Laughing Gas (27 page)

'Of course
I
am, you poor fish.'

'Pleased to meet you, lady.'

'Never mind about being pleased to meet me—'

'Say, it's April June,' said Eddie.

'That's right,' said Fred.

'Of course
I
'm April June.'

'Listen, George,' said Eddie. 'What was that story we were doping out couple days ago - the one you said would be a natural for Miss June?' 'You remember, George,' said Fred. The one about —' 'Why, sure,' said George. 'Listen, lady, if you've a

minute to spare, I'd like to approach you on a little scenario me and the boys have sort of thrown roughly together. It's where this big business man has a beautiful secretary —'

April June stamped what, if I hadn't felt it on my trouser seat, I would have called a dainty foot.

'I don't want to hear any stories. I want to know why you haven't tied him up.'

George waggled his beard apologetically.

'We hadn't the heart, lady.'

'Not,' added Eddie, 'while he was eating pancakes.' 'We was aiming to get around to it later,' said Fred. 'And then,' explained George, 'we got to mulling over a story sequence —' April stamped again.

'And now you've probably ruined the whole thing. Tie him up, quick. Hurry. Even now it may be too late.'

'But, lady, that Roscoe he's got is loaded.'

'What on earth did you want with a loaded gun?'

'That's Fred,' said Eddie, directing another reproachful glance at him. 'He's so thorough.'

'He likes doing things right,' said George.

'I'm an artist,' said Fred defiantly. 'I saw that gun as loaded. That's how I felt it - felt it
here'
he said, slap ping his chest.

'The fact of the whole matter is,' said George, 'Fred's never been the same man since he was an extra in
Lepers of Broadway.'

April June turned on me with a look which in its way was almost as bad as a paper-knife. 'Give me that gun 1'

I hesitated. I wanted to be very sure of my facts before I did anything drastic.

'Is it true,' I asked, 'what these birds were saying? This is simply a publicity stunt?'

'Of course it is. Haven't you had it explained to you over and over again? Miss Bannister told me she had thoroughly coached you and that you understood.'

'By Jove, yes, of course,' I said. I saw the whole thing now. This was the meaning of all those occasional observations which I had found cryptic. You remember. When Ann had said about my having a busy day to-morrow and all that, and when the kid Cooley had mentioned something about putting me wise.

'All the papers were notified last night that you had been kidnapped....'

Of course, yes. That was why Ann had been so sure that all my crimes in the matter of frogs and statues would be forgotten next day.

'...
And this morning I am to find you and rescue you. Give me that gun and get yourself tied up, quick. I hear the car.'

And yet, in spite of everything, I still hesitated. It was all very well for her to tell me to get myself tied up, but how was
I
to be certain that this was not a ruse? I knew what a formidable adversary this woman was, even when one had full possession of one's limbs and was in a position to dodge. To expose myself to her fury in a tied-up condition might quite easily be simply asking for it. I didn't want another of those unilateral infractions of hers.

This tense meditation caused me to relax my vigilance. I lowered the weapon, and the next moment the squad of beavers were on me. I was assisted to a chair, and ropes were coiled around me. Footsteps sounded outside. April secured the gun. The beavers raised their hands and registered alarm.

'Move a s
tep and I shoot, you scoundrels!
' cried April. And so saying, she cocked an expectant eye at the door. But it was not a gaggle of reporters and camera men who entered. Simply Ann Bannister by herself.

A bit of an anti-climax, what? I thought so, and I could see that April June thought so, too. I mean to say, rather like somebody in a comic opera saying 'Hurrah, girls,
here comes the royal bodyguard!
' and one drummer-boy entering left.

April stood there with her eyes swivelling round in their sockets. 'Where are the reporters?' she cried. 'I haven
't brought them,' said Ann shortl
y. 'And the camera men?' 'I haven't brought them.'

'Not brought them?' I don't say April was foaming at the mouth, but it was a near thing. 'What do you mean, you have
n't brought them? Great heavens!
'
she cried, registering about six mixed emotions. 'Don't I get
any
co-operation?'

The beavers looked at one another.

'No reporters, lady?' said George, pursing his lips.

'No camera men, lady?' said Fred and Eddie, raising their eyebrows.

'No,' said Ann. 'Not one. And if you will give me a moment to explain, I will tell you why not. It's no use going on with this thing. It's cold.'

'Cold?’

'Cold,' said Ann. 'There's not a cent's worth of publicity in rescuing Joey Cooley now. The poor kid's name is mud and his screen career finished.'

'What!'

'Yes. You have a Sunday paper there. Haven't you seen? On the front page?'

'We've only read the movie section and the funnies,' said George.

'Oh? Well, take a look at it now. You are an old chump, Joseph,' said Ann, eyeing me commiseratingly. 'Why on earth did you want to go and be funny with a female interviewer? I told you your sense of comedy would get you in trouble some day. You didn't expect her to know you were kidding, did you? And do you think the fans will believe you said it just for a laugh? I'm afraid you'll never be able to live this down. There is a photograph on the front page of the
Los Angeles Chronicle,'
she said, turning to April, 'showing Joey Cooley smoking a cigarette with a highball in his ha
nd. In the accompanying letter-
press he states that he is twenty-seven years old and prefers a pipe.'

April snatched up the paper and began to read. George looked at Eddie. Eddie looked at Fred.

'Seems to me, boys,' said George, 'the deal's off.' 'Ah,' said Fred. Eddie nodded briefly. 'No sale,' he said.

