Devil's Cocktail (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 7

  He swept off his hat and bowed to Joan. Then taking Hugh by the arm, he led him unerringly in the direction of the smoking room. Joan watched them go with a smile, and then returned to her contemplation of the scenery.

  The two men settled themselves in a corner of the smoking room under a fan, and ordered drinks. For some minutes the American was busy greeting acquaintances – he appeared to be a well-known figure, and quite a third of the men in the room seemed to have met him at some time or other. Hugh looked at him in surprise.

  ‘You seem to be quite popular,’ he remarked. ‘Yet you talk of being lonesome!’

  ‘Well, I guess that having a number of “how d’you do” acquaintances isn’t calculated to remove one’s lonesomeness,’ smiled the American. ‘You Britishers are too mighty proud to come out of your shells and get down to real friendliness as a rule, especially those of you who live in India. Say, can you tell me why Europeans in India lose all their charm and naturalness and, in the majority of cases, develop into snobs?’

  Hugh shook his head.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ he replied.

  ‘I guess it’s because they’ve been pampered and spoilt, and taught to regard themselves as little tin gods.’

  ‘But things are different from what they used to be. From my recollection of India there is very little of the tin-god business there now.’

  ‘Granted,’ said Miles, ‘but the tradition has been handed down, and the present day Britisher hangs on like grim death to every little bit of flattery and adulation he can get from the natives. And they know his weakness and play up to it, too.’

  ‘Aren’t you rather too severe, Miles?’

  ‘I guess not. If I were an artist, and wanted to paint a picture of the Britisher in India, I’d depict a man reclining comfortably on a long cane chair, his feet stretched out luxuriously, a table containing whisky and soda by his side, and a bearer standing by ready to refill his glass as soon as it became empty.’

  Hugh laughed.

  ‘That sounds rather decadent,’ he said.

  ‘It is. And your woman-folk are worse. They have nothing to do, no interests at all but tennis and visiting, and the result is that a whole lot of them spend their time scandalmongering, and lose all their charm, or most of it.’ He shook his head solemnly. ‘India is sure a bad place for women – it’s a mighty good thing that they have a safety valve, even if it is so poor a thing as talking scandal.’

  He took a long drink.

  ‘It’s a strange thing,’ he went on, ‘that those women who do retain their natural characters, and mind you, there are some, just stand out and scintillate.’

  ‘Naturally that would be because they are so refreshing after the others,’ said Hugh.

  ‘Sure! If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Shannon is the sort of girl who would never lose her charm under any circumstances.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t,’ said Hugh warmly.

  ‘I’ve got to tell you that you possess one of the sweetest sisters who ever went to India, and you’ll have a hard job to keep the rotters from her. The men’ll be after her like bees round a honeypot.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Hugh. ‘It was the same thing at home.’

  ‘Gee! You can’t compare home with India.’ He smiled at Hugh whimsically. ‘Say, boy,’ he said. ‘I’m talking more than I should. You’ll be wanting to punch my head, if I don’t cut the cackle some.’

  ‘Not a bit,’ said Hugh. ‘You’re rather refreshing.’

  ‘Well, so long as you don’t think I’m getting fresh, instead of refreshing, it’s all right, I guess.’

  ‘Have another drink?’

  ‘Thanks! As it’s getting near luncheon, it’s about time I indulged in a sherry and bitters.’

  The drinks were ordered, and when they were placed before them, Miles gazed at his seriously for a moment.

  ‘Say,’ he said; ‘I guess you had a narrow escape with that girl. You have to be mighty circumspect with Eurasians, or they’ll raise Cain!’

  Hugh looked at him in astonishment.

  ‘Eurasian!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why she’s as pureblooded as I am.’

  ‘Not on your life! She looks the goods all right, but if you get the chance just take a peek at her finger nails and didn’t you notice that peculiar rising inflection in her voice? When you hear that, Shannon, you can bet your bottom dollar the tar brush has been about.’

  ‘Why should she talk about going home on six months’ leave then?’

