But thus pressed, he nevertheless accepted his old schoolfellow’s invitation, and went round to Bevin’s, the smart night club close to Portman Square.
The scene there was one of gay abandon, of reckless expenditure, and somewhat questionable morals. Alas! how the West End has degenerated since the war! Yet these adventures of Geoffrey Falconer have no concern with the morals of Underground London.
Beryl Hessleton and Gilbert Farrer were there, and all four had supper, during which Halliday told them that he hoped to win a fortune upon the information which his friend, the famous Egyptologist, had derived from the ancient monuments in the colossal ruins of Berenice, some of which were quite as wonderful as those at Thebes.
“If I find this mine, I have a first-class firm into whose hands I can easily place the concession,” he said to Falconer across the table, amid all the gay laughter and irresponsible chatter of the assembled company. The West End to-day only emulates the Montmartre of yesterday, with its “Heaven,” “Hell,” and “The Red Windmill,” without counting the “Dead Rat.”
The war has passed, but your cosmopolitan of any nation is just the same easy-going Bohemian traveller, a gipsy whose laughing boast is that when his hat is on his roof is on.
Such a man was Jack Halliday.
Geoffrey next day saw him off from Victoria Station with an array of green canvas bags—long bags like those of cricketers. And with him upon the platform stood Beryl Hessleton. The young mining engineer had been pleasant to her, but he was rather surprised that she should take the trouble to see him off. Geoffrey noted it, but made no comment.
About six weeks went by. One evening, having worked late in the research laboratory at Marconi House, Geoffrey walked westward to his club. On the way he met a middle-aged man-about-town named Franks, whose acquaintance he had formed at Mrs. Beverley’s, and after a brief chat, Geoffrey invited him to dine at the Grill of the Piccadilly Hotel.
While they were eating their meal a stout, white-haired man entered, accompanied by the handsome Beryl Hessleton, who, recognising the young radio-engineer, waved her hand across at him and smiled.
“Hulloa! Do you know her?” asked Franks with some surprise.