DR. LAFFIN’S OFFER
“I hope,” said Mr. Marsh, unconsciously paraphrasing the remarks of
a great literary character, “I hope I don’t intrude?”
“Come in, Mr. Marsh,” said La Florette, reacting instantly to the
admiring glance of the newcomer. “My mater and I were having a little
pow-wow.”
“If it’s a family conference--” began Toby, with gentlemanly
delicacy.
“No--come in. Mother and I were discussing ways and means. You’ll
quite understand my position; naturally I don’t wish mater to take
boarders, not ordinary boarders; I shouldn’t like people in my set to
know that she took boarders at all.”
“Naturally,” murmured the lodger.
“But this is what they call in the newspapers the age of--what is the
word? It begins with D?”
“Democracy?” suggested Toby correctly.
“That’s the word; we’ve got to do something to keep the wolf from the
door. The mater says that you wouldn’t like to see another boarder
here?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I shouldn’t,” he said. “Being in the
Government service” (this was Toby Marsh’s favourite piece of
fiction) “a sort of secret service, if you understand, I couldn’t
afford to have anybody prying and spying around my documents. And
another thing, Miss Florette, you can trust me, being a man of
discretion, if I may use the expression, but could you trust some
stranger…? I shouldn’t like to know that anybody went round saying
that he was boarding with the great La Florette’s mother.”
Florette bit her lip thoughtfully. She was interested in other
matters, yet gave the impression of being wholly absorbed in this
domestic problem.
“I think you’re right, Mr. Marsh,” she said at last, with a dazzling
smile. “It wouldn’t be a good thing. Please think no more about it.”
As soon as she could get away from the house she hurried back to Van
Campe, her confidant in most matters, though she had decided in the
present case to keep her own counsel. Still, he might help.
She got back to the theatre where he had his office, and, opening the
door without knocking, walked in--and stopped. Mr. Van Campe had a
visitor. A funereal figure rose slowly from the table and turned his
dark eyes upon her, and for a second she was nonplussed.
“Why--why, Dr. Laffin!” she stammered. “I didn’t expect to find you
here.”
“I have been talking to Mr. Van Campe,” he said, “and, curiously
enough, young lady, about your good self.”
“About me?”
In her surprise she forgot her tremendous discovery.
“Is zat so?” she lisped, returning to her public rôle of exiled
Frenchwoman. “Zat is extraordinaire!”
Laffin was looking at her thoughtfully.
“You may think that the suggestion I have made to Mr. Van Campe is
fantastical, bizarre, but I beg that you will not too lightly dismiss
the scheme I have put before our friend.”
Before she realised that he was on the point of departure, with a
little nod he was gone.
“What was he doing here?” she asked, when the door had closed upon
the visitor. “And what is this scheme of his?”
“I can’t understand that guy,” he said. “He came in to see me about
getting an engagement for Carew, and I told him frankly that I was
thinking of putting you into the cast--which of course I’m not--and
that there wasn’t room in the same theatre for you and the girl. I
bragged a bit about your Continental reputation, and told him you
mixed with the best people in town. In fact, I happened to mention
that you dined last night with those two men from the Treasury. And
then, before I knew what was happening, he had asked me whether I
thought you would help him in a scheme of his.”
“A scheme?” she said, frowning. “What is it--a theatrical scheme?”
“No, that’s the funny thing about it,” said Van Campe, shaking his
head. “He wants to take a furnished house in the West End--he
suggested Portman Place--put you into it, make you an unlimited
allowance, the idea being that you give parties.”
“To which he shall be invited, I suppose?” said La Florette
sarcastically. “Nothing doing, Campe!”
“No, he didn’t even ask that,” said Van Campe. “In fact, he told me
he would not ask to be received. He said all that he wanted was a
little information about the stock market which might come to you.”
“He’s crazy, if that’s all he wants,” she said. “I can give him a
whole lot of information that I got out of this morning’s papers!”
Van Campe was looking thoughtful.
“I didn’t like it at first,” he said, “but the more I think of it,
the bigger opportunity it seems. You are badly in need of boost, and
that kind of social boost is the best thing that can come to you.
Besides which, there’s nothing unusual in his suggestion. I know a
family, and a good class family, too, that is supported by a
stockbroker for the information they can collect from their parties.
Think it over.” And then: “What brought you here so late at night?”
She immediately recalled the object of her visit.
“Campe, you know everybody in town--who is Leiff Stone?”
“Leiff Stone? The name seems familiar. There’s a Lambert Stone, an
American millionaire who is a friend of De Fell’s. But Leiff is a new
one on me. Why?”
She was not prepared to enlighten him apparently.
“Couldn’t you ask De Fell? He knows the American crowd very well, and
if he’s a friend of Lambert Stone, he’d get to find out. Maybe it is
some relation?”
Van Campe jotted down the name on his blotting-pad, and nodded.
“I’ll see him in the morning,” he said; “and now, if you don’t mind,
I’ve got an hour’s work to do before I can leave this darned office.
I’ve had the police here all day, making inquiries about that street
murder.”
“Here?” she said, in amazement.
“Yes; it appears that the murdered man called at the stage door this
morning to see Carew, and found her. She’d come to the theatre for her
make-up box. I was telling Laffin about it, but that didn’t mean
anything to him. I guess he wouldn’t really worry if the girl was
pinched.”
“I know somebody else who feels exactly the same way,” said La
Florette grimly.