MR. ROSCOE SHERRIFF HAS AN IDEA
Archie a fresh cigarette in his long and to a little moodily. It was about a week after his in J. B. Wheeler’s studio, and life had for the moment to be a thing of careless enjoyment. Mr. Wheeler, over his home-brew and refusing, like Niobe, to be comforted, has the for the magazine cover, thus Archie of his life-work. Mr. Brewster had not been in mood of late. And, in to all this, Lucille was away on a visit to a school-friend. And when Lucille away, she took with her the sunshine. Archie was not at her being popular and in among her friends, but that did not help him to to her absence.
He across the table at his friend, Roscoe Sherriff, the Press-agent, another of his Pen-and-Ink Club acquaintances. They had just lunch, and the Sherriff, who, like most men of action, was of the of his own voice and liked it on the of himself, had been telling Archie a about his professional past. From these the had a picture of Roscoe Sherriff’s life as a thing of energy and and well-paid withal—just the of life, in fact, which he would have leading himself. He that he, too, like the Press-agent, go about the place “slipping over” and “putting across.” Daniel Brewster, he felt, would have upon a son-in-law like Roscoe Sherriff.
“The more I see of America,” Archie, “the more it me. All you to have been doing from the upwards. I wish I do things!”
“Well, why don’t you?”
Archie the from his cigarette into the finger-bowl.
“Oh, I don’t know, you know,” he said, “Somehow, none of our family have. I don’t know why it is, but a Moffam out to do he makes a bloomer. There was a Moffam in the Middle Ages who had a of energy and set out to make a to Jerusalem, as a friar. Rum ideas they had in those days.”
“Did he there?”
“Absolutely not! Just as he was the door his him for a tramp—or a varlet, or a knave, or they used to call them at that time—and him in the part of the leg.”
“Well, at least he started.”
“Enough to make a start, what?”
Roscoe Sherriff his coffee thoughtfully. He was an of Energy, and it to him that he make a of Archie and do himself a of good. For days he had been, looking for someone like Archie to help him in a small which he had in mind.
“If you’re on doing things,” he said, “there’s something you can do for me right away.”
Archie beamed. Action was what his demanded.
“Anything, dear boy, anything! State your case!”
“Would you have any to up a for me?”
“Putting up a snake?”
“Just for a day or two.”
“But how do you mean, old soul? Put him up where?”
“Wherever you live. Where do you live? The Cosmopolis, isn’t it? Of course! You married old Brewster’s daughter. I reading about it.”
“But, I say, laddie, I don’t want to your day and you and so forth, but my old father-in-law would let me keep a snake. Why, it’s as much as I can do to make him let me stop on in the place.”
“He wouldn’t know.”
“There’s not much that goes on in the hotel that he doesn’t know,” said Archie, doubtfully.
“He mustn’t know. The whole point of the thing is that it must be a secret.”
Archie some more into the finger-bowl.
“I don’t to have the in all its aspects, if you know what I mean,” he said. “I to say—in the place—why would it your if I this of yours?”
“It’s not mine. It to Mme. Brudowska. You’ve of her, of course?”
“Oh yes. She’s some of female in or something, isn’t she, or something of that or order?”
“You’re near it, but not right. She is the leading of high-brow on any stage in the world.”
“Absolutely! I now. My wife me to see her perform one night. It all comes to me. She had me in an orchestra-stall I what I was up against, and then it was too late. I reading in some or other that she had a snake, her by some Russian or other, what?”
“That,” said Sherriff, “was the I to when I sent the to the papers. I’m her Press-agent. As a of fact, I Peter-its name’s Peter-myself on the East Side. I always in animals for Press-agent stunts. I’ve nearly always had good results. But with Her Nibs I’m handicapped. Shackled, so to speak. You might almost say my is stifled. Or strangled, if you it.”
“Anything you say,” Archie, courteously, “But how? Why is your what-d’you-call-it what’s-its-named?”
