Miss Million's Maid Part 22

"Isn't that what you mean, Mr. Brace?"

"If I had a young sister," said this roundabout Mr. Brace, "I certainly do not think that I should care to allow her to a.s.sociate with a man like that."

"Like what?" I said.

"Like this Mr. Burke."

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't think he is a very desirable acquaintance for a young and inexperienced girl."

"How well do you know him?" I asked.

"Oh! I don't know him at all. I don't wish to know him," said Mr. Brace rather stiffly. "I had only seen him once before I met him in Miss Million's room here the other day. I was really annoyed to find him here."

I persisted. "Why?"

"Because the man's not--well, not the sort of man your brother (if you have one) would be too pleased to find you making friends with, Miss Lovelace."

"Never mind all these brothers and sisters. They aren't here," I said rather impatiently. "What sort of man d'you mean you think Mr. Burke is that you want Miss Million warned against him?"

"I think any man would guess at the kind of man he was--shady."

"D'you mean," I said, "that he cheats at cards; that sort of thing?"

"Oh! I don't know that he'd do that----"

"What does he do, then?"

"Ah! that's what one would like to know," said the young bank manager, frowning down at me. "What does he do? How does he live? Apparently in one room in Jermyn Street, over a hairdresser's.

"But he's never there. He's always about in the most expensive haunts in London, always with people who have money. Pigeons to pluck. I don't believe the fellow has a penny of his own, Miss Lovelace."

"Is that a crime?" I said. "I haven't a penny myself."

Then I felt absolutely amazed with myself. Here I was positively defending that young scamp and fortune-hunter who had this very afternoon admitted to me that he'd told Million fibs, and that he got what he could out of everybody.

Another thing. Here I was feeling quite annoyed with Mr. Brace for coming here with these warnings about this other man! Yet it was only the other day that I'd made up my mind to ask Mr. Brace for his candid opinion on the subject of Miss Million's new friend!

And now I said almost coldly: "Have you anything at all definite to tell me against Mr. Burke's character?"

"Yes. As it happens, I have," said Mr. Brace quickly, standing there even more stiffly. "I told you that I had met the man once before. I'll tell you where it was, Miss Lovelace. It was at my own bank. He came to me with a sort of an introduction from a client of ours, a young cavalry officer. He, Mr. Burke, told me he'd be glad to open an account with us."

"Yes? So did Miss Million."

"Hardly in the same way," said Mr. Brace. "After a few preliminaries this man Burke told me that at the moment he was not prepared to pay anything in to his account, but----"

"--But what?" I took up as my visitor paused impressively, as if before the announcement of something almost unspeakably wicked.

"This man Burke actually had the a.s.surance," said the young bank manager in outraged tones, "the a.s.surance to suggest to me that the bank should thereupon advance to him, as a loan out of his 'account,' fifty pounds down!"

"Yes?" I said a little doubtfully, for I wasn't quite sure where the point of this came in. "And then what happened?"

"What happened? Why! I showed the new 'client' out without wasting any more words," returned my visitor severely.

"Don't you see, Miss Lovelace? He'd made use of his introduction to try to 'rush' me into letting him have ready-money to the tune of fifty pounds! Do you suppose I should ever have seen them again? That," said the young bank manager impressively, "is the sort of man he is----" He broke off to demand: "Why do you laugh?"

It certainly was unjustifiable. But I couldn't help it.

I saw it all! The room at the bank where Million and I had interviewed the manager. The manager himself, with the formal manner that he "wears"

like a new and not very comfortable suit of clothes, asking the visitor to sit down.

Then the Honourable Jim, in his gorgeously cut coat, with his daring yet wary blue eyes, smiling down at the other man (Mr. Brace is a couple of inches shorter). The Honourable Jim, calmly demanding fifty pounds "on account" (of what) in that insinuating, flattering, insidious, softly pitched Celtic voice of his ..."

"Common robbery. I see no difference between that and picking a man's pocket!" declared the young manager.

Perfectly true, of course. If you come to think of it, the younger son of Lord Ballyneck is no better than a sort of Twentieth-century Highwayman. There's really nothing to be said for him. Only why should Mr. Brace speak so rebukefully to me? It wasn't I who had tried to pick the pocket of his precious bank!

"And yet you don't see," persisted the manager, "why a fellow of that stamp should not be admitted to friendly terms with you!"

"With me? We're not talking about me at all!" I reminded this young man.

And to drive this home I turned to the mirror and gave a touch or two to the white muslin b.u.t.terfly of the cap that marked my place. "We're talking about my mistress. I am only Miss Million's maid----"

"Pshaw!"

"I can't pretend to dictate to my mistress what friends she is to receive----"

"Oh!" said the young man impatiently. "That's in your own hands. You know it is. This maid business--well, if I were your brother I should soon put a stop to it, but, anyhow, you know who's really at the head of affairs. You know that you must have a tremendous influence over this--this other girl. She naturally makes you her mentor; models herself, or tries to, on you. If she thought that you considered anything or any one undesirable, she would very soon 'drop' it. What you say goes, Miss Lovelace."

"Does it, indeed!" I retorted. "Nothing of the kind. It did once, perhaps. But this evening--do you know what? Miss Million has gone out in a frock that I positively forbade her to buy. A cerise horror that's not only 'undesirable,' as you call it, but makes her look----"

"Oh, a frock! Why is it a woman can never keep to the point?" demanded this young Mr. Brace. "What's it got to do with the matter in hand what frock Miss Million chooses to go out in?"

"Why, everything! Doesn't it just show what's happening," I explained patiently. "It means that Miss Million doesn't make an oracle of me any more. She'd rather model herself on some of the people she's going to supper with tonight. Miss Vi Va.s.sity, say----"

"What! That awful woman on the halls?" broke in Mr. Brace, with as much disapproval in his voice and tone as there could have been in my Aunt Anastasia's if she had been told that any girl she knew was hobn.o.bbing with "London's Love," the music-hall artiste.

"Who introduced her to Miss Million, may I ask?" he went on. "No, I needn't ask; I can guess. That's this man Burke. That's his crowd.

Music-hall women, German Jews, disreputable racing men, young gilded idiots like the man in the cavalry who sent him to me."

Then (furiously): "That's the set of people he'll bring in to a.s.sociate with you two inexperienced girls," said Mr. Brace.

And now his face was very angry--quite pale with temper. He looked rather fine, I thought. He might have posed for a picture of one of Cromwell's young Ironsides, straight-lipped, uncompromisingly sincere, and "square," and shocked at everything.

I simply couldn't help rather enjoying the mild excitement of seeing him so wrathful.

Surely he must be really _epris_ with Million to be so roused over her knowing a few unconventional people. I've read somewhere that the typical young Englishman may be considered to be truly in love as soon as he begins to resent some girl's other amus.e.m.e.nts.