CHAPTER II. A SHOCK FOR MR. BREWSTER
Mr. Daniel Brewster sat in his luxurious suite at the Cosmopolis,smoking one of his admirable cigars and chatting with his old friend,Professor Binstead. A stranger who had only encountered Mr. Brewster inthe lobby of the hotel would have been surprised at the appearance ofhis sitting-room, for it had none of the rugged simplicity which was thekeynote of its owner's personal appearance. Daniel Brewster was a manwith a hobby. He was what Parker, his valet, termed a connoozer. Hiseducated taste in Art was one of the things which went to make theCosmopolis different from and superior to other New York hotels. He hadpersonally selected the tapestries in the dining-room and the variouspaintings throughout the building. And in his private capacity he was anenthusiastic collector of things which Professor Binstead, whosetastes lay in the same direction, would have stolen without a twinge ofconscience if he could have got the chance.
The professor, a small man of middle age who wore tortoiseshell-rimmedspectacles, flitted covetously about the room, inspecting its treasureswith a glistening eye. In a corner, Parker, a grave, lean individual,bent over the chafing-dish, in which he was preparing for his employerand his guest their simple lunch.
"Brewster," said Professor Binstead, pausing at the mantelpiece.
Mr. Brewster looked up amiably. He was in placid mood to-day. Twoweeks and more had passed since the meeting with Archie recorded in theprevious chapter, and he had been able to dismiss that disturbing affairfrom his mind. Since then, everything had gone splendidly with DanielBrewster, for he had just accomplished his ambition of the momentby completing the negotiations for the purchase of a site furtherdown-town, on which he proposed to erect a new hotel. He liked buildinghotels. He had the Cosmopolis, his first-born, a summer hotel in themountains, purchased in the previous year, and he was toying with theidea of running over to England and putting up another in London, That,however, would have to wait. Meanwhile, he would concentrate on this newone down-town. It had kept him busy and worried, arranging for securingthe site; but his troubles were over now.
"Yes?" he said.
Professor Binstead had picked up a small china figure of delicateworkmanship. It represented a warrior of pre-khaki days advancing with aspear upon some adversary who, judging from the contented expression onthe warrior's face, was smaller than himself.
"Where did you get this?"
"That? Mawson, my agent, found it in a little shop on the east side."
"Where's the other? There ought to be another. These things go in pairs.They're valueless alone."
Mr. Brewster's brow clouded.
"I know that," he said shortly. "Mawson's looking for the other oneeverywhere. If you happen across it, I give you carte blanche to buy itfor me."
"It must be somewhere."
"Yes. If you find it, don't worry about the expense. I'll settle up, nomatter what it is."
"I'll bear it in mind," said Professor Binstead. "It may cost you a lotof money. I suppose you know that."
"I told you I don't care what it costs."
"It's nice to be a millionaire," sighed Professor Binstead.
"Luncheon is served, sir," said Parker.
He had stationed himself in a statutesque pose behind Mr. Brewster'schair, when there was a knock at the door. He went to the door, andreturned with a telegram.
"Telegram for you, sir."
Mr. Brewster nodded carelessly. The contents of the chafing-dish hadjustified the advance advertising of their odour, and he was too busy tobe interrupted.
"Put it down. And you needn't wait, Parker."
"Very good, sir."
The valet withdrew, and Mr. Brewster resumed his lunch.
"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Professor Binstead, to whom atelegram was a telegram.
"It can wait. I get them all day long. I expect it's from Lucille,saying what train she's making."
"She returns to-day?"
"Yes, Been at Miami." Mr. Brewster, having dwelt at adequate length onthe contents of the chafing-dish, adjusted his glasses and took up theenvelope. "I shall be glad--Great Godfrey!"
He sat staring at the telegram, his mouth open. His friend eyed himsolicitously.
"No bad news, I hope?"
Mr. Brewster gurgled in a strangled way.
"Bad news? Bad--? Here, read it for yourself."
Professor Binstead, one of the three most inquisitive men in New York,took the slip of paper with gratitude.
"'Returning New York to-day with darling Archie,'" he read. "'Lots oflove from us both. Lucille.'" He gaped at his host. "Who is Archie?" heenquired.
"Who is Archie?" echoed Mr. Brewster helplessly. "Who is--? That's justwhat I would like to know."
"'Darling Archie,'" murmured the professor, musing over the telegram."'Returning to-day with darling Archie.' Strange!"
Mr. Brewster continued to stare before him. When you send your onlydaughter on a visit to Miami minus any entanglements and she mentionsin a telegram that she has acquired a darling Archie, you are naturallystartled. He rose from the table with a bound. It had occurred to himthat by neglecting a careful study of his mail during the past week,as was his bad habit when busy, he had lost an opportunity of keepingabreast with current happenings. He recollected now that a letter hadarrived from Lucille some time ago, and that he had put it away unopenedtill he should have leisure to read it. Lucille was a dear girl, he hadfelt, but her letters when on a vacation seldom contained anything thatcouldn't wait a few days for a reading. He sprang for his desk, rummagedamong his papers, and found what he was seeking.
It was a long letter, and there was silence in the room for somemoments while he mastered its contents. Then he turned to the professor,breathing heavily.
"Good heavens!"
"Yes?" said Professor Binstead eagerly. "Yes?"
"Good Lord!"
"Well?"
"Good gracious!"
"What is it?" demanded the professor in an agony.
Mr. Brewster sat down again with a thud.
"She's married!"
"Married!"
"Married! To an Englishman!"
"Bless my soul!"
"She says," proceeded Mr. Brewster, referring to the letter again, "thatthey were both so much in love that they simply had to slip off and getmarried, and she hopes I won't be cross. Cross!" gasped Mr. Brewster,gazing wildly at his friend.
"Very disturbing!"
"Disturbing! You bet it's disturbing! I don't know anything aboutthe fellow. Never heard of him in my life. She says he wanted a quietwedding because he thought a fellow looked such a chump getting married!And I must love him, because he's all set to love me very much!"
"Extraordinary!"
Mr. Brewster put the letter down.
"An Englishman!"
"I have met some very agreeable Englishmen," said Professor Binstead.
"I don't like Englishmen," growled Mr. Brewster. "Parker's anEnglishman."
"Your valet?"
"Yes. I believe he wears my shirts on the sly,'" said Mr. Brewsterbroodingly, "If I catch him--! What would you do about this, Binstead?"
"Do?" The professor considered the point judiciary. "Well, really,Brewster, I do not see that there is anything you can do. You mustsimply wait and meet the man. Perhaps he will turn out an admirableson-in-law."
"H'm!" Mr. Brewster declined to take an optimistic view. "But anEnglishman, Binstead!" he said with pathos. "Why," he went on, memorysuddenly stirring, "there was an Englishman at this hotel only a week ortwo ago who went about knocking it in a way that would have amazed you!Said it was a rotten place! MY hotel!"
Professor Binstead clicked his tongue sympathetically. He understood hisfriend's warmth.