The Intrusion of Jimmy Part 51

"But, Spencer, let met--"

"You've soured my life," said his lordship, frowning a tense, Byronic frown. "That's what you've done--soured my whole bally life.

I've had a rotten time. I've had to go about touching my friends for money to keep me going. Why, I owe you a fiver, don't I, Pitt, old man?"

It was a tenner, to be finnickingly accurate about details, but Jimmy did not say so. He concluded, rightly, that the memory of the original five pounds which he had lent Lord Dreever at the Savoy Hotel had faded from the other's mind.

"Don't mention it," he said.

"But I do mention it," protested his lordship, shrilly. "It just proves what I say. If I had had a decent allowance, it wouldn't have happened. And you wouldn't give me enough to set me going in the diplomatic service. That's another thing. Why wouldn't you do that?"

Sir Thomas pulled himself together.

"I hardly thought you qualified, my dear boy--"

His lordship did not actually foam at the mouth, but he looked as if he might do so at any moment. Excitement and the memory of his wrongs, lubricated, as it were, by the champagne he had consumed both at and after dinner, had produced in him a frame of mind far removed from the normal. His manners no longer had that repose which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. He waved his hands:

"I know, I know!" he shouted. "I know you didn't. You thought me a fearful fool. I tell you, I'm sick of it. And always trying to make me marry money! Dashed humiliating! If she hadn't been a jolly sensible girl, you'd have spoiled Miss McEachern's life as well as mine. You came very near it. I tell you, I've had enough of it. I'm in love. I'm in love with the rippingest girl in England. You've seen her, Pitt, old top. Isn't she a ripper?"

Jimmy stamped the absent lady with the seal of his approval.

"I tell you, if she'll have me, I'm going to marry her."

The dismay written on every inch of Sir Thomas's countenance became intensified at these terrific words. Great as had been his contempt for the actual holder of the t.i.tle, considered simply as a young man, he had always been filled with a supreme respect for the Dreever name.

"But, Spencer," he almost howled, "consider your position! You cannot--"

"Can't I, by Jove! If she'll have me! And d.a.m.n my position! What's my position got to do with it? Katie's the daughter of a general, if it comes to that. Her brother was at college with me. If I'd had a penny to call my own, I'd have asked her to marry me ages ago. Don't you worry about my position!"

Sir Thomas croaked feebly.

"Now, look here," said his lordship, with determination. "Here's the whole thing in a jolly old nutsh.e.l.l. If you want me to forget about this little flutter in fake diamonds of yours, you've got to pull up your socks, and start in to do things. You've got to get me attached to some emba.s.sy for a beginning. It won't be difficult. There's dozens of old boys in London, who knew the governor when he was alive, who will jump at the chance of doing me a good turn. I know I'm a bit of an a.s.s in some ways, but that's expected of you in the diplomatic service. They only want you to wear evening clothes as if you were used to them, and be a bit of a flyer at dancing, and I can fill the bill all right as far as that goes. And you've got to give your jolly old blessing to Katie and me--if she'll have me. That's about all I can think of for the moment. How do we go? Are you on?"

"It's preposterous," began Sir Thomas.

Lord Dreever gave the door-handle a rattle.

"It's a hold-up all right," said Jimmy, soothingly. "I don't want to b.u.t.t in on a family conclave, but my advice, if asked, would be to unbelt before the shooting begins. You've got something worse than a pipe pointing at you, now. As regards my position in the business, don't worry. My silence is presented gratis. Give me a loving smile, and my lips are sealed."

Sir Thomas turned on the speaker.

"As for you--" he cried.

"Never mind about Pitt," said his lordship. "He's a dashed good fellow, Pitt. I wish there were more like him. And he wasn't pinching the stuff, either. If you had only listened when he tried to tell you, you mightn't be in such a frightful hole. He was putting the things back, as he said. I know all about it. Well, what's the answer?"

For a moment, Sir Thomas seemed on the point of refusal. But, just as he was about to speak, his lordship opened the door, and at the movement he collapsed again.

