Hot Water (23 page)

Miss Putnam did what she could. In the execution of their duties the employees of the James B. Flaherty Agency do not spare themselves. The window opened and slammed again, and this time from out of the night there sounded a fusillade of shots, mingled with the roar of an accelerated motor engine.

She came back into the room, drooping a little.

'They got away,' she said.

Her attention was attracted to the fact that in the interval of her absence a brawl appeared to have broken out in the Venetian Room. Packy was still where she had left him, but he had now been joined by Mrs Gedge, who was pulling at his arm. The liveliness of the scene was increased by the fact that Senator Opal was pulling at Mrs Gedge.

'Stop him!' cried Mrs Gedge, seeing her ally. 'He's eating it!'

'Eating what?' said Miss Putnam, mystified.

'Don't worry,' said the Senator buoyantly. 'He's through.'

He gripped Packy's hand and shook it warmly.

'All finished?'

'That was the last mouthful,' said Packy, swallowing. As palatable a letter as I ever tasted.'

'Nice work, my boy!'

'Packy' said Jane, 'you're wonderful!'

'I wonder,' said Packy, addressing Mrs Gedge, 'if I might have a glass of water?'

Mrs Gedge had regained command of herself She stood there, a statue of Doom.

'You'll be sorry' she said.

'Here, what is all this?' asked Miss Putnam.

'He has eaten Senator Opal's letter.'

'He has? Buddy,' said Miss Putnam, eyeing Packy with severity, 'you must like trouble, the way you keep right on asking for it.'

She suspended her remarks once more. She had spied strangers. The doorway had come a staring mass of them. The butler was there. The cook was there. So were what seemed a regiment of the lesser servitors. You cannot fire pistols in a country house during the small hours without exciting interest among the domestic staff.

'Get out of here,' said Miss Putnam, annoyed. She was always opposed to the presence of the general public on these occasions. 'What do you think this is – a circus?'

She removed herself temporarily from the centre of operations. She could be heard out in the passage and on the stairs driving a reluctant mob before her.

Mrs Gedge's eyes were hard. Her lips quivered.

'Yes, you'll certainly be sorry' she said.

'I'm glad,' said Senator Opal, correcting this view.

'You won't be long. I'll give you your choice. You make my husband Ambassador to France, or this man and your daughter go to prison. Think quick.'

'Miss Opal had nothing to do with it,' said Packy. 'She just came down because she heard a noise.'

'I didn't,' said Jane. 'I came with you.'

'Fathead!' said Packy. 'What did you want to say that for?'

'Do you think I'm going to run out on you?'

'Yes, but...'

'Well?' said Mrs Gedge.

Something stirred beneath the bed. A battered head appeared, followed by a massive body. Soup Slattery was back in the world of men.

'Cheese!' he observed, rising slowly to his feet and passing a meditative hand over his skull.

Then it seemed to come to him that he was not alone. He looked about him dazedly. His eye fell on Mrs Gedge, and he backed against the safe, his eyes widening.

In Mrs Gedge's demeanour, also, a close observer might have noted an equal consternation. Her rigidity now was not that of righteous wrath. She seemed paralysed, as if by the sight of a ghost.

Twice Mr Slattery's mouth opened, and twice no words came.

The third time, he was luckier.

'Julia!' he gasped.

Miss Putnam came back into the room, swinging her revolver like a clouded cane. She halted, and a pleased smile played across her face.

'In person!' said Miss Putnam. 'I thought so. We were expecting you, Mr Slattery.'

It was an observation which seemed to call for a reply, but Soup Slattery did not give one. He was still staring with that expression of profound amazement.

'Julia!' he said. 'Julia! What are
you
doing here, Julia?'

To Miss Putnam this seemed mere trifling.

'My name is not Julia,' she said curtly.

Packy saw all.

'No, but hers is,' he said, pointing at Mrs Gedge. 'And our Mr Slattery told me all about her. Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce Long-Lost Julia, the best inside-worker a safe-blower ever had.'

'What,' enquired Miss Putnam, 'are you gibbering about?'

'I am not gibbering. If this is really Mr Slattery's Julia – and it is?'

'Sure,' said Mr Slattery. 'What are you doing here, Julia?'

'... she was for years Mr Slattery's partner in his enterprises. She used to get herself invited to all these swell homes, having class. And if the pete was in a dame's room she would slip in first and put a sponge of chloroform under her nose, so that by the time Mr Slattery arrived everything was hotsy-totsy. But in the end she walked out on him, and this is where she walked to. Ladies and gentlemen, featuring Mrs Gedge, the many-sided. Am I right, Mr Slattery?'

'Sure.'

The safe-blower was still dazed, but this did not prevent him from displaying a nice gallantry.

'You look just the same as ever, Julia. Not a day older.'

