“I’ve told you — she’s all right. I’m looking after her.”
“Do you mean you’re not going to let me see her now?” The woman’s voice rose almost to a scream.
“Not so much noise,” he told her.
“What do I care how much noise I make! You’ve got to tell me where Alice is and I’ve got to see her. I’m her mother, aren’t I?”
“You ought to have thought about that a long time ago, before you decided to let some of the flash fellows keep you.” The waiter was very grim now. He kept his eyes fixed on those of the woman standing in front of him. They were hard blue eyes that he saw there; and he knew them only too well, especially in this mood of rising anger, heading towards either tears or screams and curses; and as he stared at them it occurred to him that it was very odd that they should be the eyes of a woman whose name was still his, who was still his wife. They had made no attempt to live together for the last ten years, but they had not been divorced. He did not want to marry again, and she did not seem to find it difficult to call herself Mrs. This and then Mrs. That.
“You always was a mean devil, Joe,” his wife proclaimed.
“Yes,” he put in, hastily, bitterly, “I’ve no doubt you’ve found ’em not so mean where you’ve been since.”
“Well, if you want to know, I have. Now, look here, Joe. I’m the girl’s mother, and this is the time when a girl wants to see her mother, and I’m going to see her. Where is she?”
“I’m not going to tell you, and you’re not going to see her. Leave her alone. She doesn’t want you, and I don’t — I only want you to be a long way off.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not after you. You never was any catch at any time, and you’re not one now, I can tell you. But I’ve a right to see my own child. She’s my daughter.”
“Not now, she isn’t,” the waiter told her. “You’ve done. I’ll see to that.”
“You’ll see to a lot, won’t you?” she jeered. “One thing’s certain, though. She’s my daughter. She might be yours, and then she might not.”
“What!” He shot out a hand, and it fastened on her wrist. “What’re you trying to tell me now? What’s the idea?” He was really ferocious now, unlike any respectable waiter.
This sudden ferocity left the woman uneasy. She wrenched her arm away, and then said, hastily: “Oh, don’t be a fool, Joe. You know very well she was yours, all right. Where is she? I only want to see her and the baby together. What’s the harm in that?”
“That’s my business. I’ve not interfered with you, so don’t you interfere with me. You’ve gone your own way, so just keep to it. And leave Alice alone. I warn you — leave her alone.”
At this moment, while they were still glaring at one another, somebody came quietly into the room. She was a tiny old woman, all rings and brooches and lilac silk and black satin, and the waiter knew her well, for she came up from the country regularly.
“There you are, waiter,” she said, nodding and smiling at him. “Now I needn’t ring, need I? Could you get me a nice cup of tea, just a cup?”
“Cup of tea? Certainly, m’,” said the waiter, and without another glance at his wife, he walked out. When he came back five minutes later, his wife had disappeared.
“You know, waiter,” the old lady remarked as he set the tea before her, “some people say tea at night keeps you awake, but I don’t find it so. I don’t like to go to bed without my cup of tea.”
“All a matter of habit, m’.”
“I expect it is,” said the old lady.
“I’m sure it is. I like a cup myself.”
The old lady, who was a friendly soul, nodded brightly at this, and kept him there a minute or two longer while she told him how long she had been having her late cup and what various relations thought about it. And when she had done, she gave him a sixpenny tip, which was very hand-some for a single cup of tea. The waiter could not help reflecting how surprised she would have been if she had learned that the woman who had just gone out was the waiter’s wife and a good many other things besides.
Twenty minutes later the bell in the lounge rang again, and the waiter found that the old lady, now sitting in a dream over her empty cup, had company in the shape of a bulky, florid-faced fellow who was smoking a cigar. He looked at the waiter and gave him a tiny knowing grin. The waiter stared for a moment, then promptly relapsed into blank waiterdom.
“Yes, sir?”
“Oh — yes — er — let me see, waiter. I think I’ll have a double Scotch and a small soda. I’m not staying here, but that’s all right, isn’t it? I want to see somebody here.” He put a curious emphasis into this last.
“That’s all right,” the waiter muttered, removing the old lady’s cup.
“What time is it?” the old lady inquired.
Before the waiter could reply, the newcomer, with a flourish, had taken out a heavy gold watch, and replied: “Five minutes to ten.”
“Thank you. Time for me to go to bed, then,” she told them both; and the waiter held, the door open for her and then retired to get the whisky.
“Two and tenpence,” said the waiter, the moment after he had placed the drink in front of the visitor.
The bulky, florid-faced man grinned, and then, with a careful and rather praiseworthy attempt at complete nonchalance, remarked: “You’re not going to stand me this one, Joe?”
“I’m not.”
The other handed over three shillings. “Keep the change,” he cried, giving a creditable burlesque of a generous visitor.
The waiter said nothing, but merely swept the coins into his pocket and began moving away.
“Wait a minute, Joe, wait a minute. It’s no use pretending not to know me.”
“Oh, I knew you all right, Bobby,” said the waiter, as he stopped and turned. “But what of it?”
“I told you just now I came in here to see somebody. Well, you’re him.”
“How did you know I was here?” the waiter asked.
“I ran into Maggie not half a mile away,” the bulky man explained, with a flowing gesture, “and she told me she’d just been having a little talk with you in here. Full of it, she was. You ought to have heard her, Joe. It’s a long time since I met Maggie — I mean before tonight — but she’s not changed a bit. Still got a lively tongue in her head. Cor! — you, ought to have heard her going on about you, Joe. I tell you what it is — you can’t handle women, Joe. You never could.”
“You didn’t come here to tell, me that, did you, Bobby?” the waiter inquired. “Because if you did, you’re wasting your valuable time.” And he made another move as if to depart.
“Just a minute, Joe. Don’t be so impatient. I came in here to have a look at you, Joe, in your nice waiter’s clothes, and I also came in here just to have a look around. Nice quiet hotel, Joe, very nice quiet hotel this. Not the sort of place where anybody would expect any trouble. The police don’t worry you much here, Joe, do they? I shouldn’t think they would. Very nice and quiet — and gentlemanly.”
“Cut it short, Dobby.”
Dobby grinned again. He appeared to be enjoying himself. “Well, joe, if you want it short, you shall have it short. Now I’ve got a little scheme. I won’t tell you what it is now, but you know my little schemes — you’ve met ’em before, haven’t you, Joe? And for this little scheme I want a nice quiet place to stay in for a week or two, just like this, and so I thought I’d stay here and then you could help me, couldn’t you, Joe?”
“Nothing doing,” the waiter announced.
“Nowdon’t be hasty, Joe. You don’t know what it is you’ve got to do.”
“And I don’t want to know. But understand this, Dobby — you don’t let me in for it and you don’t try anything on here.”