Mrs. Fitz Part 16

"No; to my mind fate is never your master, if you really mean to be master of it. But there may be a spy. Von Arlenberg is as cunning as a fox. And if he thinks I may have something to say in the matter, he will take care that nothing is done without his knowledge. Probably we are being followed."

To test his grounds for this suspicion, Fitz suddenly ordered the driver to stop. He thrust his head out of the window, and then an instant later told our Jehu to drive on.

"Just as I thought," he said. "There is another taxi behind."

My companion became silent.

"Something will have to be done," he said. "It won't do for von Arlenberg to know too much."

During the remainder of the journey Fitz found not a word to say.

When we came to the quiet family hotel in Bond Street our leader seemed still preoccupied. Certainly he had grounds for his foreboding. A fourth taxi drew up behind the three vehicles we had chartered; and I observed that a man got out of it and, discharging his taxi, entered the hotel. As he pa.s.sed me I was careful to note his appearance. He was a short, sallow, foreign-looking individual, with the collar of his overcoat turned up; a commonplace creature enough, who on most occasions would pa.s.s without remark.

While we inquired for our rooms, he sat in the lounge un.o.btrusively.

Save for Fitz's own conviction upon the point, it would never have occurred to me that we were undergoing a process of espionage.

No sooner had Fitz secured his room, than he said, in a tone considerably louder than he used as a rule, that he had some business to see after, and that he would be back in an hour.

The man seated in the lounge could not fail to hear this announcement.

And sure enough, hardly had Fitz pa.s.sed out of the hotel, when the fellow rose and also took his leave.

"What is Fitzwaren's game now?" inquired Coverdale.

I refrained from advancing any theory as to the nature of Fitz's game.

For that matter, I had no theory to advance. It was clear enough that the leader of our enterprise was fully justified in his suspicion, but what his sagacity would profit him, I was wholly at a loss to divine.

I was convinced that the business that had called him so suddenly into the sleet-laden darkness of the streets had to do with the man who had pa.s.sed out of the hotel upon his heels; yet precisely what that business was, it was futile to conjecture.

Prior to our departure for Ward's the time hung upon our hands somewhat heavily. Bra.s.set and Jodey utilised some of it in bestowing even more pains than usual upon their appearance. In these days it is not necessary to don powder, ruffles and a brocaded waistcoat for the purpose of dining at Ward's, but there is an unwritten law which expects you to wear a white vest at least with your evening clothes.

Even Coverdale and I thought well to comply with this sumptuary law.

We were both past the age when one's tailor is omnipotent; but when in Rome, those who would be thought men of the world are careful to do like the Romans.

Four carefully groomed specimens of British manhood greeted Fitz in the hotel foyer upon his return. It was then five minutes to seven, and our mentor entered in a perfectly cool and collected manner. He apologised, perhaps a thought elaborately, for the necessity which had deprived us of his society. Twenty minutes later he was looking as spick and span as the rest of us.

While the hotel porter was whistling up the necessary means for our conveyance to Saint James's Street, I found Fitz at my elbow.

"By the way," said he in a casual undertone, "did you mention to the others about the fellow who followed us in the taxi?"

The answer was in the negative.

"I'm glad of that. I think it will be wise if you don't. It might worry them, you know. And there is no need to worry about him now."

"Have you thrown him off the scent?"

"Yes," said Fitz, quietly. "We shall have no more trouble from that sportsman."

I forbore to allow my curiosity any further rein upon this subject.

Beneath Fitz's cool and cordial tone was a suggestion that he would thank me to dismiss it. Howbeit, I had no hint as to what had happened outside in the street, and I was burning to know.

It was a minute past the half-hour when we arrived at Ward's, but the punctual O'Mulligan was there already. He rejoiced in the name of Alexander; his freckles were many and he had a shock of red hair. His nose was of the snub variety; his ears stuck out at right angles; his eyes were light green; and his jaw was square and ma.s.sive and the most magnificently aggressive the mind of man can conceive. Regarded from the purely aesthetic standpoint, Alexander O'Mulligan might be a subject for discussion, yet he was as full of "points" as a prize bulldog. He was not so tall as Coverdale, but every ounce of him was solid muscle; his chest was deep and spreading, his hands were corded, and he had the grip of a garotter.

