about tomorrow afternoon for that ride over the Charing Cross? I suppose I ought to see that and these loop lines at one and the same time.”
“Great, Chief! How about one o’clock? I can show you everything and have you back here by five.”
“Good! Only, just a moment. Do you remember Haddonfield, Lord Haddonfield, who came out to Chicago a few years ago and created such a stir out there? The Palmers, the Fields, the Lesters, were all running after him, remember? I entertained him out at my place, too. Sporty, jaunty type.”
“Sure, sure! I remember,” returned Sippens. “Wanted to go into the packing business, I believe.”
“And into my business, too. I guess I never told you that.”
“No, you never did,” said Sippens, interestedly.
“Well, anyhow, I had a telegram from him this morning. Wants me to come to his country place—Shropshire, I believe—over this coming week end.” He picked up a telegram from his desk. “Beriton Manor, Shropshire.”
“That’s interesting. He’s one of the people connected with the City and South London. Stockholder, or director, or something. I’ll know all about him tomorrow. Maybe he’s in on this underground development and wants to see you about that. If so, and he’s friendly, he’s certainly a good man for you. Stranger in a strange land, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said Cowperwood. “It may not be a bad idea. I think I’ll go. You see what you can find out, and we’ll meet here at one.”
As Sippens bustled out, Jamieson entered with more notes, but Cowperwood waved him away. “Nothing more until Monday, Jamieson. Write Greaves and Henshaw and say I’ll be phased to meet them here on Tuesday at eleven. Get hold of Jarkins and tell him to do nothing until lie hears from me. Wire this Lord Haddonfield that Mr. and Mrs. Cowperwood will be pleased to accept his invitation, and get the directions and the tickets. If anything more comes up, just put it on my desk and I’ll see it tomorrow.”
He strode out the door, and into the elevator, and once outside, hailed a hansome. Although he announced Oxford Street as his destination, he had not ridden two blocks before he pushed up the lid at the top and hailed the driver, calling: “Oxford and Yewberry Streets, left-hand corner.”
And once there, stepped out and walked in a roundabout way to Claridge’s.
Chapter 24
Cowperwood’s attitude toward Berenice at this time was a mixture of father and lover. His greater age and unchanging admiration for her mentality and beauty caused him to wish to protect and develop her aesthetically. At the same time, and that decidedly, he shared her sensual emotions, although sensing at times an oddness about the relation, since he could not publicly harmonize his sixty years with her extreme youth. On the other hand, privately, her practical prevision, which so often seemed to match his own, gave him a sense of added strength as well as pride. For her independence and force united not so much with his thoughts of material self-aggrandizement as with that portion of its possible fruits which might by her be utilized to achieve temperamental and social perfection. It explained his presence here in London and gave it real weight. Now, finding her buoyant and enthusiastic as ever, as he took her in his arms he actually absorbed not a little of her gaiety and confidence.
“Welcome to London!” were her first words. “So Caesar has crossed the Rubicon!”
“Thanks, Bevy,” he said, releasing her. “I got your message, too, and treasure it. But let me look at you. Walk across the room!”
He surveyed her with intense satisfaction as, smiling an ironic smile, she stepped away and walked, posing in the manner of a fashion model, finally curtseying, and saying: “Direct from Madame Sari! The price is a mere— secret!” and she pouted her lips.
She was wearing a deep-blue velvet frock, cut princess style, with tiny pearls outlining the neck and girdle.
Cowperwood took her hand and led her to a small sofa, just large enough for the two of them. “Exquisite!” he said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be with you again.” He then inquired after her mother, and continued: “This is a new sensation for me, Bevy. I never really cared much for London before, but this time, knowing you were to be here, I found myself delighting in the sight of it.”
“And what else?” she asked.
“And seeing you, of course,” he beamed, and kissed her, touching her eyes, hair, mouth with his lips and fingers until at last she cautioned him that there was to be no love-making until later. Forced to accept this for the moment, he began giving a brisk account of his passage and all that had occurred.
“Aileen is with me at the Cecil,” he went on. “She has just been sketched for the papers. And your friend Tollifer did a great deal, I must say, to make things agreeable for her.”
“My friend! I don’t know him!”
“Of course, you don’t, but, anyway, he turns out to be a very clever fellow. You should have seen him when he came to me in New York and again on the boat. Aladdin and the wonderful lamp called money! By the way, he went on to Paris, partially to cover his tracks, I take it. I have seen to it, of course, that he is amply supplied with cash for the present.”
“You met him on the boat?” queried Berenice.
“Yes, he was introduced by the captain. But then, he is just the sort of person who could arrange that sort of thing for himself. And he appears to have a positive genius for ingratiating himself with the ladies. He practically monopolized all of the attractive ones.”
“With you there? Do you expect me to believe that?”
“A miracle, I admit, but the man is uncanny. He seemed to sense exactly what was needed. I personally saw very little of him, but he managed to impress Aileen—so much so that she wants to have him dine with us.”
He looked solemnly at Berenice, and she in turn gazed congratulatingly upon him, adding after a moment. “I’m glad; I really am. She needs just such a change as this. She should have had it long ago.”
“I agree,” said Cowperwood. “Since I can’t be to her what she would like me to be, why not someone else? Anyway, I hope he keeps his head, and I’m rather inclined to think he will. Aileen is already planning to go to Paris to shop. So things are going well enough, I think.”
“Very well,” said Berenice, smiling. “It looks as though our plans might work out. So who is to blame?”
“Well, not you, and not me. It’s one of those things that have to be—like your coming to me last Christmas when I least expected you.”
He began caressing her again, but, interested in her own plans, she resisted him, saying: “Now, now, I want to hear about London, and then I have something to tell you.”
“London? Everything looks most promising so far. I told you in New York about those two men, Greaves and Henshaw, and how I turned them down. Well, just now at the hotel, before I left, there was a letter from them. They want to see me, and I have an appointment with them. As for the larger plan, there is a group here with whom I am planning to talk. As soon as there is anything definite, I’ll let you know. But meanwhile, I want to steal away with you somewhere. We should be able to take a vacation for a little while before I go into all this. Of course, there’s Aileen. And until she is out of the way . . .” he paused, “my plan, of course, is to urge her to go to Paris, and then we might sail up toward the North Cape or down to the Mediterranean. One of my agents tells me of a yacht he knows of that can be leased for the summer.”
“Yacht! Yacht!” exclaimed Berenice, excitedly, and at the same time laying a finger on his lips. “Oh, no, no! Now you’re treading on my plans. Fixing things I want to fix. You see——”
But before she could finish he seized her and silenced her with a kiss.
“You are impatient!” she said, softly, “but wait . . .” and she led him to a table set by an open window in the adjoining room. “You see, my lord, a feast is laid for two. It is your slave who invites you. If you will be seated, and have a drink with me, and behave yourself, I shall tell you about myself. Believe it or not, I have solved everything!”
“Everything!” commented Cowperwood, banteringly. “And so soon? If only I knew how to do that!”
“Well, nearly everything,” she went on, picking up a decanter containing his favorite wine and pouring a drink for each of them. “You see, strange as it may seem, I have been thinking. And when I think . . .” she stopped and looked upward at the ceiling. He seized the glass she was holding, and kissed her, as she knew he would.
