Chapter XXII: Dr. Laffin’s Offer

“I hope,” said Mr. Marsh, unconsciously paraphrasing the remarks of a great literary character, “I hope I don’t intrude?”

“Come in, Mr. Marsh,” said La Florette, reacting instantly to the admiring glance of the newcomer. “My mater and I were having a little pow-wow.”

“If it’s a family conference--” began Toby, with gentlemanly delicacy.

“No--come in. Mother and I were discussing ways and means. You’ll quite understand my position; naturally I don’t wish mater to take boarders, not ordinary boarders; I shouldn’t like people in my set to know that she took boarders at all.”

“Naturally,” murmured the lodger.

“But this is what they call in the newspapers the age of--what is the word? It begins with D?”

“Democracy?” suggested Toby correctly.

“That’s the word; we’ve got to do something to keep the wolf from the door. The mater says that you wouldn’t like to see another boarder here?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I shouldn’t,” he said. “Being in the Government service” (this was Toby Marsh’s favourite piece of fiction) “a sort of secret service, if you understand, I couldn’t afford to have anybody prying and spying around my documents. And another thing, Miss Florette, you can trust me, being a man of discretion, if I may use the expression, but could you trust some stranger…? I shouldn’t like to know that anybody went round saying that he was boarding with the great La Florette’s mother.”

Florette bit her lip thoughtfully. She was interested in other matters, yet gave the impression of being wholly absorbed in this domestic problem.

“I think you’re right, Mr. Marsh,” she said at last, with a dazzling smile. “It wouldn’t be a good thing. Please think no more about it.”

As soon as she could get away from the house she hurried back to Van Campe, her confidant in most matters, though she had decided in the present case to keep her own counsel. Still, he might help.

She got back to the theatre where he had his office, and, opening the door without knocking, walked in--and stopped. Mr. Van Campe had a visitor. A funereal figure rose slowly from the table and turned his dark eyes upon her, and for a second she was nonplussed.

“Why--why, Dr. Laffin!” she stammered. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I have been talking to Mr. Van Campe,” he said, “and, curiously enough, young lady, about your good self.”

“About me?”

In her surprise she forgot her tremendous discovery.

“Is zat so?” she lisped, returning to her public rôle of exiled Frenchwoman. “Zat is extraordinaire!”

Laffin was looking at her thoughtfully.

“You may think that the suggestion I have made to Mr. Van Campe is fantastical, bizarre, but I beg that you will not too lightly dismiss the scheme I have put before our friend.”

Before she realised that he was on the point of departure, with a little nod he was gone.

“What was he doing here?” she asked, when the door had closed upon the visitor. “And what is this scheme of his?”

“I can’t understand that guy,” he said. “He came in to see me about getting an engagement for Carew, and I told him frankly that I was thinking of putting you into the cast--which of course I’m not--and that there wasn’t room in the same theatre for you and the girl. I bragged a bit about your Continental reputation, and told him you mixed with the best people in town. In fact, I happened to mention that you dined last night with those two men from the Treasury. And then, before I knew what was happening, he had asked me whether I thought you would help him in a scheme of his.”

“A scheme?” she said, frowning. “What is it--a theatrical scheme?”

“No, that’s the funny thing about it,” said Van Campe, shaking his head. “He wants to take a furnished house in the West End--he suggested Portman Place--put you into it, make you an unlimited allowance, the idea being that you give parties.”

“To which he shall be invited, I suppose?” said La Florette sarcastically. “Nothing doing, Campe!”

“No, he didn’t even ask that,” said Van Campe. “In fact, he told me he would not ask to be received. He said all that he wanted was a little information about the stock market which might come to you.”

“He’s crazy, if that’s all he wants,” she said. “I can give him a whole lot of information that I got out of this morning’s papers!”

Van Campe was looking thoughtful.

“I didn’t like it at first,” he said, “but the more I think of it, the bigger opportunity it seems. You are badly in need of boost, and that kind of social boost is the best thing that can come to you. Besides which, there’s nothing unusual in his suggestion. I know a family, and a good class family, too, that is supported by a stockbroker for the information they can collect from their parties. Think it over.” And then: “What brought you here so late at night?”

She immediately recalled the object of her visit.

“Campe, you know everybody in town--who is Leiff Stone?”

“Leiff Stone? The name seems familiar. There’s a Lambert Stone, an American millionaire who is a friend of De Fell’s. But Leiff is a new one on me. Why?”

She was not prepared to enlighten him apparently.

“Couldn’t you ask De Fell? He knows the American crowd very well, and if he’s a friend of Lambert Stone, he’d get to find out. Maybe it is some relation?”

Van Campe jotted down the name on his blotting-pad, and nodded.

“I’ll see him in the morning,” he said; “and now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got an hour’s work to do before I can leave this darned office. I’ve had the police here all day, making inquiries about that street murder.”

“Here?” she said, in amazement.

“Yes; it appears that the murdered man called at the stage door this morning to see Carew, and found her. She’d come to the theatre for her make-up box. I was telling Laffin about it, but that didn’t mean anything to him. I guess he wouldn’t really worry if the girl was pinched.”

“I know somebody else who feels exactly the same way,” said La Florette grimly.