It was a handsome tribute, and well deserved, for Mrs Gedge, though not looking her best at the actual moment, was an exceedingly attractive woman. It was plain, however, that she did not appreciate the compliment. Her face twisted, her eyes shone with a baleful light, and those shapely hands of hers tightened into two fists.

'You poor goop,' she said, in a hard, strained voice, 'I'd like to paste you one.'

To Miss Putnam, watching her thoughtfully, the remark brought conviction. It was as if the veneer which for want of a better word Mr Slattery had described as 'class', had fallen from Mrs Gedge like a garment. Doubtful before, Miss Putnam now accepted the truth of Packy's words.

Mr Slattery was concerned.

'I'm sorry if I've caused trouble, Julia.'

Packy reassured him.

'You've caused anything but trouble. You've saved the situation. You've brought the good news from Aix to Ghent. I hardly think our hostess will carry out that scheme of hers for having us all arrested for burglary now.'

Miss Putnam nodded.

'Better give up the idea, Mrs G. They've got the goods on you. I see now why you took it so big when I mentioned that Soup Slattery was in the neighbourhood.'

Senator Opal had stepped forward like one about to bestow the Freedom of the City.

'I would like to shake hands with you, Mr Slattery.'

'Yeah?' said Soup, giving him a hard stare.

He put his hands behind him. The Slatterys did not lightly forget.

'Well,' said Miss Putnam, speaking with regret, for it was not thus that she had hoped the night would end, 'seeing everybody's old friends here and there's nothing doing in my line, I'll be off to bed and catch up with my beauty-sleep.'

She walked pensively to the door. Reaching it, she turned to deliver a parting homily.

This is what comes of having a past, Mrs G. No good to anyone, a past. Never know when it'll crop up. And me explaining to you what an inside stand was! Well, good night, all,' said Miss Putnam, and passed from the scene, a disappointed woman.

In the room she had left there was silence for some moments.

'Well... 'said Mr Slattery.

He left the sentence uncompleted. But that it had been intended for a speech of farewell was shown by the fact that he now moved towards the window.

'Yes, get out of here,' said Mrs Gedge.

Mr Slattery paused with his hand on the curtains.

'So you quit me to marry some rich guy, did you, Julia? Well, I'm not saying you wasn't right. It's a mug's game, this pete-blowing business, what I mean. Me, I'm retiring myself. Going to buy a farm. Good-bye.'

The curtains fell behind him.

'And now you get out, all of you,' said Mrs Gedge.

'Madam,' said Senator Opal, 'rest assured... that...'

He broke off and stood staring. There had come from the passage outside the sound of uncertain feet. A hand clutched the door-frame, appearing from nowhere like a hand in a mystery play. There came the sound of an amused laugh, and across the threshold walked J. Wellington Gedge.

He navigated towards the bed and propped himself up against it. To the discerning eye, it was all too clear that Mr Gedge was many fathoms beneath the surface.

The mutual recognition of J. Wellington Gedge and the Vicomte de Blissac on Packy's boat some hours earlier had had the natural effect of relieving both their minds to a very marked extent. After the first moment of panic, when each had thought the other a visitant from another world, the thing had become a joy-feast. For perhaps half an hour they had sat side by side, telling each other their frank opinion of Packy and sketching out roughly what they would do when they returned to the Château together and confronted him; and at the end of that period the Vicomte had suggested that they could not possibly confront Packy as he should be confronted without first fortifying themselves with food and drink.

Mr Gedge had received the suggestion well, and a pleasant dinner for two had begun at the Hotel des Etrangers at about nine-thirty. It was still in progress at midnight. At one a.m. the Vicomte had slipped silently to the floor with a peaceful expression on his face, and it was so evidently his intention to remain there that Mr Gedge felt that the time had arrived for home and bed. And here he was, about to turn in.

The sight of his room full of people seemed to puzzle him for a moment. He stared from one to the other with a questioning look. Then, seeming to say to himself that optical illusions like this were only to be expected at such a time, he removed his collar by the simple process of seizing both wings and pulling. Then he climbed into the bed and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Packy was the first to advance a comment.

'And that,' he said, 'is the man you want to make Ambassador to France! You seriously propose to let him loose on Paris! If this is how he goes on in St Rocque, think what he could accomplish with all the vast resources of Paris at his disposal. I advise you to take him back to California and keep him there. In fact,' said Packy, 'I'm afraid I must insist. The poor devil is pining for the old home town, and it's cruelty to keep him away from it. I should like your assurance, Mrs Gedge, that you will return with him to Glendale at the earliest opportunity.'

His eye met Mrs Gedge's. She saw the menace in it. She was a clear-thinking woman, and she realized how subversive to domestic discipline would be the confiding of her secret to Mr Gedge. Her teeth clicked together, but when they parted again it was to enable her to give the assurance required.

