*CHAPTER XIV*
*ON SATURDAY NIGHT*
The events of that particular Saturday were of such portent that it isnecessary to describe them in some little detail.
When the Man from Upstairs had safely escaped from Mrs. Felmore'sobservation, and Boyne had expressed regret that her shopping expeditionhad been fruitless, the honest insurance agent ate the frugal lunchwhich his housekeeper put before him, and then went out.
An hour later he returned with a large parcel, which he smuggled in awayfrom the deaf old woman, and ten minutes later, pretending to haveforgotten, he sent her out to buy some postage stamps.
So she put on her hat in calm obedience, and once more went forth intoKing Street.
As soon as she had gone, Boyne opened the parcel, which contained a newtin kettle and a quantity of groceries and provisions, and then sprangup the stairs, unlocked the door with his key, and entered the secretabode.
He was there for about three-quarters of an hour. He heard Mrs. Felmorecome in, but took no heed. If she knew that he was upstairs, she wouldno doubt believe that he was looking out some of his insurance papers.
About half-past three Boyne came forth, and, locking the heavy door,descended to his sitting-room with a satisfied smile upon his smugcountenance. What had happened in that locked room evidently pleasedhim. He went to the nearest telephone call-office, and ten minuteslater was speaking with his wife in Pont Street.
"You, Lilla?" he asked, recognising her voice. "It's all right! I shallgo to Ena's at six, and then come on to you. Have you heard anything?"
"Yes. She's come up from Brighton, and not being able to get a room inany of the big hotels, has gone into a private one at Lancaster Gate.Is all correct?"
"Yes. See you after I've seen Ena," was his reply, and he rang off.
Back again he went to Bridge Place, and at half-past five left for UpperBrook Street. He, however, did not pass the inquisitive hall-porter,but entered by the servants' way, for he was by no means well-dressed.
Inside Ena Pollen's flat, he walked to the drawing-room, where the RedWidow joined him, asking anxiously:
"Well, how goes it, my dear Bernard?"
"All progresses as we would wish. I thought I'd run up here before I goto Lilla's to change. Where is Mrs. Morrison?"
"At Lancaster Gate. At a private hotel I recommended. I urged her toremain in town for a week or ten days, and she's consented."
"Excellent. What's the place like?"
"Oh! quiet and eminently respectable. Mostly rich old fogies from thecountry go there. I thought it would be better to remain in touch withher, you know."
And the Red Widow laughed grimly.
"I've got the table set ready. Come and see it," she urged. And shetook him into the adjoining dining-room, a handsome apartment, withcarved oak furniture and several old and valuable paintings upon thewalls. Upon the circular polished table the plates were set upon smallmats in the latest vogue, while both the silver and glass were ancient.Covers were laid for four, the decorations consisting of only twolong-stem glasses of pale-pink carnations. Taste and delicacy weredisplayed everywhere, especially in the antique Georgian plate, with thegenuine Queen Anne "montieth" as a centre-piece.
"Will it do?" she asked. "I laid it myself."
"It is perfect! It will impress her with your sense of the artistic,Ena," he declared. "I hope the meal you will give us will be asrefined."
"I hope so," she laughed. "In a sense--a certain sense--it will be moreso."
He laughed at the hidden meaning contained in that remark. Then heglanced around the room, and recollected the great expense which thepreliminaries of that single meal had entailed.
"I've asked her for half-past seven," Mrs. Pollen said, "so you'd bettergo over and dress, and get here a little late. She'll settle downbefore you come. Then you can both apologise. Of course, we've not metsince that evening at the Carlton."
"Right, I quite understand," he said. "Where is she to sit?"
"There--with her back to the sideboard."
Boyne nodded approval.
The Red Widow opened the cupboard on the left-hand of the sideboard,where he saw in a row four beautiful liqueur glasses, delicately cut,with square stems. His quick eye examined them, and he took out one.It was exactly the same as the other three except that it had a roundstem.
He held it in his fingers for a second, and a sinister smile playedabout his lips.
"Yes--I see!" he remarked. "She likes liqueurs. Most women do."
"Especially Cointreau. They like the subtle flavour of tangerineorange," laughed Ena. "Don't you recollect what she said about it atthe Carlton--that it is her favourite drink with coffee?"
"Yes. And we, of course, indulge her!"
"Indulge!" echoed the woman. "A nice word, truly!"
