Back Aa

Prince or Chauffeur? A Story of Newport

<h3> CHAPTER X </h3> <h3> JACK MCCALL, AT YOUR SERVICE </h3> Armitage landed in Newport by the eight o'clock boat and calling a hack drove out to the house of the chief of police. The chief was at breakfast and came to the door with his napkin in his hand. He greeted his visitor with a broad smile of welcome. "Hello, Lieutenant," he said. "What's doing? Another of your boys you want turned loose?" "Good-morning, Chief. No, not exactly. May I talk to you a minute?" "Sure." The chief glanced about the dining room and closed the door with his foot. "Talk as much as you like." Armitage glanced at the chief with an admiring smile. He had never ceased to wonder at the multifarious qualities which enabled the man to remain indispensable to native and cottager alike. Courteous, handsome, urbane, diplomatic, debonair, when a matron of the very highest caste sent for him to enlist his efforts in the regaining of some jewel, tiara, or piece of vertu, missing after a weekend, he never for a moment forgot that it was all a bit of carelessness, which the gentlest sort of reminder would correct. This is to say that he usually brought about the return of the missing article and neither of the parties between which he served as intermediary ever felt the slightest embarrassment or annoyance. No wedding was ever given without consulting him as to the proper means to be employed in guarding the presents. He was at once a social register, containing the most minute and extensive data, and an index criminis, unabridged. As Armitage talked, the chief's eyes lighted and he nodded his head approvingly from time to time. "I see," he said. "It's rather clever of you. I 'll hold myself for any word. I can do more: I know Mrs. Wellington quite well. You can ask her to call me for reference if you wish. I 'll make you out a fine thug." "That 'll be fine, although I may not need you. In the meantime have your men keep an eye out for Yeasky. And," Armitage paused, "if Koltsoff—never mind; we 've first to prove our case." "Yes, that would be about the wisest thing you could do," observed the chief. "Good luck." An hour later Armitage stood in the servants' sitting-room confronting Miss Hatch, Mrs. Wellington's secretary, who was viewing him, not without interest. "Mrs. Wellington will see you, I think," she said. "She usually breakfasts early and should be in her office now." Armitage had an engaging grin which invariably brought answering smiles even from the veriest strangers. So now the crisp, bespectacled young woman was smiling broadly when Armitage shrugged his shoulders. "Mrs. Wellington?" he said. "I had an idea I should have to see Mr. Wellington." "By no means," asserted the secretary. "Wait a moment, please." In a few minutes the young woman returned and nodded. "Will you come with me, please?" She led the way up a winding pair of stairs and down a long hall with heavy crimson carpet, turning into a room near the rear of the house. Mrs. Wellington was at her desk looking over a menu which the housekeeper had just submitted. She glanced up as the two entered, her face unchanging in expression. "This is Mr. McCall," said the secretary, who without further words went to her desk and unlimbered the typewriter. As Mrs. Wellington brought Armitage under her scrutiny, which was long, silent, and searching, he felt as he did upon his first interview with the Secretary of the Navy. However, no one had ever accused him of lack of nerve. "You apply for the position of physical instructor to my sons," she said at length. "How did you know we wanted one?" Armitage, caught for the instant off his guard, stammered. "I—at least Miss—I mean I read it in one of the papers." "Hum," replied Mrs. Wellington, "a rather misleading medium. Correct in this instance, though." "I believe it was an advertisement," said Armitage. "What qualifications have you?" Armitage smiled easily. "I have taught boxing, wrestling, and jiu-jitsu in Southern athletic clubs," he said, "and I trained the 19— navy team at Annapolis." He submitted Thornton's eloquent testimonial. Mrs. Wellington laid it aside after a glance. "Where is your home?" "Louisville, Kentucky, ma'm." "What have you been doing in Newport? I remember having seen you at church yesterday morning." "I came up to see Winthrop of the Harvard Graduate Advisory Committee on Athletics about getting the job as trainer for the football team next month. He is away." "Were you ever in college?" asked Mrs. Wellington. Armitage assumed a look of embarrassment. "Yes," he said, "but unless you insist I had rather not say where or why I left." Mrs. Wellington sniffed. "I thought so," she observed drily. "What would you do for my sons?" Armitage was on his favorite topic now. "I 'd try to convince