Adventures of Bindle Part 38

"Hokey-Pokey!" interrogated the guest.

"That chap with 'is whiskers growin' up 'is nose," explained Bindle.

"All p.r.i.c.kles 'e is. Can't say anythink without 'urtin' 'is feelin's.

Never come across such a cove."

Later, when the customer left, it was to Bindle and not to Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino that he gave his tip. This precipitated a crisis.

Once out of the dining-room the Italian demanded of Bindle the money.

"You shall 'ave 'alf, ole son," said Bindle magnanimously, "if you forks out 'alf of wot you've 'ad given you, see?" Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino did not see. His eyes snapped, his moustache bristled, his sallow features took on a shade of grey and, discarding English, he launched into a torrent of words in his own tongue.

Bindle stood regarding his antagonist much as he would a juggler, or quick-change artist. His good-humoured calm seemed to goad Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino to madness. With a sudden movement he seized a bottle from another waiter and, brandis.h.i.+ng it above his head, rushed at Bindle.

Bindle stepped swiftly aside; but in doing so managed to place his right foot across Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's path. The Italian lurched forward, bringing down the bottle with paralysing force upon the shoulder of another waiter, who, heavily laden, was making towards the dining-room.

The a.s.saulted waiter screamed, Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino rolled on the floor, and the a.s.saulted waiter's burden fell with a crash on top of him. The man who had been struck hopped about the room holding his shoulder, his s.h.i.+rt-front dyed a deep red with the wine that had flowed over it.

"Never see such a mess in all my puff," said Bindle in describing the scene afterwards. "Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey comes down on 'is back and a lot o' tomato soup falls on 'is 'ead. Then a dish o' whitebait gets on top of that, so 'e 'as soup and fish any'ow. Funny thing to see them little fishes sticking out o' the red soup. 'E got an 'erring down 'is collar, and a dish of macaroni in 'is ear, an' all 'is clothes was covered with different things. An 'ole bloomin' mane-yu, 'e was. 'Oly Angels! but 'e was a sight."

For a moment Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino lay inert, then he slowly sat up and looked about him, mechanically picking whitebait out of his hair, and removing a creme caramel from the inside of his waistcoat.

Suddenly his eyes lighted on Bindle.

In an instant he was on his feet and, with head down and arms waving like flails, he rushed at his enemy.

At that moment the door leading into the dining-room was opened and, attracted by the hubbub, Mr. James Smith, who before the war had been known as Herr Siegesmann, the chief superintendent, entered. He was a heavy man of ponderous proportions, with Dundreary whiskers and a pompous manner. His entrance brought him directly into the line of Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's attack. Before he could take in the situation, the Italian's head, covered with tomato soup and bristling with whitebait, caught him full in the centre of his person, and he went down with a sobbing grunt, the Italian on top of him.

The shock released a considerable portion of the food adhering to Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino on to the chief superintendent. Whitebait forsook the ebon locks of the waiter and dived into the magnificent Dundrearys of Herr Smith, and on his s.h.i.+rt-front was the impression of Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino's features in tomato soup.

Without a moment's hesitation Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino was on his feet once more; but Bindle, feeling that the time had arrived for action, was equally quick. Taking him from behind by the collar he worked his right arm up as high as it would go behind his back. The Italian screamed with the pain; but Bindle held fast.

"You ain't safe to be trusted about, ole sport," he remarked, "an' I got to 'old you, until Ole Whiskers decides wot's goin' to be done.

You'll get six months for wastin' food like this. Why, you looks like a bloomin' restaurant. Look at 'im!" Bindle gazed down at the prostrate superintendent. "Knocked 'is wind out, you 'ave. Struck 'im bang in the solar-plexus, blowed if you didn't!"

With rolling eyes and foaming mouth Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino screamed his maledictions. A group of waiters was bending over Herr Smith. One was administering brandy, another was plucking whitebait out of his whiskers, a third was trying to wipe the tomato soup from his s.h.i.+rt-front, an operation which transformed a red archipelago into a flaming continent.

When eventually the superintendent sat up, he looked like a whiskered robin redbreast. He gazed from one to the other of the waiters engaged upon his renovation. Then his eye fell upon Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino. He uttered the one significant British word.

"Berlice!"

When Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino left Napolini's that evening, it was in the charge of two policemen, with two more following to be prepared for eventualities. Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino was what is known professionally as "violent." Not satisfied with the food that was plastered upon his person, he endeavoured by means of his teeth to detach a portion of the right thigh of Police-constable Higgins, and with his feet to raise bruises where he could on the persons of his captors.

"Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey!" remarked Bindle, as he returned to the dining-room, where he had now been allotted two tables, for which he was to be entirely responsible. "Pore ole 'Okey-Pokey. I'm afraid I got 'is goat; but didn't 'e make a mess of Ole Whiskers!"

Herr Smith had gone home. When a man is sixty years of age and, furthermore, when he has been a superintendent of a restaurant for upwards of twenty-five years, he cannot with impunity be rammed in the solar-plexus by a hard-headed and vigorous Italian.

