The Pawns Count Part 33

"What about those qualifications for my amba.s.sadorial career?" he reminded her--"Secrecy, subtlety, caution."

"The master of these," she whispered, rising to her feet in response to her hostess's signal, "knows when to abandon them--"

Lutchester changed his place to a vacant chair by James Van Teyl's side.

"I was going to ask you, Mr. Van Teyl," he inquired, "whether your j.a.panese servant was altogether a success? I think I shall have to get a temporary servant while I am over here."

"Nikasti was entirely Fischer's affair," Van Teyl replied, "and I can't say much about him as I have given up my share of the apartments at the Plaza. The fellow's all right, I dare say, but we hadn't the slightest use for a valet. The man on the floor's good enough for any one."

"By the bye," Lutchester inquired, "is Fischer still in New York?"

"No, he's in Washington," Van Teyl replied. "I believe he's expected back to-morrow.... Say, can I ask you a question?"

Lutchester almost imperceptibly drew his chair a little closer.

"Of course you can," he a.s.sented.

"What I want to know," Van Teyl continued confidentially, "is how you get that long run on your cleek shots? I saw you play the sixteenth hole, and it looked to me as though the ball were never going to stop."

Lutchester smiled.

"I have made a special study of that shot," he confided. "Yes, I can tell you how it's done, but it needs a lot of practice. It's done in turning over the wrists sharply just at the moment of impact. You get everything there is to be got into the stroke that way, and you keep the ball low, too."

"Gee, I must try that!" Van Teyl observed, making spasmodic movements with his wrists. "When could we have a day down at Baltusrol?"

"It will have to be next week, I'm afraid, if you don't mind,"

Lutchester replied. "I've a good many appointments in New York, and I may have to go to Washington myself. By the bye, I thought our host lived there."

"So he does," Van Teyl a.s.sented. "Nowadays, though, it seems to have become the fashion for politicians to own a house up in New York and do some entertaining here. They're after the financial interest, I suppose."

"Is your uncle a keen politician?"

"Keen as mustard," Van Teyl answered. "So's my aunt. She'd give her soul to have the old man nominated for the Presidency."

"Any chance of it?"

"Not an earthly! He'll come a mucker, though, some day, trying. He'd take any outside chance. For a clever man he's the vainest thing I know."

Lutchester smiled enigmatically as he followed the example of the others and rose to his feet.

"Even in America, then," he observed, "your great men have their weaknesses."

CHAPTER XXIII

Fischer, exactly one week after his nocturnal visit to Fourteenth Street, hurried out of the train at the Pennsylvania Station, almost tore the newspapers from the news stand, glanced through them one by one and threw them back. The attendant, open-mouthed, ventured upon a mild protest. Fischer threw him a dollar bill, caught up his handbag, and made for the entrance. He was the first pa.s.senger from the Washington Limited to reach the street and spring into a taxi.

"The Plaza Hotel," he ordered. "Get along."

They arrived at the Plaza in less than ten minutes. Mr. Fischer tipped the driver lavishly, suffered the hall porter to take his bag, returned his greeting mechanically, and walked with swift haste to the tape machine. He held up the strips with shaking fingers, dropped them again, hurried to the lift, and entered his rooms. Nikasti was in the sitting-room, arranging some flowers. Fischer did not even stop to reply to his reverential greeting.

"Where's Mr. Van Teyl?" he demanded.

"Mr. Van Teyl has gone away, sir," was the calm reply. "He left here the day before yesterday. There is a letter."

Fischer took no notice. He was already gripping the telephone receiver.

"982, Wall," he said--"an urgent call."

He stood waiting, his face an epitome of breathless suspense. Soon a voice answered him.

"That the office of Neville, Brooks and Van Teyl?" he demanded. "Yes!

Put me through to Mr. Van Teyl. Urgent!"

Another few seconds of waiting, then once more he bent over the instrument.

"That you, Van Teyl?... Yes, Fischer speaking. Oh, never mind about that! Listen. What price are Anglo-French?... No, say about what?...

Ninety-five?... Sell me a hundred thousand.... What's that?... What?...

Of course it's a big deal! Never mind that. I'm good enough, aren't I?

There'll be no rise that'll wipe out half a million dollars. I've got that lying in cash at Guggenheimer's. If you need the money, I'll bring it you in half an hour. Get out into the market and sell. d.a.m.n you, what's it matter about news! Right! Sorry, Jim. See you later."

Fischer put down the telephone and wiped his forehead. Notwithstanding the fatigue in his face, there was a glint of triumph there. He laid his hand upon Nikasti's shoulder.

"My friend," he said, "there's big proof coming of what I said to you the other day. You'll find that letter you carry will mean a different thing now. There's news in the air."

"There has been a great battle, perhaps?" Nikasti asked slowly.

"All that is to be known you will hear before evening," Fischer replied. "Tell some one to send me some coffee. I have come through from Washington. I am tired."

He sank a little abruptly into an easy-chair, took off his spectacles, and leaned his head back upon the cushions. In the sunlight his face was almost ghastly. A queer sense of weakness had suddenly a.s.sailed him. His mind flitted back through a vista of sleepless nights, of strenuous days, of pa.s.sions held in leash, excitement ground down.

"I am tired," he said. "Telephone down to the office, Nikasti, for a doctor."

Nikasti obeyed, and his summons was promptly answered. The doctor who arrived was pleasantly but ominously grave. In the middle of his examination the telephone rang. Fischer, without ceremony, moved to the receiver. It was Van Teyl speaking.

"I've sold your hundred thousand Anglo-French," he announced. "It's done the whole market in, though--knocked the bottom out of it. They've fallen a point and a half. Shall I begin to buy back for you? You'll make a bit."

"Not a share," Fischer answered fiercely. "Wait!"

"Have you any news you're keeping up your sleeve?" Van Teyl persisted.

"If I have, it's my own affair," was the curt reply, "and I don't tell news over the telephone, anyway. Watch the market, and go on selling where you can."

"I shall do as you order," Van Teyl replied, "but you're all against the general tone here. By the bye, you got my letter?"