CHAPTER VIII. A DISTURBED NIGHT FOR DEAR OLD SQUIFFY
Peril sharpens the intellect. Archie's mind as a rule worked in rather alanguid and restful sort of way, but now it got going with a rush anda whir. He glared round the room. He had never seen a room so devoidof satisfactory cover. And then there came to him a scheme, a ruse. Itoffered a chance of escape. It was, indeed, a bit of all right.
Peter, the snake, loafing contentedly about the carpet, found himselfseized by what the Encyclopaedia calls the "distensible gullet" andlooked up reproachfully. The next moment he was in his bag again; andArchie, bounding silently into the bathroom, was tearing the cord offhis dressing-gown.
There came a banging at the door. A voice spoke sternly. A masculinevoice this time.
"Say! Open this door!"
Archie rapidly attached the dressing-gown cord to the handle of the bag,leaped to the window, opened it, tied the cord to a projecting piece ofiron on the sill, lowered Peter and the bag into the depths, and closedthe window again. The whole affair took but a few seconds. Generals havereceived the thanks of their nations for displaying less resource on thefield of battle.
He opened the-door. Outside stood the bereaved woman, and beside her abullet-headed gentleman with a bowler hat on the back of his head, inwhom Archie recognised the hotel detective.
The hotel detective also recognised Archie, and the stern cast of hisfeatures relaxed. He even smiled a rusty but propitiatory smile. Heimagined--erroneously--that Archie, being the son-in-law of the ownerof the hotel, had a pull with that gentleman; and he resolved to proceedwarily lest he jeopardise his job.
"Why, Mr. Moffam!" he said, apologetically. "I didn't know it was you Iwas disturbing."
"Always glad to have a chat," said Archie, cordially. "What seems to bethe trouble?"
"My snake!" cried the queen of tragedy. "Where is my snake?"
Archie, looked at the detective. The detective looked at Archie.
"This lady," said the detective, with a dry little cough, "thinks hersnake is in your room, Mr. Moffam."
"Snake?"
"Snake's what the lady said."
"My snake! My Peter!" Mme. Brudowska's voice shook with emotion. "He ishere--here in this room."
Archie shook his head.
"No snakes here! Absolutely not! I remember noticing when I came in."
"The snake is here--here in this room. This man had it in a bag! I sawhim! He is a thief!"
"Easy, ma'am!" protested the detective. "Go easy! This gentleman is theboss's son-in-law."
"I care not who he is! He has my snake! Here--' here in this room!"
"Mr. Moffam wouldn't go round stealing snakes."
"Rather not," said Archie. "Never stole a snake in my life. None of theMoffams have ever gone about stealing snakes. Regular family tradition!Though I once had an uncle who kept gold-fish."
"Here he is! Here! My Peter!"
Archie looked at the detective. The detective looked at Archie. "We musthumour her!" their glances said.
"Of course," said Archie, "if you'd like to search the room, what? WhatI mean to say is, this is Liberty Hall. Everybody welcome! Bring thekiddies!"
"I will search the room!" said Mme. Brudowska.
The detective glanced apologetically at Archie.
"Don't blame me for this, Mr. Moffam," he urged.
"Rather not! Only too glad you've dropped in!"
He took up an easy attitude against the window, and watched the empressof the emotional drama explore. Presently she desisted, baffled. For aninstant she paused, as though about to speak, then swept from the room.A moment later a door banged across the passage.
"How do they get that way?" queried the detective, "Well, g'bye, Mr.Moffam. Sorry to have butted in."
The door closed. Archie waited a few moments, then went to the windowand hauled in the slack. Presently the bag appeared over the edge of thewindow-sill.
"Good God!" said Archie.
In the rush and swirl of recent events he must have omitted to see thatthe clasp that fastened the bag was properly closed; for the bag, asit jumped on to the window-sill, gaped at him like a yawning face. Andinside it there was nothing.