Alexander O'Mulligan shook hands all round with the greatest comprehensiveness. As he did so he grinned from ear to ear in the sheer joy of acquaintanceship. Fitz was his first victim and I was his last, but each of us would as lief shake hands with a gibbon as with our friend O'Mulligan. The fellow was so abominably hearty. He shook hands as though it was the thing of all others he loved doing best in the world.

The dinner was admirable. Whether it was force of example, or the magnetic presence of Alexander O'Mulligan, I am not prepared to say, but certainly we did ourselves very well. Upon first entering the hallowed precincts of Ward's, I had been in no mood to appreciate "really good old-fashioned English cooking." One would have thought that only the most _recherche_ of dinners would have tempted us in our present state of mind. But somehow our new friend O'Mulligan dispensed an atmosphere of Gargantuan good humour.

Hardly had we come to close quarters with the far-famed mulligatawny, which was quite appropriate to the conditions prevailing without, when our latest recruit insisted that one and all must dine with him on the morrow, and then adjourn to the National Sporting Club, for the purpose of witnessing "Burns's do with the 'Gunner.'"

If I live to the age of a hundred and twenty, I shall not forget our little dinner at Ward's. Six commonplace specimens of _les hommes moyens sensuels_ with lethal weapons in their pockets and anything from pitch and toss to manslaughter in their hearts! Really, it was the incongruous carried to the verge of the _bizarre_.

Fitz at the head of the table was gracious to a degree. The fellow was revealing a whole gamut of unsuspected qualities. His composure, his half-gay, half-sinister _insouciance_, his alertness, his knowledge, his faculty for action, which seemed to grow in proportion with the demands that were made upon it--such an array of qualities was curiously inconsistent with the heedless waster the world had always judged him to be.

Now that he had come to grips with fate the real Nevil Fitzwaren was emerging with considerable potency. As far as "the married man, the father of the family, and the county member" was concerned, the fellow's daemonic power was the cause of his dining quite reasonably well. As for Coverdale, after swallowing his plate of mulligatawny, his glance ceased to reproach me. His habitual philosophy and the old-fashioned English cooking began to walk hand in hand. The evening's business was quite likely to cost him his billet, but at least it was sure to be excellent fun. Besides, when he stood fairly committed to a thing, it was his habit to see it through.

Dinner was conducted in the spirit of leisurely harmony which is due to the traditions accruing to the shade of John Ward, who left this vale of tears in 1720. Fitz a.s.sured us that there was no hurry. If we got a move on about nine we should have plenty of time to do our business with his Excellency.

"You haven't quite explained the orders for the day, my dear fellow,"

said Coverdale, taking a reverential sip of the famous old brandy.

CHAPTER XI

THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY

"The orders for the day don't need much explanation," said Fitz.

"Merely see that there are six cartridges in your revolver; keep it in your trouser pocket with your hand on it, and then follow the man from Cook's."

"Like all schemes of the first magnitude," said I, "it appears to be simplicity itself."

"It is this confounded revolver business," said Coverdale, "that I should like to see dispensed with. It might so easily land us in serious trouble."

"It is far more likely to land us out of serious trouble," said Fitz.

"But this I can promise: they will not be produced except in the last resort."

It was clear that the question of the revolvers had made Coverdale as uneasy as it had made me; but the only thing to be done now was to pin implicit faith upon the saneness of Fitz's judgment. Certainly he had aroused respect. His method of communicating to Alexander O'Mulligan the nature of the cause, and the need for absolute obedience to the word of command, appeared to kindle awe and admiration in equal parts in the breast of the middle-weight champion of the United Kingdom.

"Do exactly as you are told, O'Mulligan, and do nothing without orders, unless they begin to shoot, and then you begin to shoot too. By the way, Arbuthnot, did I understand you to say you had forgotten to bring a revolver?"

I admitted the impeachment.

"I have several spare ones in my overcoat"--the tone of reproof was delicate. "Is there any one else who has forgotten to provide himself with one?"

"There is also a spare one at my rooms round the corner," said Alexander O'Mulligan, with an air of modest pride.

Fitz honoured the new recruit with a nod of curt approval. In any a.s.sembly of law-breakers the Bayard from Jermyn Street would be sure of a hearty welcome. His face had expanded to the most moonlike proportions, which the freckles and the prominent ears set off fantastically; and in the green eyes was a look of genuine ecstasy, beside which the emotion in those of Bra.s.set and Jodey was mere hopeful expectation.

Fitz took out his watch and studied it with the air of the Man of Destiny.