CHAPTER XXIV. THE MELTING OF MR. CONNOLLY
The main dining-room of the Hotel Cosmopolis is a decorous place. Thelighting is artistically dim, and the genuine old tapestries on thewalls seem, with their mediaeval calm, to discourage any essay in theriotous. Soft-footed waiters shimmer to and fro over thick, expensivecarpets to the music of an orchestra which abstains wholly from thenoisy modernity of jazz. To Archie, who during the past few days hadbeen privileged to hear Miss Huskisson rehearsing, the place had a sortof brooding quiet, like the ocean just before the arrival of a cyclone.As Lucille had said, Miss Huskisson's voice was loud. It was a powerfulorgan, and there was no doubt that it would take the cloisteredstillness of the Cosmopolis dining-room and stand it on one ear. Almostunconsciously, Archie found himself bracing his muscles and holding hisbreath as he had done in France at the approach of the zero hour, whenawaiting the first roar of a barrage. He listened mechanically to theconversation of Mr. Blumenthal.
The music-publisher was talking with some vehemence on the subjectof Labour. A recent printers' strike had bitten deeply into Mr.Blumenthal's soul. The working man, he considered, was rapidly landingGod's Country in the soup, and he had twice upset his glass with thevehemence of his gesticulation. He was an energetic right-and-left-handtalker.
"The more you give 'em the more they want!" he complained. "There's nopleasing 'em! It isn't only in my business. There's your father, Mrs.Moffam!"
"Good God! Where?" said Archie, starting.
"I say, take your father's case. He's doing all he knows to get this newhotel of his finished, and what happens? A man gets fired for loafingon his job, and Connolly calls a strike. And the building operations areheld up till the thing's settled! It isn't right!"
"It's a great shame," agreed Lucille. "I was reading about it in thepaper this morning."
"That man Connolly's a tough guy. You'd think, being a personal friendof your father, he would--"
"I didn't know they were friends."
"Been friends for years. But a lot of difference that makes. Out comethe men just the same. It isn't right! I was saying it wasn't right!"repeated Mr. Blumenthal to Archie, for he was a man who liked theattention of every member of his audience.
Archie did not reply. He was staring glassily across the room at twomen who had just come in. One was a large, stout, square-faced man ofcommanding personality. The other was Mr. Daniel Brewster.
Mr. Blumenthal followed his gaze.
"Why, there is Connolly coming in now!"
"Father!" gasped Lucille.
Her eyes met Archie's. Archie took a hasty drink of ice-water.
"This," he murmured, "has torn it!"
"Archie, you must do something!"
"I know! But what?"
"What's the trouble?" enquired Mr. Blumenthal, mystified.
"Go over to their table and talk to them," said Lucille.
"Me!" Archie quivered. "No, I say, old thing, really!"
"Get them away!"
"How do you mean?"
"I know!" cried Lucille, inspired, "Father promised that you shouldbe manager of the new hotel when it was built. Well, then, this strikeaffects you just as much as anybody else. You have a perfect right totalk it over with them. Go and ask them to have dinner up in our suitewhere you can discuss it quietly. Say that up there they won't bedisturbed by the--the music."
At this moment, while Archie wavered, hesitating like a diver on theedge of a spring-board who is trying to summon up the necessary nerve toproject himself into the deep, a bell-boy approached the table wherethe Messrs. Brewster and Connolly had seated themselves. He murmuredsomething in Mr. Brewster's ear, and the proprietor of the Cosmopolisrose and followed him out of the room.
"Quick! Now's your chance!" said Lucille, eagerly. "Father's been calledto the telephone. Hurry!"
Archie took another drink of ice-water to steady his shakingnerve-centers, pulled down his waistcoat, straightened his tie, andthen, with something of the air of a Roman gladiator entering the arena,tottered across the room. Lucille turned to entertain the perplexedmusic-publisher.
The nearer Archie got to Mr. Aloysius Connolly the less did he like thelooks of him. Even at a distance the Labour leader had had a formidableaspect. Seen close to, he looked even more uninviting. His face hadthe appearance of having been carved out of granite, and the eye whichcollided with Archie's as the latter, with an attempt at an ingratiatingsmile, pulled up a chair and sat down at the table was hard and frosty.Mr. Connolly gave the impression that he would be a good man to have onyour side during a rough-and-tumble fight down on the water-front or insome lumber-camp, but he did not look chummy.
"Hallo-allo-allo!" said Archie.
"Who the devil," inquired Mr. Connolly, "are you?"
"My name's Archibald Moffam."
"That's not my fault."
"I'm jolly old Brewster's son-in-law."
"Glad to meet you."
"Glad to meet YOU," said Archie, handsomely.
"Well, good-bye!" said Mr. Connolly.
"Eh?"
"Run along and sell your papers. Your father-in-law and I have businessto discuss."
"Yes, I know."
"Private," added Mr. Connolly.
"Oh, but I'm in on this binge, you know. I'm going to be the manager ofthe new hotel."
"You!"
"Absolutely!"
"Well, well!" said Mr. Connolly, noncommittally.
Archie, pleased with the smoothness with which matters had opened, bentforward winsomely.
