The Launching of Roger Brook

theft.

Yet, badly as he had been taken in, Roger felt that a more ex­perienced person than himself might equally have fallen a victim to the Chevalier's wiles. His face had been a weak rather than vicious one, and he had shown great vivacity, sympathy and apparent generosity; in fact, all the characteristics calculated to win the interest and friendship of a stranger quickly. But that anyone else might have been fooled as easily as himself was little consolation to Roger now.

As he walked on he wondered desperately how he could possibly get back to England, then, swiftly on top of that came the even more distressing question as to what would happen to him if he did succeed in securing a passage across the Channel. Gone were the bright dreams of comfortable lodgings and cutting a fine figure in London. If he got back at all it would be to land there near penniless. It would be a choice then between hedgerows and hard manual labour or going home to eat humble pie before his father; and the thought of being forced to the latter made him almost sob with rage.

On reaching the inn he met the oily Maitre Picard on the doorstep and inquired at once if he had seen the Chevalier during the past hour.

The landlord shook his head. 'I've not set eyes on him since he went out with you this morning, Monsieur.'

'Has he any other address, or have you any idea where I could find him?' asked Roger.

'No, none, Monsieur. He comes and goes as he lists, that one. He said nothing this morning of leaving, but 'twould not be the first time that he has walked out on me. He is, as you may know, a pro­fessional gambler, and often in low water. If I may offer a word of advice. Monsieur, he is not a good companion for a young gentleman like yourself.'

'Would that you had said as much before,' Roger muttered ruefully.

'Why so,' asked Maitre Picard. 'Has he then robbed you of something? I have heard tell that he can be light- fingered on occasion.'

Visions of a police inquiry with himself held for weeks as a material witness, again flashed before Roger's mind, so he said hastily, 'No— at least nothing of great value. Only a pair of shoe buckles that he promised to get valued for me; but they were not of sufficient con­sequence to make a fuss over. Is it true that you hold his wardrobe as surety for his reckoning?'

'Nay, Monsieur,' the landlord smirked, 'that is an idle tale. Sometimes he pays before he leaves, at others he settles his old score on the next occasion that he asks for a room. He has worn naught but that old red velvet coat of his since he first came here last Hallowe'en and I'd have thought anyone would have spotted him for a slippery customer.'

'Why do you suffer such rogues to lodge at your inn, and mingle with your other guests?' snapped Roger, his temper getting the better of him.

Maitre Picard bridled. 'I am a poor man, Monsieur, and cannot afford to turn away a patron without proof that he has actually been dishonest. As for the others, 'tis for them, not me, to mind their purses. And had you been more circumspect in your choice of a companion, doubtless you would still be in possession of your buckles.' Upon which he turned huffily away and slouched off through the hall to his quarters at the back of the premises.

Swallowing this rebuff, which he felt that he had asked for, Roger went into the parlour and sat down. It was empty except for the old man in the blue suit with the shock of white hair and watery blue eyes, who had been there the night before. He was no longer drunk or drinking, but was sitting with a woebegone expression on his face staring at his boots.

Roger gave him only a glance, then fell once more to seeking a way out of the frightful mess in which he had landed himself. It was true that Georgina had made no great sacrifice in giving him a lot of old-fashioned jewellery for which she had no use; yet she had given it to him for a definite purpose and the theft now made that purpose impossible of achievement, so by allowing himself to be robbed he felt that he had let her down badly.

He was not old enough or strong enough to get himself taken on as a hand in a ship sailing for England; but it occurred to him that for his few remaining pounds he might induce some freighter captain to take him aboard and let him work off the balance of the fare by serving as cabin boy on the trip. But such a proceeding would still leave him face to face with the far higher fence of what to do when he landed. On one thing he was determined; he would not go home and ask pardon of his father since, if he did so, he would never be able to look Georgina in the face again. The alternative now seemed grim in the extreme yet having lost the means to a fine start she had given him he felt that by hook or by crook he must, somehow, make good without it.

Suddenly the voice of the old man broke in upon his thoughts.

' 'Twould be a most courteous gesture, Monsieur, if, with the generosity that I see in that fine open face of yours, you cared to buy a dram for an old and ailing fellow human.'

Realising that, since they were alone in the room, the appeal must be addressed to him Roger's first reaction was one of angry withdrawal. He had suffered enough at the hands of a chance acquaintance met with in that very room to teach him a lesson for a lifetime. With all too recent memories of De Roubec having expressed such nattering amazement at his French, and Mou-Mou's compliment upon his blue eyes, this old codger's reference to his handsome face struck him instantly as a most suitable opening gambit for a further attack on his now all too slender resources; but the old fellow went on:

'When you reach my age, Monsieur, you will have learned how to read men's thoughts from their faces. To me yours is an open book of misfortune and distress. I, too, am sad because I have been weak and foolish. I am far from being a worthy son of the Church, and have not been to confession now for many years; yet there is much truth in the priestly doctrine that 'a sorrow shared is but half a trouble'. Why, then, should we not confess the reasons for our sadness to one another and, if you would be so kind, seek the cheer, however, temporary, that lies at the bottom of every glass of Marc, Calvados or Cognac?'

The old man spoke clearly, slowly, and with a certain dignity, so Roger got the drift of all he had said quite easily. The expenditure of another few francs could make little difference to his depleted fortunes now, and he felt a strong urge to unburden himself to someone. Getting up, he called the serving man and, moving over to the old man's table, he bowed before sitting down at it, and said:

'You are right, Monsieur. Fortune has served me a scurvy trick, and I regret to hear that she has also turned her back on you. My name is Brook—Roger Brook; and I am happy to offer you the refresh­ment you desire. What will you take?'

'A Cognac, I thank you, and er—a double portion would not come amiss if 'tis not trespassing too far upon your generosity. As to the kind I am not particular. The potent spirit that they term 'fine maison' in this dubious caravanserai is good enough for such as me.'

Roger ordered a glass of Malaga for himself, and as the servant disappeared to fetch the drinks the old man went on:

'My name is Aristotle Fenelon and for business reasons I style myself Doctor. I will not tell you, as I tell many others, that I have taken the highest degrees at the most famous universities; but simply that I am a student of mankind. I make a living and, when fortune smiles upon me, a tolerably good one by pandering to the vanity of women and the credulence of men. In his wisdom the good God has so designed nature that every part of it is sustained by some other part; and by inspiring large numbers of men and women with the wish to improve upon His handiwork by making themselves more vigorous or more beautiful than they are, He provided me with an adequate means of support.'

The drinks arrived at that moment and when Roger had settled for them, the 'Doctor' lifted his glass with a hand that trembled a little, as he said:

'To your health, O kind and generous young man. And, believe me, 'tis the best toast I could drink to you. Given a healthy body there are few distempers of the mind that cannot be overcome, and given a healthy mind laughter cannot long remain absent from the lips.'

'To your health too, then!' Roger replied, and as he set down his glass he added: 'I fear my French is far from good. Am I right in assuming you to be a dealer in cosmetics?'

'Aye, and more than that.' Aristotle Fenelon shook back his mop of white hair, 'I can provide a panacea for a thousand ills. I can draw teeth, set sprains and cure malignant eruptions of every variety. The penalties which Venus inflicts upon her incautious votaries are my especial province, and I can brew a potion that will make any maid look fondly on her lover. But enough about myself for now. The aged are accustomed to sorrow and can philosophically await the turning of its tide; whereas youth is ever impatient for the solacing of its troubles. Tell me