An Amiable CharlatanOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
An Amiable Charlatan
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Detective and mystery stories
"Much more satisfactory, I am sure," I agreed, edging toward the house. "I
wish you a successful meeting, Mrs. Bundercombe. You mustn't miss your
train!"
"And I trust," Mrs. Bundercombe concluded, as she turned to enter the cab,
"that if you accompany Eve in her shopping expeditions to-day, or during
my absence, you will not encourage her in any fresh extravagances."
I made my way into the house and entered the morning room as the cab drove
off. Mr. Bundercombe and Eve were waltzing. Mr. Bundercombe paused at my
entrance and wiped his forehead. He was very hot.
"A little ebullition of feeling, my dear Paul," he explained, "on seeing
you. You met Mrs. Bundercombe? You have heard the news?"
"I gathered," I remarked, "that Mrs. Bundercombe's sense of duty is taking
her to Leeds."
Mr. Bundercombe breathed a resigned sigh.
"We shall be alone," he announced, with ill-concealed jubilation, "if we
have any luck at all, for three days! One never knows, though! I propose
that we celebrate to-night, unless," he added, with a sudden gloom, "you
two want to go off and dine somewhere alone."
"Not likely!" I assured him quickly.
"Daddy!" Eve exclaimed reproachfully.
Mr. Bundercombe cheered up.
"Then, if you're both agreeable," he proposed, "let us go and pay Luigi a
visit. I have rather a fancy to show him a reestablished Mr. Bundercombe.
You know, I sometimes think," he went on, "that Luigi was beginning to
regard me with suspicion!"
"There isn't any doubt about it," I observed dryly.
"We will dine there to-night," Mr. Bundercombe decided, "that is, if you
two are willing."
I hesitated for a moment. Eve was looking at me for my decision.
"I really see no reason why we shouldn't go there," I said. "I have to
take Eve to some rather dull relatives for luncheon, and I suppose we
shall be shopping afterward. It will brighten up the day."
"We will give Luigi no intimation of our coming," Mr. Bundercombe
suggested with relish. "We shall be in no hurry; so we can order our
dinner when we arrive there. At eight o'clock?"
"At eight o'clock!" I agreed.
"More presents, Paul!" Eve informed me, taking my arm. "Come along and
help me unpack! Isn't it fun?"
Luigi's reception of us that night was most gratifying. He escorted us to
the best table in the place, from which he ruthlessly seized the mystic
label that kept it from the onslaughts of less privileged guests. He
congratulated me upon my parliamentary honors and my engagement in the
same breath.
It was perfectly clear to me that Luigi knew all about us. He addressed
Mr. Bundercombe with an air of deep respect in which was visible, too, an
air of relieved apprehension. He took our order himself, with the aid of
an assistant _maitre d'hotel_, at whom Mr. Bundercombe glanced with some
surprise.
"Where is Louis?" he inquired.
"Gone--left!" Luigi answered.
Mr. Bundercombe was obviously disappointed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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