"Sort of dog biscuit?" said Freddie, wounded to the quick. "It's the dog biscuit supreme."
"The only dog biscuit we carry at my Stores is Peterson's Pup Food. Good morning, Mr. Threepwood," said Mr. Pinkney, and he removed himself abruptly, for some sixth sense had told him that the eleven o'clock soup was now being served.
Freddie stared after him, aghast. He felt like a clergyman who has found schism in his flock. It was an axiom at Donaldson's Dog Joy that its leading rival Peterson's Pup Food was a product lacking in many of the essential vitamins and that dogs who indulged in it were heading straight for rheumatism, sciatica, anaemia and stomach trouble. He began to see that his task of leading Arnold Pinkney into the true faith was going to be more difficult than he had supposed.
But though a Dog Joy executive may be down, he is never out, and by the time the tender at Cherbourg had deposited its cargo of passengers on board the Atlantic Freddie had found the solution of the problem of how to cope with Mr. Pinkney's sales resistance.
Your prudent go-getter always likes, on the principle of trying it on the dog, to get an outside opinion from some independent source, and seeing Judson Phipps hastening towards him Freddie decided that here was the captive audience he required. As he put it to himself, he would run up the flag and see if Judson saluted.
"Ah, Juddy," he said. "Welcome aboard. You'll be interested to hear that I've met Pinkney and stunned, no doubt, to learn that he had never heard of Donaldson's Dog Joy and carries 0nly Peterson's Pun Food in his store. But I have the matter well in hand. I propose to give him Treatment A."
"Listen," said Judson, and a less self-centred man than Freddie would have noticed that his manner was agitated and the eyes behind his horn-rimmed spectacles bulging. His air was that of one who has had disconcerting news.
"Treatment A involves ocular demonstration. Our demonstrator stands out in plain view of the consumer public and when the audience is of sufficient size takes a Donaldson's biscuit and chews it. And not only does he chew it, he enjoys it. He rolls it round his tongue and mixes it with his saliva, thus showing that Donaldson's Dog Joy is so superbly wholesome as actually to be fit for human consumption. I have a sample biscuit in my stateroom. I shall draw Pinkney aside and eat it before his eyes, and I shall be greatly surprised if he doesn't immediately---"
"Listen.” said Judson. "Freddie. I'm in a spot."
It irked Freddie to have to stop talking about Dog Joy while so much of his music was still within him, but he was essentially kindly and always at the service of a friend in distress.
"What's your problem?" he asked.
Now that he had succeeded in obtaining Freddie's attention, Judson became a little calmer, though, still presenting the appearance of a man who has rashly looked for a leak in a gas pipe with a lighted candle.
"Well, I must begin by telling you that Pinkney has a daughter."
"Proceed."
"I saw a good deal of her in London."
"And?"
"I've just found out she's on board. It knocked me sideways. I'm trembling like a---"
"Leaf"
"Aspen. I'm all of a twitter."
Donaldson's Dog Joy has very few employees on its pay roll who are not as quick as lightning.
"Say no more," said Freddie. "I grasp the situation. You love this girl and you want me to take her aside and give you a buildup—tell her what a splendid fellow you are and so forth, so that when you come to do your stuff you will find her all eagerness to co-operate. That's the idea, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't. I particularly want to avoid her."
"I didn't know you ever avoided girls. Don't you like her?"
"She fascinates me."
"Then why do you want to avoid her?"
“Because if I go on seeing her, especially aboard an ocean liner. I know I shall ask her to marry me. I don't want to, but I won't be able to help myself. It's like a bird and a snake. Have you ever seen a snake hypnotising a bird? The bird would prefer to let the whole thing drop, but the snake exercises a spell on it and it has to carry on against its better judgment. It’s like that with me. The last thing I want to do is ask Arlene Pinkney to marry me, but I know I shall do it if we're going to be together for five days on an ocean liner. I should explain that she looks like something out of a beauty chorus."