them that it pays to be strong and clean in mind and body—" he began earnestly, when a rustle of skirts and the click of footsteps at the threshold caused him to turn. Anne Wellington, in an embroidered white linen frock, stood framed in the doorway, smiling at them. "Pardon me, mother," she said, "but I am in a dreadful fix." She glanced toward Armitage. "This is our new physical instructor, is it not?" "He has applied for the position," said Mrs. Wellington, not altogether blithely. "How fortunate—" began the girl and then stopped abruptly. "That is," she added, "if he can drive a car." "I helped make automobiles in Chicago," Armitage ventured. "Good!" exclaimed Anne. "You know, mother, Rimini has gone to New York to receive that Tancredi, and Benoir, the second chauffeur, is in the hospital. I must have a driver for a day or so. He may for a while, may he not, mother?" She nodded to Armitage. "If you will go out to the garage, please, I shall have Mr. Dawson give you some clothing. I think he can fit you. I—" "One moment, Anne," interrupted her mother. "You do run on so. Just wait one moment. You seem to forget I am, or at least was, about to engage McCall as a physical instructor, not a mécanicien." Mrs. Wellington was fundamentally opposed to being manoeuvred, and her daughter's apparent attempt at finesse in this matter irritated her. She was fully bent now upon declining to employ Armitage in any capacity and was on the point of saying so, when Anne, who had diagnosed her trend of mind, broke in. "Really, mother, I am perfectly sincere. But this situation, you must admit, was totally unexpected—and I must have a driver, don't you know. Why, I 've planned to take Prince Koltsoff, oh, everywhere." This won for her. Mrs. Wellington even when irritated was altogether capable of viewing all sides of a matter. "Very well," she said. "I shall consider the other matter. When you are through with McCall, let me know." Anne's eyes sparkled with relief. "Mother, you are a dear." She walked over and touched her affectionately on her arm. "McCall, if you will go out to the garage, Mr. Dawson will show you your room and give you some clothes. I may want you any time, so please don't go far from the garage." As Armitage passed out, guided by Miss Hatch, Mrs. Wellington turned to her daughter. "Well, Anne," she said, "he lied and lied and lied. But I do believe some of the things he said and some he did n't. I believe him to be honest and I believe he will be good for the boys. He himself is a magnificent specimen, certainly. But I don't reconcile one thing." "What is that, mother?" "He is a gentleman and has been bred as one; that is perfectly evident." "Oh, no doubt," replied her daughter with apparent indifference. "One of the younger son variety you meet in and out of England, I fancy." "I suppose so," said Mrs. Wellington. "Is that why you invited him to sit with us in church? Why you spoke to him on the General? Why you wanted me to employ him?" "I don't know," replied Anne frankly. "He interested me. He does yet. He is a mystery and I want to solve him." "May an old woman give you a bit of advice, Anne? Thank you," as her daughter bowed. "Remember he is an employee of this house. He sought the position; he must be down to it. Keep that in your mind—and don't let him drive fast. In the meantime, how about his license?" Anne stamped her foot. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "I forgot all about that beastly license. What can we do?" She faced her mother. "Mother, can't you think of something? I know you can arrange it if you will." "Well," said her mother thoughtfully. Suddenly she looked at her secretary who entered at the moment. "Miss Hatch, you might get Chief Roberts on the 'phone—right away, please. Now, Anne, I am getting nervous; you had better go." "Yes, mother." Anne dropped a playful curtsey and left the room, smiling. Half an hour later, Armitage, squeezed into a beautifully made suit of tan whipcord, his calves swathed in putees, and a little cap with vizor pressing flat against his brows, was loitering about the garage with Ryan, a footman, and absorbing the gossip of the family. Prince Koltsoff was still there and intended, evidently, to remain for some time. This information, gained from what Anne Wellington had said to her mother, had relieved his mind of fears that his quarry had already gone, and he would have been quite at his ease had not the thought that the fact of Koltsoff's presence here rather argued against his having the control in his possession, occurred to him. Still, if the Russian had any of the instincts of a gentleman he could hardly break away from the Wellingtons at such short notice, and certainly not if he was, as Thornton surmised, interested in the daughter. Talk about the garage left