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diff --git a/40146-8.txt b/40146-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4b91e66..0000000 --- a/40146-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10486 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The City of Masks, by George Barr McCutcheon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The City of Masks - -Author: George Barr McCutcheon - -Illustrator: May Wilson Preston - -Release Date: July 6, 2012 [EBook #40146] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY OF MASKS *** - - - - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - [Illustration: THE HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF A MAN ROSE QUICKLY ABOVE - THE LEDGE (_Page 265_)] - - - - - THE CITY - OF MASKS - - - By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON - - - AUTHOR OF - "Mr. Bingle," "Jane Cable," "Black is White," Etc. - - - [Illustration] - - - With Frontispiece - By MAY WILSON PRESTON - - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - Publishers New York - - Published by arrangement with DODD, MEAD & COMPANY - - - - - Copyright, 1918 - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC - - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I LADY JANE THORNE COMES TO DINNER 1 - - II OUT OF THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE EARTH 12 - - III THE CITY OF MASKS 24 - - IV THE SCION OF A NEW YORK HOUSE 37 - - V MR. THOMAS TROTTER HEARS SOMETHING TO - HIS ADVANTAGE 50 - - VI THE UNFAILING MEMORY 67 - - VII THE FOUNDATION OF THE PLOT 79 - - VIII LADY JANE GOES ABOUT IT PROMPTLY 94 - - IX MR. TROTTER FALLS INTO A NEW POSITION 110 - - X PUTTING THEIR HEADS--AND HEARTS--TOGETHER 121 - - XI WINNING BY A NOSE 134 - - XII IN THE FOG 155 - - XIII NOT CLOUDS ALONE HAVE LININGS 172 - - XIV DIPLOMACY 188 - - XV ONE NIGHT AT SPANGLER'S 202 - - XVI SCOTLAND YARD TAKES A HAND 219 - - XVII FRIDAY FOR LUCK 233 - - XVIII FRIDAY FOR BAD LUCK 250 - - XIX FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT 263 - - XX AN EXCHANGE OF COURTESIES 279 - - XXI THE BRIDE-ELECT 294 - - XXII THE BEGINNING 307 - - - - - THE CITY OF MASKS - - CHAPTER I - - LADY JANE THORNE COMES TO DINNER - - -THE Marchioness carefully draped the dust-cloth over the head of an -andiron and, before putting the question to the parlour-maid, consulted, -with the intensity of a near-sighted person, the ornate French clock in -the centre of the mantelpiece. Then she brushed her fingers on the -voluminous apron that almost completely enveloped her slight person. - -"Well, who is it, Julia?" - -"It's Lord Temple, ma'am, and he wants to know if you're too busy to -come to the 'phone. If you are, I'm to ask you something." - -The Marchioness hesitated. "How do you know it is Lord Eric? Did he -mention his name?" - -"He did, ma'am. He said 'this is Tom Trotter speaking, Julia, and is -your mistress disengaged?' And so I knew it couldn't be any one else but -his Lordship." - -"And what are you to ask me?" - -"He wants to know if he may bring a friend around tonight, ma'am. A -gentleman from Constantinople, ma'am." - -"A Turk? He knows I do not like Turks," said the Marchioness, more to -herself than to Julia. - -"He didn't say, ma'am. Just Constantinople." - -The Marchioness removed her apron and handed it to Julia. You would -have thought she expected to confront Lord Temple in person, or at -least that she would be fully visible to him despite the distance and -the intervening buildings that lay between. Tucking a few stray locks of -her snow-white hair into place, she approached the telephone in the -hall. She had never quite gotten over the impression that one could be -seen through as well as heard over the telephone. She always smiled or -frowned or gesticulated, as occasion demanded; she was never languid, -never bored, never listless. A chat was a chat, at long range or short; -it didn't matter. - -"Are you there? Good evening, Mr. Trotter. So charmed to hear your -voice." She had seated herself at the little old Italian table. - -Mr. Trotter devoted a full two minutes to explanations. - -"Do bring him with you," cried she. "Your word is sufficient. He _must_ -be delightful. Of course, I shuddered a little when you mentioned -Constantinople. I always do. One can't help thinking of the