CHAPTER XX. THE-SAUSAGE-CHAPPIE-CLICKS
Rendered restless by relief, Bill Brewster did not linger long at theluncheon-table. Shortly after Reggie van Tuyl had retired, he got up andannounced his intention of going for a bit of a walk to calm his excitedmind. Archie dismissed him with a courteous wave of the hand; and,beckoning to the Sausage Chappie, who in his role of waiter was hoveringnear, requested him to bring the best cigar the hotel could supply. Thepadded seat in which he sat was comfortable; he had no engagements; andit seemed to him that a pleasant half-hour could be passed in smokingdreamily and watching his fellow-men eat.
The grill-room had filled up. The Sausage Chappie, having brought Archiehis cigar, was attending to a table close by, at which a woman witha small boy in a sailor suit had seated themselves. The woman wasengrossed with the bill of fare, but the child's attention seemedriveted upon the Sausage Chappie. He was drinking him in with wide eyes.He seemed to be brooding on him.
Archie, too, was brooding on the Sausage Chappie, The latter made anexcellent waiter: he was brisk and attentive, and did the work as ifhe liked it; but Archie was not satisfied. Something seemed to tell himthat the man was fitted for higher things. Archie was a grateful soul.That sausage, coming at the end of a five-hour hike, had made adeep impression on his plastic nature. Reason told him that only anexceptional man could have parted with half a sausage at such a moment;and he could not feel that a job as waiter at a New York hotel was anadequate job for an exceptional man. Of course, the root of the troublelay in the fact that the fellow could not remember what his reallife-work had been before the war. It was exasperating to reflect, asthe other moved away to take his order to the kitchen, that there, forall one knew, went the dickens of a lawyer or doctor or architect orwhat not.
His meditations were broken by the voice of the child.
"Mummie," asked the child interestedly, following the Sausage Chappiewith his eyes as the latter disappeared towards the kitchen, "why hasthat man got such a funny face?"
"Hush, darling."
"Yes, but why HAS he?"
"I don't know, darling."
The child's faith in the maternal omniscience seemed to have received ashock. He had the air of a seeker after truth who has been baffled. Hiseyes roamed the room discontentedly.
"He's got a funnier face than that man there," he said, pointing toArchie.
"Hush, darling!"
"But he has. Much funnier."
In a way it was a sort of compliment, but Archie felt embarrassed. Hewithdrew coyly into the cushioned recess. Presently the Sausage Chappiereturned, attended to the needs of the woman and the child, and cameover to Archie. His homely face was beaming.
"Say, I had a big night last night," he said, leaning on the table.
"Yes?" said Archie. "Party or something?"
"No, I mean I suddenly began to remember things. Something seems to havehappened to the works."
Archie sat up excitedly. This was great news.
"No, really? My dear old lad, this is absolutely topping. This ispriceless."
"Yessir! First thing I remembered was that I was born at Springfield,Ohio. It was like a mist starting to lift. Springfield, Ohio. That wasit. It suddenly came back to me."
"Splendid! Anything else?"
"Yessir! Just before I went to sleep I remembered my name as well."
Archie was stirred to his depths.
"Why, the thing's a walk-over!" he exclaimed. "Now you've once gotstarted, nothing can stop you. What is your name?"
"Why, it's--That's funny! It's gone again. I have an idea it began withan S. What was it? Skeffington? Skillington?"
"Sanderson?"
"No; I'll get it in a moment. Cunningham? Carrington? Wilberforce?Debenham?"
"Dennison?" suggested Archie, helpfully.--"No, no, no. It's on thetip of my tongue. Barrington? Montgomery? Hepplethwaite? I've got it!Smith!"
"By Jove! Really?"
"Certain of it."
"What's the first name?"
An anxious expression came into the man's eyes. He hesitated. He loweredhis voice.
"I have a horrible feeling that it's Lancelot!"
"Good God!" said Archie.
"It couldn't really be that, could it?"
Archie looked grave. He hated to give pain, but he felt he must behonest.
"It might," he said. "People give their children all sorts of rummynames. My second name's Tracy. And I have a pal in England who waschristened Cuthbert de la Hay Horace. Fortunately everyone calls himStinker."
The head-waiter began to drift up like a bank of fog, and the SausageChappie returned to his professional duties. When he came back, he wasbeaming again.
