The Lion's Share Part 58

"How he has aged!"

Scarcely ten minutes later, when Audrey was upstairs in her sitting-room, waiting idly for the luggage and her husband to arrive, and thinking upon the case of Lady Southminster, the telephone bell rang out startlingly.

"Mr. s.h.i.+nner to see you."

"Mr. s.h.i.+nner? Oh! Mr. s.h.i.+nner. Send him up, please."

This Mr. s.h.i.+nner was the concert agent with connections in Paris whom Audrey had first consulted in the enterprise of launching Musa upon the French public. He was a large, dark man, black moustached and bearded, with heavy limbs and features, and an opaque, pimpled skin. In spite of these characteristics, he entered the room soft-footed as a fairy, ingratiating as a dog aware of his own iniquity, rea.s.suring as applause.

"Well, Mr. s.h.i.+nner. But how did you know we were here? As a matter of fact we aren't here. My husband has not arrived yet."

"Madam," said Mr. s.h.i.+nner, "I happened to hear that you had telegraphed for rooms, and as I was in the neighbourhood I thought I would venture to call."

"But who told you we had telegraphed for rooms?"

"The manager is a good friend of mine, and as you are now famous----" Ah! I have heard all about the German tour. I mean I have read about it. I subscribe to the German musical papers. One must, in my profession. Also I have had direct news from my correspondents in Germany. It was a triumph there, was it not?"

"Yes," said Audrey. "After Dusseldorf. My husband did not make much money----"

"That will not trouble you," Mr. s.h.i.+nner smiled easily.

"But somebody did--the agents did."

"Perhaps not so much as you think, madam, if I may say so. Perhaps not so much as you think. And we must all live--unfortunately. Has your husband made any arrangements yet for London or for a provincial tour? I have reason to think that the season will be particularly brilliant. And I can now offer advantages----"

"But, Mr. s.h.i.+nner, when I last saw you, and it isn't so very long ago, you told me that my husband was not a concert-player, which was exactly what I had heard in Paris."

"I didn't go quite so far as that, surely, did I?" Mr. s.h.i.+nner softly insinuated. He might have been pouring honey from his mouth. "Surely I didn't say quite that? And perhaps I had been too much influenced by Paris."

"Yes, you said he wasn't a concert-player and never would be----"

"Don't rub it in, madam," said Mr. s.h.i.+nner merrily. "_Peccavi_."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, nothing, madam," he disclaimed.

"And you said there were far too many violinists on the market, and that it was useless for a French player to offer himself to the London musical public. And I don't know what you didn't say."

"But I didn't know then that your husband would have such a success in Germany."

"What difference does that make?"

"Madam," said Mr. s.h.i.+nner, "it makes every difference."

"But England and Germany hate each other. At least they despise each other.

And what's more, nearly everybody in Germany was talking about going to war this summer. I was told they are all ready to invade England after they have taken Paris and Calais. We heard it everywhere."

"I don't know anything about any war," said Mr. s.h.i.+nner with tranquillity.

"But I do know that the London musical public depends absolutely on Germany. The only first-cla.s.s instrumentalist that England has ever produced had no success here until he went to Germany and Germanised his name and himself and announced that he despised England. Then he came back, and he has caused a furore ever since. So far as regards London, a success in Karlsruhe, Wiesbaden, Leipzig, Dusseldorf, and so on, is worth far more than a success in the Queen's Hall. Indeed--can you get a success in the Queen's Hall without a success in these places first? I doubt it. Your husband now has London at his feet. Not Paris, though he may capture Paris after he has captured London. But London certainly. He cannot find a better agent than myself. All artists like me, because I _understand_. You see, my mother was harpist to the late Queen."

"But----"

"Your husband is a.s.suredly a genius, madam!" Mr. s.h.i.+nner stood up in his enthusiasm, and banged his left fist with his right palm.

"Yes, I know that," said Audrey. "But you are such an expensive luxury."

Mr. s.h.i.+nner pushed away the accusation with both hands. "Madam, madam, I shall take all the risks. I should not dream, now, of asking for a cheque on account. On the contrary, I should guarantee a percentage of the gross receipts. Perhaps I am unwise to take risks--I dare say I am--but I could not bear to see your husband in the hands of another agent. We professional men have our feelings."

"Don't cry, Mr. s.h.i.+nner," said Audrey impulsively. It was not a proper remark to make, but the sudden impetuous entrance of Musa himself, carrying his violin case, eased the situation.

"There is a man which is asking for you outside in the corridor," said Musa to his wife. "It is the gardener, Aguilar, I think. I have brought all the luggage, not excluding that which was lost at Hamburg." He had a glorious air, and was probably more proud of his still improving English and of his ability as a courier than of his triumphs on the fiddle. "Ah!" Mr. s.h.i.+nner was bowing before him.

"This is Mr. s.h.i.+nner, the agent, my love," said Audrey. "I'll leave you to talk to him. He sees money in you."

In the pa.s.sage the authentic Aguilar stood with Miss Ingate.

"Here's Mr. Aguilar," said Miss Ingate. "I'm just going into No. 37, Madame Piriac's room. Don't you think Mr. Aguilar looks vehy odd in London?"

"Good morning, Aguilar. You in town on business?"

Aguilar touched his forehead. It is possible that he looked very odd in London, but he was wearing a most respectable new suit of clothes, and might well have pa.s.sed for a land agent.

"'Mornin', ma'am. I had to come up because I couldn't get delivery of those wallpapers you chose. Otherwise all the repairs and alterations are going on as well as could be expected."

"And how is your wife, Aguilar?"

"She's nicely, thank ye, ma'am. I pointed out to the foreman that it would be a mistake to make the dining-room door open the other way, as the architect suggested. But he would do it. However, I've told you, ma'am.

It'll only have to be altered back. Perhaps I ought to tell you that I took the liberty of taking a fortnight's holiday, ma'am. It's the only holiday I ever did take, except the annual day off for the Colchester Rose Show, which is perhaps more a matter of business with a head gardener than a holiday, as ye might say. My wife wanted me in London."

"She's not caught yet?"

"No'm. And I don't think as she will be, not with me about. I never did allow myself to be bossed by police, and I always been too much for 'em.

And as I'm on the matter, ma'am, I should like to give you notice as soon as it's convenient. I wouldn't leave on any account till that foreman's off the place; he's no better than a fool. But as soon afterwards as you like."

"Certainly, Aguilar. I was quite expecting it. Where are you going to live?"

"Well, ma'am, I've got hold of a little poultry run business in the north of London. It'll be handy for Holloway in case--And Jane asked me to give you this letter, ma'am. I see her this morning."

Audrey read the note. Very short, it was signed "Jane" and "Nick," and dated from a house in Fitzroy Street. It caused acute excitement in Audrey.

"I shall come at once," said she.

Getting rid of Aguilar, she knocked at the door of No. 37.

"Read that," she ordered Miss Ingate and Madame Piriac, giving them the note jointly.

"And are you going?" said Miss Ingate, nervous and impressed.