The Yellow Crayon

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER IV

  R. Sabin, who was never, for its own sake, fond of solitude, had ordereddinner for two at eight-thirty in the general dining-room. At a fewminutes previous to that hour Mr. Skinner presented himself.

  Mr. Skinner was not in the garb usually affected by men of the worldwho are invited to dine out. The long day's exertion, too, had had itseffect upon his linen. His front, indeed, through a broad gap,confessed to a foundation of blue, and one of his cuffs showed a markedinclination to escape from his wrist over his knuckles. His facewas flushed, and he exhaled a strong odour of cigars and cocktails.Nevertheless, Mr. Sabin was very glad to see him, and to receive thefolded sheet of paper which he at once produced.

  "I have taken the liberty," Mr. Sabin remarked, on his part, "of addinga trifle to the amount we first spoke of, which I beg you will acceptfrom me as a mark of my gratitude for your promptness."

  "Sure!" Mr. Skinner answered tersely, receiving the little roll ofbills without hesitation, and retreating into a quiet corner, wherehe carefully counted and examined every one. "That's all right!" heannounced at the conclusion of his task. "Come and have one with me nowbefore you read your little billet-doux, eh?"

  "I shall not read your report until after dinner," Mr. Sabin said,"and I think if you are ready that we might as well go in. At thehead-waiter's suggestion I have ordered a cocktail with the oysters,and if we are much later he seemed to fear that it might affect thecondition of the--I think it was terrapin, he said."

  Mr. Skinner stopped short. His tone betrayed emotion.

  "Did you say terrapin, sir?"

  Mr. Sabin nodded. Mr. Skinner at once took his arm.

  "Guess we'll go right in," he declared. "I hate to have a good mealspoiled."

  They were an old-looking couple. Mr. Sabin quietly but faultlesslyattired in the usual evening dinner garb, Mr. Skinner ill-dressed,untidy, unwashed and frowsy. But here at least Mr. Sabin's incognitohad been unavailing, for he had stayed at the hotel several times--as heremembered with an odd little pang--with Lucille, and the head-waiter,with a low bow, ushered them to their table. Mr. Skinner saw thepreparations for their repast, the oysters, the cocktails in tallglasses, the magnum of champagne in ice, and chuckled. To take supperwith a duke was a novelty to him, but he was not shy. He sat down andtucked his serviette into his waistcoat, raised his glass, and suddenlyset it down again.

  "The boss!" he exclaimed in amazement.

  Mr. Sabin turned his head in the direction which his companion hadindicated. Coming hastily across the room towards them, already out ofbreath as though with much hurrying, was a thick-set, powerful man, withthe brutal face and coarse lips of a prizefighter; a beard cropped soshort as to seem the growth of a few days only covered his chin, and hismoustache, treated in the same way, was not thick enough to conceala cruel mouth. He was carefully enough dressed, and a great diamondflashed from his tie. There was a red mark round his forehead where hishat had been, and the perspiration was streaming from his forehead. Hestrode without hesitation to the table where Mr. Sabin and his guestwere sitting, and without even a glance at the former turned upon hismyrmidon.

  "Where's that report?" he cried roughly. "Where is it?"

  Mr. Skinner seemed to have shrunk into a smaller man. He pointed acrossthe table.

  "I've given it to him," he said. "What's wrong, boss?"

  The newcomer raised his hand as though to strike Skinner. He gnashed histeeth with the effort to control himself.

  "You damned blithering idiot," he said hoarsely, gripping the side ofthe table. "Why wasn't it presented to me first?"

  "Guess it didn't seem worth while," Skinner answered. "There's nothingin the darned thing."

  "You ignorant fool, hold your tongue," was the fierce reply.

  The newcomer sank into a chair and wiped the perspiration from hisstreaming forehead. Mr. Sabin signaled to a waiter.

  "You seem upset, Mr. Horser," he remarked politely. "Allow me to offeryou a glass of wine."

  Mr. Horser did not immediately reply, but he accepted the glass whichthe waiter brought him, and after a moment's hesitation drained itscontents. Then he turned to Mr. Sabin.

  "You said nothing about those letters you had had when you came to seeme this morning!"

  "It was you yourself," Mr. Sabin reminded him, "who begged me notto enter into particulars. You sent me on to Mr. Skinner. I told himeverything."

  Mr. Horser leaned over the table. His eyes were bloodshot, his tone wasfierce and threatening. Mr. Sabin was coldly courteous. The differencebetween the demeanour of the two men was remarkable.

  "You knew what those letters meant! This is a plot! Where is Skinner'sreport?"

  Mr. Sabin raised his eyebrows. He signaled to the head-waiter.

  "Be so good as to continue the service of my dinner," he ordered. "Thechampagne is a trifle too chilled. You can take it out of the cooler."

