In Direst Peril Part 16

"This is my man," said the count, and bade the servant show the visitor in.

CHAPTER XII

"Mr. Alpheas P. Quorn" was the name printed on the card of the visitor just announced, and I had scarcely cast my eye upon it when the man came in. He was a prodigiously fat man, with a pigeon breast, and a neck so short that his tufted chin was set low down between his high shoulders.

He was dressed in actual burlesque of the fas.h.i.+on then prevailing; but, spruce as he was, he nursed undisguisedly a huge quid of tobacco in one clean-shaven cheek, and his hands, which were covered with rings of no great apparent value, were very dirty, and the nails uncared for. He bowed with a great flourish of politeness, spat copiously in the fire, and bade the count good-day in a thin and shrill-pitched voice, so out of keeping with his monstrous size that I had to cough and turn away to disguise a laugh.

"My respects, count," said Mr. Quorn, "my respects and compliments. I presoom, sir, you have heard the noos from the European Continent."

"I am in pretty constant receipt of news," the count responded, with a swift glance in my direction; "but I do not know that it is yet common property."

"Wal," said Mr. Quorn, "I'm inclined to think it is. But my folks are pretty considerably d.a.m.n smart, and so, I guess, are yours." He paused, looked hard at me, and turned his quid reflectively. "This gentleman--?"

he said, interrogatively.

"This gentleman," the count responded, "is in full possession of my confidence. This is Mr. Quorn, Captain Fyffe. I was telling Captain Fyffe at the moment of your arrival," he continued, "the nature of our business. I shall rely upon his judgment of the goods you have for sale."

"That's all right," said Mr. Quorn. "I've got the real thing to sell, and I want a man as knows the real thing to see it before it's bought.

Then you're satisfied and I'm satisfied. If I ain't mistaken now, Captain Fyffe's the man that hooked you out of that blasted Austrian dungeon."

"It is to Captain Fyffe," the count answered, "that I owe my liberty."

"Then you owe him a lot," retorted Mr. Quorn. "There's nothing sweeter on the face of the earth, and I presoom, sir, that you know it. I am a foe to slavery, gentlemen, everywhere and always. In the sacred cause of freedom I have been tarred and feathered and rode upon a rail. In comparison with twenty years in Austrian hands that ain't a lot, but it was more than I bargained for, and as much as I wanted. In the sacred cause of freedom, gentlemen, I'm willing to sacrifice even a pecuniary consideration. I could do a trade with Austria that would increase my profits by fifty per cent. But I'm all for freedom, and you get first offer."

"What is your news from the Continent, Mr. Quorn?" inquired the count.

Mr. Quorn looked about him for a convenient spot, selected the fireplace, spat again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and winked with a slow deliberation.

"What's yourn?" he asked. The count smiled and shook his head. "Wal,"

said Mr. Quorn, "I'll tell you what I'll do with you. I'll letter it with you. L."

"O," said the count, still smiling.

"U," said Mr. Quorn.

"I," said the count.

"It appears to me," said Mr. Quorn, "we're on the same trail. The exalted individual we've got in mind, count, has done something. What's he done now?" He rolled his big head between his fat shoulders as he put the question, and chewed away at the great plug of tobacco in his cheek as if he were paid to do it, and as if he were paid by piecework.

"Yes," said the count, "he has done something, but that is a little vague."

"Wal, yes," Mr. Quorn allowed, seating himself and setting both elbows on the table, "I allow it's vague, but it won't be vague to-morrow morning."

"You allude," said the count, "to the rumor that Louis Philippe has--"

"Yes, sir," retorted Mr. Quorn, with a very bright twinkle of both eyes, "that is the rumor I allood to. That ain't vague, captain, is it? We both know all about it," he went on, "and I reckon it ought to grease this contract just a little and make it run smooth. Your time's here, if ever it will be, and I propose we strike a bargain."

"When can you supply the goods?" asked the count.

"Where?" asked Mr. Quorn, as if he were chopping something with a hatchet.

"Ah," said the count, "that has to be considered."

"Yes," the visitor a.s.sented, "that has to be considered. I'm for having everything above-board. It ain't easy to handle the contrabands of war at a time like this, when every heraldic bird and beast in Europe is on his hind-legs and looking nine ways for Sundays. If Captain Fyffe likes to come down with me to Blackwall I can show him something. On my side I'm all ready, and when I know where the goods are to be landed I'll undertake to fulfil my part of the contract. I'll leave you to yours.

Money down on delivery is the only terms. I want to know the money's there, and you want to know the goods are there. The name of the Count Ro-Say-No would be a sufficient guarantee for anybody in the world but a cuss like me. I'm business. In matters of business, gentlemen, delicacy and consideration for high-flown feelings don't enter into my composition, not for a cent's worth. If I was trading with Queen Victoria I should want to know where the money was coming from. Forty thousand sterling is a lot of money, and I expect you, as a man of the world, to excuse my curiosity."

The count rose from his seat and rang the bell by the fireplace. A servant answered it, and he said, simply:

"Ask Miss Rossano to be kind enough to see me here."

The servant retired, and Mr. Quorn filled in the time of waiting by walking about the room with his hands under his coat-tails, making a cursory inspection of the furniture and the engravings on the walls, and walking from time to time to the fireplace to expectorate. When Violet entered, the count placed a seat for her, but she remained standing, with an interrogative look from Mr. Quorn to me which seemed to ask an explanation of that gentleman's presence.

"My dear," said the count, "we have often spoken together of the necessity for the purchase of arms for The Cause."

"Yes," she said.

"This gentleman," the count indicated our visitor, "has arms to sell. We have had news this morning which makes it necessary that we should move at once."

Her face turned pale for a moment and her lips trembled, but she spoke an affirmatory word only, and waited.

"Mr. Quorn," said the count, "has fifty thousand stand of arms to dispose of."

"I suppose this is all right," interrupted Mr. Quorn, "but I may be allowed to say that I have been in a business of this sort more than once in my time, and I never knew any good come out of the introduction of a petticoat."

Violet looked at him, and I saw her lips twitch with an impulse towards laughter; but Mr. Quorn obviously misunderstood the emotions he had inspired.

"Do not suppose from that, madame," he said, with great solemnity, "that I have not the reverence for your s.e.x which rules every well-regulated masculine boozom, but this, if it means anything at all, means secrecy, and that is not your s.e.x's strong point."

"That is a matter, Mr. Quorn," returned the count, "with which, as I think, you need not concern yourself."

"That's all right," returned Mr. Quorn. "I merely mentioned it. It's no affair of mine."

"Mr. Quorn," said the count, "has fifty thousand stand of arms to sell. With them he has three million percussion-caps and three million cartridges. His price for the whole is--" he paused there and waited, looking towards the visitor.

"Forty thousand pounds sterling," said Mr. Quorn.

I interrupted the conversation at this point, asking when the cartridges in question had been made. That was more than Mr. Quorn could say; but I insisted upon an examination of their quality before any bargain with respect to their purchase could be begun. No sportsman shoots with last year's cartridges, and a man whose life depends upon his ammunition should be at least as careful as a sportsman.

"Now," said Mr. Quorn, "I like this--this is business. This comes of talking to an expert."

But all the same I could see that he was not over-pleased by my interference at this point.

"We will leave that to your judgment, my dear Fyffe," said the count.

"But in the meantime Mr. Quorn desires to be satisfied of our ability to purchase. You have consulted your lawyer, dear, and you know at what time you will have control of your money--"

"On the twelfth of next month," said Violet. "I have a letter to that effect. If this gentleman desires to see it I shall have great pleasure in showing it to him."