The Profiteers Part 42

The inspector lifted one of the packs of cards which had been dashed upon the table and looked at them thoughtfully.

"Poker," he murmured. "By the by, where are the chips?"

"The chips?" Wingate repeated.

"Poker is one of those games, I believe, which necessitates the use of counters or the handling of a great deal of money."

Wingate shrugged his shoulders. He made no reply. s.h.i.+elds took up one of the bottles of champagne, held it to the light, poured out the remainder of its contents and gazed with an air of surprise at the froth which crept up the gla.s.s.

"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I do not know much about champagne, but it seems to me that this has not been opened very long. By the by, you all drank champagne?" he went on. "I see no trace of any spirits about."

"It was one of Lord Dredlinton's hobbles," Wingate declared. "Spirits are very seldom served in this house."

The Inspector nodded. He had crossed to the sideboard and was looking into the contents of a great bowl of flowers.

"I never heard," he reflected, "that roses did well in champagne. Let me see," he proceeded, counting the empty bottles, "four bottles between four of you, the contents of at least two bottles here, and--dear me, the carnations, too!" he went on, peering into a further bowl. "Really, Mr.

Wingate, your orgy scarcely seems to have been one of drink."

"Perhaps it was not," was the resigned reply.

The inspector sighed.

"I have seldom," he p.r.o.nounced, looking fixedly at his companion, "seen a more amateurish piece of work than the arrangement of this so-called debauch. It seems pitiable, Mr. Wingate, that a man with brains like yours should have sought to deceive in so puerile a fas.h.i.+on."

"What is this leading up to?" Wingate demanded.

The inspector drew a little pamphlet from his pocket and pa.s.sed it across. Wingate took it into his hands, opened it and stared at it in surprise.

"A list of Cunard sailings!" he exclaimed.

"One of the safest of lines," said s.h.i.+elds, with a nod. "The _Agricola_ sails to-morrow morning. The boat train, I believe, leaves Euston at four."

Wingate glanced from the sailing list to his companion. The inspector was making movements as though about to depart. Wingate himself was speechless.

"The physician is able to certify," s.h.i.+elds went on, "that Lord Dredlinton's death is due to natural causes. There will therefore be no inquest. That being the case, it is not my business to make enquiries--unless I choose."

A newsboy went shouting across the square. The two men heard distinctly his hoa.r.s.e cry:

"Great fall of wheat in every market! Cheap bread next week!"

The eyes of the two men met. There was almost a smile upon s.h.i.+elds' thin lips as he turned towards the door.

"And I do not choose," he concluded.

CHAPTER XXIV

Peter Phipps and his nephew dined together on the last night of the year at a well-chosen table at Giro's restaurant in Monte Carlo. There were long-necked and gold-foiled bottles upon the table and a menu which had commanded the respect of the _maitre d'hotel_ whose province it was to supply their wants. Nevertheless, neither of the two men had the appearance of being entirely satisfied with life.

"Those figures from the Official Receiver," Phipps remarked, as he filled his gla.s.s with wine and pa.s.sed the bottle across the table, "are scarcely what we had a right to expect, eh, Stanley?"

"They are simply scandalous," Rees declared gloomily. "One does not speculate with one's own money. I should have thought that any one with the least knowledge of finance would understand that. This man seems to think he has a lien upon our private fortunes."

"Not only that," Peter Phipps groaned, "but he's attaching as much as he can get hold of. And to think of that old devil, Skinflint Martin, scenting the trouble and getting off to Buenos Ayres! The best part of half a million he got off with. Pig!--Stanley, this may be our last season at Monte Carlo. We shall have to draw in. Every year it gets more difficult to make money."

"One month more of the British and Imperial," Stanley Rees sighed, "and we should both have been millionaires."

"And as it is," his uncle groaned, "I am beginning to get a little nervous about our hotel bill."

With a benedictory wave of his hand, an all-welcoming smile, and a backward progress which suggested distinction bordering upon royalty, the chief _maitre d'hotel_ ushered his distinguished patrons to the table which had been reserved for them. Josephine looked across the little sea of her favourite blue gentians and smiled at her husband.

"You remember always," she murmured.

Wingate, who was standing up until his guests were seated, flashed an answering smile. At his right hand was a French princess, who was Josephine's G.o.dmother; at his left Sarah, lately glorified to married estate. An English Cabinet Minister and an American diplomatist, with their wives, and Jimmy, completed the party. No one noticed the two men at the little table near the wall.

"You are a magician," the Princess whispered to Wingate. "Never could I have believed that my dear Josephine would become young again. They speak of her already as the most beautiful woman on the Riviera, and with reason. I am proud of my G.o.dchild. And they tell me that you," she went on, "have done great things in the world of finance, as well as in the underworld of politics. Those are worlds, alas!" she added with a little sigh, "of which I know nothing."

"They are worlds," Wingate replied, "which exist more on paper than anywhere else."

"Is it true, Wingate," the Cabinet Minister asked him curiously, "that it was you who broke the British and Imperial Granaries?"

"If there is such a thing," Wingate answered with a smile, "as a world of underground politics--the Princess herself coined the phrase--then I think I may claim that what pa.s.sed between me and the directors of that company is secret history. As a matter of fact, though, I think I was to some extent responsible for smas.h.i.+ng that horrible syndicate."

"It ought never to have been allowed to flourish," the Minister p.r.o.nounced. "Its charter was cunningly devised to cheat our laws, and it succeeded. After all, though, it is good to think that the days when such an inst.i.tution could live for a moment have pa.s.sed. Labour and the reconstructionists have joined hands in sane legislation. It is my belief that for the next few decades, at any rate, the British Empire and America--for the two move now hand in hand--are entering upon a period of world supremacy."

The American diplomatist had something to say.

"For that," he declared, "we may be thankful to those responsible for the destruction of militarism. Industrial triumphs were never possible under its shadow. An era of prosperity will also be an era of peace."

"For how long, I wonder?" the Princess whispered "Human nature has shown remarkably little change through all the ages. Don't you think that some day soon one person will have what another covets, and the world will rock again to the clash of arms?"

"We are all selfish," Josephine murmured. "Life closes in around us, and we are mostly concerned with what may happen in our own time. I think that for as long as we live, peace is a.s.sured."

"I am sure I hope so," Sarah declared. "I should hate Jimmy to have to go and fight again."

"What sort of a husband does he make?" Wingate enquired.

"Wonderful!" Sarah acknowledged with emphasis. "He has developed gifts of which I had not the slightest apprehension. Of course, Josephine would scratch me if I ventured upon such a thing as comparison,-so I'll be content with saying that I think we are both very happy women."

Josephine laughed gaily. The almost peachlike bloom of girlhood had come back to her cheeks. She wore a rope of pearls, her husband's wedding gift, which had belonged to an Empress, and her white gown was the _chef d'oeuvre_ of a great French artiste's most wonderful season. She looked across the table. How was it, she wondered, with a little glad thrill, that the eyes for which she sought seemed always waiting for hers.

"We are very lucky women," she said simply.

Phipps bit the end off his cigar a little savagely. He had been casting longing glances towards the table in the centre of the room, with its brilliant company.