  The man bowed, with a curious side glance at Horser.

  "Certainly, your Grace!"

  Horser was almost speechless with anger.

  "Are you going to answer my questions?" he demanded thickly.

  "I have no particular objection to doing so," Mr. Sabin answered, "butuntil you can sit up and compose yourself like an ordinary individual, Idecline to enter into any conversation with you at all."

  Again Mr. Horser raised his voice, and the glare in his eyes was likethe glare of a wild beast.

  "Do you know who I am?" he asked. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

  Mr. Sabin looked at him coolly, and fingered his wineglass.

  "Well," he said, "I've a shocking memory for names, but yours is--Mr.Horser, isn't it? I heard it for the first time this morning, and mymemory will generally carry me through four-and-twenty hours."

  There was a moment's silence. Horser was no fool. He accepted his defeatand dropped the bully.

  "You're a stranger in this city, Mr. Sabin, and I guess you aren'taltogether acquainted with our ways yet," he said. "But I want youto understand this. The report which is in your pocket has got to bereturned to me. If I'd known what I was meddling with I wouldn't havetouched your business for a hundred thousand dollars. It's got to bereturned to me, I say!" he repeated in a more threatening tone.

  Mr. Sabin helped himself to fish, and made a careful examination of thesauce.

  "After all," he said meditatively, "I am not sure that I was wise ininsisting upon a sauce piquante. I beg your pardon, Mr. Horser. Pleasedo not think me inattentive, but I am very hungry. So, I believe, is myfriend, Mr. Skinner. Will you not join us--or perhaps you have alreadydined?"

  There was an ugly flush in Mr. Horser's cheeks, but he struggled to keephis composure.

  "Will you give me back that report?"

  "When I have read it, with pleasure," Mr. Sabin answered. "Before, no."

  Mr. Horser swallowed an exceedingly vicious oath. He struck the tablelightly with his forefinger.

  "Look here," he said. "If you'd lived in New York a couple of years,even a couple of months, you wouldn't talk like that. I tell you thatI hold the government of this city in my right hand. I don't want to beunpleasant, but if that paper is not in my hands by the time you leavethis table I shall have you arrested as you leave this room, and thepapers taken from you."

  "Dear me," Mr. Sabin said, "this is serious. On what charge may I askshould I be exposed to this inconvenience?"

  "Charge be damned!" Mr. Horser answered. "The police don't wantparticulars from me. When I say do a thing they do it. They know that ifthey declined it would be their last day on the force."

  Mr. Sabin filled his glass and leaned back in his chair.

  "This," he remarked, "is interesting. I am always glad to have theopportunity of gaining an insight into the customs of differentcountries. I had an idea that America was a country remarkable for theamount of liberty enjoyed by its inhabitants. Your proposed course ofaction seems scarcely in keeping with this."

  "What are you going to do? Come, I've got to hav
e an answer."

  "I don't quite understand," Mr. Sabin remarked, with a puzzled look,"what your official position is in connection with the police."

  Mr. Horser's face was a very ugly sight. "Oh, curse my officialposition," he exclaimed thickly. "If you want proof of what I say youshall have it in less than five minutes. Skinner, be off and fetch acouple of constables."

  "I really must protest," Mr. Sabin said. "Mr. Skinner is my guest, andI will not have him treated in this fashion, just as the terrapin iscoming in, too. Sit down, Mr. Skinner, sit down. I will settle thismatter with you in my room, Mr. Horser, after I have dined. I will noteven discuss it before."

  Mr. Horser opened his mouth twice, and closed it again. He knew that hisopponent was simply playing to gain time, but, after all, he held thetrump card. He could afford to wait. He turned to a waiter and ordered acigar. Mr. Sabin and Mr. Skinner continued their dinner.

  Conversation was a little difficult, though Mr. Sabin showed no signs ofan impaired appetite. Skinner was white with fear, and glanced every nowand then nervously at his chief. Mr. Horser smoked without ceasing, andmaintained an ominous silence. Mr. Sabin at last, with a sigh, rose,and lighting a cigarette, took his stick from the waiter and prepared toleave.

  "I fear, Mr. Horser," he remarked, "that your presence has scarcelycontributed to the cheerfulness of our repast. Mr. Skinner, am I to befavoured with your company also upstairs?"

  Horser clutched that gentleman's arm and whispered a few words in hisear.

  "Mr. Skinner," he said, "will join us presently. What is your number?"

  "336," Mr. Sabin answered. "You will excuse my somewhat slow progress."

  They crossed the hall and entered the elevator. Mr. Horser's facebegan to clear. In a moment or two they would be in Mr. Sabin'ssitting-room-alone. He regarded with satisfaction the other's slim,delicate figure and the limp with which he moved. He felt that thedanger was already over.