Armenians. -Eh? Oh, yes,--and the harems." - -Mr. Trotter: "By the way, are you expecting Lady Jane tonight?" - -The Marchioness: "She rarely fails us, Mr. Trotter." - -Mr. Trotter: "Right-o! Well, good-bye,--and thank you. I'm sure you will -like the baron. He is a trifle seedy, as I said before,--sailing vessel, -you know, and all that sort of thing. By way of Cape Town,--pretty well -up against it for the past year or two besides,--but a regular fellow, -as they say over here." - -The Marchioness: "Where did you say he is stopping?" - -Mr. Trotter: "Can't for the life of me remember whether it's the -'Sailors' Loft' or the 'Sailors' Bunk.' He told me too. On the -water-front somewhere. I knew him in Hong Kong. He says he has cut it -all out, however." - -The Marchioness: "Cut it all out, Mr. Trotter?" - -Mr. Trotter, laughing: "Drink, and all that sort of thing, you know. -Jolly good thing too. I give you my personal guarantee that he--" - -The Marchioness: "Say no more about it, Mr. Trotter. I am sure we shall -all be happy to receive any friend of yours. By the way, where are you -now--where are you telephoning from?" - -Mr. Trotter: "Drug store just around the corner." - -The Marchioness: "A booth, I suppose?" - -Mr. Trotter: "Oh, yes. Tight as a sardine box." - -The Marchioness: "Good-bye." - -Mr. Trotter: "Oh--hello? I beg your pardon--are you there? Ah, -I--er--neglected to mention that the baron may not appear at his best -tonight. You see, the poor chap is a shade large for my clothes. -Naturally, being a sailor-man, he hasn't--er--a very extensive wardrobe. -I am fixing him out in a--er--rather abandoned evening suit of my own. -That is to say, I abandoned it a couple of seasons ago. Rather nobby -thing for a waiter, but not--er--what you might call--" - -The Marchioness, chuckling: "Quite good enough for a sailor, eh? Please -assure him that no matter what he wears, or how he looks, he will not be -conspicuous." - -After this somewhat ambiguous remark, the Marchioness hung up the -receiver and returned to the drawing-room; a prolonged search revealing -the dust-cloth on the "nub" of the andiron, just where she had left it, -she fell to work once more on the velvety surface of a rare old Spanish -cabinet that stood in the corner of the room. - -"Don't you want your apron, ma'am?" inquired Julia, sitting back on her -heels and surveying with considerable pride the leg of an enormous -throne seat she had been rubbing with all the strength of her stout -arms. - -Her mistress ignored the question. She dabbed into a tiny recess and -wriggled her finger vigorously. - -"I can't imagine where all the dust comes from, Julia," she said. - -"Some of it comes from Italy, and some of it from Spain, and some from -France," said Julia promptly. "You could rub for a hundred years, ma'am, -and there'd still be dust that you couldn't find, not to save your soul. -And why not? I'd bet my last penny there's dust on that cabinet this -very minute that settled before Napoleon was born, whenever that was." - -"I daresay," said the Marchioness absently. - -More often than otherwise she failed to hear all that Julia said to her, -or in her presence rather, for Julia, wise in association, had come to -consider these lapses of inattention as openings for prolonged and -rarely coherent soliloquies on topics of the moment. Julia, by virtue of -long service and a most satisfying avoidance of matrimony, was a -privileged servant between the hours of eight in the morning and eight -in the evening. After eight, or more strictly speaking, the moment -dinner was announced, Julia became a perfect servant. She would no more -have thought of addressing the Marchioness as "ma'am" than she would -have called the King of England "mister." She had crossed the Atlantic -with her mistress eighteen years before; in mid-ocean she celebrated her -thirty-fifth birthday, and, as she had been in the family for ten years -prior to that event, even a child may solve the problem that here -presents a momentary and totally unnecessary break in the continuity of -this narrative. Julia was English. She spoke no other language. -Beginning with the soup, or the _hors d'oeuvres_ on occasion, French was -spoken in the house of the Marchioness. Physically unable to speak -French and psychologically unwilling to betray her ignorance, Julia -became a model servant. She lapsed into perfect silence. - -The Marchioness seldom if ever dined alone. She always dined in state. -Her guests,--English, Italian, Russian, Belgian, French, Spanish, -Hungarian, Austrian, German,--conversed solely in French. It was a very -agreeable way of symphonizing Babel. - -The room in which she and the temporarily imperfect though treasured -servant were employed in the dusk of this stormy day in March was at the -top of an old-fashioned building in the busiest section of the city, a -building that had, so far, escaped the fate of its immediate neighbours -and remained, a squat and insignificant pygmy, elbowing with some -arrogance the lofty structures that had shot up on either side of it -with incredible swiftness. - -It was a large room, at least thirty by fifty feet in dimensions, with a -vaulted ceiling that encroached upon the space ordinarily devoted to -what architects, builders and the Board of Health describe as an air -chamber, next below the roof. There was no elevator in the building. One -had to climb four flights of stairs to reach the apartment. - -From its long, heavily curtained windows one looked down upon a crowded -cross-town thoroughfare, or up to the summit of a stupendous hotel on -the opposite side of the street. There was a small foyer at the rear of -this lofty room, with an entrance from the narrow hall outside. -Suspended in the wide doorway between the two rooms was a pair of blue -velvet Italian portières of great antiquity and, to a connoisseur, -unrivaled quality. Beyond the foyer and extending to the area wall was -the rather commodious dining-room, with its long oaken English table, -its high-back chairs, its massive sideboard and the chandelier that is -said to have hung in the Doges' Palace when the Bridge of Sighs was a -new and thriving avenue of communication. - -At least, so stated the dealer's tag tucked carelessly among the crystal -prisms, supplying the observer with the information that, in case one -was in need of a chandelier, its price was five hundred guineas. The -same curious-minded observer would have discovered, if he were not above -getting down on his hands and knees and peering under the table, a price -tag; and by exerting the strength necessary to pull the sideboard away -from the wall, a similar object would have been exposed. - -In other words, if one really wanted to purchase any article of -furniture or decoration in the singularly impressive apartment of the -Marchioness, all one had to do was to signify the desire, produce a -check or its equivalent, and give an address to the competent-looking -young woman who would put in an appearance with singular promptness in -response to a couple of punches at an electric button just outside the -door, any time between nine and five o'clock, Sundays included. - -The drawing-room contained many priceless articles of furniture, wholly -antique--(and so guaranteed), besides rugs, draperies, tapestries and -stuffs of the rarest quality. Bronzes, porcelains, pottery, things of -jade and alabaster, sconces, candlesticks and censers, with here and -there on the walls lovely little "primitives" of untold value. The most -exotic taste had ordered the distribution and arrangement of all these -objects. There was no suggestion of crowding, nothing haphazard or -bizarre in the exposition of treasure, nothing to indicate that a cheap -intelligence revelled in rich possessions. - -You would have sat down upon the first chair that offered repose and you -would have said you had wandered inadvertently into a palace. Then, -emboldened by an interest that scorned politeness, you would have got up -to inspect the riches at close range,--and you would have found -price-marks everywhere to overcome the impression that Aladdin had been -rubbing his lamp all the way up the dingy, tortuous stairs. - -You are not, however, in the shop of a dealer in antiques, price-marks -to the contrary. You are in the home of a Marchioness, and she is not a -dealer in old furniture, you may be quite sure of that. She does not owe -a penny on a single article in the apartment nor does she, on the other -hand, own a penny's worth of anything that meets the eye,--unless, of -course, one excepts the dust-cloth and the can of polish that follows -Julia about the room. Nor is it