An Amiable Charlatan | Page 8

with
amazing technical knowledge.
He played tricks with the knives and forks, balanced the glasses in
extraordinary fashion, and reduced our waiters to a state of numbed and
amazed incapacity. Every person who entered he seemed to have some
slight acquaintance with. All the time he was acknowledging and
returning greetings, and all the time he talked.
We spoke finally of gambling; and he laughed heartily when I made
mild fun of the gambling scare that was just then being written up in all
the papers and magazines.
"So you don't believe in baccarat tables in London!" he said. "Very
good! We shall see. After we have supped we shall see!"
We stayed until long past closing time. Mr. Parker continued in the
highest good humor, but Eve was subject at times to moods of either
indifference or depression. The more intimate note which had once or
twice crept into our conversation she seemed now inclined to deprecate.
She avoided meeting my eyes. More than once she glanced toward the
clock.
"Haven't you an appointment to-night, father?" she asked, almost in an
undertone.
"Sure!" Mr. Parker answered readily. "I have an appointment, and I am
going to take you and Mr. Walmsley along."

"I am delighted to hear it!" I exclaimed quickly.
"I'll teach you to make fun of the newspapers," Mr. Parker went on.
"No gambling hells in London, eh? Well, we shall see!"
To my great relief Eve made no spoken objection to my inclusion in the
party. When at last we left a large and handsome motor car was drawn
up outside waiting for us.
"A taxicab," Mr. Parker explained, "is of no use to me--of no more use
than a hansom cab. I have to keep a car in order to slip about quietly.
Now in what part of London shall we look for a gambling hell, Mr.
Walmsley? I know of eleven. Name your own street--somewhere in the
West End."
I named one at random.
"The very place!" Mr. Parker declared; "the very place where I have
already an appointment. Get in. Say, you Londoners have no idea what
goes on in your own city!"
We drove to a quiet street not very far from the Ritz Hotel. Mr. Parker
led us across the pavement and we entered a block of flats. The
entrance hall was dimly lit and there seemed to be no one about. Mr.
Parker, however, rang for a lift, which came promptly down.
"You two will stay here," he directed, "for two or three minutes. Then
the lift will come down for you."
He ascended and left us there. I turned at once to Eve, who had scarcely
spoken a word during the drive from the restaurant.
"I do wish you would tell me what is troubling you, Miss Parker," I
begged. "If I am really in the way of course you have only to say the
word and I'll be off at once."
She held my arm for a moment. The touch of her fingers gave me
unreasonable pleasure.

"Please don't think me rude or unkind," she pleaded. "Don't even think
that I don't like your coming along with us--because I do. It isn't that.
Only, as I told my father before supper, you don't belong! You ought
not to be seen at these places, and with us. For some absurd reason
father seems to have taken a fancy to you. It isn't a very good thing for
you. It very likely won't be a good thing for us."
"Do please change your opinion of me a little," I implored her. "I can't
help my appearance; but let me assure you I am willing to play the
Bohemian to any extent so long as I can be with you. There isn't a thing
in your life I wouldn't be content to share," I ventured to add.
She sighed a little petulantly. She was half-convinced, but against her
will.
"You are very obstinate," she declared; "but, of course, you're rather
nice."
After that I was ready for anything that might happen. The lift had
descended and the porter bade us enter. We stopped at the third floor.
In the open doorway of one of the flats Mr. Parker was standing, solid
and imposing. He beckoned us, with a broad smile, to follow him.
To my surprise there were no locked doors or burly doorkeepers. We
hung up our things in the hall and passed into a long room, in which
were some fifteen or twenty people. Most of them were sitting round a
chemin de fer table; a few were standing at the sideboard eating
sandwiches. A dark-haired, dark-eyed, sallow-faced man, a trifle
corpulent, undeniably Semitic, who seemed to be in charge of the place,
came up and shook hands with Mr. Parker.