CHAPTER XIV
Jacob, on the following morning, received a pencilled epistle fromSybil which brought him little satisfaction. There was no orthodoxcommencement, and it was written on sheets of paper torn apparentlyfrom a block:
I have been asking myself, on my way into exile--where I am going to stay with some pestilential relatives in Devonshire--exactly why I dislike you more and more every time we come into contact with one another, and I have come to the conclusion that it is because in our controversies you are nearly always right and I am nearly always wrong. I suppose, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest reason in harbouring ill-will against you for refusing to put your money into the business which my father had allowed to become derelict. I am quite sure that you gave me good advice when you told me to keep away from those men who tried to rob you. In short, you are always right and I am always wrong, and I hate you all the more for it.
I shall not return to London for at least a good many months. During that time I do beg that you will sit down and forget all about me. Have an affair with Grace, if you like, flirt with any one you want to, or, better still, get married. But I tell you honestly that it absolutely irritates and angers me to be made conscious of your--shall I call it devotion? There is something antagonistic between us. I don't know what it is, but I do know that I shall never change. And I beg you, therefore, to do as I ask you--forget that such a person exists.
You may think that because I have admitted as much as I have admitted, that it has changed my feelings towards you. It has not. It never could. I am boiling over with passion at the present moment when I think how you treated our plot with contempt and walked out of it with the air of a conqueror. I am going to bury myself in Devonshire, partly because I have nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, but partly so that I may not have the misfortune to see anything more of you. By the time we meet again, if ever we do, I hope that you will be cured.
Sybil Bultiwell.
Jacob read the letter twice, until every phrase and syllable seemedburned into his memory. Then he tore it into small pieces, gaveDauncey a power of attorney, and started for Monte Carlo. He lingereda little on the way there, exploring the country round Hyeres andCostebelle. Almost the first person he met at Monte Carlo was LordFelixstowe. He was coming out of Ciro's bar, his shoulders a littlehunched, a cigarette dropping from his lips. He would have passedJacob, if the latter had not accosted him.
"Forgotten me, Lord Felixstowe?"
His young lordship recognised Jacob and cheered up.
"Oil in the wilderness, manna in the desert!" he exclaimed. "A manwith a banking account! Come right in, and Henry shall mix you amorning tot that will make you feel as pink as the sunrise."
"I'll try this wonderful drink," Jacob consented, "but I don't needit. By the bye, were you to have had your share of that five thousandpounds?"
"Just one degree too thick that was for me," the young man confided,after he had given mysterious orders to his white-linened friendbehind the bar. "I am not putting on frills, mind. I was willing tocome in on any scheme to induce you to part with a bit, but I didn'tfancy the medieval touch and the black gentleman. Gad, you're a littleterror, though, Pratt! I'd have given something to have seen you knockthose two about! I went to visit Mason in hospital. You couldn't seehis face for bandages."...
On Jacob's proposition, they strolled out on to the terrace.
"Are you going into the Rooms this morning?" he enquired.
Lord Felixstowe shook his head gloomily.
"They've skinned me," he confessed. "I got a fifty-pound note from anold aunt, to bring her out as far as Bordighera. She don't speak thelingo, and I am rather a nut at it. I landed her, all right, daybefore yesterday, dropped off here on my way home, and lost the lot."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"Borrow a pony from you, old top," was the prompt reply.
Jacob counted out the notes, which the young man received withenthusiasm.
"I like a chap who parts like a sportsman," he declared. "Now I wonderif there is anything I can do for you. Would you like me to look youup about dinner time at your hotel? If you are alone, I dare say Icould find you a pal or two."
"Come and dine with me, by all means," Jacob invited, "but I have afew acquaintances here, and if I want any more no doubt I shall beable to pick them up."
The young man looked at his watch.
"I have an appointment at table number five and a louis to go onnumber fourteen, in a few minutes," he declared. "So long."
Jacob took out his card for the Rooms and the Sporting Club, lunchedleisurely with an acquaintance whom he had met on the train comingdown, made a few purchases, gambled mildly, with some success, and hadjust changed and descended for his cocktail before dinner at the Pariswhen Felixstowe strolled in. He smote Jacob on the back and ordereddelectable drinks.
"Your money has the right touch, old bean," he declared. "It's thesort that worms its way to glory. I can assure you my little bit wentthrough the croupier's hands like water. Yours--God bless you, olddear! We'll drink fizz to-night. To think that if I hadn't met you Imight have been trying the _vin ordinaire_ on my way back!"
"Do I gather that you won?" Jacob asked.
"Thirteen hundred of the best, my pocket Croesus," was the jubilantreply. "To-morrow you shall have your pony back--not to-night. Yourmoney brings me luck, Jacob. It's the stuff I've been looking for."
They made their way into the dining-room, where Felixstowe was greetedby many acquaintances. A bewildering confection in black and whiteclaimed his attention. He rejoined Jacob a moment later with aproposition.
"Couple of little fairies there who'd like to hitch on, Jacob," hesuggested. "Betty Tomlinson's one, little girl I used to know at theGaiety. Got a flat in Paris now. The other little thing is an Americanin the same line of business."