'And now,' said the Senator, with something of the manner of a pleased guest reluctantly tearing himself away from a party, 'we will be going. I have no doubt that we can find beds at the hotel.'

'I have a better idea,' said Packy. 'Come back to my boat for the night. Room for all, and very snug.'

'Capital!'

'If Mrs Gedge will allow us to borrow her motor-boat...? Then we will meet when you are ready at the boathouse.'

'And meanwhile,' said Senator Opal, 'I will be doing my own packing personally. There are several little valuables which I should be sorry to lose.'

He gave Mrs Gedge a meaning look. But Mrs Gedge made no answer. Without a word, she turned and strode from the room. A snore from the bed seemed to speed her on her way like a benediction.

Through the scented night Packy walked down the hill to the boathouse. The stars were shining peacefully, and there was peace in his heart. True, he had now lost Jane Opal for ever, but what did his personal misfortunes matter when weighed against the Niagara of sweetness and light which had suddenly flooded his little world? As far as the eye could reach, that little world's inhabitants, with the solitary exception of himself, were sitting pretty. The cloud had passed from the sky of Senator Opal. Mr Gedge, when he woke, if he ever did, would find happiness to console him for the rather severe headache from which he would be suffering. The Veek was himself again. And Jane and Blair would live happy ever after.

A pretty good bag, felt Packy. A very fine bag, indeed.

He reached the boathouse and opened the door. And as he did so his attention was attracted by an odd, strangled noise which seemed to proceed from a dark corner.

Advancing cautiously, he was able to discern what appeared to be a large-sized cocoon. And closer inspection revealed this as none other than Blair Eggleston. He was securely tied with stout cords, and there was a gag of some description in his mouth.

Packy cut the cords. He removed the gag.

'Egg!' he exclaimed solicitously.

Blair Eggleston did not reply. He was going through an intricate system of physical jerks and massage. His mood was plainly not radiant.

It was Jane who eventually broke an embarrassing silence. She had just reached the boathouse door.

'Blair!' she cried.

Packy had delicacy. He could recognize a sacred moment when he saw one. He withdrew silently, and, moving some little distance along the lake front, sat down and lit his pipe.

It was some ten minutes later that he heard a voice calling his name.

J
ANE OPAL
came out of the shadows.

'What was it all about?' asked Packy.

Jane seemed troubled.

'I couldn't make out half he said. He was so angry, I mean. He just bubbled most of the time.'

'And if ever a man had an excuse for bubbling...'

'Oh, I'm not blaming him. Do you know he had been there like that for hours?'

'But who did it?'

'He says it was Medway...'

'Medway!'

'... and the man who called himself the Duc de Pont-Andemer. They just jumped on him and left him like that.'

'Poor devil!'

'He's very cross,' said Jane meditatively.

'I'm not surprised.'

'He says it's all our fault.'

This was a new aspect of the matter to Packy.

'Ours?'

'Yours and mine and Father's, because we got him mixed up with Medway. Apparently, Medway and this man Oily something are going to be married.'

'Tell Eggleston to take a strong line and not send them a wedding present.'

'I don't suppose I shall see Blair to tell him anything,' said Jane, gazing out over the dark water. 'He's going back to Bloomsbury.'

Packy's heart leaped.

'You mean he's broken off your engagement?'

'Yes.'

For an instant, all Packy could feel was an exquisite elation. Then he told himself sternly that this was unworthy of a modern Sidney Carton. Not for Sid to rejoice at such a breach, but rather to do all in his power to heal it.

'I shouldn't worry,' he said soothingly. 'He spoke without thinking. You can't expect a man who has been tied hand and foot in a smelly boathouse for goodness knows how many hours to be a little sunbeam right away. Leave him lay for a day or two, and you'll be surprised. You know how it is about the milk of human kindness. Something starts a leak and out it goes with a hoosh. But give it time and little by little it will flow back till the reservoir is full again. You take my word for it, in a day or two he will be twanging a guitar beneath your window.'

Jane was silent.

'He will come to you and say, "Forget those cruel words!"'

Jane kicked at a twig.

'But I'm not sure that I want to forget them.'

'What!'

'I rather think this may be the best thing that could have happened.'

Packy swallowed a jagged something that was interfering with his vocal cords.

'You don't mean—?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Don't you love Egg any more?'

'I'm not so sure that I ever did love him. You know how it is. You meet somebody and they seem to you all chock-a-block with wonderful ideals and you get sort of infatuated.'

Packy was stunned by this added proof that this girl and he were twin souls.

'You don't have to explain that to me. Boy, as good old Slattery would say, could I write a book! It was just that way with me and Beatrice.'

'But you haven't stopped loving Beatrice.'

'Yes, I have. With a sort of jerk at around twelve p.m. last night.'

'What!'

'And it's just as well,' said Packy, 'because my engagement has conked, too.'

