Lord John in New York

								

Having got off my cable I called oh the doctor, explaining to him, as
man to man, that I was being killed with kindness, buried under flowers
and jellies, as Tarpeia was buried under shields and bracelets.  "I
must get out from under," I said, "or I shall fade like a flower or
dissolve into a jelly myself.  Can't you save me?"
"I thought you were enjoying life," he replied.  "You're well enough,
as a matter of fact, to do almost anything except go back to the front.
Your legs won't run to that, my boy, for the next six months at least.
If you're such an ungrateful beggar that you want to leave Lady
Haslemere's paradise and all its lovely houris, save yourself.  Don't
put the responsibility on me."
"Coward!" I said.  (I would have hissed it, but, except in novels, it
is physically impossible to hiss the word "coward.")
"The same to you," he retorted.  "Get someone to send you on some
mission and I'll back you up.  I'll certify that you're strong enough
to undertake it, if it doesn't depend on your legs, and is not too
strenuous."
"I may need to run over to America," it suddenly occurred to me to say,
as if by inspiration.  "I should have to depend on brains, not legs.
Would New York be too strenuous?"
"I hear they're pretty strenuous over there, but--well----"
"You don't know what I go through every day at that confounded home for
milksops when your back is turned," I pleaded, as he hesitated.  That
settled it.  We both laughed, and I knew he'd see me through.  Five
minutes before nothing had been further from my mind than a trip to New
York; but now I felt that it had been my secret intention from the
first.  It was strongly impressed upon me that I should have to go.
Why, I could not tell.  But the thing would happen.
It was two o'clock and luncheon time when I got back to the Savoy, but
Odell had not returned.  I wired (I would not 'phone lest I should be
unearthed like a fox from his hole) to the convalescent home, saying
that all was well and I had the doctor's authority to stop out as long
as I liked.  I then ate a substantial meal and inquired again at the
desk.  No Odell.  I said I would wait.  Would they kindly let me know,
in the reading-room, when Mr. Odell arrived?  I being wounded and in
khaki, they waived suspicion of a nameless caller.  I was given the
freedom of the Savoy, and I waited.  I waited three hours, and read all
the magazines and papers.  Then I wandered into the foyer and ordered
tea.  While I was having it, up trotted a sympathetic clerk with a
flurried manner to inform me that Mr. Odell was not coming back at all.
A telegram had just been received, saying that important business
called him home at once.  He was on his way by automobile to Liverpool,
whence he would sail next morning on the Monarchic.  His luggage was
to be forwarded by messenger in time to go on board the ship.
For a few seconds I felt as if what remained of my tea had been flung