Jacob shook his head.
"If you don't mind," he said, "I'd rather not."
"The hand that pays the reckoning rules the roost," Felixstoweparaphrased cheerfully. "Wait till I hand 'em the mit. Tell Louis toput a magnum on the ice."
"Look here, young fellow," Jacob observed, when his young friend madehis joyous return, "just how old are you?"
"Twenty-four," Lord Felixstowe confided. "And if it's the wine you arethinking about, don't you worry. We've got it in our blood and wethrive on it. We doubled this little allowance each, the night afterwe won the regimental polo cup, and I made a hundred and seven againstYorkshire the following day. You should see the governor--a sallow,lean-looking man, without an ounce of colour. He'd drink you under thetable before he'd begun to hiccough.... You're not much of a lad forthe fillies, what?"
"I find the variety here a little exotic," Jacob confessed.
"You like the homemade article, eh? Not sure that you ain't right.Gad, I'm glad I met you!"
Jacob, who might have been dining alone, reciprocated the sentiment asthey solemnly toasted one another.
"Look here, old thing," the young man insisted, "we're pals. You'vecrossed the Rubicon, so to speak--tipped up the ready at the rightmoment and started me on the road to fortune. We'll drop the 'Mr.' andthe 'Lord'-ing. Felix and Jacob, eh? Good! My love, Jacob. Come alongwith me into the Rooms and see me touch up those Johnnies to-night."
Jacob shook his head.
"I prefer the Club," he said, "and if you take my advice, you'll put athousand in your pocketbook and have a flutter with the threehundred."
"Jacob," the young man declared, "I feel to-night as though Jove hadlooked down from Olympus and winked the other eye at me. You get me? Ifeel in luck, steeped in the magic of it; couldn't do wrong, couldn'tpick a loser if I tried. Seven times in eleven spins of the wheelnumber fourteen came up this afternoon, and to-night I can see numbertwenty-nine just the same way. Number five table, Jacob, that I'mgoing to hit. The cr
oupier who'll be on at ten o'clock has a sort ofdouble squint. I'll send him to the vaults, sure as this Pommery isabout the best tipple I ever drank.... Aren't you going to have aflutter yourself?"
"Gambling doesn't appeal very much to me," Jacob admitted.
The young man who desired to be called Felix sighed.
"Doesn't gamble," he mused, "drinks moderately, and likes his fairiesgood. Jacob dear, I must introduce you some day to the home circle.You were certainly made for domesticity. Did you tell Cook's man aboutyourself when you booked for Monte Carlo?"
"I told him that I'd heard it was a good place for winter golf," Jacobreplied, smiling. "If you've finished talking nonsense, perhaps youwill bring your mighty intellect to bear upon the question of liqueurbrandies."
"Are you feeling at all festive?" Felixstowe enquired.
"Absolutely," Jacob answered.
"Then consult Louis and leave it to him. You know what Pierpont Morgancalled Monte Carlo?--'the bleeding place for millionaires.' Louis willsee you through it."
The dinner came to a close in a little burst of glory, Louis himselfbringing them a dust-encrusted bottle, whilst a satellite placedbefore them two glasses which looked like the insides of chandeliers.
"The right stuff," Lord Felixstowe declared approvingly. "TrustLouis."
"Who trusts no one, my lord," the _maitre d'hotel_ jested, with a bow.
"You won't even leave the bottle?" his youthful client implored.
"Not even for the son of my valued patron, Monsieur le Marquis," Louisreplied, bearing it off, smiling.
"I go like a giant to my task," the young man declared, as he badeJacob au revoir. "Prepare for great news."...
Jacob spent a pleasant and a harmless evening wandering about theSporting Club, winning and losing a few five-louis plaques, andsitting for a while outside the Cafe de Paris. He went to bed early,with a view to a golf match on the morrow, and was wakened by a deadweight upon his shins. He sat up and found Felixstowe sitting on thebed, regarding him sorrowfully.
"Hullo!" Jacob exclaimed. "Where are the spoils?"
The young man opened his lips and spoke illuminating words concerningMonte Carlo, gambling generally, number five table in the Rooms, andthe squint-eyed croupier particularly. In conclusion, he referred tohimself in terms, if possible, even more lurid. By the time he hadfinished, Jacob was thoroughly awake.
"Lend me ten louis, old chap, for the journey," his nocturnal visitorbegged. "You'll have to wait for your pony."
"Take it off the dressing table," Jacob replied. "What's the hurry?"
"I'm off in three hours' time. Catching the early morning train."
Jacob hesitated for a moment.
"Look here, Felix," he suggested, "if you'd like to have another go atthem--"
Felixstowe shook his head.
"I'm not built that way," he interrupted. "I've given them best thistime. You see," he went on, "it's a mug's game, after all, and meantfor mugs. I shall wait and pick up my little bit where the greymatter talks, what?"
"I see," Jacob replied. "Perhaps you are right. Sorry to lose you,though."
"I'll look you up in town," the young man promised.