Archie leaned as far out of the window as he could manage withoutcommitting suicide. Far below him, the traffic took its usual courseand the pedestrians moved to and fro upon the pavements. There was nocrowding, no excitement. Yet only a few moments before a long greensnake with three hundred ribs, a distensible gullet, and gastrocentrousvertebras must have descended on that street like the gentle rain fromHeaven upon the place beneath. And nobody seemed even interested. Notfor the first time since he had arrived in America, Archie marvelledat the cynical detachment of the New Yorker, who permits himself to besurprised at nothing.
He shut the window and moved away with a heavy Heart. He had not hadthe pleasure of an extended acquaintanceship with Peter, but he hadseen enough of him to realise his sterling qualities. Somewhere beneathPeter's three hundred ribs there had lain a heart of gold, and Archiemourned for his loss.
Archie had a dinner and theatre engagement that night, and it was latewhen he returned to the hotel. He found his father-in-law prowlingrestlessly about the lobby. There seemed to be something on Mr.Brewster's mind. He came up to Archie with a brooding frown on hissquare face.
"Who's this man Seacliff?" he demanded, without preamble. "I hear he's afriend of yours."
"Oh, you've met him, what?" said Archie. "Had a nice little chattogether, yes? Talked of this and that, no!"
"We have not said a word to each other."
"Really? Oh, well, dear old Squiffy is one of those strong, silentfellers you know. You mustn't mind if he's a bit dumb. He never saysmuch, but it's whispered round the clubs that he thinks a lot. It wasrumoured in the spring of nineteen-thirteen that Squiffy was on thepoint of making a bright remark, but it never came to anything."
Mr. Brewster struggled with his feelings.
"Who is he? You seem to know him."
"Oh yes. Great pal of mine, Squiffy. We went through Eton, Oxford, andthe Bankruptcy Court together. And here's a rummy coincidence. When theyexamined ME, I had no assets. And, when they examined Squiffy, HE had noassets! Rather extraordinary, what?"
Mr. Brewster seemed to be in no mood for discussing coincidences.
"I might have known he was a friend of yours!" he said, bitterly. "Well,if you want to see him, you'll have to do it outside my hotel."
"Why, I thought he was stopping here."
"He is--to-night. To-morrow he can look for some other hotel to breakup."
"Great Scot! Has dear old Squiffy been breaking the place up?"
Mr. Brewster snorted.
"I am informed that this precious friend of yours entered my grill-roomat eight o'clock. He must have been completely intoxicated, though thehead waiter tells me he noticed nothing at the time."
Archie nodded approvingly.
"Dear old Squiffy was always like that. It's a gift. However woozled hemight be, it was impossible to detect it with the naked eye. I've seenthe dear old chap many a time whiffled to the eyebrows, and looking assober as a bishop. Soberer! When did it begin to dawn on the lads in thegrill-room that the old egg had been pushing the boat out?"
"The head waiter," said Mr. Brewster, with cold fury, "tells me that hegot a hint of the man's condition when he suddenly got up from his tableand went the round of the room, pulling off all the table-cloths, andbreaking everything that was on them. He then threw a number of rolls atthe diners, and left. He seems to have gone straight to bed."
"Dashed sensible of him, what? Sound, practical chap, Squiffy. But whereon earth did he get the--er--materials?"
"From his room. I made enquiries. He has six large cases in his room."
"Squiffy always was a chap of infinite resource! Well, I'm dashed sorrythis should have happened, don't you know."
"If it hadn't been for you, the man would never have come here." Mr.Brewster brooded coldly. "I don't know
why it is, but ever since youcame to this hotel I've had nothing but trouble."
"Dashed sorry!" said Archie, sympathetically.
"Grrh!" said Mr. Brewster.
Archie made his way meditatively to the lift. The injustice of hisfather-in-law's attitude pained him. It was absolutely rotten andall that to be blamed for everything that went wrong in the HotelCosmopolis.
