"We sha'n't be intolerably crowded here, Phil," remarked Fordham, as
they sat down to _table d'hote_. "It's early in the season yet, you
see."
But although the long tables running round the fine dining-hall--the
latter occupying the whole ground-floor of one wing--were only laid
half-way down the room, yet there was a good concourse flowing in.
Portly matrons with bevies of daughters, clergymen and clergywomen with
or without daughters, spectacled old maids hunting in couples, an
undergraduate or two abroad for the "Long," here and there a long-haired
German, and a sprinkling of white-whiskered Anglo-Indians, by the time
they had all taken their seats, constituted a gathering little short of
threescore persons. A pretty cheerful gathering, too, judging from the
clatter of tongues; for the Briton abroad is a wholly expansive animal,
and as great a contrast to his or her--especially her--starch and
buckram personality at home as the precept of the average professor of
faith and morals is to his practice.
Our two friends found themselves at the transverse table at the lower
end of the room, with their backs to the bulk of the diners. But in
front of them were the open windows, no small advantage in a room full
of dining fellow-creatures. The sunset glow fell redly on the purple
heads of the Savoy Alps, and the thick, heavy perfume of narcissus came
floating in, triumphing over the savoury odours of fleshpots.
The room had just settled down steadily to work through the _menu_ when
Phil's neighbour, a lady of uncertain age with spinster writ large,
opened fire upon him in this wise:
"How very thick the scent of the narcissus is this evening."
"It is. A sort of Rimmel's shop turned loose in the Alps."
"But such a heavy perfume must be very unhealthy, must it not?"
"Possibly."
"But don't you think it must be?"
"I really can't give an opinion. You see, I don't know anything about
the matter," replied Phil, good-humouredly, and in something like
desperation as the blank truth dawned upon him that he was located next
to a bore of the first water, and the worst kind of bore at that--the
bore feminine. His persecutor went on:
"But they say that flowers too strongly scented are very unhealthy in a
room, don't they?"
"Do they? I don't know. But, after all, these are not in the room;
they are outside."
"But don't you think it comes to the same thing?" Heavens! What was to
be the end of this? Instinctively he stole a glance at Fordham, but
that worthy's impassive countenance betrayed nothing, unless it were the
faintest possible appreciation, in his grim, saturnine way, of the
humour of the thing. He mumbled something not very intelligible by way
of reply, and applied himself with extra vigour to the prime duty of the
gathering. But he was not to escape so easily.
The lady was intently scrutinising the _menu_. Then to Phil:
"Don't you think _ferras_ is an extremely bony fish?"
This was too much even for Fordham. The corners of his mouth dropped
perceptibly, and a faintly audible chuckle escaped him.
"I--I--'pon my life I don't know," stuttered poor Phil. "The fact is I
never knew the scheme of creation comprised such a fish."
"Didn't you really? How very odd. But do you really mean it though?"
"Oh, yes; it's a fact," he declared, wearily.
"Ah! they are bringing it round now. You will soon be able to give me
your opinion."
Phil was deciding that he would die rather than prosecute any
investigations into the osseously reputed _ferras_, and was on the point
of asserting that he loathed the whole finny race, when a diversion
occurred. Three chairs opposite had remained vacant, and into these
three persons were now seating themselves. Looking up suddenly, Phil
found himself face to face with the girl who had so strongly attracted
his attention on board the _Mont Blanc_.
The old couple were her parents, of course, he decided straight out of
hand. Military and Indian, he went on, pursuing his verdict, and a
fine-looking old man. The elder lady seemed in frail health. Of course
they were the girl's parents--not a doubt about it. But what a piece of
luck! She to be his _vis-a-vis_ at the table! He quite forgot the
existence of the exemplary bore at his elbow, now.
The girl herself, as soon as she was seated, sent a searching glance all
down the room, as if appraising the style of people who were to be their
fellow-sojourners. This he noted; also her perfect and graceful
self-possession. But for all the interest taken in the new arrivals by
Fordham, they might just as well not have come in.
