Part 15 (2/2)

”Conroy,” I said, ”is coming here to stay with me next Tuesday.”

”How splendid!” said G.o.dfrey. ”I say, Excellency, you will ask me up to dinner every night he's here, won't you?”

”I thought,” I said, ”that you wouldn't like to meet Conroy.”

”Of course I'd like to meet him. He might give me a job of some kind or get me one. A man like that with millions of money must have plenty of jobs to give away.”

When G.o.dfrey speaks of a job he means a salary. Nearly everybody does.

”If I can only get the chance of making myself agreeable to him,” said G.o.dfrey, ”I'm sure I'll be able to get something out of him.”

”I'm surprised,” I said, ”at your wanting to meet him at all. After the post-card he wrote you--”

”Oh, I don't mind that in the least,” said G.o.dfrey. ”I never take offence.”

This is, indeed, one of G.o.dfrey's chief vices. He never does take offence. It was Talleyrand, I think, who said that no man need ever get angry about anything said by a woman or a bishop. G.o.dfrey improves on this philosophy. He never gets angry with any one except those whom he regards as his inferiors.

”It would be a good opportunity,” said G.o.dfrey, ”for your second menagerie party. We've only had one this year. I expect it would amuse Conroy.”

”I'm nearly sure it wouldn't.”

”We'll have to do something in the way of entertaining while he's here,” said G.o.dfrey. ”I suppose you'll have the Moynes over to dinner?”

I knew that the Moynes were in London, so I told G.o.dfrey that he could write and ask them if he liked. I tried to be firm in my opposition to the garden-party, but G.o.dfrey wore me down. It was fixed for Wednesday, and invitations were sent out. I discovered afterwards that G.o.dfrey told his particular friends that they were to have the honour of meeting a real millionaire. In the case of the Pringles he went so far as to hint that Conroy was very likely to give him a lucrative post. On the strength of this expectation, Pringle, who is an easy man to deceive, allowed G.o.dfrey to cash a cheque for 10.

Conroy arrived on Sunday afternoon, travelling, as a millionaire should, in a motor car. G.o.dfrey dined with us that night, and made himself as agreeable as he could. Conroy had, apparently, forgotten all about the post-card. I did not get a minute alone with my guest that night and so could do nothing about the peerage. I thought of approaching him on the subject next morning after breakfast, though that is not a good hour for delicate negotiations. But even if I had been willing to attack him then, I hardly had the chance. G.o.dfrey was up with us at half-past ten. He wanted to take Conroy on a personally conducted tour round the objects of interest in the neighbourhood.

Conroy said he wanted to go to the house of a man called Crossan who lived somewhere near us, and would be very glad if G.o.dfrey would act as guide. It is a remarkable proof of G.o.dfrey's great respect for millionaires that he consented to show Conroy the way to Crossan's house. They went off together, and I saw no more of Conroy till dinner-time.

He deliberately avoided my garden-party, although G.o.dfrey had explained to him the night before that my guests would be ”quite the funniest lot of bounders to be found anywhere.”

The Pringles must have been disappointed at not meeting Conroy. Miss Pringle, whose name I found out was Tottie, looked quite pretty in a pink dress, and smiled almost as nicely as she did when Bob Power took her to gather strawberries. Mrs. Pringle asked G.o.dfrey to dine with them that night, and Tottie looked at him out of the corner of her eyes so as to show him that she would be pleased if he accepted the invitation. Pringle himself joined in pressing G.o.dfrey. I suppose he must really have believed in the salary which G.o.dfrey expected to get from Conroy.

G.o.dfrey promised to dine with them. He explained his position to me afterwards.

”I needn't tell you, Excellency,” he said, ”that I don't want to go there. I shall get a rotten bad dinner and Mrs. Pringle is a rank outsider.”

”Miss Pringle,” I said, ”seems a pleasant girl. She's certainly pretty.”

”Poor little Tottie!” said G.o.dfrey. ”That sort of girl isn't bad fun sometimes; but I wouldn't put up with boiled mutton just for the sake of a kiss or two from her. The fact is--”

”Your banking account,” I said.

”That's it,” said G.o.dfrey. ”Pringle's directors have been writing rather nasty letters lately. It's perfectly all right, of course, and I told him so; but all the same it's better to accept his invitation.”

G.o.dfrey is the most unmitigated blackguard I've ever met.

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