  ‘Say; you’re acting innocent, aren’t you? Bless you, they love to talk of home and leave! She gave herself away on the other boat – told me her Pa had married in India, and that that was her first trip home. He’s made a lot of money in something down South.’

  ‘But the fact that she had never been home before hardly makes her Eurasian, does it?’

  ‘Perhaps not! But you see she also said she had persuaded her Ma not to go with her, as she had never seen the sea and was frightened of it! Guess the real reason was that Ma isn’t quite the same colour as she is, and she didn’t want her to give the show away but you can’t get away from the voice and the finger nails.’ He shook his head. ‘No that sort are good to keep away from; they can be mighty dangerous!’

  At that moment Cousins came into the room and seeing Hugh made his way towards him. Miles gave a gasp and rising to his feet held out his hand.

  ‘Say, Jerry,’ he exclaimed, ‘this is the best bit of luck I’ve had since leaving the States. Put it there, boy!’

  Cousins glanced round hurriedly, and then diffidently took the other’s hand.

  ‘Don’t be so effusive, you mutt,’ he whispered, and then raised his voice, so that all who had noticed the greeting could hear him. ‘I am very glad to see you, sir,’ he said.

  The American gaped at him, and Hugh looked his astonishment.

  ‘Then you have met before?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Cousins. ‘I was Mr Miles’ valet for close on six years.’

  ‘You what?’ gasped Miles, and sat down.

  ‘This is rather a strange coincidence, if I may be allowed to say so, sir,’ said Cousins urbanely.

  ‘Almighty strange,’ said Miles, looking at him as though he thought he had gone mad. The little man turned to Hugh, who, having realised the situation, was smiling with a trace of perplexity on his face.

  ‘Will you be good enough to step down to the cabin, sir?’ he said. ‘There are one or two matters which require your attention!’

  ‘Guess I’ll step right along too!’ said Miles.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Old Friends

  Once in the cabin Cousins turned to Miles, and held out his hand.

  ‘Now, Oscar, old lad,’ he said, ‘you can shake it as much as you like.’

  The American took him at his word, and for some seconds, used Cousins’ arm like a pump-handle.

  ‘I guess I’m falling over myself with astonishment, Jerry,’ he said. ‘What’s the big idea? When did you take to valeting, and what the hell do you mean by saying that you were in my service for six years?’

  Cousins shook his head reprovingly.

  ‘Your language hasn’t improved apparently,’ he said.

  ‘Answer my questions!’

  ‘Well, you big stiff – you notice I am using your own phraseology out of respect for you – I had to say something, when all those fellows in the smoking room heard your absurd greeting. It would look nice for the well-known American traveller to be on terms of friendship with a valet, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Let me get this thing straight!’ said Miles. ‘Are you really a valet?’

  ‘Of course, I am! I have been with Captain Shannon for years, and I am accompanying him to India, because I could not bear to leave his service.’

  ‘Forget it!’ said the American in threatening tones. ‘Just blow out the hot air and give me the real facts!’

  Cousins’ eyes twinkled, and his face creased into smile.
<
br />   ‘I am giving you the real facts,’ he said. ‘I am Captain – now Professor – Shannon’s valet, and as Sydney Carton says, “It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done”.’

  Miles seized him by the shoulders, and pushed him on to the settee, then turned to Hugh, who had been watching the two with amusement

  ‘Say,’ he said; ‘perhaps I can get some enlightenment from you, Shannon. I have known this goop for donkeys’ years and we have been firm friends – in fact, he is one of the few friends I have on your side and he occasionally deigns to write to me. Is he really your valet, or is he not?’

  ‘He is!’ replied Hugh promptly.

  ‘Well, I’m darned!’ exclaimed the other and sat down on Hugh’s bunk.

  ‘This is a situation that tickles my artistic soul,’ said Cousins. ‘Here are two men, each afraid of saying too much in case he gives me away to the other, and each anxious to know how much the other knows. Truly life hath its compensations. One of these days I’ll take to play-writing and the present situation will be the basis of my first plot.’