While this conversation was in progress, Lord Seacliff was enjoying arefreshing sleep in his room on the fourth floor. Two hours passed. Thenoise of the traffic in the street below faded away. Only the rattle ofan occasional belated cab broke the silence. In the hotel all was still.Mr. Brewster had gone to bed. Archie, in his room, smoked meditatively.Peace may have been said to reign.
At half-past two Lord Seacliff awoke. His hours of slumber werealways irregular. He sat up in bed and switched the light on. He was ashock-headed young man with a red face and a hot brown eye. He yawnedand stretched himself. His head was aching a little. The room seemed tohim a trifle close. He got out of bed and threw open the window.Then, returning to bed, he picked up a book and began to read. He wasconscious of feeling a little jumpy, and reading generally sent him tosleep.
Much has been written on the subject of bed-books. The general consensusof opinion is that a gentle, slow-moving story makes the best opiate.If this be so, dear old Squiffy's choice of literature had been ratherinjudicious. His book was The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and theparticular story, which he selected for perusal was the one entitled,"The Speckled Band." He was not a great reader, but, when he read, heliked something with a bit of zip to it.
Squiffy became absorbed. He had read the story before, but a long timeback, and its complications were fresh to him. The tale, it may beremembered, deals with the activities of an ingenious gentleman who kepta snake, and used to loose it into people's bedrooms as a preliminary tocollecting on their insurance. It gave Squiffy pleasant thrills, for hehad always had a particular horror of snakes. As a child, he had shrunkfrom visiting the serpent house at the Zoo; and, later, when he had cometo man's estate and had put off childish things, and settled downin real earnest to his self-appointed mission of drinking up all thealcoholic fluid in England, the distaste for Ophidia had lingered. Toa dislike for real snakes had been added a maturer shrinking fromthose which existed only in his imagination. He could still recall hisemotions on the occasion, scarcely three months before, when he had seena long, green serpent which a majority of his contemporaries had assuredhim wasn't there.
Squiffy read on:--
"Suddenly another sound became audible--a very gentle, soothing sound,like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuously from a kettle."
Lord Seacliff looked up from his book with a start Imagination wasbeginning to play him tricks. He could have sworn that he had actuallyheard that identical sound. It had seemed to come from the window. Helistened again. No! All was still. He returned to his book and went onreading.
"It was a singular sight that met our eyes. Beside the table, on awooden chair, sat Doctor Grimesby Rylott, clad in a long dressing-gown.His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigidstare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiaryellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightlyround his head."
"I took a step forward. In an instant his strange head-gear beganto move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat,diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent..."
"Ugh!" said Squiffy.
He closed the book and put it down. His head was aching worse than ever.He wished now that he had read something else. No fellow could readhimself to sleep with this sort of thing. People ought not to write thissort of thing.
His heart gave a bound. There it was again, that hissing sound. And thistime he was sure it came from the window.
He looked at the window, and remained staring, frozen. Over the sill,with a graceful, leisurely movement, a green snake was crawling. Asit crawled, it raised its head and peered from side to side, like ashortsighted man looking for his spectacles. It hesitated a moment onthe edge of the sill, then wriggled to the floor and began to cross theroom. Squiffy stared on.
It would have pained Peter deeply, for he was a snake of greatsensibility, if he had known how much his entrance had disturbed theoccupant of the room. He himself had no feeling but gratitude for theman who had opened the window and so enabled him to get in out of therather nippy night air. Ever since the bag had swung open and shot himout onto the sill of the window below Archie's, he had been waitingpatiently for something of the kind to happen. He was a snake who tookthings as they came, and was prepared to rough it a bit if necessary;but for the last hour or two he had been hoping that somebody would dosomething practical in the way of getting him in out of the cold. Whenat home, he had an eiderdown quilt to sleep on, and the stone of thewindow-sill was a little trying to a snake of regular habits. He crawledthankfully across the floor under Squiffy's bed. There was a pair oftrousers there, for his host had undressed when not in a frame of mindto fold his clothes neatly and place them upon a chair. Peter looked thetrousers over. They were not an eiderdown quilt, but they would serve.He curled up in them and went to sleep. He had had an exciting day, andwas glad to turn in.