Dinner was more than half through, and still he had found no opportunity
of utilising the pleasant unconventionality afforded by the _table
d'hote_ system. If only they had been next to him; but being opposite
tended to hinder matters. He could not even volunteer the salt or the
mustard, and under cover of that flimsy advance work up a conversation,
for both those condiments--and everything needful--were as lavishly
supplied on the other side of the table as on his own. What the deuce
was he to say? For once in his life, easy-going Philip Orlebar felt his
normal stock of assurance fail him.
"Alma, child," the elder lady was saying in a low tone, but audible
across the table, "hadn't you better change places with your uncle and
come next to me? I don't think he ought to sit with his back to the
window."
"Not her parents, by Jove!" thought Phil. "`Alma.' That's a name I
never heard before."
"'Tisn't that," grumbled the veteran, before his niece could reply.
"There's no draught--none at all. But what the deuce do they mean by
sticking us up in this corner with our backs to the view? I don't want
to look at a lot of other animals feeding. I want to get the benefit of
the mountains opposite, and the sunsets and all that."
"But, uncle," struck in the girl--and Phil noted that she had a sweet
voice, beautifully modulated and clear--"we can look at the mountains
opposite all day long, but this grand opportunity of studying a
considerable collection of our fellow-creatures all off their guard is
only vouchsafed at _table d'hote_ time. And I was just congratulating
myself on having the whole population in front of me."
"Pooh-pooh, child! When you get to my age you'll have had quite enough
of studying your fellow-creatures--more than enough, I'll lay a guinea.
And confound it, we come to this country to study Nature," added the old
man, relapsing into his original growl.
Now this conversation, though carried on in a low tone, was distinctly
audible across the table--a fact of which the parties to it should have
been aware but for that inconceivable fatuity peculiar to our
fellow-countrymen when abroad, a conviction that everybody but
themselves is either deaf or afflicted with an opacity of understanding
which could hardly exist outside an asylum for imbeciles. So they were
not a little surprised and slightly perturbed when Fordham, looking up,
said quietly:
"If you will allow me, sir, I shall be happy to exchange seats. It is
perfectly immaterial to me which way I face."
The trio looked astonished, but the relief on one countenance could
hardly dissemble itself.
"Er--you are very kind," stuttered the veteran. "But--er--really--I
hardly like--er--unfair advantage to take of your good-nature."
"It is kind of you, indeed," struck in the old lady, somewhat hurriedly,
as though she feared the offer would be allowed to drop. "But the fact
is the General never can bear to sit with his back to the light. And,
if it is really all the same to you--"
"It is, I assure you. I am delighted to be of service. So I'll mention
the matter to the head waiter, and you may consider it settled."
The girl was placed between her uncle and aunt. This change would
result in Fordham being placed next to her. "What the deuce is the
fellow driving at now?" thought Philip, in mingled wrath and alarm.
Then it dawned upon him that his friend was driving at nothing less than
the securing of that coveted position for him, Philip. "Good old
Fordham! What a brick he is!" he mentally resolved, with a glow at his
heart. "Best fellow that ever lived, by Jove?"
But the ice thus broken, our two friends and the new arrivals were soon
chatting away as if they had known each other for at least some time.
"I noticed you on board the _Mont Blanc_ this afternoon," said Phil to
the old General, with magnificent mendacity--the fact being that he was
unaware of that veteran's very existence. "But you didn't land at
Montreux, did you?"
"No. We went on to Territet. The ladies drove, with the luggage. I
took the funicular railway up to Glion and walked the rest."
"Don't you think that Glion railway is very dangerous?" struck in
Philip's neighbour, seeing her opportunity.
"Oh, dear no. Perfectly safe, they tell me," answered the old
gentleman. "I daresay, though, it's rather a trying affair for you
ladies, finding yourselves let straight down the steep side of a
mountain in a thing for all the world like a bucket in a well."
"But don't you think it may one of these days come to grief?" pursued
the Infliction.
