Part 8 (1/2)

”Well, I've been called Tinker ever since I can remember; and one name's as good as another,” said Hildebrand Anne indifferently. ”But you'll let me cross over to Paris with you to-morrow, won't you?”

”I vill not! I vill not! Dere is de danger! De great danger! We must vant de calm dat ees dead! I take no von vith me but mine own self! And I vas not vould go, not for nodings; but I vas vant de tousand pounds. Dere is my leetle girl to be lived and educate.”

”But I do so want to be one of the first to cross the Channel in a flying-machine,” said Tinker plaintively.

”Ach, to be vurst! to be vurst! Dat is you English top and toe! Do I vas hunt de orchid to be vurst discoverer? Not mooch. I hunt him for money. Do I cross de Channel in my machine to be vurst? Nein, nein.

I cross him for de tousand pounds. And you I vould not take, no, not for de oder tousand pound. Bah! You vas not at all von vonder-child; you vas von foolis.h.!.+ Good-night, mine young friend, good-night.” And Herr Schlugst went into the galvanised iron hut where for the time being he lived, watching over his precious machine.

The Tinker came out of the palisade which surrounded it, and walked down the cliff into Brighton quite disconsolate; he could not see how to get his way. He came into the Paragon Hotel and dressed for dinner as sulky as a naturally cheerful soul could be. He showed no readiness to talk, and his father presently condoled with him on his lowness of spirits. Tinker said briefly that he had had a disappointment.

”Ah, they are terrible things, disappointments, when one is eleven years old,” said Sir Tancred. ”Later in life they lose their edge.”

On his words there came into the dining room a rotund, middle-aged Jewish gentleman, coated with dust and wearing a hara.s.sed air.

”Look,” said Sir Tancred, ”that's Blumenruth, the Jungle millionaire.”

The financier gazed gloomily round the room, looking for a table. At the sight of Sir Tancred, an idea seemed to strike him, his face brightened a little, and he came to them.

”How do you do, Sir Tancred Beauleigh?” he said, shaking hands warmly.

”May I dine at your table? I want a word with you, a word which may be profitable to both of us.”

”By all means,” said Sir Tancred in the manner he always adopted towards profitable financiers of Hamburg extraction, a manner extremely condescending, without being offensive.

The financier sat down; smudged the dust across his face with a coloured silk handkerchief; and breathed heavily. Then he looked at Tinker as though he would like him sent away.

”Anything you may say before him will go no further,” said Sir Tancred, quick to mark the meaning of the look. ”Let me introduce you. Mr.

Blumenruth, my son Hildebrand.”

The financier bowed, but he still looked unhappy at Tinker's presence.

A waiter brought him some soup, and he began upon it hurriedly. Sir Tancred went on with his dinner in a tranquil indifference. The financier finished his soup: looked again at Tinker, and burst out: ”Well, it can't make any difference! I want your help, Sir Tancred, and you're the one man in England who can help me; you're used to these things.” And he smudged the dust on his face a little more.

Sir Tancred murmured politely, ”Only too pleased.”

”I must be in Paris either to-night or to-morrow morning for an hour's talk with Meyer before the Bourse opens. And I must leave England without anyone knowing I've left it. It may make a difference to me of--of a hundred thousand pounds.”

”Pardon me,” said Sir Tancred suavely. ”I like my clients to be open with me. It will make a difference of ruin. The Cohens have you in a hole.”

The millionaire gasped, ”My goodness! how did you know? It means ruin--or--or I make a hundred thousand.”

”I see,” said Sir Tancred. ”Well?”

”I left London quietly in a motor-car. Before I'd gone twenty miles, a racing Panhard, stuffed with private detectives--men I've sometimes employed myself”--he almost sobbed at the thought--”pa.s.sed me; and another came up, and dropped back to a mile behind. They're here in Brighton. I'd given it up; I was going to dine here, sleep the night, and go back to London to fight it out--not that it's of any use unless I can see Meyer--when I saw you. I'll give--I'll give five thousand pounds to anyone who can get me across to Paris secretly. It's here--in my pocket.” And he tapped his breast.

Sir Tancred thought earnestly for fully five minutes; then he said, ”It can't be done.”

”Don't say so! now don't,” said the financier, ”The money's here!

Here!” and he again slapped his breast pocket.