CLARENCE HEARS IMPORTANT NEWS
It was Clarence's custom to leave the office of his newspaper at one
o'clock each day, and lunch at a neighbouring Aerated Bread shop. He
did this on the day following the first appearance of the two generals
at their respective halls. He had brought an early edition of the paper
with him, and in the intervals of dealing with his glass of milk and
scone and butter, he read the report of the performances.
Both, it seemed, had met with flattering receptions, though they had
appeared nervous. The Russian general especially, whose style, said the
critic, was somewhat reminiscent of Mr. T. E. Dunville, had made
himself a great favourite with the gallery. The report concluded by
calling attention once more to the fact that the salaries paid to the
two--eight hundred and seventy-five pounds a week each--established a
record in music-hall history on this side of the Atlantic.
Clarence had just finished this when there came to his ear the faint
note of a tarantula singing to its young.
He looked up. Opposite him, at the next table, was seated a youth of
fifteen, of a slightly grubby aspect. He was eyeing Clarence closely.
Clarence took off his spectacles, polished them, and replaced them on
his nose. As he did so, the thin gruffle of the tarantula sounded once
more. Without changing his expression, Clarence cautiously uttered the
deep snarl of a sand-eel surprised while bathing.
It was sufficient. The other rose to his feet, holding his right hand
on a line with his shoulder, palm to the front, thumb resting on the
nail of the little finger, and the other three fingers upright.
Clarence seized his hat by the brim at the back, and moved it swiftly
twice up and down.
The other, hesitating no longer, came over to his table.
"Pip-pip!" he said, in an undertone.
"Toodleoo and God save the King!" whispered Clarence.
The mystic ceremony which always takes place when two Boy Scouts meet
in public was complete.
"Private Biggs of the Eighteenth Tarantulas, sir," said the boy
respectfully, for he had recognised Clarence.
Clarence inclined his head.
"You may sit, Private Biggs," he said graciously. "You have news to
impart?"
"News, sir, that may be of vital importance."
"Say on."
Private Biggs, who had brought his sparkling limado and a bath-bun with
him from the other table, took a sip of the former, and embarked upon
his narrative.
"I am employed, sir," he said, "as a sort of junior clerk and
office-boy by Mr. Solly Quhayne, the music-hall agent."
Clarence tapped his brow thoughtfully; then his face cleared.
"I remember. It was he who secured the engagements of the generals."
"The same, sir."
"Proceed."
The other resumed his story.
"It is my duty to sit in a sort of rabbit-hutch in the outer office,
take the callers' names, and especially to see that they don't get
through to Mr. Quhayne till he wishes to receive them. That is the most
exacting part of my day's work. You wouldn't believe how full of the
purest swank some of these pros. are. Tell you they've got an
appointment as soon as look at you. Artful beggars!"
Clarence nodded sympathetically.
"This morning an Acrobat and Society Contortionist made such a fuss
that in the end I had to take his card in to the private office. Mr.
Quhayne was there talking to a gentleman whom I recognised as his
brother, Mr. Colquhoun. They were engrossed in their conversation, and
did not notice me for a moment. With no wish to play the eavesdropper,
I could not help but overhear. They were talking about the generals.
'Yes, I know they're press-agented at eight seventy-five, dear boy,' I
heard Mr. Quhayne say, 'but between you and me and the door-knob that
isn't what they're getting. The German feller's drawing five hundred of
the best, but I could only get four-fifty for the Russian. Can't say
why. I should have thought, if anything, he'd be the bigger draw. Bit
of a comic in his way!' And then he saw me. There was some slight
unpleasantness. In fact, I've got the sack. After it was over I came
away to try and find you. It seemed to me that the information might be
of importance."
Clarence's eyes gleamed.
"You have done splendidly, Private--no, _Corporal_ Biggs. Do not
regret your lost position. The society shall find you work. This news
you have brought is of the utmost--the most vital importance. Dash it!"
he cried, unbending in his enthusiasm, "we've got 'em on the hop. If
they aren't biting pieces out of each other in the next day or two, I'm
jolly well mistaken."
He rose; then sat down again.
"Corporal--no, dash it, Sergeant Biggs--you must have something with
me. This is an occasion. The news you have brought me may mean the
salvation of England. What would you like?"
The other saluted joyfully.
"I think I'll have another sparkling limado, thanks, awfully," he said.
The beverage arrived. They raised their glasses.
"To England," said Clarence simply.
"To England," echoed his subordinate.
* * * * *
Clarence left the shop with swift strides, and hurried, deep in
thought, to the offices of the _Encore_ in Wellington Street.
"Yus?" said the office-boy interrogatively.
Clarence gave the Scout's Siquand, the pass-word. The boy's demeanour
changed instantly. He saluted with the utmost respect.
"I wish to see the Editor," said Clarence.
A short speech, but one that meant salvation for the motherland.