Boyne was twisting the liqueur glass he had selected in his fingers.
"I wish you'd get me a cocktail, Ena," he said. "I'm dying for one."
"Then I'll get you one at once. There's none here. I'll go into thekitchen and mix one--gin and French vermouth, with a dash of anisetteand lemon--eh?"
"Exactly. That's what I want. You're a dear," replied the man, and thewidow left to prepare it.
A few minutes later she returned with a small glass on a silver tray.He took it, and swallowed the contents at two gulps.
"By Jove! Excellent. Johnnie at the Ritz couldn't make a better, Ena.But you were always famed for your corpse-revivers!"
"Glad you like it. Now get away at once, or you'll have no time."
"Mind the glass!" he said in a serious voice.
"I'll see after it all right, never fear. You do your work and I domine--eh? Now get away, and don't arrive before a quarter to eight orso."
"Yours to obey, Ena," was his response, and he at once slipped out bythe servants' entrance into the mews, and, hailing a taxi a few minuteslater, drove to Pont Street.
On arrival he at once met his wife, who was anxiously awaiting him inthe drawing-room.
"All right, Lilla! Don't worry. Things all go well," he assured her."I've seen Ena, and we shall have a very delightful dinner. We go tothe new revue at the Hippodrome afterwards, and then on to Giro's forsupper--a very delightful evening."
"And then----?" asked his wife, looking him straight in the face.
"Well--and then a little affair of business--eh?"
Lilla laughed at the grimace her husband made.
Boyne left her at once, and ascending to his bedroom, shaved, exchangedhis clothes for a smart evening suit, and carefully brushed his hair,until, when he descended, he presented the ideal man-about-town whoseevening clothes were well worn and who wore his soft-fronted shirt asone accustomed to it every night. The man unused to the claw-hammercoat is always to be noticed in a crowd, just as is the woman who,putting on an evening frock occasionally, hitches it up on the shoulderand is palpably uncomfortable in it.
Bernard Boyne wore his clothes, whether the dusty suit of theHammersmith insurance agent or the smart evening clothes in which hepursued his nocturnal peregrinations in the West End, with equal graceand ease.
When he rejoined his wife in the pretty drawing-room he presented a verydifferent figure from the man who had sat in that ugly white cloak withthe slits for eyes in that dingy, creeper-covered house in Hammersmith.
He rang the bell, and, ordering a taxi, lit a cigarette, and awaited it.
Lilla was splendidly dressed in a gown of navy blue and gold brocade,cut very low, with shoes and stockings to match. In her hair was a longosprey which well matched the gorgeous gown, the latest creation ofPetticoat Lane--the writer begs pardon of his lady readers for suchirreverent mention of Dover Street, Piccadilly, that street in which thelatest fashions of feminine frippery have their birth, and to which themere man sends his cheques in consequence of recurring crazes.
When together in the taxi, Lilla said:
&n
bsp; "Now be extremely careful. This Scotch woman is very canny. Rememberthat! If we made a slip it would land us all in--well, at a very deadend."
"Don't be anxious, Lilla. I never like you when you grow anxious,because anxiety always brings us bad luck. And we don't want thatto-night--do we? Eat your dinner and think of nothing--only of therevue at the Hippodrome. Leave Ena and myself to it. Don't bother--oryou may arouse suspicion."
Later, when they alighted in Upper Brook Street just before eighto'clock, the uniformed hall-porter touched his cap as they entered andtook them up in the lift.
"Oh! my dear Ena," cried Lilla, as the two women met in thedrawing-room. "Do forgive me--do! Bernard came in late from the club.It's all his fault! It really is not mine! I waited for him half anhour."
"Yes, Mrs. Pollen," said Boyne penitently, "I take all responsibilityupon myself. I had to see a man on business at the club, and the brutewas half an hour late. So I had to rush home and dress--and here weare. Do forgive me--won't you?"
Ena Pollen laughed, declaring that she had overlooked the offence,whereupon Mrs. Morrison shook Lilla's hand warmly, and they sank intochairs until two minutes later dinner was announced by the smart maid.
Dinner! Bernard Boyne and Ena Pollen had given dinners before, artisticand perfect meals which would have delighted any gourmet, even though hehad tasted the pre-war gastronomical delights of the expensiverestaurants of Moscow, Petrograd or Bucharest.
