Big Foot by Edgar Wallace

Author:Edgar Wallace [Wallace, Edgar]
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Crime
Published: 2010-01-28T17:30:00+00:00

XVI. A LITTLE DINNER

Sooper, on leaving, told the girl he was going back to his station, permitting himself one of those unveracities which were wholly justifiable in his own eyes. He spent an uncomfortable time at the Yard, interviewing his superiors, but the discomfort was mainly theirs. In the space of two hours he demolished, in detail and in general, at least twenty-two theories and side theories. And this he accomplished with such a wealth of malignant comment and illustration that even the Chief Commissioner sighed his relief when the door closed upon him.

He left Scotland Yard and made for a fashionable picture theatre, not because he was tempted by the programme, but because at this particular resort the lights were not raised, between the feat ures, and Sooper slept best in the dark. For two hours he sat crouched in a chair, his head on his chest, his arms folded, and the terrific adventures of popular and well paid artists flickered and gleamed before his unconscious figure.

Men performed daring deeds; gallant heroes leapt abysmal chasms; fair maidens were rescued from heart-thrilling dangers; and Sooper slept on, till an attendant touched his shoulder and asked him if he would kindly stand up to allow a stout lady to pass him. Refreshed, he went into the theatre restaurant, drank three cups of coffee in rapid succession, ate a large wedge of indigestible cake, and went forth a new man.

His objective was Fregetti's, and in point of exclusiveness Fregetti's had nothing to fear from the Ritz-Carlton or from any other establishment, however magnificent. Fregetti's is in an unfashionable quarter, being at the lower end of Portland Street, but is generally conceded amongst epicures that the restaurant is the best in London.

Sooper took up a position and waited. Car after car stopped before the glass awning and deposited its well-dressed cargo.

But it was quarter after nine before a cab slowed at the door, and the two men for whom Sooper was waiting stepped forth.

The first was Elson: he was in a dinner jacket, and wore at the back of his head a shiny silk hat, which somehow seemed incongruous. There followed him from the cab a more elegant gentleman, who wore—his well-fitting clothes with greater ease.

He stopped whilst Elson paid the cabman, and then disappeared behind the glass doors of the restaurant, and Sooper grunted his satisfaction. "I hope you enjoy your dinner, Lattimer," he said. "You're looking pretty spry for a tired man!"

Lattimer strolled through the palm court into the half darkness of the restaurant. Beyond the dim illumination afforded by cornice globes, the only light in the room came from the table lamps, which brought to the saloon a strange sense of intimacy. To Elson the half-darkness was welcome: he hated light almost as cordially as he hated company, and he made his way with quick if unsteady steps to the table in the far corner that he had booked by telephone.

"Where did you leave that old fool?" he growled, as he seated himself, and reached for the cocktail that stood waiting.

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