Chapter 10

When Sam had left, which he did rather in the manner of a heavy

father in melodrama, shaking the dust of an erring son's threshold

off his feet, I mixed myself a high-ball, and sat down to consider

the position of affairs. It did not take me long to see that the

infernal boy had double-crossed me with a smooth effectiveness

which Mr Fisher himself might have envied. Somewhere in this great

city, as Sam had observed, he was hiding. But where? London is a

vague address.

I wondered what steps Sam was taking. Was there some underground

secret service bureau to which persons of his profession had

access? I doubted it. I imagined that he, as I proposed to do, was

drawing the city at a venture in the hope of flushing the quarry

by accident. Yet such was the impression he had made upon me as a

man of resource and sagacity, that I did not relish the idea of

his getting a start on me, even in a venture so uncertain as this.

My imagination began to picture him miraculously inspired in the

search, and such was the vividness of the vision that I jumped up

from my chair, resolved to get on the trail at once. It was

hopelessly late, however, and I did not anticipate that I should

meet with any success.

Nor did I. For two hours and a half I tramped the streets, my

spirits sinking more and more under the influence of failure and a

blend of snow and sleet which had begun to fall; and then, tired

out, I went back to my rooms, and climbed sorrowfully into bed.

It was odd to wake up and realize that I was in London. Years

seemed to have passed since I had left it. Time is a thing of

emotions, not of hours and minutes, and I had certainly packed a

considerable number of emotional moments into my stay at Sanstead

House. I lay in bed, reviewing the past, while Smith, with a

cheerful clatter of crockery, prepared my breakfast in the next

room.

A curious lethargy had succeeded the feverish energy of the

previous night. More than ever the impossibility of finding the

needle in this human bundle of hay oppressed me. No one is

optimistic before breakfast, and I regarded the future with dull

resignation, turning my thoughts from it after a while to the

past. But the past meant Audrey, and to think of Audrey hurt.

It seemed curious to me that in a life of thirty years I should

have been able to find, among the hundreds of women I had met,

only one capable of creating in me that disquieting welter of

emotions which is called love, and hard that that one should

reciprocate my feeling only to the extent of the mild liking which

Audrey entertained for me.

I tried to analyse her qualifications for the place she held in my

heart. I had known women who had attracted me more physically, and

women who had attracted me more mentally. I had known wiser women,

handsomer women, more amiable women, but none of them had affected

me like Audrey. The problem was inexplicable. Any idea that we

might be affinities, soul-mates destined for each other from the

beginning of time, was disposed of by the fact that my attraction

for her was apparently in inverse ratio to hers for me. For

possibly the millionth time in the past five years I tried to

picture in my mind the man Sheridan, that shadowy wooer to whom

she had yielded so readily. What quality had he possessed that I

did not? Wherein lay the magnetism that had brought about his

triumph?

These were unprofitable speculations. I laid them aside until the

next occasion when I should feel disposed for self-torture, and

got out of bed. A bath and breakfast braced me up, and I left the

house in a reasonably cheerful frame of mind.

To search at random for an individual unit among London's millions

lends an undeniable attraction to a day in town. In a desultory

way I pursued my investigations through the morning and afternoon,

but neither of Ogden nor of his young friend Lord Beckford was I

vouchsafed a glimpse. My consolation was that Smooth Sam was

probably being equally unsuccessful.

Towards the evening there arose the question of return to

Sanstead. I had not gathered whether Mr Abney had intended to set

any time-limit on my wanderings, or whether I was not supposed to

come back except with the deserters. I decided that I had better

remain in London, at any rate for another night, and went to the

nearest post office to send Mr Abney a telegram to that effect.

As I was writing it, the problem which had baffled me for twenty-four

hours, solved itself in under a minute. Whether my powers of

inductive reasoning had been under a cloud since I left Sanstead,

or whether they were normally beneath contempt, I do not know. But

the fact remains, that I had completely overlooked the obvious

solution of my difficulty. I think I must have been thinking so

exclusively of the Little Nugget that I had entirely forgotten the

existence of Augustus Beckford. It occurred to me now that, by

making inquiries at the latter's house, I should learn something

to my advantage. A boy of the Augustus type does not run away from

school without a reason. Probably some party was taking place

tonight at the ancestral home, at which, tempted by the lawless

Nugget, he had decided that his presence was necessary.

I knew the house well. There had been a time, when Lord Mountry

and I were at Oxford, when I had spent frequent week-ends there.

Since then, owing to being abroad, I had seen little of the

family. Now was the moment to reintroduce myself. I hailed a cab.

Inductive reasoning had not played me false. There was a red

carpet outside the house, and from within came the sounds of

music.

