.s.s I had was horrid!"

My father-in-law watched him disappear through the crowd, and stood patiently by my side while I exchanged greetings with a few newly arrived friends.

"Say!" he observed presently, as soon as an opportunity rose for private conversation. "He's a pleasant old gentleman, that connection of yours!"

"Glad you think so," I answered. "I don't call myself a bad-natured fellow, and to-day I feel inclined to be friends with every one; but I tell you frankly I can't bear the sight of Lord Porthoning. He has to be asked, but he's like a wet blanket wherever he goes."

Mr. Bundercombe glanced round a moment. Then he leaned toward me. His manner was earnest--almost pleading.

"Paul," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "don't you think it's up to us to give a disagreeable little worm like that a bit of a lesson, eh?

His lordship has his own way too much. Now if you'll leave it to me I'll give him just a kind of a scare--a shake-up, you know--no real harm; just teach him, perhaps, not to open his mouth so much. What do you say, Paul?"

I turned and looked at my father-in-law. His expression was that of a schoolboy begging for a holiday. His head was a little on one side, his lips were parted in an insinuating smile. It was a weak moment with me. So far as such a term can be applied to such an event, the wedding ceremony, which was just over, had been a great success. Eve had looked simply as beautiful as a beautiful girl can look on the one morning of her life.

My father-in-law had been dignified and correct in his behavior, and a merciful misadventure of Mrs. Bundercombe with a policeman three days previously, which had led to her being arrested with a hammer in her satchel, had finally resulted in her being forced to partake of the hospitality of Holloway for the period of fourteen days; in fact, everything just then with me was _couleur de rose_.

The presents my crabbed connection spoke of so lightly had been supplemented only an hour before by surely the most magnificent wedding offering from my father-in-law that any man could have--the house in which we were and the whole of the furniture. It was hard to refuse Mr.

Bundercombe anything. Before I knew exactly what had happened, my smile had answered his.

"Well," I said, "I rely upon your discretion, Mr. Bundercombe. A little lesson would certainly do Porthoning no harm."

Whereupon Mr. Bundercombe, fearing apparently that I might change my mind, vanished among the crowd; and the matter, to tell the truth, disappeared from my mind for a short time. I was surrounded by friends, and the occasion, joyful though it was, possessed a certain unique sentimentality that I found sufficiently absorbing. Eve brought me the latest telegram from Mrs. Bundercombe, which we read together:

Insist upon ceremony being postponed! Am commencing hunger strike. Shall be with you in three days.

"Your stepmother's intentions," I remarked to Eve, "may be excellent, but I don't think they'll bring her so far as the Austrian Tyrol."

Eve's eyes were lit with laughter. A moment later, however, she sighed.

"Poor dad!" she murmured. "I'm afraid he'll have a terrible time when she does come out!"

"He'd have a worse if she knew!" I rejoined, half to myself.

Eve looked at me suspiciously. She drew a little nearer.

"Paul," she whispered in my ear, "is it true that the inspector who had her followed all that morning was a friend of dad's?" I shook my head.

"I am giving n.o.body away," I replied firmly. "Of course there were certain troubles to be got over in connection with your mother's presence to-day.

You remember her saying, for instance, that she would break every bottle of wine she found being served?"

Eve nodded.

"Perhaps," she murmured, with a half smile, "it is for the best. Where is dad?"

I glanced round the room and at that moment I saw Mr. Bundercombe making signs to me from the doorway. I hurried toward him and he drew me out into the hall.

"Things are in train, Paul," he announced cheerfully. "Now all I want from you is just the smallest amount of help in this little affair."

I looked at him blankly. I had forgotten all about Lord Porthoning.

"It's a very small share indeed," Mr. Bundercombe continued pleadingly; "but such as it is it's up to you to take it on at this moment. There the little insect goes into the cloakroom. He has gone for his hat and coat.

All you've got to do is just to follow him and ask him to come back for one moment. That little room on the left, across the hall, is empty. Bring him into that. Leave the rest to me."

"You're not going too far, are you?" I asked. "You see, after all, the old blackguard is a sort of connection."

Mr. Bundercombe laid his hand on my shoulder.

"My boy," he said, "there will be nothing but just a little incident that you can tell to Eve and laugh about on your way to the station. That I promise you."

I nodded and crossed the hall. Lord Porthoning was preparing to leave.

"Have my car called up!" he ordered the footman from the doorstep. "Mind, I'm not going to hang about on the pavement in this sun for any one. If that's the motor waiting for the young people it'll have to get out of the way. Lord Porthoning's car at once, young fellow! h.e.l.lo, Paul!" he added.

"Come to see me off, eh?"

"Could I have just one word with you, Lord Porthoning?" I begged, as casually as possible.

"Be quick, then! If I haven't wished you happiness it's because I can't see what chance you have of getting it. But I suppose you're like all other young fools on their wedding day--you think the sun's shining only for you!"

"I am afraid," I retorted, a little nettled, "that I had not noticed the absence of your good wishes. I wish to speak to you on another matter."

Lord Porthoning turned quickly and looked at me. There was a change in his expression that puzzled me.

"Well, out with it!" he snapped.

I pointed to the door across the hall.

"I want you to step this way," I said firmly.