He made up his mind to chuck that too as soon as he had saved enough in tips—which was practically all he got out of it—to lay off for a little and look for something else. But, all unknown to him, his lucky star was just about to appear above the horizon.
Sir Samuel Curry had been in New York on a business trip-Negotiations had hung fire owing to the illness of an American steel king and were not completed until 'Sam' had missed his boat by a couple of hours; so he had found himself in New York with nothing to do for three days until he could leave for England on the next.
He had often visited New York before but it occurred to him now that it might be rather an idea to see something of the place outside its social life, which he already knew well-He decided that, anyhow, he would devote a day to looking round; the other two could easily be passed with the host of hospitable Americans who had only to be rung up and would be delighted to entertain him.
The hotel had a tie-up with the agency with which Hemmingway worked, so he was sent along to report to Sam and they spent the day together. Sam was not really a brilliant man. His success was due to clear-headedness, honesty in his business dealings, a colossal capacity for hard work, and a flair for employing people in the right places who were more gifted than himself.
When they parted that evening Sam had not rung up any of his American friends with the idea of filling in his next two days. Instead, he told Hemmingway to report again the following morning. He had been struck by the unusual way in which Hemmingway quite casually assessed artistic trends and ancient customs in terms of money.
Having found, for once, an interested listener, he explained, while taking Sam round the museums, how changes of climate had made or wrecked historic markets; how fortunes had been made by modern designers who were clever enough to study and adopt ancient fashions; how the germ of every modern invention had preceded it by hundreds of years, but remained undeveloped through lack of initiative or capital. But always there was that quiet preoccupation with finance applied to encyclopaedic knowledge—the kind of knowledge that not one financier in a thousand possessed.
On the second night Sam kept Hemmingway to dine with him at the Ritz Carlton, and they talked upon a multitude of subjects which did not ordinarily come into the sphere of a professional guide. By that time Sam was absolutely convinced that in this tall, wise-eyed young man he had got something; and details never mattered to Sam once he had made up his mind about a thing. When they parted that night he said:
'Tell the agency tomorrow morning that you're leaving. I'll Pay them compensation if necessary. Here's a thousand dollars to pay any bills you may have and buy any odds-and-ends you want. Pack your bag and meet me here at 8 o'clock tomorrow night. The Normandie sails at 10 and I'm taking you with me to Europe.'
Hemmingway's big chance had come. He asked no questions, neither did he give way to the immense elation he felt and pour out a spate of jumbled thanks. He just gave that sudden radiant smile of his and said:
'Thank you, sir. I'll be here.'
From that moment Hemmingway was made. On the voyage back Sam saw that he was no young man to put into an ordinary job, however good. He was so vastly knowledgeable, so sound in all his views, that he would be infinitely more valuable as an ideas man and an assessor before whom to place all sorts of knotty problems for a fresh, clear, logical opinion.
When Hemmingway arrived in London he stepped into another world—the world he had dreamed of for years. Sam installed him in St. James's Square, introduced him to his friends, and taught him the intricacies of his many businesses. Soon Hemmingway was formulating a score of new schemes for investing Sam's surplus profits, and Sam found himself never taking any major decision without talking it over with him first.
Very wisely Sam never made him a director of any of his companies, as he did not want Hemmingway's energies dissipated in the tiresome routine of board meetings. He worked alone in his room at St. James's Square and remained, outwardly, no more than Sam's private secretary; but within a few months he had mastered the essentials of Sam's innumerable interests, and in the following seven years he made him another million.
His salary was princely and, with the handsome presents that Sam made him after every successful deal they pulled off together, he now had many thousands of pounds' worth of investments of his own. That Sam would do nothing without him was known in big business circles; so, in spite of his lack of official position in any of the companies, he had power, influence and prestige.
Hemmingway never forgot that he owed it all to Sam, and that was why he was so intensely worried about Lavina. He liked her personally for a variety of reasons. She was beautiful to look at, which pleased his artistic eye; and, although he had really seen very little of her, he had already discovered that she was much better read than most young women. Further, he had soon discerned that under her gay and almost flighty manner she possessed real character.
Some people had shaken their heads when they heard that Sam was marrying a beautiful girl nearly twenty-five years younger than himself, but, as soon as Hemmingway had had a chance to sum Lavina up, he had come to the conclusion that Sam's friends had no real cause to worry. Whether the marriage would prove lasting it was impossible to say, but he felt quite convinced that Lavina was intrinsically a decent person. Whatever she might do later if Sam proved incapable of holding her affections, she would not make a fool of him or get herself talked about behind his back; and that to Hemmingway was the really important thing about modern marriage.
His may have been a cynical view, but it was based upon the only principle to which he had ever adhered: that it didn't matter very much what people did providing they never betrayed a trust or let each other down.
That was what troubled him so as he stood gloomily on the dockside in the early hours of the morning. Derek and Roy might be considered as the people really responsible for getting Lavina to Stapleton, but, since one was dead and the other hors de combat, that responsibility had, he felt, devolved on him the previous night.
Sam so patently adored his young wife and Hemmingway knew him so intimately that he felt it would absolutely break him up if Lavina could not be found before the arrival of the comet. In his failure to trace her he was letting Sam down, and it was Sam who had given him everything for which he had always longed.
The convoy of vans was now empty and the last of the women from them were making their way up the gangways of the ship. Should he get a lift on one of the vans, if they were going back to the Palace, or should he remain there at the docks watching the new arrivals? If he went back, he might pass Lavina in one of the numerous convoys which must be on their way to the East End at the moment. The journey back, too, meant wasting precious time when he might be scanning faces in the hope of finding hers; from that point of view it seemed better to remain where he was. On the other hand, it was improbable that all the convoys were arriving at the West India Dock. Many of them would doubtless be dispatched to others and he could not be at half a dozen docks at once.
It was a horrible dilemma, but another convoy was already arriving, and with every batch of women that he could see there came another chance of spotting Lavina, so he walked over at once to the place where the new arrivals were unloading.
As he reached them a big Buick drove up alongside of him, Its chauffeur was a naval Petty Officer and a naval Staff Cap. tain jumped out of the back immediately it drew to a halt.
Hemmingway's face suddenly brightened. Here, at last, was somebody he knew, and he called out excitedly: