commensurate with his ambitions; therefore, when entering his name and
qualifications in the books of a certain exclusive employment agency
in Mayfair he determined to avail himself, upon this occasion, of
his comparative independence by waiting until kindly Fate should cast
something really satisfactory in his path.
Such an opening occurred very shortly after his first visit to the
agent. He received a card instructing him to call at the office in order
to meet a certain Mr. Gianapolis. Quitting his rooms in Kennington, Mr.
Soames, attired in discreet black, set out to make the acquaintance of
his hypothetical employer.
He found Mr. Gianapolis to be a little and very swarthy man, who held
his head so low as to convey the impression of having a pronounced
stoop; a man whose well-cut clothes and immaculate linen could not
redeem his appearance from a constitutional dirtiness. A jet black
mustache, small, aquiline features, an engaging smile, and very dark
brown eyes, viciously crossed, made up a personality incongruous with
his sheltering silk hat, and calling aloud for a tarboosh and a linen
suit, a shop in a bazaar, or a part in the campaign of commercial
brigandage which, based in the Levant, spreads its ramifications
throughout the Orient, Near and Far.
Mr. Gianapolis had the suave speech and smiling manner. He greeted
Soames not as one greets a prospective servant, but as one welcomes
an esteemed acquaintance. Following a brief chat, he proposed an
adjournment to a neighboring saloon bar; and there, over cocktails, he
conversed with Mr. Soames as one crook with another.
Soames was charmed, fascinated, yet vaguely horrified; for this
man smilingly threw off the cloak of hypocrisy from his companion's
shoulders, and pretended, with the skill of his race, equally to nudify
his own villainy.
“My dear Mr. Soames!” he said, speaking almost perfect English, but with
the sing-song intonation of the Greek, and giving all his syllables
an equal value--“you are the man I am looking for; and I can make your
fortune.”
This was entirely in accordance with Mr. Soames' own views, and he
nodded, respectfully.
“I know,” continued Gianapolis, proffering an excellent Egyptian
cigarette, “that you were cramped in your last situation--that you were
misunderstood”...
Soames, cigarette in hand, suppressed a start, and wondered if he were
turning pale. He selected a match with nervous care.
“The little matter of the silver spoons,” continued Gianapolis, smiling
fraternally, “was perhaps an error of judgment. Although”--patting the
startled Soames upon the shoulder--“they were a legitimate perquisite;
I am not blaming you. But it takes so long to accumulate a really useful
balance in that petty way. Now”--he glanced cautiously about him--“I
can offer you a post under conditions which will place you above the
consideration of silver spoons!”
Soames, hastily finishing his cocktail, sought for words; but
Gianapolis, finishing his own, blandly ordered two more, and, tapping
Soames upon the knee, continued:
“Then that matter of the petty cash, and those trifling irregularities
in the wine-bill, you remember?--when you were with Colonel Hewett in
Nice?”...
Soames gripped the counter hard, staring at the newly arrived cocktail
as though it were hypnotizing him.
“These little matters,” added Gianapolis, appreciatively sipping from
his own glass, “which would weigh heavily against your other references,
in the event of their being mentioned to any prospective employer”...
Soames knew beyond doubt that his face was very pale indeed.
“These little matters, then,” pursued Gianapolis, “all go to prove to ME
that you are a man of enterprise and spirit--that you are the very man
I require. Now I can offer you a post in the establishment of Mr. Henry
Leroux, the novelist. The service will be easy. You will be required
to attend to callers and to wait at table upon special occasions. There
will be no valeting, and you will have undisputed charge of the pantry
and wine-cellar. In short, you will enjoy unusual liberty. The salary,
you would say? It will be the same as that which you received from Mr.
Mapleson”...
Soames raised his head drearily; he felt himself in the toils; he felt
himself a mined man.
“It isn't a salary,” he began, “which”...
“My dear Mr. Soames,” said Gianapolis, tapping him confidentially upon
the knee again--“my dear Soames, it isn't the salary, I admit, which you
enjoyed whilst in the services of Colonel Hewett in a similar capacity.
But this is not a large establishment, and the duties are light.
Furthermore, there will be--extras.”
“Extras?”
Mr. Soames' eye brightened, and under the benignant influence of the
cocktails his courage began to return.
“I do not refer,” smiled Mr. Gianapolis, “to perquisites! The extras
will be monetary. Another two pounds per week”...
“Two pounds!”
“Bringing your salary up to a nice round figure; the additional amount
will be paid to you from another source. You will receive the latter
payment quarterly”...
“From--from”...
“From me!” said Mr. Gianapolis, smiling radiantly. “Now, I know you
are going to accept; that is understood between us. I will give you the
address--Palace Mansions, Westminster--at which you must apply; and I
will tell you what little services will be required from you in return
for this additional emolument.”
Mr. Soames hurriedly finished his second cocktail. Mr. Gianapolis, in
true sporting fashion, kept pace with him and repeated the order.
“You will take charge of the mail!” he whispered softly, one irregular
eye following the movements of the barmaid, and the other fixed almost
fiercely upon the face of Soames. “At certain times--of which you will
be notified in advance--Mrs. Leroux will pay visits to Paris. At such
times, all letters addressed to her, or re-addressed to her, will not
be posted! You will ring me up when such letters come into your
possession--they must ALL come into your possession!--and I will arrange
to meet you, say at the corner of Victoria Street, to receive them. You
understand?”
Mr. Soames understood, and thus far found his plastic conscience
marching in step with his inclinations.
“Then,” resumed Gianapolis, “prior to her departure on these occasions,
Mrs. Leroux will hand you a parcel. This also you will bring to me at
the place arranged. Do you find anything onerous in these conditions?”
“Not at all,” muttered Soames, a trifle unsteadily; “it seems all
right”--the cocktails were beginning to speak now, and his voice was a
duet--“simply perfectly all right--all square.”
“Good!” said Mr. Gianapolis with his radiant smile; and the gaze of
his left eye, crossing that of its neighbor, observed the entrance of a
stranger into the bar. He drew his stool closer and lowered his voice:
“Mrs. Leroux,” he continued, “will be in your confidence. Mr. Leroux and
every one else--EVERY ONE else--must not suspect the arrangement”...
“Certainly--I quite understand”...
“Mrs. Leroux will engage you this afternoon--her husband is a mere
cipher in the household--and you will commence your duties on Monday.
Later in the week, Wednesday or Thursday, we will meet by appointment,
and discuss further details.”
“Where can I see you?”
“Ring up this number: 18642 East, and ask for Mr. King. No! don't
write it down; remember it! I will come to the telephone, and arrange a
meeting.”
Shortly after this, then, the interview concluded; and later in the
afternoon of that day Mr. Soames presented himself at Palace Mansions.
He was received by Mrs. Leroux--a pretty woman with a pathetically weak
mouth. She had fair hair, not very abundant, and large eyes; which,
since they exhibited the unusual phenomenon, in a blonde, of long dark
lashes (Mr. Soames judged their blackness to be natural), would have
been beautiful had they not been of too light a color, too small in the
pupils, and utterly expressionless. Indeed, her whole face lacked
color, as did her personality, and the exquisite tea-gown which she
wore conveyed that odd impression of slovenliness, which is often an
indication of secret vice. She was quite young and indisputably pretty,
but this malproprete, together with a certain aimlessness of manner,
struck an incongruous note; for essentially she was of a type which for
its complement needs vivacity.
Mr. Soames, a man of experience, scented an intrigue and a neglectful
husband. Since he was engaged on the spot without reference to the
invisible Leroux, he was immediately confirmed in the latter part of
his surmise. He departed well satisfied with his affairs, and with
the promise of the future, over which Mr. Gianapolis, the cherubic,
radiantly presided.
XIII
THE DRAFT ON PARIS
For close upon a month Soames performed the duties imposed upon him
in the household of Henry Leroux. He was unable to discover, despite
a careful course of inquiry from the cook and the housemaid, that Mrs.
Leroux frequently absented herself. But the servants were newly engaged,
for the flat in Palace Mansions had only recently been leased by the
Leroux. He gathered that they had formerly lived much abroad, and that
their marriage had taken place in Paris. Mrs. Leroux had been to visit
a friend in the French capital once, he understood, since the housemaid
had been in her employ.
The mistress (said the housemaid) did not care twopence-ha'penny for her
husband; she had married him for his money, and for nothing else. She
had had an earlier love (declared the cook) and was pining away to a
mere shadow because of her painful memories. During the last six months
(the period of the cook's service) Mrs. Leroux had altered out of all
recognition. The cook was of opinion that she drank secretly.
Of Mr. Leroux, Soames formed the poorest opinion. He counted him a
spiritless being, whose world was bounded by his book-shelves, and whose
wife would be a fool if she did not avail herself of the liberty which
his neglect invited her to enjoy. Soames felt himself, not a snake in
the grass, but a benefactor--a friend in need--a champion come to the
defense of an unhappy and persecuted woman.
He wondered when an opportunity should arise which would enable him
to commence his chivalrous operations; almost daily he anticipated
instructions to the effect that Mrs. Leroux would be leaving for Paris
immediately. But the days glided by and the weeks glided by, without
anything occurring to break the monotony of the Leroux household.
Mr. Soames sought an opportunity to express his respectful readiness to
Mrs. Leroux; but the lady was rarely visible outside her own apartments
until late in the day, when she would be engaged in preparing for
the serious business of the evening: one night a dance, another, a
bridge-party; so it went. Mr. Leroux rarely joined her upon these
festive expeditions, but clung to his study like Diogenes to his tub.
Great was Mr. Soames' contempt; bitter were the reproaches of the cook;
dark were the predictions of the housemaid.
At last, however, Soames, feeling himself neglected, seized an
opportunity which offered to cement the secret bond (the TOO secret
bond) existing between himself and the mistress of the house.
Meeting her one afternoon in the lobby, which she was crossing on the
way from her bedroom to the drawing-room, he stood aside to let her
pass, whispering:
“At your service, whenever you are ready, madam!”
It was a non-committal remark, which, if she chose to keep up the
comedy, he could explain away by claiming it to refer to the summoning
of the car from the garage--for Mrs. Leroux was driving out that
afternoon.
She did not endeavor to evade the occult meaning of the words, however.
In the wearily dreamy manner which, when first he had seen her, had
aroused Soames' respectful interest, she raised her thin hand to her
hair, slowly pressing it back from her brow, and directed her big eyes
vacantly upon him.
“Yes, Soames,” she said (her voice had a faraway quality in keeping with
the rest of her personality), “Mr. King speaks well of you. But please
do not refer again to”--she glanced in a manner at once furtive and
sorrowful, in the direction of the study-door--“to the ... little
arrangement of”...
She passed on, with the slow, gliding gait, which, together with her
fragility, sometimes lent her an almost phantomesque appearance.
This was comforting, in its degree; since it proved that the smiling
Gianapolis had in no way misled him (Soames). But as a man of business,
Mr. Soames was not fully satisfied. He selected an evening when Mrs.
Leroux was absent--and indeed she was absent almost every evening, for
Leroux entertained but little. The cook and the housemaid were absent,
also; therefore, to all intents and purposes, Soames had the flat to
himself; since Henry Leroux counted in that establishment, not as an
entity, but rather as a necessary, if unornamental, portion of the
fittings.
Standing in the lobby, Soames raised the telephone receiver, and having
paused with closed eyes preparing the exact form of words in which he
should address his invisible employer, he gave the number: East 18642.
Following a brief delay:--
“Yes,” came a nasal voice, “who is it?”
“Soames! I want to speak to Mr. King!”
The words apparently surprised the man at the other end of the wire, for
he hesitated ere inquiring:--
“What did you say your name was?”
“Soames--Luke Soames.”
“Hold on!”
Soames, with closed eyes, and holding the receiver to his ear, silently
rehearsed again the exact wording of his speech. Then:--
“Hullo!” came another voice--“is that Mr. Soames?”
“Yes! Is that Mr. Gianapolis speaking?”
“It is, my dear Soames!” replied the sing-song voice; and Soames,
closing his eyes again, had before him a mental picture of the radiantly
smiling Greek.
“Yes, my dear Soames,” continued Gianapolis; “here I am. I hope you are
quite well--perfectly well?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you; but as a man of business, it has
occurred to me that failing a proper agreement--which in this case I
know would be impossible--a trifling advance on the first quarter's”...
“On your salary, my dear Soames! On your salary? Payment for the first
quarter shall be made to you to-morrow, my dear Soames! Why ever did you
not express the wish before? Certainly, certainly!”...
“Will it be sent to me?”
“My dear fellow! How absurd you are! Can you get out to-morrow evening
about nine o'clock?”
“Yes, easily.”
