Array Sapper - The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile Sapper

"Bismillah!" I murmured, and consumed a cup of cold tea. "Everything shall be as you say." And up to a point it was. I dined with Jim that night, and over the port I told him.

"I've some wonderful news for you, old man. Who do you think I saw this afternoon?"

He sat very still staring at me.

"She's running a hat shop down in Sloane Street. I was in there with Molly today. And she wants to see you, and apologise for the mistake she made that night in Tampico."

"You've seen her, Dick?" he said at length. "Tell me—how does she look?"

"Prettier than ever, as you'll see for yourself tomorrow morning."

For the life of me I couldn't keep my voice quite steady, there was such a wonderful look in old Jim's eyes.

"You're to go round," I went on gruffly, "and you are to bring her to lunch with Molly and me at the Ritz. It's all fixed up. You're to tell her to shut up her shop for the remainder of the day."

He gave a little whimsical smile, and laid his hand on my shoulder as we strolled out of the dining-room.

"Methinks I see the work of one Molly in that arrangement, Dick, my boy. Bless both your hearts! And in the meantime only the old brandy can do justice to the occasion."

And so we fell to yarning till the reproachful eye of the waiter woke us to the fact that the last member had left half an hour previously. They were good years to look back on, those we had spent together, and now he, as well as I, had the wonderful years to look forward to also. So we had one final one, and after that the absolute definite last, and then Jim came with me to the door. Just for a few moments we stood there, and instinctively our eyes went up to the star-studded sky of the soft May night.

"Fine weather, old Dick; fine weather in front. And happy days behind. Surely the world is good."

And with the grip of his hand still on mine I walked back 4 to my own club.

* * * * *

Now what on earth more could I have done than that? I'd given him the address of the hat shop; I'd told him she wanted to see him, and short of taking him there in a taxi and pushing him through the door I fail to see that I deserved the withering contempt poured on me next day by Molly at the Ritz.

"I've got a table for four," I began brightly as I saw her.

"Then you can countermand it," she remarked, "and order one for two. Not that you deserve to have anyone at all to lunch with you, but since I'm hungry I don't mind."

"Good heavens!" I cried, "you don't mean to say they've gone and messed it up?"

Molly gurgled suddenly.

"When you see him you ask him why he doesn't buy his matches wholesale in future. It would save such a lot of time."

"When you've quite finished talking in riddles," I murmured resignedly, "perhaps you'll condescend to explain." Once again she gurgled.

"Oh, Dick, what an angel he is! We were both up in the work-room, watching—"

"What on earth were you doing there?"

"Buying hats, silly, and other things—and talking generally. Suddenly we saw him getting out of a taxi about fifty yards away. Dick—he'd got on a top hat, and he looked too beautiful. He glanced at the numbers of the houses, and then very slowly he started to walk towards the shop. He got slower and slower and finally he stopped altogether. I think the poor darling's collar was a little tight, judging by the way he was fingering it.

"At any rate, that was when he bought his first box of matches. Must have been, because he went into a tobacconist's. However, after about five minutes he emerged—'rapidly crossed the road, strode furiously down the other side as if no such place as Bernie's existed, and bought another box of matches from an old man selling them in the gutter.

"After that he went off for a little ta-ta by himself, because he was not seen for quite five minutes. Then he appeared on our side of the street again, only coming from the other way. My dear, how so many tobacconists pay I don't know. He went to ground in another one; more matches. And then the poor old thing lost his head completely. He rushed straight past the door of the shop, and vanished into the blue. I suppose he'd exhausted the tobacconists in the near neighbourhood.

"Anyway, it was a full quarter of an hour before he appeared again, looking thoroughly grim and determined. In one hand he held a large bunch of flowers which were not in their first youth, and armed with them he advanced to the door. Marie was below—she's the assistant, and she greeted him with her best shop manner.

"Poor lamb! it was too pathetic. We were both just out of sight, listening hard. Was Miss Bernie in? Marie believed so, but she would see. Did Monsieur wish to see her particularly, for at this hour Mademoiselle Bernie was generally busy. My dear, he clutched at it. Horrible coward! It didn't matter at all; he wouldn't dream of worrying Mademoiselle if she was busy. Another time would do just as well. Perhaps Marie would give her these flowers. Then he took out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead: boxes of matches flew in all directions, and he bolted like a maniac to return no more."

"But why didn't Mrs. Blair go out and speak to him?" I demanded indignantly.

"Why didn't she?" said Molly, and of a sudden there came into her eyes a look I had never seen in them before. "Because, my dear, she loves him. And no woman wants the man she loves to see her for the first time when her eyes are wet."

"Oh!" I grunted foolishly. "I see."

"Just tears of joy, Dick, the most wonderful tears in the world. But they're quite as bad for the complexion as the ordinary brand. So when she was sure he wasn't coming back, she just picked up the boxes of matches for a few minutes, and kissed the flowers and put them in water, and then shut up the shop for the day."

"And what happens now?" I asked.

"I shall take the matter in hand myself," she remarked casually. "Though if it wasn't for the fact that I have decided on a double wedding I would let things take their natural course. He richly deserves to be kept on tenterhooks for at least six months after his revolting display of cowardice this morning. But since time is getting short, something has got to be done at once."

She looked at me thoughtfully, and I preserved a discreet silence. I felt that the male sex was not at a premium at the moment.

"At once," repeated Molly, and her eyes were still pensive. "I think—yes, I think you had better take a little motor trip in Sussex, Dick. The car's still going, I suppose."

"I put on a new bit of stamp-paper last night," I said with dignity.

"Good," said Molly. "You will take a little trip in Sussex, and you will bring Jim with you. Take enough clothes for the week-end, and something to bathe in."

"And which particular portion of Sussex am I to go to?"

"It's close to a little place called Angmering," she said.

"A charming bungalow with a strip of garden running down to the sea. I shall be there, and—"

"Mrs. Blair's bungalow," I announced brightly.

"What wonderful brain power!" remarked Molly. "But 'you're not to tell Jim that, or he'll funk it again. Just you bring him down and arrive tomorrow afternoon. Say I'm stopping with my aunt. Now pay the bill and buzz off. You're to keep the patient amused today, but don't let him get feverish."

So I buzzed off to find Jim at his club displaying every symptom of profound melancholia.

"Well," I said, affecting not to notice his anguished expression. "How did you find Mrs. Blair?"

"She was too busy to see me, old boy," he said sheepishly. "She's always too busy in the morning, so I was told."

And then I laughed in his face.

"You confounded old liar!" I cried; "you know perfectly well that you ratted horribly. You were in a pea-green funk and all the traces still remain."