"But, my dear madam, just consider the number of times it has gone up
and down in perfect safety."
"Ah, but don't you think it may break down just that one time you may
happen to be in it?"
It was dreadful. The octopus-like tenacity of this bore was enough to
paralyse the most mercurial. There fell a kind of languid despair upon
the countenances of the group, and each looked helplessly at the other,
as if to ascertain who was equal to the titanic task of warding off this
terrible person. But, meeting the large eyes of his _vis-a-vis_, Phil
at any rate found comfort. They would have something to laugh at
between them, anyway.
"Here! I say--you! What are you doing?" called out Fordham, as at that
moment a waiter came bustling up and began to shut the window.
"I shut de window, sir. Dere is one German gentleman at de oder end of
de room say dat de window must be shut."
"Oh, indeed! Well, then, give my compliments to the one German
gentleman at the other end of the room and tell him the window won't be
shut. We'll see him in Halifax first."
The waiter paused a moment, then skipped away to deliver the message.
"Confound the fellow's cheek!" cried Philip, indignantly. "Likely we
are going to have our window bossed by some cadaverous brass-band player
at the other end of the room."
And one and all in the vicinity of the disputed window seconded, in
varying terms, his protest.
Just then the waiter reappeared.
"Ver' sorry, sir; but de German gentleman say it must be shut."
"Does he?" said Fordham. "Well, look here. Tell him--this time without
my compliments--that there are a few people at this end of the room
whose convenience is of as much importance as his own, and that they are
equally resolved that this window shall stand open. There--leave it
alone. If you do shut it we shall open it again at once."
The waiter paused again very irresolute, shrugged his shoulders,
smirked, shrugged his shoulders again, then skipped away. Watching him,
they had no difficulty in locating the offender--a lank-haired
bespectacled Teuton occupying the remotest possible seat from the window
in dispute. He, in wrath, vehemently evoked the proprietor, who,
however, at that moment was not on hand.
"That Battle of the Windows is an oft-recurring phase of hotel life out
here," remarked Fordham. "No man is more absolutely unprejudiced
against Continental nationalities than myself: yet it is a fact that
whenever there is anything like a respectable sprinkling of Germans or
Frenchmen in these hotels, they invariably insist upon having the room
hermetically sealed all through dinner-time."
"The deuce they do!" growled the old General. "But do you mean to tell
me, sir, that a few of these unbarbered music-masters are going to cram
their confounded love of fustiness down our throats?"
"Well, I've seen more than one lively episode over that window
question," replied Fordham. "And the fact of that one fellow trying it
on just now is sufficient proof that the tradition exists--and exists
pretty strongly too."
"But don't you think they may perhaps, after all, be more susceptible to
cold than we English?" struck in the Infliction.
"Undoubtedly," assented Fordham, blandly, preparing to beat a retreat
from the table under cover of his reply, for the dessert had already
gone round, and the room was emptying fast.
"By Jove, Fordham, but isn't it a deuced rum thing they should have
turned up here?" said Phil, as the two made their way to the _promenoir_
for a cigar.
"_She_, I suppose you mean. No, it isn't particularly rum. I knew they
were bound here all along."
"What--on board the steamer? No. How did you know?"
"Oh, while you were taking particular stock of the chick, I happened to
overhear tags of the old birds' conversation," said Fordham, acidly, as
if the subject bored him.
"Well, and why didn't you tell a fellow?"
"Why didn't I? Hang it all, it's bad form to repeat what you hear by
accident, you know. Besides, it was rather sport to watch your face
under the pleasant little surprise."
"Oh, that be hanged for a yarn?" cried Philip, impatiently. "But I say,
who are they, I wonder? What's their name?"
"Don't know. Easily found out though."
"But how?"
"Why, go and look at the arrival book in the _bureau_. I'll wait for
you here. I'm not interested in the matter."
Away went Philip without a word. Turning the pages of the book, the
last entry of all, freshly made, read:
"_Major-General and Mrs Wyatt_."
"_Miss Wyatt_."