After about ten minutes, the tension of Squiffy's attitude relaxed. Hisheart, which had seemed to suspend its operations, began beating again.Reason reasserted itself. He peeped cautiously under the bed. He couldsee nothing.
Squiffy was convinced. He told himself that he had never really believedin Peter as a living thing. It stood to reason that there couldn'treally be a snake in his room. The window looked out on emptiness.His room was several stories above the ground. There was a stern,set expression on Squiffy's face as he climbed out of bed. It was theexpression of a man who is turning over a new leaf, starting a new life.He looked about the room for some implement which would carry out thedeed he had to do, and finally pulled out one of the curtain-rods. Usingthis as a lever, he broke open the topmost of the six cases which stoodin the corner. The soft wood cracked and split. Squiffy drew out astraw-covered bottle. For a moment he stood looking at it, as a manmight gaze at a friend on the point of death. Then, with a suddendetermination, he went into the bathroom. There was a crash of glass anda gurgling sound.
Half an hour later the telephone in Archie's room rang. "I say, Archie,old top," said the voice of Squiffy.
"Halloa, old bean! Is that you?"
"I say, could you pop down here for a second? I'm rather upset."
"Absolutely! Which room?"
"Four-forty-one."
"I'll be with you eftsoons or right speedily."
"Thanks, old man."
"What appears to be the difficulty?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I thought I saw a snake!"
"A snake!"
"I'll tell you all about it when you come down."
Archie found Lord Seacliff seated on his bed. An arresting aroma ofmixed drinks pervaded the atmosphere.
"I say! What?" said Archie, inhaling.
"That's all right. I've been pouring my stock away. Just finished thelast bottle."
"But why?"
"I told you. I thought I saw a snake!"
"Green?"
Squiffy shivered slightly.
"Frightfully green!"
Archie hesitated. He perceived that there are moments when silence isthe best policy. He had been worrying himself over the unfortunate caseof his friend, and now that Fate seemed to have provided a solution,it would be rash to interfere merely to ease the old bean's mind. IfSquiffy was going to reform because he thought he had seen an imaginarysnake, better not to let him know that the snake was a real one.
"Dashed serious!" he said.
"Bally dashed serious!" agreed Squiffy. "I'm going to cut it out!"
"Great scheme!"
"You don't think," asked Squiffy, with a touch of hopefulness, "that itcould have been a real snake?"
"Never heard of the management supplying them."
"I thought it went under the bed."
"Well, take a look."
Squiffy shuddered.
"Not me! I say, old top, you know, I simply can't sleep in this roomnow. I was wondering if you could give me a doss somewhere in yours."
"Rather! I'm in five-forty-one. Just above. Trot along up. Here's thekey. I'll tidy up a bit here, and join you in a minute."
Squiffy put on a dressing-gown and disappeared. Archie looked underthe bed. From the trousers the head of Peter popped up with its usualexpression of amiable enquiry. Archie nodded pleasantly, and sat downon the bed. The problem of his little friend's immediate future wantedthinking over.
He lit a cigarette and remained for a while in thought. Then he rose. Anadmirable solution had presented itself. He picked Peter up and placedhim in the pocket of his dressing-gown. Then, leaving the room, hemounted the stairs till he reached the seventh floor. Outside a roomhalf-way down the corridor he paused.
From within, through the open transom, came the rhythmical snoring of agood man taking his rest after the labours of the day. Mr. Brewster wasalways a heavy sleeper.
"There's always a way," thought Archie, philosophically, "if a chappieonly thinks of it."
His father-in-law's snoring took on a deeper note. Archie extractedPeter from his pocket and dropped him gently through the transom.