"Something else I remembered," he said, removing the cover. "I'mmarried!"
"Good Lord!"
"At least I was before the war. She had blue eyes and brown hair and aPekingese dog."
"What was her name?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you're coming on," said Archie. "I'll admit that. You've stillgot a bit of a way to go before you become like one of those blighterswho take the Memory Training Courses in the magazine advertisements--Imean to say, you know, the lads who meet a fellow once for five minutes,and then come across him again ten years later and grasp him by the handand say, 'Surely this is Mr. Watkins of Seattle?' Still, you're doingfine. You only need patience. Everything comes to him who waits."Archie sat up, electrified. "I say, by Jove, that's rather good, what!Everything comes to him who waits, and you're a waiter, what, what. Imean to say, what!"
"Mummie," said the child at the other table, still speculative, "do youthink something trod on his face?"
"Hush, darling."
"Perhaps it was bitten by something?"
"Eat your nice fish, darling," said the mother, who seemed to be oneof those dull-witted persons whom it is impossible to interest in adiscussion on first causes.
Archie felt stimulated. Not even the advent of his father-in-law, whocame in a few moments later and sat down at the other end of the room,could depress his spirits.
The Sausage Chappie came to his table again.
"It's a funny thing," he said. "Like waking up after you've been asleep.Everything seems to be getting clearer. The dog's name was Marie. Mywife's dog, you know. And she had a mole on her chin."
"The dog?"
"No. My wife. Little beast! She bit me in the leg once."
"Your wife?"
"No. The dog. Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie.
Archie looked up and followed his gaze.
A couple of tables away, next to a sideboard on which the managementexposed for view the cold meats and puddings and pies mentioned involume two of the bill of fare ("Buffet Froid"), a man and a girl hadjust seated themselves. The man was stout and middle-aged. He bulgedin practically every place in which a man can bulge, and his head wasalmost entirely free from hair. The girl was young and pretty. Her eyeswere blue. Her hair was brown. She had a rather attractive little moleon the left side of her chin.
"Good Lord!" said the Sausage Chappie.
"Now what?" said Archie.
"Who's that? Over at the table there?"
Archie, through long attendance at the Cosmopolis Grill, knew most ofthe habitues by sight.
"That's a man named Gossett. James J. Gossett. He's a motion-pictureman. You must have seen his name around."
"I don't mean him. Who's the girl?"
"I've never seen her before."
"It's my wife!" said the Sausage Chappie.
"Your wife!"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!"
"Well, well, well!" said Archie. "Many happy returns of the day!"
At the other table, the girl, unconscious of the drama which was aboutto enter her life, was engrossed in conversation with the stout man. Andat this moment the stout man leaned forward and patted her on the cheek.
It was a paternal pat, the pat which a genial uncle migh
t bestow ona favourite niece, but it did not strike the Sausage Chappie in thatlight. He had been advancing on the table at a fairly rapid pace, andnow, stirred to his depths, he bounded forward with a hoarse cry.
Archie was at some pains to explain to his father-in-law later that, ifthe management left cold pies and things about all over the place, thissort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. He urged that itwas putting temptation in people's way, and that Mr. Brewster had onlyhimself to blame. Whatever the rights of the case, the Buffet Froidundoubtedly came in remarkably handy at this crisis in the SausageChappie's life. He had almost reached the sideboard when the stout manpatted the girl's cheek, and to seize a huckleberry pie was with him thework of a moment. The next instant the pie had whizzed past the other'shead and burst like a shell against the wall.
There are, no doubt, restaurants where this sort of thing wouldhave excited little comment, but the Cosmopolis was not one of them.Everybody had something to say, but the only one among those present whohad anything sensible to say was the child in the sailor suit.
"Do it again!" said the child, cordially.
The Sausage Chappie did it again. He took up a fruit salad, poised itfor a moment, then decanted it over Mr. Gossett's bald head. The child'shappy laughter rang over the restaurant. Whatever anybody else mightthink of the affair, this child liked it and was prepared to go onrecord to that effect.
Epic events have a stunning quality. They paralyse the faculties. Fora moment there was a pause. The world stood still. Mr. Brewster bubbledinarticulately. Mr. Gossett dried himself sketchily with a napkin. TheSausage Chappie snorted.
The girl had risen to her feet and was staring wildly.
"John!" she cried.
Even at this moment of crisis the Sausage Chappie was able to lookrelieved.
"So it is!" he said. "And I thought it was Lancelot!"
"I thought you were dead!"
"I'm not!" said the Sausage Chappie.
Mr. Gossett, speaking thickly through the fruit-salad, was understoodto say that he regretted this. And then confusion broke loose again.Everybody began to talk at once.
"I say!" said Archie. "I say! One moment!"
Of the first stages of this interesting episode Archie had been aparalysed spectator. The thing had numbed him. And then--
Sudden a thought came, like a full-blown rose. Flushing his brow.
When he reached the gesticulating group, he was calm and business-like.He had a constructive policy to suggest.
"I say," he said. "I've got an idea!"
"Go away!" said Mr. Brewster. "This is bad enough without you buttingin."
Archie quelled him with a gesture.
"Leave us," he said. "We would be alone. I want to have a littlebusiness-talk with Mr. Gossett." He turned to the movie-magnate, whowas gradually emerging from the fruit-salad rather after the manner ofa stout Venus rising from the sea. "Can you spare me a moment of yourvaluable time?"
"I'll have him arrested!"
"Don't you do it, laddie. Listen!"
"The man's mad. Throwing pies!"
Archie attached himself to his coat-button.
"Be calm, laddie. Calm and reasonable!"
For the first time Mr. Gossett seemed to become aware that what he hadbeen looking on as a vague annoyance was really an individual.
"Who the devil are you?"
Archie drew himself up with dignity.
"I am this gentleman's representative," he replied, indicating theSausage Chappie with a motion of the hand. "His jolly old personalrepresentative. I act for him. And on his behalf I have a pretty ripeproposition to lay before you. Reflect, dear old bean," he proceededearnestly. "Are you going to let this chance slip? The opportunity of alifetime which will not occur again. By Jove, you ought to rise up andembrace this bird. You ought to clasp the chappie to your bosom! He hasthrown pies at you, hasn't he? Very well. You are a movie-magnate. Yourwhole fortune is founded on chappies who throw pies. You probably scourthe world for chappies who throw pies. Yet, when one comes right to youwithout any fuss or trouble and demonstrates before your very eyes thefact that he is without a peer as a pie-propeller, you get the wind upand talk about having him arrested. Consider! (There's a bit of cherryjust behind your left ear.) Be sensible. Why let your personal feelingstand in the way of doing yourself a bit of good? Give this chappie ajob and give it him quick, or we go elsewhere. Did you ever see FattyArbuckle handle pastry with a surer touch? Has Charlie Chaplin got thisfellow's speed and control. Absolutely not. I tell you, old friend,you're in danger of throwing away a good thing!"
He paused. The Sausage Chappie beamed.
"I've aways wanted to go into the movies," he said. "I was an actorbefore the war. Just remembered."
Mr. Brewster attempted to speak. Archie waved him down.
"How many times have I got to tell you not to butt in?" he said,severely.
Mr. Gossett's militant demeanour had become a trifle modified duringArchie's harangue. First and foremost a man of business, Mr. Gossett wasnot insensible to the arguments which had been put forward. He brushed aslice of orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile.
"How do I know this fellow would screen well?" he said, at length.
"Screen well!" cried Archie. "Of course he'll screen well. Look athis face. I ask you! The map! I call your attention to it." He turnedapologetically to the Sausage Chappie. "Awfully sorry, old lad, fordwelling on this, but it's business, you know." He turned to Mr.Gossett. "Did you ever see a face like that? Of course not. Why shouldI, as this gentleman's personal representative, let a face like that goto waste? There's a fortune in it. By Jove, I'll give you two minutes tothink the thing over, and, if you don't talk business then, I'll jollywell take my man straight round to Mack Sennett or someone. We don'thave to ask for jobs. We consider offers."
There was a silence. And then the clear voice of the child in the sailorsuit made itself heard again.
"Mummie!"
"Yes, darling?"
"Is the man with the funny face going to throw any more pies?"
"No, darling."
The child uttered a scream of disappointed fury.
"I want the funny man to throw some more pies! I want the funny man tothrow some more pies!"
A look almost of awe came into Mr. Gossett's face. He had heard thevoice of the Public. He had felt the beating of the Public's pulse.
"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings," he said, picking a piece ofbanana off his right eyebrow, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings.Come round to my office!"