CHAPTER II.
The Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, as I have said, had a warm heart. Hewas, besides, alone in one hundred and twenty square miles of strangersand foreigners when he had happened upon this congenial spirit. He beganin a tone of the most ingenuous friendliness--
"I haf no friends here. My introdogtions zey are gone. Bot I haf mochmoney, and I vish a, vat you say?--showman, ha, ha, ha! You haf too leetlemoney and no friends and you can show. You show and I will loan you vatyou vish. May I dare to suggest?"
"My dear Baron!"
"My goot Bonker! I am in airnest, I assure. Vy not? It is vun gentlemanand anozzer."
"You are far too kind."
"It is to myself I am kind, zen. I vant a guide, a frient. It is a loan.Do not scruple. Ven your fader goms you can pay if you please. It isnozing to me."
"Well, my dear Baron," said Mr Bunker, like a man persuaded against hiswill, "what can I say? I confess I might find a little difficulty inreplenishing my purse without resorting to disagreeable means, and if youreally wish my society, why----"
"Zen it is a bairgain?" cried the Baron.
"If you insist----"
"I insist. Vaiter! Alzo two ozzer liqueur. Ve most drink to ze bairgain,Bonker."
They pledged each other cordially, and talked from that moment like oldfriends. The Baron was thoroughly pleased with himself, and Mr Bunkerseemed no less gratified at his own good fortune. Half an hour wentquickly by, and then the Baron exclaimed, "Let us do zomzing to-night,Bonker. I burn for to begin zis show of London."
"What would you care to do, Baron? It is rather late, I am afraid, tothink of a theatre. What do you say to a music-hall?"
"Music-hall? I haf seen zem at home. Damned amusing, das ist zeexpression, yes?"
"It is a perfect description."
"Bot," continued the Baron, solemnly, "I must not begin vid ze vickedest."
"And yet," replied his friend, persuasively, "even wickedness needs abeginning."
"Bot, if I begin I may not stop. Zomzing more qviet ze first night. Hafyou a club?"
Mr Bunker pondered for a moment, and a curious smile stole across hisface. Then it vanished, and he answered readily, "Certainly, Baron, anexcellent idea. I haven't been to my club for so long that it never struckme. Let us come."
"Goot!" cried the Baron, rising with alacrity.
They put on their coats (Mr Bunker's, it may be remarked, being a handsomefur-lined garment), the porter hailed a cab, and the driver was ordered totake them to the Regent's Club in Pall Mall. The Baron knew it byreputation as the most exclusive in London, and his opinion of his friendrose still higher.
They joined a jingling string of other hansoms and sped swiftly throughthe exhilarating bustle of the streets. To the Baron it seemed as if agreat change had come over the city since he wandered disconsolatelybefore dinner. Carried swiftly to the music of the little bells throughthe sharp air and the London night that is brighter than day, with afriend by his side and a good dinner within, he marked the mostastonishing difference. All the people seemed to talk and laugh, and forhis own part he found it hard to keep his tongue still.
"I know ze name of ze Regent's," he said; "vun club of ze best, is itnot?"
"The very best club, Baron."
"Zey are all noble?"
"In many cases the receipts for their escutcheons are still in theirpockets."
Though the precise significance of this explanation was not quite clear tothe Baron, it sounded eminently satisfactory.
"Zo?" he said. "I shall be moch interested to see zem."
As they entered the club the porter stared at them curiously, and evenmade a movement as though he would step out and address them; but MrBunker, wishing him a courteous good evening, walked briskly up to thehat-and-cloak racks in the hall. A young man had just hung up his hat, andas he was divesting himself of his coat, Mr Bunker quickly took the hatdown, glanced at the name inside, and replaced it on its peg. Then he heldout his hand and addressed the young man cordially.
"Good evening, Transome, how are you?" said he, and, heedless of the lookof surprise on the other's face, he turned towards the Baron and added,"Let me introduce the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg--Mr Transome. The Baronhas just come to England, and I thought he couldn't begin better than by avisit to the Regent's. Let us come into the smoking-room."
In a few minutes they were all on the best of terms. A certain perplexity,and almost shyness, that the young man showed at first, vanished rapidlybefore the Baron's cordiality and Mr Bunker's well-bred charm of manner.
They were deeply engrossed in a discussion on the reigning sovereign ofthe Baron's native land, a monarch of whose enlightened policy thatnobleman spoke with pardonable pride, when two elderly gentlemen enteredthe room.
"Who are these?" Mr Bunker whispered to Transome. "I know them very well,but I am always bad at names."
"Lord Fabrigas and General M'Dermott," replied Transome.
Instantly Mr Bunker rose and greeted the new-comers.
"Good evening, Lord Fabrigas; good evening, General. You have just come intime to be introduced to the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, whom youdoubtless know by reputation."
The Baron rose and bowed, and it struck him that elderly English gentlemenwere singularly stiff and constrained in their manner. Mr Bunker, however,continued cheerfully, "We are just going to have a smoking concert. Willyou begin, Baron?"
"I know not English songs," replied the Baron, "bot I should like moch tohear."
"You must join in the chorus, then."
"Certainly, Bonker. I haf a voice zat is considered--vat youcall--deafening, yes?--in ze chorus."
Mr Bunker cleared his throat, and, just as the General was on the point ofinterposing a remark, struck up hastily; and for the first time in itslong and honourable history the smoking-room of the Regent's Club reechoedto a popular music-hall ditty.
"They sometimes call 'em duckies, they sometimes call 'em pets, And sometimes they refer to 'em as dears They live on little matters that a gentleman forgets, In a little world of giggles and of tears; There are different varieties from which a man may choose, There are sorts and shapes and sizes without end, But the kind I'd pick myself is the kind you introduce By the simple title of 'my lady friend.' "
"Chorus, Baron!" And then he trolled in waltz time this edifying refrain--
"My lady friend, my lady friend! Can't you twig, dear boys, From the sound of the kisses She isn't my misses, She's only my lady friend!"
In a voice like a train going over a bridge the Baron chimed in--
"My laty vrient, my laty vrient! Cannot you tvig, mine boy, Vrom ze sound of ze kiss, He is not my miss, He is only mine laty vrient!"
"I am afraid," said Mr Bunker, as they finished the chorus, "that I can'tremember any more. Now, General, it's your turn."
"Sir," replied that gallant officer, who had listened to this ditty inpurple and petrified astonishment, "I don't know who the devil you are,but I can tell you, you won't remain a member of this club much longer ifyou come into it again in this state."
"I had forgotten," said Mr Bunker, with even more than his usualpoliteness, "that such an admirable music-hall critic was listening to me.I must apologise for my poor effort."
Wishing him courteously good-night, he took the Baron by the arm andwalked out. While that somewhat perplexed nobleman was struggling into hiscoat, his friend rapidly and dexterously converted all the silk hats hecould see into the condition of collapsed opera hats, and then picked asmall hand-bag off the floor. The Baron walked out through the door first,but Mr Bunker stopped for an instant opposite the hall-porter's box, andcrying, "Good night to you, sir!" hurled the bag through the glass, rushedafter his friend, and in less time than it takes to tell they were tearingup Pall Mall in a hansom.
For a few minutes both were silent; then the Baron said slowly, "I do notqvite o
nderstand."
"My dear Baron," his friend explained gaily, "these practical jokes arevery common in our clubs. They are quite part of our national life, youknow, and I thought you ought to see everything."
The Baron said nothing, but he began to realise that he was indeed in aforeign country.
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