Lord Loveland Discovers America

by C. N. Williamson; A. M. Williamson

Never since Bill Willing had first made the fame of Alexander the Great had there been such a busy day in the red restaurant as the day when Tony's story and sketch of "The Marquis of Twelfth Street" appeared in "New York Light."

Breakfast was almost normal; but an unusual number of people strolled in between nine and eleven—"pie and milk" hours—and nearly all had newspapers in their hands. As they sat at the red-legged tables, sipping a two-cent glass of milk, they glanced at something in the paper, and stared at the tall young man in evening clothes who moved about solemnly with a tray of plates or cups and saucers.

By noon there was a rush of customers; the crowd increased rather than diminished up to half-past one, and throughout the afternoon the place was crammed.

Luckily, foreseeing that the new waiter would be awkward, more valuable for ornament than for use, Alexander had accepted the services of a young Pole in Dutchy's place. There was also Blinkey; but Blinkey was deep in the agony of hopeless love for the Boss's beautiful daughter, and was not to be counted on with any confidence, owing to his habit of gazing at Isidora when she was in sight, and pouring hot liquids down clients' necks if she suddenly disappeared.

There was more work than Alexander, Loveland, and the two others could do; therefore soon after twelve the aid of "Miss Izzie" had to be called in. The coloured cook and the cook's assistant worked until their brains were as nearly addled as any egg ever employed in their most economical moments; and to several members of the staff the reason for the rush remained a mystery. Alexander knew and smiled in his sleeve. Isidora knew, and cast reproachful, "I told you so!" glances at her father, as she heard the rustle of opening newspapers. But the Pole did not understand the curious questions people whispered to him; Blinkey was stupid as well as sullen; while as for Loveland himself, none dared to catechise him, so set were his lips, so threatening his brows.

Of course he suspected that it was he who brought the crowd, and raged in the shame of his burning martyrdom. Alexander had said that he was to be "used for all he was worth" and he was sure that, already, he was in some way being used. But he did not know how, or guess the worst.

At first, when the place began to fill, and eyes regarded him with interest, there was a hot instant when he asked himself if a new card had been hung in the window, offering a British Lord as an attraction—a kind of side dish, with sauce piquante. But he had slept at the Bat Hotel the night before, and in coming "on duty" had seen the cards as usual. There had been no sensational addition to the number, and no opportunity for anybody to have made one since, unseen by him. Bill had received no orders for any secret new design, Loveland was sure; for Bill was loyal and would certainly have warned him. Val supposed, therefore, that Alexander must have told people that the Marquis of Loveland would act as a waiter in the restaurant; that such people had passed the news to others, and so on, working upon the snowball system; this great increase of visitors being the result.

Loveland hated his notoriety with hatred inexpressible, though it was, in a way, a ghastly sort of tribute to the importance of the British aristocracy. It was not, however, the sort of tribute his vanity craved, and his one consolation was that the crowd Alexander had drawn to gaze at the tame Marquis was a common crowd. Indeed, he thought there was no danger that the red restaurant would be invaded by the upper classes. He would not see or be seen by the sort of people he would have met if he had not stumbled into this obscure pitfall of misfortune. Soon, too, he should have earned enough money to climb out of it, and leave the country.

With the feigned indifference of a caged white bear for a bank holiday crush, the new waiter performed his duties during the day. If the restaurant were crammed throughout the afternoon, by six o'clock there was a mob. By seven, however, the place began to clear and Alexander rejoiced, because there was much work for his staff to do before eight. Dishes must be washed and special food cooked, and a dozen tables prepared for two "crowds" who had engaged accommodation in advance.

One was a wedding party of Italians, numbering fifteen. The other was something more exciting: a party of "swells" who had telephoned for dinner at eight.