“She me on a leash. She won’t let me do anything with a in it. If I’ve one rip-snorting stunt, I’ve twenty, and every time she them on the ground that that of thing is the of an artist in her position. It doesn’t give a a chance. So now I’ve up my mind to do her good by stealth. I’m going to her snake.”
“Steal it? Pinch it, as it were?”
“Yes. Big for the papers, you see. She’s very much to Peter. He’s her mascot. I she’s herself into that Russian story. If I can it away and keep it away for a day or two, she’ll do the rest. She’ll make such a that the papers will be full of it.”
“I see.”
“Wow, any ordinary woman would work in with me. But not Her Nibs. She would call it and and a of other things. It’s got to be a steal, and, if I’m at it, I my job. So that’s where you come in.”
“But where am I to keep the old reptile?”
“Oh, anywhere. Punch a in a hat-box, and make it up a inside. It’ll be company for you.”
“Something in that. My wife’s away just now and it’s a in the evenings.”
“You’ll be with Peter around. He’s a great scout. Always and bright.”
“He doesn’t bite, I suppose, or or what-not?”
“He may what-not occasionally. It on the weather. But, of that, he’s as as a canary.”
“Dashed things, canaries,” said Archie, thoughtfully. “They at you.”
“Don’t weaken!” the Press-agent
“Oh, all right. I’ll take him. By the way, the of and sluicing. What do I him on?”
“Oh, anything. Bread-and-milk or fruit or soft-boiled egg or dog-biscuit or ants’-eggs. You know—anything you have yourself. Well, I’m much for your hospitality. I’ll do the same for you another time. Now I must be along to see to the practical end of the thing. By the way, Her Nibs at the Cosmopolis, too. Very convenient. Well, so long. See you later.”
Archie, left alone, for the time to have doubts. He had allowed himself to be by Mr. Sherriff’s magnetic personality, but now that the other had himself he to wonder if he had been wise to his and co-operation to the scheme. He had had with a before, but he had as a child, and there had been the of a of and over them. Getting into the and what-not. Something to tell him that he was for trouble with a loud voice, but he had his word and he he would have to go through with it.
He another cigarette and out into Fifth Avenue. His was with care. Despite the which Sherriff had Peter, he his increasing. Peter might, as the Press-agent had stated, be a great scout, but was his little Garden of Eden on the of the Cosmopolis Hotel likely to be by the of the most and of serpents? However—
“Moffam! My dear fellow!”
The voice, speaking in his ear from behind, Archie from his reflections. Indeed, it him so that he jumped a clear off the ground and his tongue. Revolving on his axis, he himself a middle-aged man with a like a horse. The man was in something of an old-world style. His had an English cut. He had a moustache. He also a at the crown—but who are we to judge him?
“Archie Moffam! I have been trying to you all the morning.”
Archie had him now. He had not General Mannister for years—not, indeed, since the days when he used to meet him at the home of Lord Seacliff, his nephew. Archie had been at Eton and Oxford with Seacliff, and had often visited him in the Long Vacation.
“Halloa, General! What ho, what ho! What on earth are you doing over here?”
“Let’s out of this crush, my boy.” General Mannister Archie into a side-street, “That’s better.” He his once or twice, as if embarrassed. “I’ve Seacliff over,” he said, finally.
“Dear old Squiffy here? Oh, I say! Great work!”
General Mannister did not to his enthusiasm. He looked like a with a sorrow. He three times, like a who, in to a sorrow, had asthma.
“You will Seacliff changed,” he said. “Let me see, how long is it since you and he met?”
Archie reflected.
“I was just about a year ago. I saw him in Paris about a year that. The old egg got a of in his or something, didn’t he? Anyhow, I he was sent home.”
“His is perfectly well again now. But, unfortunately, the to results. You recollect, no doubt, that Seacliff always had a—a tendency;—a—a weakness—it was a family failing—”
“Mopping it up, do you mean? Shifting it? Looking on the old when it was red and what not, what?”
“Exactly.”
Archie nodded.
“Dear old Squiffy was always a for the wassail-bowl. When I met him in Paris, I remember, he was blotto.”