  ‘Look here, Cousins,’ commenced Hugh. ‘If—’

  ‘Say no more!’ said the little man, with a lordly gesture. ‘It is a shame to keep you in suspense.’ He rose. ‘Captain Shannon, may I have the pleasure of presenting Mr Oscar Julius Miles to you as one of America’s greatest Secret Service agents. For years, owing to the understanding which exists between our two great countries, he has worked hand and glove with our own service, and our Chief has a particularly high opinion of him.’ He turned to the other. ‘Mr Miles, you see before you one of the most brilliant of the rising generation of Secret Service men of Great Britain. He goes to India to profess in a college; he has certain other duties to perform with my poor assistance. I trust I have made myself quite clear! Need I say more?’

  The two men smiled at each other with relief and a wholehearted pleasure. Instinctively their hands shot out, and they gripped warmly.

  ‘Say,’ said Miles; ‘this is an occasion. It requires honouring. What’s yours?’

  ‘Mine is a Manhattan cocktail,’ interposed Cousins.

  ‘You don’t count,’ said Hugh, with a grin. ‘Do you really expect me to drink with my valet?’

  ‘Nevertheless he shall have a treat on this occasion,’ said Miles. ‘I think three Manhattans will about meet the case. Where’s the darned bell push?’

  Hugh pushed the button, and at the same moment the luncheon gong went.

  ‘Guess that can wait,’ said the American.

  Joan had nearly finished luncheon when her brother appeared, looking very much pleased with himself.

  ‘You seem to have found a lot to talk about to Mr Miles,’ she said severely. ‘Had you forgotten me completely?’

  ‘Never, Joan!’ he declared. ‘But I found Miles a most interesting fellow.’ He dropped his voice and leant towards her. ‘He has turned out to be one of us!’

  She looked at him inquiringly.

  ‘What do you mean by one of us?’

  ‘He is one of the big men of the American Intelligence Department, and has been working in conjunction with our fellows.’

  ‘How interesting!’ she exclaimed. ‘But how did you find out? I thought you Secret Service men never gave yourselves away.’

  ‘He and Cousins are old friends. While we were in the smoking room, Cousins walked in to ask me to go to my cabin, and Miles almost gave us away in his enthusiasm at meeting him. We all repaired to the cabin together, and I left them there talking over old times like a couple of boys.’

  ‘I seem to have got mixed up with secret services,’ said Joan. ‘I think it is time I was counted in also.’

  ‘Why, so you are!’ said he.

  Presently Miles entered the saloon, and after standing looking round for a moment, approached their table, where two passengers had already finished luncheon and vacated their seats.

  ‘Say, Miss Shannon,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I sit here just now? I’ve been allotted a seat on the other side of the saloon, but I guess I’d rather sit here. I never eat much in the middle of the day, so I won’t detain you!’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘It’s a pity you can’t always sit here.’

  ‘That’s real nice of you.’ He sent away his soup and ordered an omelette. ‘I hope you’re not angry with me for keeping your brother away from you?’

  She smiled.

  ‘I don’t suppose you would mind much if I were,’ she replied.

  ‘That is unkind. I wouldn’t have you cross with me for anything.’

  ‘Do I look as though I could get very angry?’

  ‘Even angels are reported to get annoyed at times,’ he said gallantly.

  She laughed.

  ‘Mr Miles,’ she said, ‘you are nothing but a hollow flatterer!’

  ‘I guess this is where I climb into my shell,’ he said sadly. ‘I never was much of a hand as a squire of dames.’

  ‘I’m afraid you are a fraud,’ said Hugh. ‘There’s your omelette. Better get on with it before you give yourself away to my sister further.’

  Miles shook his head in pretended despair.

  ‘I reckon I’m a poor mutt with all the world arrayed against me,’ he said, and attacked the omelette.

  The rest of the voyage proved uneventful, if Miss Gregson’s meeting with Miles be excepted. They came upon each other in one of the alley-ways outside the cabins and, for once in a way, she was at a loss. Not so the American; he bowed politely and held out his hand, as though nothing could give him greater pleasure than meeting her.

