Riddles (Bacheller)/Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The Affairs of Mr. J. Reginald Travers Come to a Sudden Dramatic Climax at a Public Reception and Dinner in His Honor Given by His Brother-in-Law, Political Boss of the County, to the Confusion of the Prosecuting Attorney.
“A RECEPTION to Mr. and Mrs. J. Reginald Travers will be given in the club parlors at 7:30; dinner at 8:15.” That legend was a footnote on the cards of invitation. When Riddles and his friends arrived at the Country Club the reception had begun. Office and corridors were crowded with the best people of that ample and fashionable countryside. Diamonds, pearls and emeralds glowed in the brilliant light on shapely necks and bosoms. Slowly, the Belleharbor men made their way into the crowded parlors. When Mr. John Riddles was announced in a rather loud voice at the door, the stately dames raised their lorgnettes, and many eyes directed their lorgnettes upon him and many lips began moving in whispers.
J. Reginald Travers was using his perfect English on a group of adoring ladies. Mrs. Travers, groomed and powdered to the limit—to quote the phrase of Riddles—looked her age, which was near sixty. They turned from their talk as soon as Riddles was announced.
“Deah friend!” said Travers as he took the hand of the mill owner. “It is, shall I say, thrilling that we should meet here as we do.”
“And to think,” said Mrs. Travers, “we didn't know we were entertaining an angel unawares.”
“Madame, I don't want to be an angel,” said Riddles. “For such promotion I am not quite prepared.”
“You see our gratitude knows not where to set its limit,” Travers interposed. “We love and admire you, deah Riddles, and may we not hope that you will accept the office of our friend and well-wisher?”
“That will be easier,” said Riddles.
“And before you leave here may we have you for, at least, a dinner at Cedarfields?” Mrs. Travers asked. “I do so want to talk with you about certain of the mysteries of life. You know I was told by a fortune-teller that I would meet my husband unexpectedly, and that we should be married on the twenty-fourth of June. It all came to pass.”
Riddles and his friends went on down the line. “I need a breath of fresh air,” said he to the Mayor of Belleharbor with a laugh as they emerged on the club veranda and lighted cigarets. Riddles was thinking how the fortune-teller and the sentimental old lady had had their stage set for the entrance of the fortune-hunter. On the veranda the Belleharbor men witnessed the arrival of Percival Waters with Harriet and Mrs. Martin. Riddles, hearing himself addressed, turned and was face to face with the prosecuting attorney.
“I AM glad to see you,” said the former. “Perhaps we had better have a little talk.”
“It will be necessary, I think, for you to be made acquainted with one important fact before you begin your examination to-morrow,” said Riddles.
“And what is the fact?”
“The man who killed Henry Taylor is here in this club-house.”
“The radical—Reuben Smith?”
“The same.”
“Will you point him out to me?”
“I will.”
“Excuse me for a moment or two.”
Before Riddles could stop him the attorney had hurried to the telephone, where for the next quarter of an hour he was trying to locate the chief of police and summon him to the Country Club.
Meanwhile Riddles had met Harriet and her mother on the veranda, and had invited the former to step aside with him for a little talk.
“I hope that you liked Mr. Galt on further acquaintance,” said Riddles. “I want to tell you that he is one of the ablest and finest men I know.”
“If he cares for me I am sorry,” said Harriet. “I can not give him the least encouragement. You might as well know that I expect to marry Percival Waters.”
“It is a large undertaking!”
“How so?”
“You will meet so many obstacles. I think you will have something to take back on Monday.”
“Yes; an umbrella or two. We don't know whom they belong to.”
“And you'll have to take back your intentions. I can not allow you to be turned into an island entirely surrounded by Waters. Unless you enjoy being lost, you are likely to be rescued. Perhaps, next time. I'll show up with the right man.”
“I have no confidence in your judgment,” she answered.
At that moment Percy arrived and was dumb with embarrassment, when Miss Harriet introduced Riddles as the late Reuben Smith.
TO HIS relief, Mrs. Martin came and announced that they were going in to dinner. As the ladies were entering the house with Percival Waters the prosecuting attorney came out.
“I have been in communication with the chief of police and he has just arrived,” said the latter. “Is Smith still here?”
“Smith is still here, and I could have told you that you do not need an officer. He will make a clean breast of the matter.”
Just then a young man came to the attorney and said that the whole party was waiting at the tables.
“I suppose he is one of the waiters?” the attorney whispered.
“He is one of the waiters,” said Riddles. “I'll point him out to you in good time. Let the dinner proceed.”
They entered the dining hall and found the people standing at the tables, and waiting for the prosecuting attorney, who was, it seemed, the toastmaster, laddies found his seat on the dais at the left of that functionary; Mr. J. Reginald Travers being in the seat of honor between the toastmaster and Mr. David Galt. At the conclusion of the dinner the able attorney made an eloquent speech on the need of better relations between England and America, leading deftly up to the new tie which had been established in “the marriage of an urbane, accomplished and delightful English gentleman to a lady of our own county.” He then had the honor of introducing Mr. J. Reginald Travers.
The response of Travers was notable for its wit, its gallantry, its modesty and its admirable good taste.
Every one applauded and spoke a tribute of praise. The ladies did not fail to express their wonder that a man so attractive had been willing “to throw himself away” on a “woman old enough to be his mother.” Mr. David Galt spoke briefly of his wise but firm attitude toward labor, and of his sturdy opposition to the growing tendency to radicalism.
John Riddles was introduced as one of the great captains of industry, and a real American, who has been studying local conditions, and “one of whose little side-issues is The Rescue Mercantile Company of our town—an institution which has put every inhabitant of this county—except the profiteers—in his debt.”
The applause lasted a full minute as Riddles arose. He said that this honor and applause had been unsought and unexpected; that he hoped he would not seem to be lacking in grace and gratitude when he declared that it was also not quite welcome since it had put his motives under suspicion. He was glad to say that he thought Mr. Travers in every way worthy of the confidence and esteem of his neighbors.
While a quartet was singing, the attorney came to Riddles and ask:
“Will you come with me for a moment?”
Riddles accompanied the toastmaster to a point near the doors.
“Is it not time for us to act?” he inquired. “The waiters are getting impatient. They have been detained in the service hall.”
“Let them go,” said Riddles. “The man you are to arrest is here—at the guest table.”
“What!” exclaimed the prosecuting officer as his face grew damp with perspiration. “I thought you said he was one of the waiters.”
“I meant that he was a member of the dinner-party who was waiting for you. It was an evasion, but I wanted the dinner to come off just as it has without a cloud in your sky. I could have made it hard for you.”
“In God's name, who is Smith?”
“I think he is none other than 'the urbane, accomplished and delightful English gentleman, Mr. J. Reginald Travers.'”
The attorney dropped his cigaret, gasped and staggered a little so that Riddles caught his elbow to steady him.
“In Heaven's name! What am I to do?” the lawyer muttered in a thick, tremulous whisper. “He is a brother-in-law of the boss, and a cousin by marriage of the county judge and the sheriff. What am I to do?”
“Nothing—just nothing, but look wise and cheerful.”
“That is what I will do.”
“After all he may be innocent,” said Riddles. “He acts and talks like the real thing. A counterfeit man would be sure to slip a cog now and then. He doesn't. So far as I know he rings true. He's got me guessing. When I get a chance I'm going to ask him to tell me the truth.”