It is, said Miss Huyler, looking anxiously about her.
And may I ask why? asked Van Squibber, politely for to do things politely was Van Squibbers ambition.
I I well, really, Mr. Van Squibber, the girl replied, I am always anxious when you are about. The fact is, you know, the things that happen when you are around are always so very extraordinary. I came here for a quiet walk, but now that you have appeared I am quite certain that something dramatic is about to occur. You see you you have turned up so often at the what I may properly call, I think, the nick of time, and so rarely at any other time, that I feel as though some disaster were impending which you alone can avert.
And what then? said Van Squibber, proudly. If I am here, what bodes disaster?
That is the question I am asking myself, returned Miss Huyler, whose growing anxiety was more or less painful to witness. Can your luck hold out? Will your ability as an averter of danger hold out? In short, Mr. Van Squibber, are you infallible?
The question came to Van Squibber like a flash of lightning out of a clear sky. It was too pertinent. Had he not often wondered himself as to his infallibility? Had he not only the day before said to Travers, You cant always tell in advance just how a thing you are going into may turn out, even though you have been through that thing many times, and think you do.
I do lead a dramatic life, he said, quietly, hoping by a show of serenity to reassure her. But, he added, proudly, I am, after all, Van Squibber; I am here to do whatever is sent me to do. I am not a fatalist, but I regard myself as the chosen instrument of fate or something. So far, I have not failed. On the basis of averages, I am not likely to fail now. Fate, or something, has chosen me to succeed.
That is true, said Eleanor quite true; but there are exceptions to all rules, and I would rather you would fail to rescue some other girl from a position of peril than myself.
That Miss Huylers words were prophetic, the unhappy Van Squibber was to realize, and that soon, for almost as they spoke the cheeks of both were blanched by a dreadful roar in the bushes beside the path upon which they walked.
Shall I leave you? asked Van Squibber, politely.
Not now oh, not now, I beg! cried Miss Huyler. It is too late. The catastrophe is imminent. You should have gone before the author brought it on. Finding me defenceless and you gone, he might have spared me. As it is, you are here, and must fulfil your destiny.
Very well, returned Van Squibber. That being so, I will see what this roaring is. If it is a child endeavoring to frighten you, I shall get his address and have my man chastise his father, for I could never strike a child; but if it is a lion, as I fear, I shall do what seems best under the circumstances. I have been told, Miss Huyler, that a show of bravery awes a wild beast, while a manifestation of cowardice causes him to spring at once upon the coward. Therefore, if it be a lion, do you walk boldly up to him and evince a cool head, while I divert his attention from you by running away. In this way you, at least, will be saved.
Noble fellow! thought Eleanor to herself. If he were to ask me, I think I might marry him.
Meanwhile Van Squibber had investigated, and was horror-struck to find his misgivings entirely too well founded. It was the lion from the park menagerie that had escaped, and was now waiting in ambush to pounce upon the chance pedestrian.
Remember, Eleanor, he cried, forgetting for the moment that he had never called her by any but her last name with its formal prefix remember to be brave. That will awe him, and then when he sees me running he will pursue me.
Removing his shoes, Van Squibber, with a cry which brought the hungry beast bounding out into the path, started on a dead run, while Miss Huyler, full of confidence that the story would end happily whatever she might do, walked boldly up to the tawny creature, wondering much, however, why her rescuer had removed his shoes. It was strange that, knowing Van Squibber as well as she did, she did not at once perceive his motive in declining to run in walking-shoes, but in moments of peril we are all excusable for our vagaries of thought! You never can tell, when you are in danger, what may happen next, for if you could you would know how it is all going to turn out; but as it is, mental disturbance is quite to be expected.
For once Van Squibber failed. He ran fast enough and betrayed enough cowardice to attract the attention of ten lions, but this special lion, by some fearful idiosyncrasy of fate, which you never can count on, was not to be deceived. With a louder roar than any he had given, he pounced upon the brave woman, and in an instant she was no more. Van Squibber, turning to see how matters stood, was just in time to witness the final engulfment of the fair girl in the lions jaws.
Egad! he cried. I have failed! And now what remains to be done? Shall I return and fight the lion, or shall I keep on and go to the club? If I kill the lion, people will know that I have been walking in the park before breakfast. If I continue my present path and go to the club, the fellows will all want to know what I mean by coming without my shoes on. What a dilemma! Ah! I have it; I will go home.
And that is what Van Squibber did. He went back to his rooms in the Quigmore at once, hastily undressed, and when, an hour later, his man returned with the soda mint drop, he was sleeping peacefully.
That night he met Travers at the club reading the Evening Moon.
Hello, Van! said Travers. Heard the news?
No. What? asked Van Squibber, languidly.
Eleanor Huyler has disappeared.
By Jove! cried Van Squibber, with well-feigned surprise. I heard the boys crying Extra, but I never dreamed they would put out an extra for her.
They havent, said Travers. The extras about the lion.
Ah! And whats happened to the lion? cried Van Squibber, nervously.
Hes dead. Got loose this morning early, and was found at ten oclock dying of indigestion. It is supposed he has devoured some man, name unknown, for before his nose was an uneaten patent-leather pump, size 9¾ B, and in his throat was stuck the other, half eaten.
Ha! muttered Van Squibber, turning pale. And they dont know whose shoes they were? he added, in a hoarse whisper.
No, said Travers. Theres no clew, even.
Van Squibber breathed a sigh of relief.
Robert! he cried, addressing the waiter, bring me a schooner of absinthe, and ask Mr. Travers what hell have. And then, turning, he said, sotto voce, to himself, Saved! And Eleanor is revenged. Van Squibber may have failed, but his patent-leather pumps have conquered.
III
IN WHICH A MINCE-PIE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR A REMARKABLE COINCIDENCE
When Mr. Snobbe sat down after the narration of his story, there was a thunderous outburst of applause. It was evident that the exciting narrative had pleased his fellow-diners very much as, indeed, it was proper that it should, since it dealt in a veiled sort of way with characters for whom all right-minded persons have not only a deep-seated admiration, but a feeling of affection as well. They had, one and all, in common with the unaffected portion of the reading community, a liking for the wholesome and clean humor of Mr. Van Bibber, and the fact that Snobbes story suggested a certain original, even in a weak sort of fashion, made them like it in spite of its shortcomings.