“Then I will meet you at the corner of Victoria Street, by the hotel,
and hand you your first quarter's salary. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Perfectly,” said Soames, his small eyes sparkling with avarice. “Most
decidedly, Mr. Gianapolis. Many thanks.”...
“And by the way,” continued the other, “it is rather fortunate that you
rang me up this evening, because it has saved me the trouble of ringing
you up.”
“What?”--Soames' eyes half closed, from the bottom lids upwards:--“there
is something”...
“There is a trifling service which I require of you--yes, my dear
Soames.”
“Is it?”...
“We will discuss the matter to-morrow evening. Oh! it is a mere trifle.
So good-by for the present.”
Soames, with the fingers of his two hands interlocked before him, and
his thumbs twirling rapidly around one another, stood in the lobby,
gazing reflectively at the rug-strewn floor. He was working out in his
mind how handsomely this first payment would show up on the welcome
side of his passbook. Truly, he was fortunate in having met the generous
Gianapolis....
He thought of a trifling indiscretion committed at the expense of one
Mr. Mapleson, and of the wine-bill of Colonel Hewett; and he thought of
the apparently clairvoyant knowledge of the Greek. A cloud momentarily
came between his perceptive and the rosy horizon.
But nearer to the foreground of the mental picture, uprose a left-hand
page of his pass book; and its tidings of great joy, written in clerkly
hand, served to dispel the cloud.
Soames sighed in gentle rapture, and, soft-footed, passed into his own
room.
Certainly his duties were neither difficult nor unpleasant. The mistress
of the house lived apparently in a hazy dream-world of her own, and Mr.
Leroux was the ultimate expression of the non-commercial. Mr. Soames
could have robbed him every day had he desired to do so; but he had
refrained from availing himself even of those perquisites which he
considered justly his; for it was evident, to his limited intelligence,
that greater profit was to be gained by establishing himself in this
household than by weeding-out five shillings here, and half-a-sovereign
there, at the risk of untimely dismissal.
Yet--it was a struggle! All Mr. Soames' commercial instincts were up in
arms against this voice of a greater avarice which counseled abstention.
For instance: he could have added half-a-sovereign a week to his
earnings by means of a simple arrangement with the local wine merchant.
Leroux's cigars he could have sold by the hundreds; for Leroux, when a
friend called, would absently open a new box, entirely forgetful of the
fact that a box from which but two--or at most three--cigars had been
taken, lay already on the bureau.
Mr. Soames, in order to put his theories to the test, had temporarily
abstracted half-a-dozen such boxes from the study and the dining-room
and had hidden them. Leroux, finding, as he supposed, that he was out of
cigars, had simply ordered Soames to get him some more.
“Er--about a dozen boxes--er--Soames,” he had said; “of the same sort!”
Was ever a man of business submitted to such an ordeal? After receiving
those instructions, Soames had sat for close upon an hour in his own
room, contemplating the six broken boxes, containing in all some five
hundred and ninety cigars; but the voice within prevailed; he must court
no chance of losing his situation; therefore, he “discovered” these six
boxes in a cupboard--much to Henry Leroux's surprise!
Then, Leroux regularly sent him to the Charing Cross branch of the
London County and Suburban Bank with open checks! Sometimes, he would be
sent to pay in, at other times to withdraw; the amounts involved varying
from one guinea to 150 pounds! But, as he told himself, on almost every
occasion that he went to Leroux's bank, he was deliberately throwing
money away, deliberately closing his eyes to the good fortune which this
careless and gullible man cast in his path. He observed a scrupulous
honesty in all these dealings, with the result that the bank manager
came to regard him as a valuable and trustworthy servant, and said as
much to the assistant manager, expressing his wonder that Leroux--whose
account occasioned the bank more anxiety, and gave it more work, than
that of any other two depositors--had at last engaged a man who would
keep his business affairs in order!
And these were but a few of the golden apples which Mr. Soames permitted
to slip through his fingers, so steadfast was he in his belief that
Gianapolis would be as good as his word, and make his fortune.
Leroux employed no secretary; and his MSS. were typed at his agent's
office. A most slovenly man in all things, and in business matters
especially, he was the despair, not only of his banker, but of his
broker; he was a man who, in professional parlance, “deserved to be
robbed.” It is improbable that he had any but the haziest ideas, at
any particular time, respecting the state of his bank balance and
investments. He detested the writing of business letters, and was
always at great pains to avoid anything in the nature of a commercial
rendezvous. He would sign any document which his lawyer or his broker
cared to send him, with simple, unquestioned faith.