'You don't mean that?'

'Yes, I do. Beatrice gave me the bird face to face at, I should say, about six-fifteen yesterday evening.'

'But she isn't here?'

'She was then.'

'But why did she break the engagement?'

Packy hesitated.

'Well, there were several reasons. Somehow or other she got the impression that I was a half-wit. And then...'

'Then?'

'Well, you see, she happened to run into your father, and he told her one or two things about...'

'About what?'

'Well, about you and me. She accused me of making love to you behind her back.'

'But you haven't made love to me.'

'I know. Silly idea. But you know what women...'

Jane looked pensively out at the lake.

'I wish you would,' she said.

A curious sensation came upon Packy. It was out of the question, of course, that some invisible man should suddenly have beaned him with a blunt instrument, but he had all the emotions of one who has undergone such a beaning. Somebody had also removed all the muscle from his legs.

He forced himself to be calm.

'Did you say,' he asked carefully, 'that you wished I would?'

'Not,' said Jane, 'if you don't want to.'

The muscle returned to Packy's legs. His head cleared. He felt like a giant.

'But I do,' he cried. 'Gosh ding it, you don't mean to tell me that you – er – that you – ah – that you, as it were... how shall I put it?'

'I believe I've been in love with you ever since I was a kid and used to go and watch you play football.'

'It's exactly the same with me. I mean, I didn't watch you play football, but... well, you know what I mean.'

'And when you came here and were so marvellous, I suddenly realized it.'

'Isn't it a scream, the way these things sort of dawn on you!' said Packy enthusiastically. 'I can see now that I really loved you from the moment you walked into your father's suite that day and sat down on the table. Something told me that we were soul-mates. Jane!' said Packy.

It was some moments after he had clasped her to him that Packy felt that there was something that remained to be said.

'You realize the sort of chump I am, don't you?' he asked anxiously. 'You aren't going into this with your eyes shut?'

'I think you're a precious angel pet.'

'I am a precious angel pet,' admitted Packy, 'but that doesn't alter the fact that I've been engaged twice before this. Once to Beatrice and once to the current Mrs Scott or Pott or Bott. In fact, getting engaged had become with me something of a habit, and many people would say I was a flippertygibbet.'

'What's a flippertygibbet?'

'It's something I used to be before I met you. But what I'm driving at is that all that sort of thing is over now. This is the finish.'

'The third time,' said Jane wisely, 'is always lucky.'

'Why,' asked Packy, 'does your nose turn up at the tip like that?'

'I don't know. It always has. Don't you like it?'

'I love it. I love every bit of you.' A fresh spasm of ecstasy seized Packy. 'Oh, gosh, what fun we're going to have!
You
won't make me go to concerts and lectures, will you? Of course you won't. We'll just roam about the world together for the rest of our lives, raising Cain hand in hand. Did I say that we were soul-mates?'

'I believe you did.'

'Well, we are. Young Jane,' said Packy, holding her at arm's length and gazing searchingly into her eyes, 'are you sure you love me?'

'Of course I am.'

Packy expelled a deep breath.

'This,' he said, 'is like being in heaven without going to all the bother and expense of dying.'

Something vast and shadowy loomed up beside them in the darkness.

''Scuse me!'

The shadowy something revealed itself as Mr Soup Slattery.

'I knew you were kidding me when you said you weren't that way with this beazel,' observed Mr Slattery with satisfaction.

Packy turned on him with a touch of not unjustifiable annoyance. It is not pleasant for an ardent young man to have safe-blowers popping up out of traps in his moments of deep emotion.

'What do you think you're doing here?'

'Just thought I'd say Hello and Good-bye.'

Packy's annoyance vanished.

'I'm glad you did,' he said. 'I haven't thanked you for coming and trying to help us. It was sporting of you.'

'Aw, hell!' said Mr Slattery modestly. 'I thought it over and I seen where I was doing you dirt, so I come along.'

'I'm afraid you had a wasted evening, Mr Slattery,' said Jane sympathetically.

'Her gentle woman's heart,' explained Packy, 'is touched at the thought that you hadn't time to snitch anything out of that safe.'

Mr Slattery seemed piqued. He bridled a little.

'Hadn't time? Hadn't
time?
Say, how much time do you think I need to dig into a pete? I just let me fingers flicker and there I am. I got away with a necklace, two rings, a pendant and a sun-boist. You won't see me around these parts no more. Me, back to the old country. Going to get me a farm, that's what I'm going to do. It's the only life – the farmer's. Eggs, milk, chickens... and brew your own applejack. Swell! Well, pleased to have seen you, boy. Wish you luck, miss. I'll be going.'

The night swallowed him up, and Packy gazed reverently after him.

'What a man!' he murmured.

A hideous noise woke the birds in the tree-tops. Senator Opal was coming down the path with a song on his lips.