When they sat down, Ena directed Mrs. Morrison to her seat with her backto the sideboard, saying:
"You won't have any draught there, my dear. This room is so full ofdraughts. I don't know where they come from!"
"I hope you are staying in town a little while, and that we shall seesomething of you," said Lilla to Mrs. Morrison as they tackled theirasparagus soup. "You must not go back to Scotland yet, you know."
"Well," replied the other, a handsome figure in her discreetly decolletegown, "Ena has been urging me to remain in London for a few days, but Icouldn't get a room anywhere. All the hotels are full up, but I at lastgot in at a place in Lancaster Gate--quite comfortable, though it's abit expensive."
"All hotels are terribly dear now, though, after all, hotels are cheaperthan one's household expenses," Lilla replied.
"Well, I've taken my room for a week. I may be in London longer, but Ihave to visit my sister-in-law at Aviemore on the twentieth of nextmonth, and then I go over to Arran to my niece."
"Stay with us as long as you can, Mrs. Morrison," Boyne urged warmly."You must dine with us at Pont Street one night next week."
"Thanks! I shall be delighted. I've got appointments with thedressmaker."
"And the dentist, of course," laughed Boyne. "All ladies haveappointments with their dentists. It is the best excuse a wife can havefor the deception of a too inquisitive husband."
"Not in my case, Mr. Davidson," declared the widow of Carsphairn, with amerry smile. "I have no one to whom I need make excuses. But, as ithappens, I am going to a dentist!"
"There you are!" laughed Ena. "He divined it."
The meal went on merrily to its end, after which the maid handed roundthe black coffee in exquisite little china cups, the spoons havinghandles shaped like coffee beans. Then she retired.
Ena, glancing at the old chiming clock upon the mantelshelf, suddenlyexclaimed:
"Oh! it's getting late! And Evans hasn't put on the liqueurs. I'll getthem myself."
And rising she obtained from the sideboard four liqueur glasses,together with bottles of old brandy, Benedictine and Triple-Sec.
"Now, dear, you'll have your favourite Cointreau," she said, addressingMrs. Morrison, and pouring out a glass of the clear water-like extractof Tangerine oranges.
"No--no thanks!" was the prompt reply. "I really don't want it."
"Oh, but you must!" declared her hostess, pressing her. "I'm going tohave one, and so will you, Lilla, I'm sure."
"Oh! yes. I love it," declared the other woman, while Boyne glancedeagerly to satisfy himself that the stem of Mrs. Morrison's glass was_round and not square_.
"Come, you must have half a glass, dear," declared Ena, and she pouredit out disregarding her guest's half-hearted protests.
Then, the others being served, the big silver box of rose-tippedcigarettes was opened, and they took one each.
Bernard Boyne watched the widow from Scotland sipping her small glasswith the utmost satisfaction, while the other two women were excited,though they seemed quite cool, engaging her in conversation.
"Do you know," exclaimed Mrs. Morrison, "I grow more fond of thisliqueur each time I take it. We can't get it in Scotland, so I order itfrom London. It is the purest of all the liqueurs, that is my belief."
"It is," declared Boyne, with a meaning look towards Ena. "It is neverinjurious as so many of these green, red and yellow alcoholic and sugarconcoctions are."
"No," replied the wealthy owner of Carsphairn. "I quite agree." And shedrained her glass with undisguised satisfaction. "It has a mostexquisite flavour, and it does one no harm."
Boyne smiled grimly across to his hostess and suggested that they shouldbe going if they wanted to be there at the opening of the revue.
The quartette sat in a box, and greatly enjoyed the medley of songs anddances until, at the close, they went off to a gay supper at Giro's,which they did not leave till nearly two in the morning.
Just before Boyne dropped his wife from a taxi at the corner of PontStreet, he said:
"Well, Lilla! It all went well, didn't it? No hitch. We ought to havesome news from Lancaster Gate about Wednesday or Thursday."
"Good!" replied the woman. "We'll wait in patience. Only I do hope itwill turn out as we expect."
"It will--never fear! Good-night."
And she stepped out to walk down the street to her own house, while hecontinued in the taxi to Hammersmith Broadway, where he also alighted.
Then, as he walked home, he muttered to himself:
"It can't fail this time. On Wednesday next we shall hear howbeneficial to the health is that most excellent liqueur."