Mrs. Bundercombe rose to her feet. I made no effort to stop her; in fact her action filled me with pleasurable antic.i.p.ations. She walked across to the table at which Mr. Bundercombe was seated. Eve and I both turned in our places to watch.
"Poor daddy!" Eve murmured under her breath. "Why couldn"t he have chosen a smaller restaurant. He is going to catch it now!"
"I think I"ll back your father," I observed. "He is quite at his best this morning."
The exact words that pa.s.sed between Mr. Bundercombe and his wife we, alas!
never knew. She turned her left shoulder pointedly toward the young woman, whom she had designated as a hussy, and talked steadily for about a minute and a half at Mr. Bundercombe. The history of what followed was reflected in that gentleman"s expressive face. He appeared to listen, at first in amazement, afterward in annoyance, and finally in downright anger. When at last he spoke we heard the words distinctly.
"Madam," he said, "I don"t know who you are, and I object to being addressed in a public place by ladies who are strangers to me. Be so good as to return to your seat. You are mistaking me for some one else. My name is Joseph H. Parker."
For a lady who had won renown upon the platform as a debater, Mrs.
Bundercombe seemed afflicted with considerable difficulty in framing a suitable reply; and while she was still a little incoherent Mr.
Bundercombe softly summoned the _maitre d"hotel_. It may have been my fancy, but I certainly thought I saw a sovereign slipped into the hand of the latter.
"Charles," Mr. Bundercombe confided, "my luncheon is being spoiled by people who mistake me for a gentleman who, I believe, does bear a singular resemblance to me. My name is Parker! This lady insists upon addressing me as Mr. Bundercombe. I do not wish to make a disturbance, but I insist upon it that you conduct this lady to her place and see that I am not disturbed any more."
The _maitre d"hotel"s_ att.i.tude was unmistakable. Within the course of a few seconds Mrs. Bundercombe was restored to us. I thought it best to ignore the whole matter and plunged at once into a discussion of gastronomic matters. "I have ordered," I began, "some Maryland chicken."
"Then you can eat it!" Mrs. Bundercombe snapped. "Not a mouthful of food do I take in this place with that painted hussy sitting by Joseph"s side a few feet away! Oh, I"ll fix him when I get him home!"
She drew a little breath between her teeth, but she was as good as her word. She refused all food and sat with her arms folded, glaring across at Mr. Bundercombe"s table. My admiration for that man of genius was never greater than on that day. So far from hurrying over his luncheon, he seemed inclined to prolong it.
There was no lack of conversation between him and his companion. They even lingered over their coffee and they were still at the table when Eve and I had finished and Mrs. Bundercombe was sipping the hot water, the only thing that pa.s.sed her lips during the entire meal. I paid the bill and rose. Mrs. Bundercombe, after a moment"s hesitation, followed us.
"Eve and I thought of going into the Academy for a few minutes," I said tentatively as we reached the entrance hall.
Mrs. Bundercombe plumped herself down on a high-backed chair within a yard of the door.
"I," she announced, "shall wait here for Joseph!"
I realized the futility of any attempt to dissuade her; so we left her there, spent an hour at the Academy and did a little shopping. On our way back an idea occurred to me. We reentered the restaurant. Mrs. Bundercombe was still sitting there in a corner of the hall.
"Thinks he can tire me out, perhaps!" she remarked in an explanatory manner. "Well, he just can"t--that"s all!"
I moved a few steps farther in and glanced down the restaurant. Then I returned.
"But, my dear Mrs. Bundercombe," I said, "your husband has gone long ago!
He went out the other way. I am not sure--but I believe we saw him in Bond Street quite three quarters of an hour ago."
"There is another way out?" Mrs. Bundercombe asked hastily.
"Certainly there is," I told her; "into Jermyn Street."
"Why was I not told?" she demanded, rising unwillingly to her feet.
"Really," I a.s.sured her, "I didn"t think of it."
She followed us out. We all walked down Piccadilly.
"Will you please," she said, "direct me to a tea-shop?"
I pointed one out to her. She left us without a word of farewell. Eve and I turned down into the Haymarket.
"Nice example your parents are setting us!" I remarked.
Eve sighed.
"I wish I knew what dad was up to!" she murmured.
At that moment we met him. He came strolling along, his silk hat a little on the back of his head, a cigar in his mouth, his hands grasping his cane behind his back. "Bundercombe or Parker?" I inquired as we came to a standstill on the pavement.
He grinned.
"Nasty business, that!" he remarked cheerfully. "Why don"t you keep to the Ritz or the Berkeley? Anyway," he added, his tone changing, "I"m glad I met you, Paul. I want your help in a little matter."
I shook my head.
"Quite out of the question!" I declared emphatically.
"Don"t forget that Paul is an M.P., dad!" Eve said severely. "You mustn"t attempt to bring him into any of your little affairs."
"On this occasion," Mr. Bundercombe expostulated, "I am on the side of the law. Mr. Cullen, whom I am probably going to see presently, will be my brother-in-arms."
"What do you need me for, then?" I asked.
"As to absolutely needing you, perhaps I don"t," Mr. Bundercombe admitted.
"On the other hand, it"s a very interesting little affair, and one in which you could take a hand without compromising yourself."
"What about Eve?" I inquired.
"Not this time!" Mr. Bundercombe replied. "The only risk there is about the affair," he explained, "is that it is just possible there may be a bit of a sc.r.a.p."
"What"s the program?" I asked.
"To-night, at home, at ten o"clock. Can you manage it?"
"Rather," I answered; "if Eve doesn"t mind. This is the night you promised to go with your mother to a lecture somewhere, isn"t it?" I reminded her.
She nodded.
"Very well," she consented resignedly, "so long as you don"t let him get hurt, dad."
"No fear of that!" Mr. Bundercombe declared cheerfully. "If they go for any one they"ll go for me. So long, young people! At ten o"clock, Paul!"
At precisely the hour agreed upon that evening I presented myself at Mr.
Bundercombe"s house in Prince"s Gardens. I noticed that the manner of the servant who admitted me was subdued and there was a peculiar gloom about the place. Very few lights were lit and the farther portion of the house, of which one could catch a glimpse from the little circular hall, seemed entirely deserted. I was shown at once into Mr. Bundercombe"s study upon the ground floor. Mr. Bundercombe was seated at a writing table, with his face toward the door. He greeted me with a friendly nod and pointed to a little table upon which stood an abundant display of cigars and cigarettes of all brands.
I helped myself and lit a cigarette.