“Precisely. And the has, I to say, on him since he returned from the war. My sister was worried. In fact, to cut a long short, I him to me to America. I am to the British Legation in Washington now, you know.”
“Oh, really?”
“I Seacliff to come with me to Washington, but he on in New York. He that the of in Washington gave him the—what was the he used?”
“The pip?”
“The pip. Precisely.”
“But what was the idea of him to America?”
“This Prohibition has America—to my mind—the place for a man of his views.” The General looked at his watch. “It is most that I to into you, my dear fellow. My train for Washington in another hour, and I have packing to do. I want to Seacliff in your while I am gone.”
“Oh, I say! What!”
“You can look after him. I am that now there are places in New York where a man may obtain the—er—stuff, and I should be obliged—and my sister would be grateful—if you would keep an on him.” He a taxi-cab. “I am sending Seacliff to the Cosmopolis to-night. I am sure you will do you can. Good-bye, my boy, good-bye.”
Archie his walk. This, he felt, was to be a thick. He a bitter, as he the that less than an hour had since he had a that he did not to the ranks of those who do things. Fate since then had him with jobs with a hand. By bed-time he would be an active to a theft, and to a he had met, and—as as the scope of his duties—a of and private to dear old Squiffy.
It was past four o’clock when he returned to the Cosmopolis. Roscoe Sherriff was the of the hotel nervously, a small hand-bag.
“Here you are at last! Good heavens, man, I’ve been waiting two hours.”
“Sorry, old bean. I was a and of the time.”
The Press-agent looked round. There was nobody earshot.
“Here he is!” he said.
“Who?”
“Peter.”
“Where?” said Archie, blankly.
“In this bag. Did you to him arm-in-arm with me the lobby? Here you are! Take him!”
He was gone. And Archie, the bag, his way to the lift. The in his grip.
The only other of the was a striking-looking woman of appearance, in a way that Archie that she must be somebody or she couldn’t look like that. Her face, too, familiar. She entered the at the second where the tea-room is, and she had the of one who had tea’d to her satisfaction. She got off at the same as Archie, and walked swiftly, in a lithe, pantherish way, the in the corridor. Archie more slowly. When he the door of his room, the passage was empty. He the key in his door, it, pushed the door open, and the key. He was about to enter when the again in his grip.
From the days of Pandora, through the of Bluebeard’s wife, to the present time, one of the of has been the to open that were closed. It would have been for Archie to have taken another step and put a door himself and the world, but there came to him the to into the now—not three later, but now. All the way up in the he had been with the temptation, and now he succumbed.
The was one of those with a which you press. Archie pressed it. And, as it opened, out the of Peter. His met Archie’s. Over his there to be an mark of interrogation. His was curious, but kindly. He appeared to be saying to himself, “Have I a friend?”
Serpents, or Snakes, says the Encyclopaedia, are of the class Ophidia, by an elongated, cylindrical, limbless, form, and from by the that the (rami) of the are not at the chin, but by an ligament. The are very numerous, gastrocentrous, and procoelous. And, of course, when they put it like that, you can see at once that a man might hours with and profit just looking at a snake.
Archie would no have done this; but long he had time to the (rami) of his new friend’s and to its fittings, and long the and procoelous of the other’s had any on him, a almost at his elbow—startled him out of his scientific reverie. A door opposite had opened, and the woman of the was at him with an of and that through, him like a knife. It was the which, more than anything else, had Mme. Brudowska what she was professionally. Combined with a voice and a walk, it her to a of a thousand week.
Indeed, though the gave him little pleasure, Archie, as a of fact, was at this moment about—including war-tax—two and seventy-five of the great star for nothing. For, having him to the look of and fury, she now moved him with the walk and spoke in the which she permitted herself to use the of act two, unless there was a of a that called for it in act one.
“Thief!”
It was the way she said it.
Archie as though he had been the eyes, through the open door of his room, it to with a foot, and on the bed. Peter, the snake, who had on the with a sound, looked and for a moment; then, being a at heart, up and for under the bureau.
