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Page 40
"Very well, sir. As you wish."
Parker replaced paper, pencil, and measure, and, packing up the
rejected shoes, made for the door.
"Oh, bootmaker!" came the musical voice.
Parker turned. "Yes, sir?"
"They will be ready by Monday?"
"If possible, your excellency."
"Otherwise I shall not accept them."
Ormuz Khan drew a hyacinth from a vase close beside him and
languidly waved it in dismissal.
In the outer room the courteous secretary awaited Parker, and
there was apparently no one else in the place, for the Hindu
conducted him to the lobby and opened the door.
Parker said "Good morning, sir," and would have departed without
his hat had not the secretary smilingly handed it to him.
When, presently, the cobbler emerged from the elevator, below, he
paused before leaving the hotel to mop his perspiring brow with a
large, soiled handkerchief. The perfume of hyacinths seemed to
have pursued him, bringing with it a memory of the handsome,
effeminate ivory face of the man above. He was recalled to his
senses by the voice of the impudent page.
"Been kicked out, gov'nor?" the youth inquired. "You're the third
this morning."
"Is that so?" answered Parker. "Who were the other two, lad?"
"The girl wot comes to do his nails. A stunnin' bird, too. She
came down cryin' a few minutes ago. Then--"
"Shut up, Chivers!" cried the hall porter. "You're asking for the
sack, and I'm the man to get it for you."
Chivers did not appear to be vastly perturbed by this prospect,
and he grinned agreeably at Parker as the latter made his way out
into the courtyard.
Any one sufficiently interested to have done so might have found
matter for surprise had he followed that conscientious bootmaker
as he left the hotel. He did not proceed to the shop of Mr.
Jarvis, but, crossing the Strand, mounted a citybound motor bus
and proceeded eastward upon it as far as the Law Courts. Here he
dismounted and plunged into that maze of tortuous lanes which
dissects the triangle formed by Chancery Lane and Holborn.
His step was leisurely, and once he stopped to light his pipe,
peering with interest into the shop window of a law stationer.
Finally he came to another little shop which had once formed part
of a private house. It was of the lock-up variety, and upon the
gauze blind which concealed the interior appeared the words: "The
Chancery Agency."
Whether the Chancery Agency was a press agency, a literary or a
dramatic agency, was not specified, but Mr. Parker was evidently
well acquainted with the establishment, for he unlocked the door
with a key which he carried and, entering a tiny shop, closed and
locked the door behind him again.
The place was not more than ten yards square and the ceiling was
very low. It was barely furnished as an office, but evidently Mr.
Parker's business was not of a nature to detain him here. There
was a second door to be unlocked; and beyond it appeared a flight
of narrow stairs--at some time the servant's stair of the
partially demolished house which had occupied that site in former
days. Relocking this door in turn, Mr. Parker mounted the stair
and presently found himself in a spacious and well-furnished
bedroom.
This bedroom contained an extraordinary number of wardrobes, and
a big dressing table with wing mirrors lent a theatrical touch to
the apartment. This was still further enhanced by the presence of
all sorts of wigs, boxes of false hair, and other items of
make-up. At the table Mr. Parker seated himself, and when, half
an hour later, the bedroom door was opened, it was not Mr. Parker
who crossed the book-lined study within and walked through to the
private office where Innes was seated writing. It was Mr. Paul
Harley.
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