"I say, you know! It won't do, you know! Absolutely no! Not a bit likeit! No, no, far from it! Well, how about it? How do we go? What? Yes?No?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Call it off, old thing!"
"Call what off?"
"This festive old strike."
"Not on your--hallo, Dan! Back again?"
Mr. Brewster, looming over the table like a thundercloud, regardedArchie with more than his customary hostility. Life was no pleasantthing for the proprietor of the Cosmopolis just now. Once a man startsbuilding hotels, the thing becomes like dram-drinking. Any hitch, anysudden cutting-off of the daily dose, has the worst effects; and thestrike which was holding up the construction of his latest effort hadplunged Mr. Brewster into a restless gloom. In addition to having thisstrike on his hands, he had had to abandon his annual fishing-trip justwhen he had begun to enjoy it; and, as if all this were not enough, herewas his son-in-law sitting at his table. Mr. Brewster had a feeling thatthis was more than man was meant to bear.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"Hallo, old thing!" said Archie. "Come and join the party!"
"Don't call me old thing!"
"Right-o, old companion, just as you say. I say, I was just going tosuggest to Mr. Connolly that we should all go up to my suite and talkthis business over quietly."
"He says he's the manager of your new hotel," said Mr. Connolly. "Isthat right?"
"I suppose so," said Mr. Brewster, gloomily.
"Then I'm doing you a kindness," said Mr. Connolly, "in not letting itbe built."
Archie dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. The moments wereflying, and it began to seem impossible to shift these two men. Mr.Connolly was as firmly settled in his chair as some primeval rock. Asfor Mr. Brewster, he, too, had seated himself, and was gazing at Archiewith a weary repulsion. Mr. Brewster's glance always made Archie feel asthough there were soup on his shirt-front.
And suddenly from the orchestra at the other end of the room there camea familiar sound, the prelude of "Mother's Knee."
"So you've started a cabaret, Dan?" said Mr. Connolly, in a satisfiedvoice. "I always told you you were behind the times here!"
Mr. Brewster jumped.
"Cabaret!"
He stared unbelievingly at the white-robed figure which had just mountedthe orchestra dais, and then concentrated his gaze on Archie.
Archie would not have looked at his father-in-law
at this juncture if hehad had a free and untrammelled choice; but Mr. Brewster's eye drew hiswith something of the fascination which a snake's has for a rabbit. Mr.Brewster's eye was fiery and intimidating. A basilisk might have gone tohim with advantage for a course of lessons. His gaze went right throughArchie till the latter seemed to feel his back-hair curling crisply inthe flames.
"Is this one of your fool-tricks?"
Even in this tense moment Archie found time almost unconsciously toadmire his father-in-law's penetration and intuition. He seemed to havea sort of sixth sense. No doubt this was how great fortunes were made.
"Well, as a matter of fact--to be absolutely accurate--it was likethis--"
"Say, cut it out!" said Mr. Connolly. "Can the chatter! I want tolisten."
Archie was only too ready to oblige him. Conversation at the moment wasthe last thing he himself desired. He managed with a strong effort todisengage himself from Mr. Brewster's eye, and turned to the orchestradais, where Miss Spectatia Huskisson was now beginning the first verseof Wilson Hymack's masterpiece.
Miss Huskisson, like so many of the female denizens of the Middle West,was tall and blonde and constructed on substantial lines. She was a girlwhose appearance suggested the old homestead and fried pancakes and popcoming home to dinner after the morning's ploughing. Even her bobbedhair did not altogether destroy this impression. She looked big andstrong and healthy, and her lungs were obviously good. She attacked theverse of the song with something of the vigour and breadth of treatmentwith which in other days she had reasoned with refractory mules. Herdiction was the diction of one trained to call the cattle home in theteeth of Western hurricanes. Whether you wanted to or not, you heardevery word.
The subdued clatter of knives and forks had ceased. The diners, unusedto this sort of thing at the Cosmopolis, were trying to adjust theirfaculties to cope with the outburst. Waiters stood transfixed, frozen,in attitudes of service. In the momentary lull between verse and refrainArchie could hear the deep breathing of Mr. Brewster. Involuntarilyhe turned to gaze at him once more, as refugees from Pompeii may haveturned to gaze upon Vesuvius; and, as he did so, he caught sight of Mr.Connolly, and paused in astonishment.
Mr. Connolly was an altered man. His whole personality had undergonea subtle change. His face still looked as though hewn from the livingrock, but into his eyes had crept an expression which in another manmight almost have been called sentimental. Incredible as it seemedto Archie, Mr. Connolly's eyes were dreamy. There was even in them asuggestion of unshed tears. And when with a vast culmination of soundMiss Huskisson reached the high note at the end of the refrain and,after holding it as some storming-party, spent but victorious, holds thesummit of a hard-won redoubt, broke off suddenly, in the stillness whichfollowed there proceeded from Mr. Connolly a deep sigh.
Miss Huskisson began the second verse. And Mr. Brewster, seeming torecover from some kind of a trance, leaped to his feet.
"Great Godfrey!"