His bank he never visited, and his appearance was entirely unfamiliar
to the staff. True, the manager knew him slightly, having had two
interviews with him: one when the account was opened, and the second
when Leroux introduced his solicitor and broker--in order that in the
future he might not be troubled in any way with business affairs.
Mr. Soames perceived more and more clearly that the mild deception
projected was unlikely to be discovered by its victim; and, at the
appointed time, he hastened to the corner of Victoria Street, to his
appointment with Gianapolis. The latter was prompt, for Soames perceived
his radiant smile afar off.
The saloon bar of the Red Lion was affably proposed by Mr. Gianapolis
as a suitable spot to discuss the business. Soames agreed, not without
certain inward qualms; for the proximity of the hostelry to New Scotland
Yard was a disquieting circumstance.
However, since Gianapolis affected to treat their negotiations in
the light of perfectly legitimate business, he put up no protest, and
presently found himself seated in a very cozy corner of the saloon bar,
with a glass of whisky-and-soda on a little table before him, bubbling
in a manner which rendered it an agreeable and refreshing sight in the
eyes of Mr. Soames.
“You know,” said Gianapolis, the gaze of his left eye bisecting that
of his right in a most bewildering manner, “they call this 'the 'tec's
tabernacle!'”
“Indeed,” said Soames, without enthusiasm; “I suppose some of the
Scotland Yard men do drop in now and then?”
“Beyond doubt, my dear Soames.”
Soames responded to his companion's radiant smile with a smile of his
own by no means so pleasant to look upon. Soames had the type of face
which, in repose, might be the face of an honest man; but his smile
would have led to his instant arrest on any racecourse in Europe: it was
the smile of a pick-pocket.
“Now,” continued Gianapolis, “here is a quarter's salary in advance.”
From a pocket-book, he took a little brown paper envelope and from the
brown paper envelope counted out four five-pound notes, five golden
sovereigns, one half-sovereign, and ten shillings' worth of silver.
Soames' eyes glittered, delightedly.
“A little informal receipt?” smiled Gianapolis, raising his eyebrows,
satanically. “Here on this page of my notebook I have written: 'Received
from Mr. King for service rendered, 26 pounds, being payment, in
advance, of amount due on 31st October 19--' I have attached a stamp
to the page, as you will see,” continued Gianapolis, “and here is a
fountain-pen. Just sign across the stamp, adding to-day's date.”
Soames complied with willing alacrity; and Gianapolis having carefully
blotted the signature, replaced the notebook in his pocket, and politely
acknowledged the return of the fountain-pen. Soames, glancing furtively
about him, replaced the money in the envelope, and thrust the latter
carefully into a trouser pocket.
“Now,” resumed Gianapolis, “we must not permit our affairs of business
to interfere with our amusements.”
He stepped up to the bar and ordered two more whiskies with soda. These
being sampled, business was resumed.
“To-morrow,” said Gianapolis, leaning forward across the table so that
his face almost touched that of his companion, “you will be entrusted by
Mr. Leroux with a commission.”...
Soames nodded eagerly, his eyes upon the speaker's face.
“You will accompany Mrs. Leroux to the bank,” continued Gianapolis, “in
order that she may write a specimen signature, in the presence of the
manager, for transmission to the Credit Lyonnais in Paris.”...
Soames nearly closed his little eyes in his effort to comprehend.
“A draft in her favor,” continued the Greek, “has been purchased by
Mr. Leroux's bank from the Paris bank, and, on presentation of this, a
checkbook will be issued to Mrs. Leroux by the Credit Lyonnais in Paris
to enable her to draw at her convenience upon that establishment against
the said order. Do you follow me?”
Soames nodded rapidly, eager to exhibit an intelligent grasp of the
situation.
“Now”--Gianapolis lowered his voice impressively--“no one at the Charing
Cross branch of the London County and Suburban Bank has ever seen Mrs.
Leroux!--Oh! we have been careful of that, and we shall be careful in
the future. You are known already as an accredited agent of Leroux;
therefore”--he bent yet closer to Soames' ear--“you will direct the
chauffeur to drop you, not at the Strand entrance, but at the side
entrance. You follow?”
Soames, almost holding his breath, nodded again.