Lady Wroxham, the mother of Mountry and the vanishing Augustus,

was one of those women who take things as they come. She did not

seem surprised at seeing me.

'How nice of you to come and see us,' she said. 'Somebody told me

you were abroad. Ted is in the south of France in the yacht.

Augustus is here. Mr Abney, his schoolmaster, let him come up for

the night.'

I perceived that Augustus had been playing a bold game. I saw the

coaching of Ogden behind these dashing falsehoods.

'You will hardly remember Sybil. She was quite a baby when you

were here last. She is having her birthday-party this evening.'

'May I go in and help?' I said.

'I wish you would. They would love it.'

I doubted it, but went in. A dance had just finished. Strolling

towards me in his tightest Eton suit, his face shining with honest

joy, was the errant Augustus, and close behind him, wearing the

blase' air of one for whom custom has staled the pleasures of life,

was the Little Nugget.

I think they both saw me at the same moment. The effect of my

appearance on them was illustrative of their respective characters.

Augustus turned a deep shade of purple and fixed me with a

horrified stare. The Nugget winked. Augustus halted and shuffled

his feet. The Nugget strolled up and accosted me like an old

friend.

'Hello!' he said. 'How did you get here? Say, I was going to try

and get you on the phone some old time and explain things. I've

been pretty much on the jump since I hit London.'

'You little brute!'

My gleaming eye, travelling past him, met that of the Hon.

Augustus Beckford, causing that youth to jump guiltily. The Nugget

looked over his shoulder.

'I guess we don't want him around if we're to talk business,' he

said. 'I'll go and tell him to beat it.'

'You'll do nothing of the kind. I don't propose to lose sight of

either of you.'

'Oh, he's all right. You don't have to worry about him. He was

going back to the school anyway tomorrow. He only ran away to go

to this party. Why not let him enjoy himself while he's here? I'll

go and make a date for you to meet at the end of the show.'

He approached his friend, and a short colloquy ensued, which ended

in the latter shuffling off in the direction of the other

revellers. Such is the buoyancy of youth that a moment later he

was dancing a two-step with every appearance of careless enjoyment.

The future, with its storms, seemed to have slipped from his mind.

'That's all right,' said the Nugget, returning to me. 'He's

promised he won't duck away. You'll find him somewhere around

whenever you care to look for him. Now we can talk.'

'I hardly like to trespass on your valuable time,' I said. The

airy way in which this demon boy handled what should have been--to

him--an embarrassing situation irritated me. For all the authority

I seemed to have over him I might have been the potted palm

against which he was leaning.

'That's all right.' Everything appeared to be all right with him.

'This sort of thing does not appeal to me. Don't be afraid of

spoiling my evening. I only came because Becky was so set on it.

Dancing bores me pallid, so let's get somewhere where we can sit

down and talk.'

I was beginning to feel that a children's party was the right

place for me. Sam Fisher had treated me as a child, and so did the

Little Nugget. That I was a responsible person, well on in my

thirty-first year, with a narrow escape from death and a hopeless

love-affair on my record, seemed to strike neither of them. I

followed my companion to a secluded recess with the utmost

meekness.

He leaned back and crossed his legs.

'Got a cigarette?'

'I have not got a cigarette, and, if I had, I wouldn't give it to

you.'

He regarded me tolerantly.

'Got a grouch tonight, haven't you? You seem all flittered up

about something. What's the trouble? Sore about my not showing up

at your apartment? I'll explain that all right.'

'I shall be glad to listen.'

'It's like this. It suddenly occurred to me that a day or two one

way or the other wasn't going to affect our deal and that, while I

was about it, I might just as well see a bit of London before I

left. I suggested it to Becky, and the idea made the biggest kind

of a hit with him. I found he had only been in an automobile once

in his life. Can you beat it? I've had one of my own ever since

I was a kid. Well, naturally, it was up to me to blow him to a

joy-ride, and that's where the money went.'

'Where the money went?'

'Sure. I've got two dollars left, and that's all. It wasn't

altogether the automobiling. It was the meals that got away with

my roll. Say, that kid Beckford is one swell feeder. He's wrapping

himself around the eats all the time. I guess it's not smoking

that does it. I haven't the appetite I used to have. Well, that's

how it was, you see. But I'm through now. Cough up the fare and

I'll make the trip tomorrow. Mother'll be tickled to death to see

me.'

'She won't see you. We're going back to the school tomorrow.'

He looked at me incredulously.

'What's that? Going back to school?'

'I've altered my plans.'

'I'm not going back to any old school. You daren't take me.

Where'll you be if I tell the hot-air merchant about our deal and

you slipping me the money and all that?'

'Tell him what you like. He won't believe it.'

He thought this over, and its truth came home to him. The

complacent expression left his face.

