§ 6
So ended Sargon’s first effort to enter into his Empire. Unless we count the visit to Buckingham Palace as his first attempt.
But before we go on to tell of the unexpected and dreadful experience that now came upon him, we must record one or two minor incidents of his capture.
One is the behaviour of Mr. Kama Mobamba. He watched the closing incidents in the restaurant with a growing amazement upon his great bronze face. Had this little blue-eyed man been, after all, leading him wrong? When at last Sargon was led away, Mr. Mobamba moved at first as though still half inclined to follow him. Then he stood still, frowned reflectingly and fumbled at his ticket-pocket. With some effort he produced the sheet of paper that seemed to be his one intelligible link with London; it was now in a rather crumpled condition. Smoothing it out with his great hands, he advanced upon the manager with it extended.
“What’s this?” said the manager.
The black gentleman bowed with infinite suavity, still tending his paper. “Non spik English,” said the black gentleman. “Portugaish. Lean-a-Kay. Lemonallstree.”
He was difficult to direct.
Meanwhile in the entrance hall Bobby tacitly denied all knowledge of Sargon. He was still hovering there with Billy, held by a curious half-maternal solicitude. The ex-soldiers had “mizzled,” to use the expressive word of the man with the organ, at the appearance of policemen; the man in mourning and his troubles had been cleared up; but there were still quite a number of people hanging about in a state of vague anticipation, and the young reporter was trying to find some one who understood the rare and obscure language of Oldham in order to verify his facts. And there were several policemen; one evidently a superior officer, a very good-looking man in a peaked cap and a frogged coat.
“Here he comes!” said Billy, and Sargon was led out.
There was a silence as he passed through the hall to the rotating door. And upon Sargon, it seemed to Bobby, there rested a hitherto unnoted dignity. He looked neither to the right nor the left, and his eyes were exceedingly mournful.
“But what will they do with him?” asked Bobby.
“You don’t happen to know him, sir?” asked the superior officer abruptly.
“Not a bit!” said Billy, taking the answer out of Bobby’s mouth. “Never seen him before. We just came in here to see what was up.”
And by his silence Bobby acquiesced.
“I’ve got no power to move you on here,” said the police officer, and smiled a suggestion of inopportuneness to Billy, and motioned to his satellites that the business there was at an end.
“We’d better go home,” said Billy, interpreting the smile.