While Giuseppi Antonio Tolmenicino in a cell at Vine Street Police Station was forecasting the downfall of the Allies by the secession of Italy from the Entente, Bindle was striving to satisfy the demands of the two sets of customers that sat at his tables. He made mistakes, errors of commission and omission; but his obviously genuine desire to satisfy everybody inclined people to be indulgent.

The man who was waiting for pancakes received with a smile half-a-dozen oysters; whilst another customer was bewildered at finding himself expected to commence his meal with pancakes and jam.

When such errors were pointed out, Bindle would scratch his head in perplexity, then, as light dawned upon him, he would break out into a grin, make a dive for the pancakes and quickly exchange them for the oysters.

The names of the various dishes he found almost beyond him and, to overcome the difficulty, he asked the customers to point out on the menu what they required. Then again he found himself expected to carry a multiplicity of plates and dishes.

At first he endeavoured to emulate his confreres. On one occasion he set out from the dining-room with three dishes containing respectively "caille en ca.s.serole," a Welsh rarebit, and a steak and fried potatoes. The steak and fried potatoes were for a lady of ample proportions with an almost alarmingly low-cut blouse. In placing the steak and metal dish of potatoes before her, Bindle's eye for a second left the other two plates, which began to tilt.

The proprietor of the large-bosomed lady was, with the aid of a fish-knife, able to hold in place the Welsh rarebit; but he was too late in his endeavour to reach the under-plate on which reposed the "caille en ca.s.serole," which suddenly made a dive for the apex of the V of the lady's blouse.

As she felt the hot, moist bird touch her, she gave a shriek and started back. Bindle also started, and the lady's possessor lost his grip on the Welsh rarebit, which slid off the plate on to his lap.

Greatly concerned, Bindle placed the empty Welsh rarebit plate quickly on the table and, seizing a fork, stabbed the errant and romantic quail, replacing it upon its plate. He then went to the a.s.sistance of the gentleman who had received the Welsh rarebit face downwards on his lap.

With great care Bindle returned it to the plate, with the exception of such portions as clung affectionately to the customer's person.

To confound confusion the superintendent dashed up full of apologies for the customers and threatening looks for the cause of the mishap.

Bindle turned to the lady, who was hysterically dabbing her chest with a napkin.

"I 'ope you ain't 'urt, mum," he said with genuine solicitude; "I didn't see where 'e was goin', slippery little devil!" and Bindle regarded the bird reproachfully. Then remembering that another was waiting for it, he crossed over to the table at which sat the customer who had ordered "caille en ca.s.serole" and placed the plate before him.

The man looked up in surprise.

"You'd better take that away," he said. "That bird's a bit too enterprising for me."

"A bit too wot, sir?" interrogated Bindle, lifting the plate to his nose. "I don't smell it, sir," he added seriously.

"I ordered 'caille en ca.s.serole,'" responded the man. "You bring me 'caille en cocotte.'"

"D'you mind saying that in English, sir?" asked Bindle, wholly at sea.

At that moment he was pushed aside by the owner of the lady of generous proportions. Thrusting his face forward until it almost touched that of the "caille" guest, he launched out into a volley of reproaches.

"Mon Dieu!" he shouted, "you have insulted that lady. You are a scoundrel, a wretch, a traducer of fair women;" and he went on in French to describe the customer's ancestry and possible progeny.

Throughout the dining-room the guests rose to see what was happening.

Many came to the scene of the mishap. By almost superhuman efforts and an apology from the customer who had ordered "caille en ca.s.serole,"

peace was restored and, at a motion from the superintendent, Bindle carried the offending bird to the kitchen to exchange it for another, a simple process that was achieved by having it re-heated and returned on a clean plate.

"This 'ere all comes about through these coves wantin' foreign food,"

muttered Bindle to himself. "If they'd all 'ave a cut from the joint and two veges, it 'ud be jest as simple as drinkin' beer. An' ain't they touchy too," he continued. "Can't say a word to 'em, but what they flies up and wants to scratch each other's eyes out."

Tranquillity restored, Bindle continued his ministrations. For half an hour everything went quietly until two customers ordered ginger beer, one electing to drink it neat, and the other in conjunction with a double gin. Bindle managed to confuse the two gla.s.ses. The customer who had been forced to break his pledge was greatly distressed, and much official tact on the part of a superintendent was required to soothe his injured feelings.

"Seems to me," muttered Bindle, "that I gets all the crocks. If there's anythink funny about, it comes and sits down at one o' my tables. Right-o, sir, comin'!" he called to an impatient customer, who, accompanied by a girl clothed princ.i.p.ally in white boots, rouge and peroxide, had seated himself at the table just vacated by a couple from the suburbs.

The man ordered a generous meal, including a bottle of champagne.

Bindle attentively wrote down a phonetic version of the customer's requirements. The wine offered no difficulty, it was numbered.

Bindle had observed that wine was frequently carried to customers in a white metal receptacle, sometimes containing hot water, at others powdered ice. No one had told him of the different treatment accorded to red and white wines. Desirous of giving as little trouble as possible to his fellows, he determined on this occasion to act on his own initiative. Obtaining a wine-cooler, he had it filled with hot water and, placing the bottle of champagne in it, hurried back to the customer.

Placing the wine-cooler on a service-table, he left it for a few minutes, whilst he laid covers for the new arrivals.