'What's the matter with you? Are you dippy, or what? You get me

away up to London, and the first thing that happens when I'm here

is that you want to take me back. You make me tired.'

It was borne in upon me that there was something in his point of

view. My sudden change of mind must have seemed inexplicable to

him. And, having by a miracle succeeded in finding him, I was in a

mood to be generous. I unbent.

'Ogden, old sport,' I said cordially, I think we've both had all

we want of this children's party. You're bored and if I stop on

another half hour I may be called on to entertain these infants

with comic songs. We men of the world are above this sort of

thing. Get your hat and coat and I'll take you to a show. We can

discuss business later over a bit of supper.'

The gloom of his countenance melted into a pleased smile.

'You said something that time!' he observed joyfully; and we slunk

away to get our hats, the best of friends. A note for Augustus

Beckford, requesting his presence at Waterloo Station at ten

minutes past twelve on the following morning, I left with the

butler. There was a certain informality about my methods which I

doubt if Mr Abney would have approved, but I felt that I could

rely on Augustus.

Much may be done by kindness. By the time the curtain fell on the

musical comedy which we had attended all was peace between the

Nugget and myself. Supper cemented our friendship, and we drove

back to my rooms on excellent terms with one another. Half an hour

later he was snoring in the spare room, while I smoked contentedly

before the fire in the sitting-room.

I had not been there five minutes when the bell rang. Smith was in

bed, so I went to the door myself and found Mr Fisher on the mat.

My feeling of benevolence towards all created things, the result

of my successful handling of the Little Nugget, embraced Sam. I

invited him in.

'Well,' I said, when I had given him a cigar and filled his glass,

'and how have you been getting on, Mr Fisher? Any luck?'

He shook his head at me reproachfully.

'Young man, you're deep. I've got to hand it to you. I

underestimated you. You're very deep.'

'Approbation from Smooth Sam Fisher is praise indeed. But why

these stately compliments?'

'You took me in, young man. I don't mind owning it. When you told

me the Nugget had gone astray, I lapped it up like a babe. And all

the time you were putting one over on me. Well, well!'

'But he had gone astray, Mr Fisher.'

He knocked the ash off his cigar. He wore a pained look.

'You needn't keep it up, sonny. I happened to be standing within

three yards of you when you got into a cab with him in Shaftesbury

Avenue.'

I laughed.

'Well, if that's the case, let there be no secrets between us.

He's asleep in the next room.'

Sam leaned forward earnestly and tapped me on the knee.

'Young man, this is a critical moment. This is where, if you

aren't careful, you may undo all the good work you have done by

getting chesty and thinking that, because you've won out so far,

you're the whole show. Believe me, the difficult part is to come,

and it's right here that you need an experienced man to work in

with you. Let me in on this and leave the negotiations with old

man Ford to me. You would only make a mess of them. I've handled

this kind of thing a dozen times, and I know just how to act. You

won't regret taking me on as a partner. You won't lose a cent by

it. I can work him for just double what you would get, even

supposing you didn't make a mess of the deal and get nothing.'

'It's very good of you, but there won't be any negotiations with

Mr Ford. I am taking the boy back to Sanstead, as I told you.' I

caught his pained eye. 'I'm afraid you don't believe me.'

He drew at his cigar without replying.

It is a human weakness to wish to convince those who doubt us,

even if their opinion is not intrinsically valuable. I remembered

that I had Cynthia's letter in my pocket. I produced it as exhibit

A in my evidence and read it to him.

Sam listened carefully.

'I see,' he said. 'Who wrote that?'

'Never mind. A friend of mine.'

I returned the letter to my pocket.

'I was going to have sent him over to Monaco, but I altered my

plans. Something interfered.'

'What?'

'I might call it coincidence, if you know what that means.'

'And you are really going to take him back to the school?'

'I am.'

'We shall travel back together,' he said. 'I had hoped I had seen

the last of the place. The English countryside may be delightful

in the summer, but for winter give me London. However,' he sighed

resignedly, and rose from his chair, 'I will say good-bye till

tomorrow. What train do you catch?'

'Do you mean to say,' I demanded, 'that you have the nerve to come

back to Sanstead after what you have told me about yourself?'

'You entertain some idea of exposing me to Mr Abney? Forget it,

young man. We are both in glass houses. Don't let us throw stones.

Besides, would he believe it? What proof have you?'

I had thought this argument tolerably sound when I had used it on

the Nugget. Now that it was used on myself I realized its

soundness even more thoroughly. My hands were tied.

'Yes,' said Sam, 'tomorrow, after our little jaunt to London, we

shall all resume the quiet, rural life once more.'

He beamed expansively upon me from the doorway.

'However, even the quiet, rural life has its interest. I guess we

shan't be dull!' he said.

I believed him.