Part 23 (2/2)
M. Max inhaled deeply, stared in gla.s.sy fas.h.i.+on, but in no way indicated that he had heard the words.
The valet shook him gently by the shoulder.
”Good morning, sir. Shall I prepare your bath?”
”She is a serpent!” muttered M. Max, tossing one arm weakly above his head... ”all yellow.... But roses are growing in the mud ... of the river!”
”If you will take your bath, sir,” insisted the man in black, ”I shall be ready to shave you when you return.”
”Bath... shave me!”
M. Max began to rub his eyes and to stare uncomprehendingly at the speaker.
”Yes, sir; good morning, sir,”-there was another bow and more rubbing of palms.
”Ah!-of course! Morbleu! This is Paris....”
”No, sir, excuse me, sir, London. Bath hot or cold, sir?”
”Cold,” replied M. Max, struggling upright with apparent difficulty; ”yes,-cold.”
”Very good, sir. Have you brought your own razor, sir?”
”Yes, yes,” muttered Max-”in the bag-in that bag.”
”I will fill the bath, sir.”
The bath being duly filled, M. Max, throwing about his shoulders a magnificent silk kimono which he found upon the armchair, steered a zigzag course to the bathroom. His tooth-brush had been put in place by the attentive valet; there was an abundance of clean towels, soaps, bath salts, with other necessities and luxuries of the toilet. M. Max, following his bath, saw fit to evidence a return to mental clarity; and whilst he was being shaved he sought to enter into conversation with the valet. But the latter was singularly reticent, and again M. Max changed his tactics. He perceived here a golden opportunity which he must not allow to slip through his fingers.
”Would you like to earn a hundred pounds?” he demanded abruptly, gazing into the beady eyes of the man bending over him.
Soames almost dropped the razor. His state of alarm was truly pitiable; he glanced to the right, he glanced to the left, he glanced over his shoulder, up at the ceiling and down at the floor.
”Excuse me, sir,” he said, nervously; ”I don't think I quite understand you, sir?”
”It is quite simple,” replied M. Max. ”I asked you if you had some use for a hundred pounds. Because if you have, I will meet you at any place you like to mention and bring with me cash to that amount!”
”Hush, sir!-for G.o.d's sake, hush, sir!” whispered Soames.
A dew of perspiration was glistening upon his forehead, and it was fortunate that he had finished shaving M. Max, for his hand was trembling furiously. He made a pretense of hurrying with towels, bay rum, and powder spray, but the beady eyes were ever glancing to right and left and all about.
M. Max, who throughout this time had been reflecting, made a second move.
”Another fifty, or possibly another hundred, could be earned as easily,” he said, with a.s.sumed carelessness. ”I may add that this will not be offered again, and... that you will shortly be out of employment, with worse to follow.”
Soames began to exhibit signs of collapse.
”Oh, my G.o.d!” he muttered, ”what shall I do? I can't promise-I can't promise; but I might-I MIGHT look in at the 'Three Nuns' on Friday evening about nine o'clock.”...
He hastily scooped up M. Max's belongings, thrust them into the handbag and closed it. M. Max was now fully dressed and ready to depart. He placed a sovereign in the valet's ready palm.
”That's an appointment,” he said softly.
Said entered and stood bowing in the doorway.
”Good morning, sir, good morning,” muttered Soames, and covertly he wiped the perspiration from his brow with the corner of a towel-”good morning, and thank you very much.”
M. Max, b.u.t.toning his light overcoat in order to conceal the fact that he wore evening dress, entered the corridor, and followed the Egyptian into the cave of the golden dragon. Ho-Pin, sleek and smiling, received him there. Ho-Pin was smoking the inevitable cigarette in the long tube, and, opening the door, he silently led the way up the steps into the covered courtyard, Said following with the hand bag. The limousine stood there, dimly visible in the darkness. Said placed the handbag upon the seat inside, and Ho-Pin a.s.sisted M. Max to enter, closing the door upon him, but leaning through the open window to shake his hand. The Chinaman's hand was icily cold and limp.
”Au wrevoir, my dear fwriend,” he said in his metallic voice. ”I hope to have the pleasure of gwreeting you again vewry shortly.”
With that he pulled up the window from the outside, and the occupant of the limousine found himself in impenetrable darkness; for dark blue blinds covered all the windows. He lay back, endeavoring to determine what should be his next move. The car started with a perfect action, and without the slightest jolt or jar. By reason of the light which suddenly shone in through the c.h.i.n.ks of the blinds, he knew that he was outside the covered courtyard; then he became aware that a sharp turning had been taken to the left, followed almost immediately, by one to the right.
He directed his attention to the blinds.
”Ah! nom d'un nom! they are clever-these!”
The blinds worked in little vertical grooves and had each a tiny lock. The blinds covering the gla.s.s doors on either side were attached to the adjustable windows; so that when Ho-Pin had raised the window, he had also closed the blind! And these windows operated automatically, and defied all M. Max's efforts to open them!
He was effectively boxed in and unable to form the slightest impression of his surroundings. He threw himself back upon the soft cus.h.i.+ons with a muttered curse of vexation; but the mobile mouth was twisted into that wryly humorous smile. Always, M. Max was a philosopher.
At the end of a drive of some twenty-five minutes or less, the car stopped-the door was opened, and the radiant Gianapolis extended both hands to the occupant.
”My dear M. Gaston!” he cried, ”how glad I am to see you looking so well! Hand me your bag, I beg of you!”
M. Max placed the bag in the extended hand of Gianapolis, and leapt out upon the pavement.
”This way, my dear friend!” cried the Greek, grasping him warmly by the arm.
The Frenchman found himself being led along toward the head of the car; and, at the same moment, Said reversed the gear and backed away. M. Max was foiled in his hopes of learning the number of the limousine.
He glanced about him wonderingly.
”You are in Temple Gardens, M. Gaston,” explained the Greek, ”and here, unless I am greatly mistaken, comes a disengaged taxi-cab. You will drive to your hotel?”
”Yes, to my hotel,” replied M. Max.
”And whenever you wish to avail yourself of your privilege, and pay a second visit to the establishment presided over by Mr. Ho-Pin, you remember the number?”
”I remember the number,” replied M. Max.
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