him in no doubt of this. If the Prince had the missing part he would do one of three things: hold onto it until he left; mail it; or express it to St. Petersburg. Benoir, he had learned, carried the Wellington mail as well as express matter to the city, mornings and afternoons. In his absence, Armitage was, he felt, the logical man for this duty. So he did not worry about these contingencies. He had knowledge that up to eight o'clock that morning no package for foreign countries had been either mailed or expressed; this eliminated the fear, which might otherwise have been warrantable, that the package had already been sent on its way to Europe. Besides, no man of Koltsoff's experience would be likely to trust the delivery of so important an object to any but his own hands. Thus the probabilities were that the thing was at this minute in the Prince's room. If all these suppositions were wrong, then Yeasky had it. Armitage knew enough of the workings of the Secret Service Bureau to know that if the man got out of the country he would be an elusive person indeed, especially as he had a long, livid scar across his left cheek which could not be concealed with any natural effect. But, somehow, the conviction persisted in Armitage's mind that the Prince had the control. In the short time he had spent at The Crags this impression had not diminished; it had increased, without definite reason, to be sure; and yet, the fact remained. He would find out one way or another shortly. His room, not in the servants' wing, was on the third floor, right over the apartments of the Wellington boys, which in turn were not far from Koltsoff's suite. It would not be long before a burglary would be committed in the Wellington house. At this thought, Armitage thrilled with delightful emotions. In the meantime he addressed himself to the task of gleaning further information concerning the family into whose employ he had entered. He learned that while Mr. Wellington and his daughter were devoted to motoring, Mrs. Wellington would have none of it, and that the boys were inclined to horses also. Ronald Wellington left things pretty much to his wife and she was a "Hellian," as Ryan put it, to those about her who were not efficient and faithful. But otherwise, she was a pretty decent sort and willing to pay well. "What sort are the boys?" asked Armitage, recalling that his duties with them might begin at any time. "Master Ronald, the oldest, is stuck on himself," replied Ryan. "He ain't easy to get along with. Master Royal, the youngster, is as fine a little chap as ever lived. Ronald is learning himself the cigarette habit; which is all right—the quicker he smokes himself to death the better, if he was n't after learnin' young Muck, as every one calls him, to smoke, too. They do it on the quiet here in the garage, although it's against the rules." "Why don't you stop them then?" asked Armitage. Ryan shrugged and laughed. "If we stopped them we 'd be fired for committin' insult and if they 're caught here we 'll be fired for lettin' 'em smoke. That's the way with those who work for people like the Wellingtons—always between the devil and the deep sea." "Oh, I don't know," said Armitage, whose combative instincts were now somewhat aroused, "I don't think people get into great trouble for doing their duty, whoever they work for." The footman grinned. "Well," he said, "you 'll know more about that the longer you 're here." As he spoke, the boys under discussion entered the doorway and seating themselves upon the running board of a touring car, helped themselves to cigarettes from a silver case which the elder took from his pocket. They lighted them without a glance at the two men and had soon filled the atmosphere with pungent smoke. "Do they do this often?" asked Armitage at length, turning to Ryan and speaking in a voice not intended to be hidden. The footman grinned and nodded. "Against the rules, isn't it?" persisted Armitage, much to Ryan's evident embarrassment, who, however, nodded again. The older boy took his cigarette from his mouth and rising, walked a few steps toward the new chauffeur. He was a slender stripling with high forehead, long, straight nose, and a face chiefly marked by an imperious expression. In his flannels and flapping Panama hat he was a reduced copy of such Englishmen as Armitage had seen lounging in the boxes at Ascot or about the paddock at Auteuil. "Were you speaking of us, my man?" he said. A gleam of amusement crossed Armitage's face. "I—I believe I was, my boy. Why?" A corner of the youth's upper lip curled and snapping the half-burnt cigarette into a corner he took another from the case and lighted it. "Oh," he said nodding, "you are the new man. Impertinence is not a good beginning. I 'm afraid you won't last." Armitage crossed quickly