"Ah!" said Freddie, enlightened. "Yes, I follow you now. You mean that in spite of the fact that she gives you a pain in the gizzard you can't help being intrigued by her outer crust."
"Exactly. I realize perfectly well that I'd be crazy to propose to her, but when I see that profile of hers I feel the only thing worth doing in this world is to grab her and start shouting for clergymen and bridesmaids to come running."
"Have you tried not looking at her sideways?"
"It wouldn't do any good. The effect full face is just the same."
Freddie pondered.
"It's a tricky situation," he agreed. "Oddly enough, I had a similar experience myself once before I met Aggie. There was a girl who attracted me like billy-o and at the same time repelled me like a ton of bricks. If it hadn't been for Pongo Twistleton, goodness knows what might have happened. By the greatest good luck he, too, had fallen under her spell, and he clustered round her to such an extent that there was no getting her alone. It was the most impressive case of adhesiveness since Mary had a little lamb."
Into Judson's haggard face there had come the light that shows that hope has dawned.
"Then that's exactly what you must do, Freddie, You must he constantly at Arlene Pinkney's side. Never leave her for an instant. Begin where Mary's lamb left off."
"But you say she's more or less the Sheik's Dream of Paradise."
I'd certainly put her in the Top Ten."
"Then I'm sorry. It can't be done. If Aggie learned that I had been Mary's-Iambing with a girl of that description, I'd never hear the end of it. Aggie's the sweetest thing on earth, but her views on how a husband should behave when her eye is not on me are rigid. However, an idea presents itself. Why don't you get someone to cluster round you What you want is a bodyguard, the sort of thing Prime Ministers have. If there's always someone with you when you meet this Pinkney, you can't do anything rash. Your lips will be sealed."
Judson's spectacles leaped from his nose, so great was his enthusiasm.
"Freddie, you've hit it! You shall be my bodyguard."
"I certainly shan't. I need every moment of my time for casting a spell on Pinkney."
"Then who can I get?"
"Oh, anybody, anybody," said Freddie absently. His thoughts were once more on Treatment A.
And it was at this moment that Judson saw Dinah Biddle approaching.
As a general rule Judson was a slow thinker. He would not have lasted a week at Donaldson's Dog Joy. But peril sharpens the intellect, and the idea of casting Dinah for the vacant role came to him in a flash. She was accompanied by the dachshund and at any other time its presence would have given him pause, for he was always a little nervous in the society of strange dogs, but there was too much at stake now to permit of any worrying about dachshunds. A moment later he was at her side, placing the facts before her.
"You see what I mean?" he said, having done so, and Dinah assured him that she had not missed the gist. In the intervals of thinking about Joe Cardinal she had been giving not a little thought to what Judson's reactions would be when he found Arlene Pinkney on board.
"I think it's a wonderful idea," she said.
"You'll do it?"
"Of course. The first thing to do is to get two deck chairs side by side."
"And never move from them."
"Not an inch. And in the evening we'd better dance together a good deal. The dance hour is the dangerous one."
Judson drew a deep breath. He removed his spectacles and polished them with something of a flourish. It would be exaggerating to say that even now his soul was altogether at peace, but the illusion that it was being churned up by an egg whisk had unqu
estionably diminished in intensity.
At about the time when Judson and Dinah were settling 'themselves in their deck chairs Joe Cardinal came out of the stateroom in which he had been lurking. Freddie having reported that owing to his, Freddie's, quick thinking no awkward questions would be asked when he met Mr. Pinkney, he was in buoyant mood. No doubt immunity from the latter's wrath would be merely temporary and a painful scene with him some time in the future inevitable, but this was a trifle he could not bother about now. His step, as he ranged the boat in quest of Dinah Biddle, was light and his spirits effervescent.
These conditions prevailed till he came on to the promenade deck where the deck chairs were, when his view that everything was for the best in this best of all possible worlds underwent an abrupt revision. For there, side by side and obviously on the most intimate terms, were the girl he was seeking and the man who had been with her at Barribault's Hotel and had looked so rich. He was looking even richer now, for he was wearing a yachting cap.