'Nothing to keep us here now,' said George. 'If we hurry, we'll just be in time for church.' 'Ah,' said Fred. 'Ah,' said Eddie.

They shook their heads at me reproachfully, removed their beards, put them away in a cupboard, and taking prayer-books from this cupboard, withdrew in what I thought rather a marked manner.

Ann turned to me, angelically sympathetic.

'Poor old Joseph!
' she said. 'It's your old weakness -anything for a laugh. And it must have been funny, too. But I'm afraid you've done for yourself. American Motherhood will never forgive this. As a matter of fact, when I left, there were six hundred Michigan Mothers gathered outside Mr Brinkmeyer's house, calling on him to bring you out so they could tar and feather you, and demanding that he pay their expenses to and from Detroit. So I'm afraid —'

There was a sort of low, whistling sound, like an east wind blowing through the crannies of a haunted house. It was April June drawing in her breath.

'Not a word about me in the whole interview from beginning to end,' she said, in a strange, hard, quiet voice that suggested the first whisper of a tornad
o or cyclone. 'Not - one – word!
Not so much as a single, solitary, blanked, by-golly syllable.
My
interview
I
' she proceeded, her voice gathering volume.
'My
private and personal interview.
My
individual and exclusive interview, and this little bohunkus wriggles in an
d hogs the whole shooting-match!
Let me get at him!
'

A sort of shiver passed through her frame and she began to slide across the room, clenching and unclenching her hands. Her teeth were set, her eyes large and luminous, and it seemed to me that Reginald was for it.

And then with a quick movement Ann stepped between us.

'What are you going to do?' 'Plenty.'

'You won't touch this child,' said Ann.

I couldn't see April now, for Ann was in the way, but I heard her do that drawing-in-breath business again, and most disagreeable it sounded. I thought she was going to say 'Huh?' but she didn't. She said 'No?'

'No?' she said.

'No,' said Ann.

There was a silence. I remember once, years ago in the old silent days, seeing a picture where the heroine, captured by savages, lay bound on an altar, and all that stood between her and the high priest's knife was the hero, who was telling the high priest to unhand her. I knew now how that heroine must have felt.

'Get out of my way,' said April.

'I won't,' said Ann.

April whistled a bar or two.

'You're fired,' she said.

'Very well,' said Ann.

'And I'll see that nobody else engages you as a press agent.'

'Very well,' said Ann.

April June stalked to the door. She paused for an instant on the threshold, glared at Ann, glared at me, and stalked out.

An unpleasant girl. I can't think why I ever liked her.

Ann cut my bonds, and I left my seat. I turned to her and opened my mouth, then shut it again. It had been my intention to thank her with all the eloquence I could scoop up for her splendid conduct in thus for a second time saving me from the powers of darkness, but the sight of her face stopped me.

She was not bathed in tears, for she was not the sort of girl who weeps to any great extent, but she looked licked to a splinter, and I realized what it must be meaning to her, losing like this the job for which she had worked so hard and on which she had been counting so much. Whole thing unquestionably a pretty nasty jar.

And she had dished her aims and dreams purely in order to save me from the fury of A. June. My admiration for her courage and unselfishness, seething on top of all the pancakes I had eaten, threatened to choke me.

'I say,' I said, foozling the words a bit, 'I'm frightfully sorry.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'But I am.'

'That's all right, Joseph.' 'I -
1
don't know what to say.'

'It's quite all right, Joey dear. You don't suppose I was going to stand by and let her —' 'But you've lost your job.' 'I'll get another.' 'But she said—'

'Perhaps not as a press agent -
I
suppose she has enough influence to queer me in that way - and, anyhow, press agent's jobs don't come along all the time - but something.'

An idea struck me, enabling me to look on the bright side. If you could call it the bright side.

'But, of course, you don't really need a job. You're going to get married,' I said, wincing a bit as I spoke the words, for the idea of her getting married was dashed unpleasant - in fact more or less like a spear-thrust through the vitals.

She looked at me in surprise.

'How do you know that?'

I had to think quick.

'Oh - er - Eggy told me.'

'Oh, yes. He came to give you an elocution lesson yesterday, d
idn't he? How did you get on?' ‘
Oh, fine.'

'You must have done, if you call him "Eggy" already.' 'He's got quite a bit of money.'

'So I believe. But it won't be any use to me, because the engagement is off.' 'What!'

'Broken. Last night. So I shall have to be looking out for a job, you see. I have an idea that I shall end up as a dentist's assistant. The girl who helps Mr Burwash told me she was leaving. I might get her place.'

I was unable to speak. The thought of Eggy's foul treachery in tying a can to this noble girl, and the thought of Ann - my wonderful Ann - wasting her splendid gifts abetting
B. K. Burwash in his molar-
jerking, combined to tangle up the vocal cords.

'But we won't waste valuable time talking about that now,' said Ann. 'What we've got to think of is what is to become of you.'

'Me?'

'Why, yes, my poor lamb. We shall have to dispose of you somehow. You can't go back to Mr Brinkmeyer.'

I saw that she was right. Contemplating her swivet, I had rather given a miss to the fact that I was in no slight swivet myself. And the mental anguish of sitting tied up in a chair with April June bearing down on me had helped to take my mind off it. When an angry woman is spitting on her hands and poising herself to give you one on the submaxillary, you find yourself concentrating on the immediate rather than the more distant future. Into this I was now at liberty to peep.

'Gosh!'
I said.

'It's a problem, isn't it? Have you any views?' 'I had thought of going to England.' 'England?'