"Sit down!" said Mr. Connolly, in a broken voice. "Sit down, Dan!"
"He went back to his mother on the train that very day: He knew there was no other who could make him bright and gay: He kissed her on the forehead and he whispered, 'I've come home!' He told her he was never going any more to roam. And onward through the happy years, till he grew old and grey, He never once regretted those brave words he once did say: It's a long way back to mother's knee--"
The last high note screeched across the room like a shell, and theapplause that followed was like a shell's bursting. One could hardlyhave recognised the refined interior of the Cosmopolis dining-room. Fairwomen were waving napkins; brave men were hammering on the tables withthe butt-end of knives, for all the world as if they imagined themselvesto be in one of those distressing midnight-revue places. Miss Huskissonbowed, retired, returned, bowed, and retired again, the tearsstreaming down her ample face. Over in a corner Archie could see hisbrother-in-law clapping strenuously. A waiter, with a display of manlyemotion that did him credit, dropped an order of new peas.
"Thirty years ago last October," said Mr. Connolly, in a shaking voice,"I--"
Mr. Brewster interrupted him violently.
"I'll fire that orchestra-leader! He goes to-morrow! I'll fire--" Heturned on Archie. "What the devil do you mean by it, you--you--"
"Thirty years ago," said Mr. Connolly, wiping away a tear with hisnapkin, "I left me dear old home in the old country--"
"MY hotel a bear-garden!"
"Frightfully sorry and all that, old companion--"
"Thirty years ago last October! 'Twas a fine autumn evening the finestye'd ever wish to see. Me old mother, she came to the station to see meoff."
Mr. Brewster, who was not deeply interested in Mr. Connolly's oldmother, continued to splutter inarticulately, like a firework trying togo off.
"'Ye'll always be a good boy, Aloysius?' she said to me," said Mr.Connolly, proceeding with, his autobiography. "And I said: 'Yes, Mother,I will!'" Mr. Connolly sighed and applied the napkin again. "'Twas aliar I was!" he observed, remorsefully. "Many's the dirty I've playedsince then. 'It's a long way back to Mother's knee.' 'Tis a true word!"He turned impulsively to Mr. Brewster. "Dan, there's a deal of troublein this world without me going out of me way to make more. The strike isover! I'll send the men back tomorrow! There's me hand on it!"
Mr. Brewster, who had just managed to co-ordinate his views on thesituation and was about to express them with the generous strength whichwas ever his custom when dealing with his son-in-law, checked himselfabruptly. He stared at his old friend and business enemy, wondering ifhe could have heard aright. Hope began to creep back into Mr. Brewster'sheart, like a shamefaced dog that has been away from home hunting for aday or two.
"You'll what!"
"I'll send the men back to-morrow! That song was sent to guide me, Dan!It was meant! Thirty years ago last October me dear old mother--"
Mr. Brewster bent forward attentively. His views on Mr. Connolly's dearold mother had changed. He wanted to hear all about her.
"'Twas that last note that girl sang brought it all back to me as if'twas yesterday. As we waited on the platform, me old mother and I, outcomes the train from the tunnel, and the engine lets off a screech theway ye'd hear it ten miles away. 'Twas thirty years ago--"
Archie stole softly from the table. He felt that his presence, if it hadever been required, was required no longer. Looking back, he could seehis father-in-law patting Mr. Connolly affectionately on the shoulder.
Archie and Lucille lingered over their coffee. Mr. Blumenthal was outin the telephone-box settling the business end with Wilson Hymack. Themusic-publisher had been unstinted in his praise of "Mother's Knee."It was sure-fire, he said. The words, stated Mr. Blumenthal, were gooeyenough to hurt, and the tune reminded him of every other song-hit he hadever heard. There was, in Mr. Blumenthal's opinion, nothing to stop thisthing selling a million copies.
Archie smoked contentedly.
"Not a bad evening's work, old thing," he said. "Talk about birds withone stone!" He looked at Lucille reproachfully. "You don't seem bubblingover with joy."
"Oh, I am, precious!" Lucille sighed. "I was only thinking about Bill."
"What about Bill?"
"Well, it's rather awful to think of him tied for life to that-thatsteam-siren."
"Oh, we mustn't look on the jolly old dark side. Perhaps--Hallo, Bill,old top! We were just talking about you."
"Were you?" said Bill Brewster, in a dispirited voice.
"I take it that you want congratulations, what?"
"I want sympathy!"
"Sympathy?"
"Sympathy! And lots of it! She's gone!"
"Gone! Who?"
"Spectatia!"
"How do you mean, gone?"
Bill glowered at the tablecloth.
"Gone home. I've just seen her off in a cab. She's gone back toWashington Square to pack. She's catching the ten o'clock train backto Snake Bite. It wa
s that damned song!" muttered Bill, in a strickenvoice. "She says she never realised before she sang it to-night howhollow New York was. She said it suddenly came over her. She says she'sgoing to give up her career and go back to her mother. What the deuceare you twiddling your fingers for?" he broke off, irritably.
"Sorry, old man. I was just counting."
"Counting? Counting what?"
"Birds, old thing. Only birds!" said Archie.