Not much ensued in the way of dialogue. Sparkling give-and-take is scarcely to be expected when two members of a group of three are feeling breathless and the third is a man never much given to small talk. Dinah said, "Mr. Cardinal! I didn't know you were on board," and Joe said Yes, he was on board. Dinah "said "Do you know Mr. Phipps?" and Joe nodded jerkily in Judson's direction, and then there was a pause of some duration, at the end of which Judson said the weather seemed to be keeping up, and Joe said Yes and withdrew, tripping slightly over his feet. Not, as has been said, very brilliant stuff and scarcely, one feels, worth recording.
Judson looked after Joe's receding form with an interest that tad not been provoked by the brightness of his conversation.
"Cardinal did you say that guy's name was?"
Dinah's faculties were still a good deal disordered, but she was able to reply in the affirmative.
"I'll tell you something about him. Do you know why he's on this boat?"
"I suppose he's going to America."
"Very probably, but do you know why he's going to America? It's a most romantic story. I had the facts in the case from Freddie Threepwood. He's sailing because he wants to press his suit with some girl who's on board."
"What!"
"That's right. It appears that he fell in love with this girl at first sight, found she was sailing and packed a toothbrush and came along too, so as to press his suit. What are you looking so starry-eyed about?"
"Am I looking starry-eyed? Just because I'm feeling happy, I suppose."
"Why are you feeling happy?"
"Who wouldn't, being with you?"
"Something in that," said Judson.
Leaving the promenade deck and making for the bar, for he felt greatly in need of its services, Joe encountered Freddie, who had been down to his stateroom for his sample dog biscuit.
"Hullo, Joe," said Freddie. "Have you seen Pinkney anywhere?"
"Freddie," said Joe simultaneously. "Do you know a man called Phipps?"
"I want to demonstrate to him how superlatively wholesome…Phipps, did you say? Juddy Phipps? Known him for years. He's on board."
"I've just met him. Who is he?"
"Suspenders."
"What about them?"
"That's who he is. Phipps Tried and Proven Suspenders, though I shall never waver in my view that they ought to be spoken of as braces. Excluding those who wear belts, practically the whole of America's male population use Phipps's suspenders. Otherwise their pants would fall down."
Joe's worst suspicions were confirmed.
"Then he's rich?"
"Rich? Add the adjective 'stinking'. He and his sister inherited the late Phipps Senior's pile, which years of selling suspenders had rendered stupendous. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I just wondered. I'm going to have a drink. You coming?"
"Sorry, no. I have to give Pinkney Treatment A."
As Joe went on his way, his heart was heavy, for he was brooding on Dinah Biddle. Remembering as he did every word she had said in their brief acquaintanceship, he recalled that observation of hers at the luncheon table. At the time it had not seemed to him significant, but now it came back to him fraught with sinister meaning. "I love money as much as you love dogs and farmers," she had said, and he realised now that it had been no idle pleasantry, but a cold statement of fact. She st0od revealed as calculating and mercenary, the sort of girl who makes a bee line for the nearest millionaire and snuggles beside him in a deck chair, however limited—apart from (he ability to write cheques—his attractions. Most of Judson Phipps had been concealed by a steamer rug, but enough of him had protruded to make it manifest to Joe that he was totally lacking in any kind of charm, and he tottered blindly ' towards the bar like a camel making for an oasis after a hard day at the office.
But he was not destined yet to reach journey's end, for while he was still distant from his objective a voice hailed him. It was that of his cousin Arlene, a loud, authoritative voice that always reminded him of the sergeant who had come to teach drill his preparatory school. She was staring at him in the manner usually described as agog.
Joe! What in the world are you doing here?"
Joe's state of mind was still chaotic, but thanks to Freddie's quick intelligence he was able to answer that.
"I didn't know you were sailing," he said, having done so.
"They want me on the Curtis Cup team."
"That's good."
"Yes. But if I'd had an ounce of sense, I'd have flown."
"Don't you like ocean travel?"