"I will," he cried. "I will!"

"Good," said his lordship with satisfaction. "That's a bargain.

Coming downstairs, Pitt, old man? We shall be wanted on the stage in about half a minute."

"As an antidote to stage fright," said Jimmy, as they went along the corridor, "little discussions of that kind may be highly recommended. I shouldn't mind betting that you feel fit for anything?"

"I feel like a two-year-old," a.s.sented his lordship, enthusiastically. "I've forgotten all my part, but I don't care.

I'll just go on and talk to them."

"That," said Jimmy, "is the right spirit. Charteris will get heart-disease, but it's the right spirit. A little more of that sort of thing, and amateur theatricals would be worth listening to. Step lively, Roscius; the stage waits."

CHAPTER XXVIII

SPENNIE'S HOUR OF CLEAR VISION

Mr. McEachern sat in the billiard-room, smoking. He was alone. From where he sat, he could hear distant strains of music. The more rigorous portion of the evening's entertainment, the theatricals, was over, and the n.o.bility and gentry, having done their duty by sitting through the performance, were now enjoying themselves in the ballroom. Everybody was happy. The play had been quite as successful as the usual amateur performance. The prompter had made himself a great favorite from the start, his series of duets with Spennie having been especially admired; and Jimmy, as became an old professional, had played his part with great finish and certainty of touch, though, like the bloodhounds in "Uncle Tom's Cabin" on the road, he had had poor support. But the audience bore no malice. No collection of individuals is less vindictive than an audience at amateur theatricals. It was all over now. Charteris had literally gibbered in the presence of eye-witnesses at one point in the second act, when Spennie, by giving a wrong cue, had jerked the play abruptly into act three, where his colleagues, dimly suspecting something wrong, but not knowing what it was, had kept it for two minutes, to the mystification of the audience. But, now Charteris had begun to forget. As he two-stepped down the room, the lines of agony on his face were softened. He even smiled.

As for Spennie, the brilliance of his happy grin dazzled all beholders.

He was still wearing it when he invaded the solitude of Mr.

McEachern. In every dance, however greatly he may be enjoying it, there comes a time when a man needs a meditative cigarette apart from the throng. It came to Spennie after the seventh item on the program. The billiard-room struck him as admirably suitable in every way. It was not likely to be used as a sitting-out place, and it was near enough to the ball-room to enable him to hear when the music of item number nine should begin.

Mr. McEachern welcomed his visitor. In the turmoil following the theatricals, he had been unable to get a word with any of the persons with whom he most wished to speak. He had been surprised that no announcement of the engagement had been made at the end of the performance. Spennie would be able to supply him with information as to when the announcement might be expected.

Spennie hesitated for an instant when he saw who was in the room. He was not over-anxious for a tete-a-tete with Molly's father just then. But, re-fleeting that, after all, he was not to blame for any disappointment that might be troubling the other, he switched on his grin again, and walked in.

"Came in for a smoke," he explained, by way of opening the conversation. "Not dancing the next."

"Come in, my boy, come in," said Mr. McEachern. "I was waiting to see you."

Spennie regretted his entrance. He had supposed that the other had heard the news of the breaking-off of the engagement. Evidently, however, McEachern had not. This was a nuisance. The idea of flight came to Spennie, but he dismissed it. As nominal host that night, he had to dance many duty-dances. This would be his only chance of a smoke for hours, and the billiard-room was the best place for it.

He sat down, and lighted a cigarette, casting about the while for an innocuous topic of conversation.

"Like the show?" he inquired.

"Fine," said Mr. McEachern. "By the way--"

Spennie groaned inwardly. He had forgotten that a determined man can change the conversation to any subject he pleases by means of those three words.

"By the way," said Mr. McEachern, "I thought Sir Thomas--wasn't your uncle intending to announce--?"

"Well, yes, he was," said Spennie.

"Going to do it during the dancing, maybe?"

"Well--er--no. The fact is, he's not going to do it at all, don't you know." Spennie inspected the red end of his cigarette closely.