to the discarded cigarette which was smouldering near a little pool of gasoline under a large can of that dangerous fluid, and rubbed the fire out with his foot. Returning, he confronted the boy, standing very close to him. "Look here, son," he said quietly, "that won't do a bit, you know. It's against the rules, and besides," jerking his head in the direction of the gasoline can, "you have n't any sense." Ronald's emotions were beyond the power of words to relieve. As he stood glaring at Armitage, his face devoid of color, his eyes green with anger, the chauffeur placed his hand gently upon his arm. "You can't smoke here, I tell you. There 's a notice over there to that effect signed by your father. Now throw that cigarette away; or go out of here with it, as you like." By way of reply, Ronald jerked his arm from Armitage's grasp and swung at his face with open hand. It was a venomous slap, but it did not come within a foot of the mark for the reason that Jack deftly caught the flailing arm by the wrist and with a powerful twist brought young Wellington almost to his knees through sheer pain of the straining tendons. As this happened, the younger brother with a shrill cry of rage launched himself at Armitage, who caught him by the waist and swung him easily up into the tonneau of the touring car. Ronald had risen to his feet and in cold passion was casting his eye about the garage. A heavy wrench lay on the floor; he stepped towards it, but not too quickly for Armitage to interpose. Slowly the latter raised his finger until it was on a level with the boy's face. "Now, stop just a minute and think," he said. "I like your spirit, and yours, too, kid," he added, gazing up at the tonneau from which the younger Wellington was glaring down like a bellicose young tiger, "but this won't go at all. Now wait," as Ronald tried to brush past. "In the first place, if your mother hears you have been smoking in the garage—or anywhere else—you 'll get into trouble with her, so Ryan has told me. And I don't believe that's any fun.… Now—listen, will you? I am employed here as physical instructor for you chaps, not as a chauffeur—although your sister has been good enough to press me into service for a day or two—and I imagine I 'm going to draw pay for making you into something else than thin-chested cigarette fiends. I can do it, if you 'll help. How about it?" he said, smiling at Ronald. "Will you be friends?" Ronald, who had worked out of his passion, sniffed. "Thank you, I had rather not, if you don't mind. I think you will find that you don't like your place." "Well," said Armitage affably, "then I can leave, you know." "Yes, you can, all right; it 'll be sooner than you think. Come on, Muck," and the older brother turned and left the garage. Muck, who for the past few seconds had been gazing at Armitage with wide eyes, slipped down from the car and stood in front of him. "Say," he exclaimed, "you 're the fellow I gave that note to in church—the one from my sister—are n't you?" He grinned as Armitage looked at him dumbly. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I shan't tell. Sister gave me a five-dollar gold piece. I thought you did n't act like a chauffeur. Say, show me that grip you got on Ronie, will you? He has been too fresh lately,—I want to spring it on him. Can I learn it?" "Not that one." Armitage took the boy's hand, his thumb pressing back of the second knuckle, his fingers on the palm. He twisted backward and upward gently. "There 's one that's better, though, and easier. See? Not that way," as the boy seized his hand. "Press here. That's right. Now you 've got it. You can make your brother eat out of your hand." "Thanks!" Muck left beaming, searching for his disgruntled brother—and Armitage had made a friend. A minute later Royal, or Muck, as his nickname seemed to be, thrust his head into the garage. "You 're not going to say anything to mother about the cigarettes, are you?" "That's the best guess you ever made," smiled Armitage. "You and I 'll settle that, won't we?" "Rather," replied the boy, who departed with a nod. "Well, you 've done it," said Ryan, gazing at Armitage admiringly. "Master Ronald will raise hell!" Armitage shook his head. "I don't care, I just had to devil that rooster. He was insufferable. I—" The telephone bell rang, and Ryan, with a significant I-told-you-so grimace took up the receiver. A second later a smile of relief lighted his face. "Very well. Thank you, sir," he said, and turned to Armitage. "The butler, Mr. Buchan, says that Miss Wellington would have you bring out her car at once. She don't want any footman." Armitage arose with a thrill which set his ears tingling, cranked the motor, and within a minute was rolling out of the garage. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.