  ‘This is unexpected, Miss Olive,’ he said. ‘I suppose you got tired of little old England, and decided to go back to the old folks?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she returned. ‘But I only went for six months. Probably I’ll return there for good next year!’

  ‘Is that so? Then you’ll be taking your Ma back with you, I guess?’

  She changed colour and hesitated.

  ‘It all depends,’ she said coldly, then: ‘I am surprised to find you here – I thought you had finished with India!’

  ‘Well, I guess your country fascinates me some,’ he said slowly, ‘so I thought—’

  ‘Are you trying to be insulting?’ she asked haughtily. ‘India is not my country!’

  ‘Your adopted country then!’

  ‘Nor my adopted country – I think you are horrid!’

  ‘Say, don’t be sore! I guess I don’t say things as clearly as I might, but it kinder seems to me that if one lives in a country, one adopts it as one’s own for the time being.’

  She looked at him searchingly.

  ‘I never could make out whether you are as simple as you pretend to be,’ she said.

  ‘Believe me, I’m the guy that the poet was thinking about when he created “Simple Simon”, only I haven’t got the same liking for pies. Well, I guess we’ll be seeing a bit of each other for the next week or so.’

  ‘I daresay,’ she said, without enthusiasm, and passed on. He watched her out of sight with a quizzical smile on his lips, and then went on to his own cabin, whistling.

  Very little was seen of Hudson during the last few days. He took care to avoid both Joan and Hugh and once, when he met the former on a gangway, he drew aside to let her pass without a word and without the slightest sign of embarrassment. He appeared to become very friendly with Miss Gregson, and Joan wondered if she were trying now to capture the Civil Service man. Hugh on the other hand was greatly intrigued by the friendship, and thought it portended danger, or at least unpleasantness for himself. He consulted Cousins about it.

  The little man shook his head.

  ‘I can’t see what trouble a combination of that sort can hatch,’ he said. ‘Besides Miss Gregson is bound for Bangalore, and there are not two towns in India much farther apart than Lahore and Bangalore.’

  Right on time the great liner drew alongside the Ballard Pier at Bombay. The usual crowd of friends and re
lations were waiting to greet their pals, sisters, wives and children and once again Joan found a great deal of interest in a novel sight.

  As she stood leaning over the rail, Oscar Miles joined her.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Shannon,’ he said. She smiled her greeting at him. ‘Well, you see yourself at the gate of India. I hope you don’t find it disappointing.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ she assured him, ‘I think it most fascinating. Bombay has a very beautiful harbour.’

  ‘Sure!’ he said, ‘especially in that direction.’ He pointed to Malabar Hill. ‘I’ve a good friend up there. One of my very few English friends, in fact.’

  ‘Oh!’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘Why do you pretend to have so few English friends, when you seem to have so many?’

  He smiled, then looked serious.

  ‘I reckon that the word “friend” includes a whole multitude of things. A real friend is a priceless possession, Miss Shannon.’

  ‘Then a friend to you means more than it does to the average person?’

  ‘I guess so!’ he replied after a few seconds’ thought.

  ‘I should like you and Hugh to be friends,’ she said softly. ‘Your kind of friends I mean.’

  ‘I have a feeling that we will be,’ he said. He looked troubled for a moment, then added, ‘I would like to think that his sister may some day regard me in the same light!’

  ‘I should love to,’ she said earnestly.

  He looked almost boyish.

  ‘Say, that’s the best bit of news I’ve heard for some time. I only hope it comes off!’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it?’

  ‘I feel that I am asking too much.’

  ‘Oh, why? I should so like to have a real man friend. I have always wanted one, but nearly every man I meet seems to think it is his duty to make love to me.’

  ‘Well, you can’t blame ’em for that.’

  ‘Now you’re being frivolous! Of course Hugh, besides being a brother, is my dearest and best friend – nobody could ever take his place – but all the same I do want a friend who is not a brother, and one who wouldn’t consider it his bounden duty to – to propose to me.’