BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

      A noise disturbed him, and he saw that the opera was over, and a crowd of gentlemen were thronging into the bar. Jarper was among them, and he thought he would speak to him on the subject. Yes, Barty was a clever little fellow, and seemed always able to get money. Perhaps he would be able to assist him. He stepped out of the balcony into the light and touched Barty on the shoulder as he stood amid his friends.

      ‘Hullo! it’s you!’ cried Barty, turning round. ‘Where have you been, old chap?’

      ‘Out on the balcony,’ answered Vandeloup, curtly.

      ‘Come and have supper with us,’ said Barty, hospitably. ‘We are going to have some at Leslie’s.’

      ‘Yes, do come,’ urged Bellthorp, putting his arm in that of Vandeloup’s; ‘we’ll have no end of fun.’

      Vandeloup was just going to accept, as he thought on the way he could speak privately to Barty about this scheme he had, when he saw a stout gentleman at the end of the room taking a cup of coffee at the counter, and talking to another gentleman who was very tall and thin. The figure of the stout gentleman seemed familiar to Vandeloup, and at this moment he turned slowly round and looked down the room. Gaston gave a start when he saw his face, and then smiled in a gratified manner to himself.

      ‘Who is that gentleman with the coffee?’ he asked Barty.

      ‘Those stout and lean kine,’ said Barty, airily, ‘puts one in mind of Pharaoh’s dream, doesn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, yes!’ retorted Gaston, impatiently; ‘but who are they?’

      ‘The long one is Fell, the railway contractor,’ said Barty, glancing with some surprise at Vandeloup, ‘and the other is old Meddlechip, the millionaire.’

      ‘Meddlechip,’ echoed Vandeloup, as if to himself; ‘my faith!’

      ‘Yes,’ broke in Bellthorp, quickly; ‘the one we were speaking of at the club—do you know him?’

      ‘I fancy I do,’ said Vandeloup, with a strange smile. ‘You must excuse me to your supper to-night.’

      ‘No, we won’t,’ said Barty, firmly; ‘you must come.’

      ‘Then I’ll look in later,’ said Vandeloup, who had not the slightest intention of going. ‘Will that do?’

      ‘I suppose it will have to,’ said Bellthorp, in an injured tone; ‘but why can’t you come now?’

      ‘I’ve got to see about some business,’ said Vandeloup.

      ‘What, at this hour of the night?’ cried Jarper, in a voice of disgust.

      Vandeloup nodded, and lit a cigarette.

      ‘Well, mind you come in later,’ said Barty, and then he and his friends left the bar, after making Vandeloup promise faithfully he would come.

      Gaston sauntered slowly up to the coffee bar, and asked for a cup in his usual musical voice, but when the stout gentleman heard him speak he turned pale and looked up. The thin one had gone off to talk to someone else, so when Vandeloup got his coffee he turned slowly round and looked straight at Meddlechip seated in the chair.

      ‘Good evening, M. Kestrike,’ he said, quietly.

      Meddlechip, whose face was usually red and florid-looking, turned ghastly pale, and sprang to his feet.

      ‘Octave Braulard!’ he gasped, placing his coffee cup on the counter.

      ‘At your service,’ said Vandeloup, looking rapidly round to see that no one overheard the name, ‘but here I am Gaston Vandeloup.’

      Meddlechip passed his handkerchief over his face and moistened his dry lips with his tongue.

      ‘How did you get here?’ he asked, in a strangled voice.

      ‘It’s a long story,’ said M. Vandeloup, putting his coffee cup down and wiping his lips with his handkerchief; ‘suppose we go and have supper somewhere, and I’ll tell you all about it.’

      ‘I don’t want any supper,’ said Meddlechip, sullenly, his face having regained its normal colour. ‘Possibly not, but I do,’ replied Vandeloup, sweetly, taking his arm; ‘come, let us go.’

      Meddlechip did not resist, but walked passively out of the bar with Vandeloup, much to the astonishment of the thin gentleman, who called out to him but without getting any answer.

      Meddlechip went to the cloak room and put on his coat and hat. Then he followed Vandeloup down the stairs and paused at the door while the Frenchman hailed a hansom. When it drove up, however, he stopped short at the edge of the pavement.

      ‘I won’t go,’ he said, determinedly.

      Vandeloup looked at him with a peculiar gleam in his dark eyes, and bowed.

      ‘Let me persuade you, Monsieur,’ he said, blandly, holding the door of the cab open.

      Meddlechip glanced at him, and then, with a sigh of resignation, entered the cab, followed by Vandeloup.

      ‘Where to, sir?’ asked the cabman, through the trap.

      ‘To Leslie’s Supper Rooms,’ replied the Frenchman, and the cab drove off.

Chapter IV.

       The Case of Adele Blondet

       Table of Contents

      Leslie’s Supper Rooms in Bourke Street East were very well known—that is, among a certain class. Religious people and steady businessmen knew nothing about such a place except by reputation, and looked upon it, with horror, as a haunt of vice and dissipation.

      Though Leslie’s, in common with other places had to close at a certain hour, yet when the shutters were up, the door closed, and the lights extinguished in the front of the house, there was plenty of life and bustle going on at the back, where there were charmingly furnished little rooms for supper parties. Barty Jarper had engaged one of these apartments, and with about a dozen young men was having a good time of it when Vandeloup and Meddlechip drove up. After dismissing the cab and looking up and down the street to see that no policeman was in sight, Vandeloup knocked at the door in a peculiar manner, and it was immediately opened in a stealthy kind of way. Gaston gave his name, whereupon they were allowed to enter, and the door was closed after them in the same quiet manner, all of which was very distasteful to Mr Meddlechip, who, being a public man and a prominent citizen, felt that he was breaking the laws he had assisted to make. He looked round in some disgust at the crowds of waiters, and at the glimpses he caught every now and then of gentlemen in evening dress, and what annoyed him more than anything else—ladies in bright array. Oh! a dissipated place was Leslie’s, and even in the daytime had a rakish-looking appearance as if it had been up all night and knew a thing or two. Mr Meddlechip would have retreated from this den of iniquity if he could, but as he wanted to have a thorough explanation with Vandeloup, he meekly followed the Frenchman through a well-lighted passage, with statues on either side holding lamps, to a little room beautifully furnished, wherein a supper table was laid out. Here the waiter who conducted them took their hats and Meddlechip’s coat and hung them up, then waited respectfully for M. Vandeloup to give his orders. A portly looking waiter he was, with a white waistcoat, a white shirt, which bulged out in a most obtrusive manner, and a large white cravat, which was tied round an equally large white collar. When he walked he rolled along like a white-crested wave, and with his napkin under his arm, the heel of one foot in the hollow of the other, and his large red face, surmounted by a few straggling tufts of black hair, he was truly wonderful to behold.

      This magnificent creature, who answered to the name of Gurchy, received Vandeloup’s orders with a majestic bend of his head, then rolling up to Mr Meddlechip, he presented the bill of fare to that gentleman, who, however, refused it.

      ‘I