"As a rule I do, but this time it's different."
"What's wrong with this time?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong. I was watching the crowd coming off the tender, and you could have knocked me down with a number seven iron. One of the first to step aboard was a frightful man called Phipps."
“Phipps!”
"You know him?"
"I've met him."
"So have I," said Arlene with a bitter laugh. "He's been in my hair for weeks. He'll be in it again the moment he sees me. and the fear that haunts me is that he'll ask me to marry him and I shall accept him in a weak moment because of his money, But now you're here, Joe, I breathe again."
"Why's that?"
"Because you must be always at my side, never leaving me for an instant. He can't possibly propose with you sitting in the front row all the time. I shall be all right after we've landed, because I go straight on to Chicago or somewhere, but the thought of five days on a boat with Judson Phipps haunting me like a family spectre gives me gooseflesh."
Joe with a sombre note in his voice, informed her that in his opinion these precautions were unnecessary, Judson having other commitments, but she was not to be convinced. Not even his story of the contiguous deck chairs impressed her. Judson, she said, might be festooned in girls at the moment, but he was not yet aware of her presence on board. When he did become aware, she predicted, he would forsake all others and resume his place in her hair. Joe, she said, must not fail her.
"Oh, all right," said Joe.
It was not how he had originally planned to pass his time during the voyage, but nothing mattered now.
In the printed brochures put out by transatlantic steamship companies the discerning reader always seems to detect a note of uneasiness. The writers are trying not to be pessimistic, but they are plainly prepared for the worst and keeping their fingers crossed. They hint nervously at the possibility of typhoons and waterspouts and there is always, they feel, the chance of mutiny on the high seas and piracy. It is pleasant, therefore, to be able to report that the S.S. Atlantic won through to the final day of the voyage without disaster. No water had spouted, no typhoon had blown, no pirates had put in an appearance, and so far from being mutinous the crew had been amiability itself. If the vessel's luck held for a few more hours, she would be safe.
The last day of an ocean voyage is usually an occasion for universal rejoicing. The Captain is happy because he is sure now that he has
not taken the wrong turning and is going to fetch up in Africa. The doctor is congratulating himself on having come through one more orgy of deck tennis and shuffle-board without committing himself to anything definite. The stewards are totting up prospective tips, always an invigorating task, while those of their number who are bigamists have long since got over the pang of parting from their wives and children in Southampton and are looking forward with bright anticipation to meeting once more their wives and children in New York.
Nevertheless, not all the lips on board the Atlantic were breathed in smiles. Joe Cardinal's were not. Nor were Dinah Kiddie's. And least of all were those of Freddie Threepwood as he stood watching the after-dinner dancing in the lounge.
Much had occurred to prevent Freddie being at his blithest. For one thing, Mr. Pinkney had saddened him by failing to respond to Treatment A. He had eyed Freddie stolidly as he consumed his sample biscuit, but had shown no signs of having got the message. He had looked throughout like the fat proprietor of a department store watching a rather tedious parlour trick, and Freddie's thoughts had strayed nostalgically back to the Wilks Brothers of Manchester, both of whom had been electrified by the demonstration.
For another thing, his wife Aggie had informed him by wireless that he would not find her at their Great Neck home on his arrival, for she was spending a few weeks with her father at Westhampton Beach. She had expressed herself delighted at his early return, but regretted that she could not disappoint Daddy, a feat which Freddie could have performed without a qualm, indeed, for Mr. Donaldson was a little difficult at times, with a good deal of pleasure.
And finally, like Dinah Biddle, he had been mystified and exasperated by the peculiar behaviour of Joe Cardinal. For four days Joe, who should have been inseparable from Dinah, had been inseparable from Arlene Pinkney. He was dancing with her now, and the spectacle affected Freddie with an indignation similar to that which he felt when somebody praised Peterson's Pup Food in his presence. As the music stopped and Arlene, detaching herself, went off, no doubt to her stateroom to do some packing, he swooped down on Joe like a hawk that intends to demand a full explanation.
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