a loan exhibit, nor the setting for a -bazaar. - -The apartment being on the top floor of a five-story building, it is -necessary to account for the remaining four. In the rear of the fourth -floor there was a small kitchen and pantry from which a dumb-waiter -ascended and descended with vehement enthusiasm. The remainder of the -floor was divided into four rather small chambers, each opening into the -outer hall, with two bath-rooms inserted. Each of these rooms contained -a series of lockers, not unlike those in a club-house. Otherwise they -were unfurnished except for a few commonplace cane bottom chairs in -various stages of decrepitude. - -The third floor represented a complete apartment of five rooms, daintily -furnished. This was where the Marchioness really lived. - -Commerce, after a fashion, occupied the two lower floors. It stopped -short at the bottom of the second flight of stairs where it encountered -an obstacle in the shape of a grill-work gate that bore the laconic word -"Private," and while commerce may have peeped inquisitively through and -beyond the barrier it was never permitted to trespass farther than an -occasional sly, surreptitious and unavailing twist of the knob. - -The entire second floor was devoted to work-rooms in which many sewing -machines buzzed during the day and went to rest at six in the evening. -Tables, chairs, manikins, wall-hooks and hangers thrust forward a -bewildering assortment of fabrics in all stages of development, from an -original uncut piece to a practically completed garment. In other words, -here was the work-shop of the most exclusive, most expensive _modiste_ -in all the great city. - -The ground floor, or rather the floor above the English basement, -contained the _salon_ and fitting rooms of an establishment known to -every woman in the city as - - DEBORAH'S. - -To return to the Marchioness and Julia. - -"Not that a little dust or even a great deal of dirt will make any -different to the Princess," the former was saying, "but, just the same, -I feel better, if I _know_ we've done our best." - -"Thank the Lord, she don't come very often," was Julia's frank remark. -"It's the stairs, I fancy." - -"And the car-fare," added her mistress. "Is it six o'clock, Julia?" - -"Yes, ma'am, it is." - -The Marchioness groaned a little as she straightened up and tossed the -dust-cloth on the table. "It catches me right across here," she -remarked, putting her hand to the small of her back and wrinkling her -eyes. - -"You shouldn't be doing my work," scolded Julia. "It's not for the likes -of you to be--" - -"I shall lie down for half an hour," said the Marchioness calmly. "Come -at half-past six, Julia." - -"Just Lady Jane, ma'am? No one else?" - -"No one else," said the other, and preceded Julia down the two flights -of stairs to the charming little apartment on the third floor. "She is a -dear girl, and I enjoy having her all to myself once in a while." - -"She is so, ma'am," agreed Julia, and added. "The oftener the better." - -At half-past seven Julia ran down the stairs to open the gate at the -bottom. She admitted a slender young woman, who said, "Thank you," and -"Good evening, Julia," in the softest, loveliest voice imaginable, and -hurried up, past the apartment of the Marchioness, to the fourth floor. -Julia, in cap and apron, wore a pleased smile as she went in to put the -finishing touches on the coiffure of her mistress. - -"Pity there isn't more like her," she said, at the end of five minutes' -reflection. Patting the silvery crown of the Marchioness, she observed -in a less detached manner: "As I always says, the wonderful part is that -it's all your own, ma'am." - -"I am beginning to dread the stairs as much as any one," said the -Marchioness, as she passed out into the hall and looked up the dimly -lighted steps. "That is a bad sign, Julia." - -A mass of coals crackled in the big fireplace on the top floor, and a -tall man in the resplendent livery of a footman was engaged in poking -them up when the Marchioness entered. - -"Bitterly cold, isn't it, Moody?" inquired she, approaching with stately -tread, her lorgnon lifted. - -"It is, my lady,--extremely nawsty," replied Moody. "The trams are a bit -off, or I should 'ave 'ad the coals going 'alf an hour sooner -than--Ahem! They call it a blizzard, my lady." - -"I know, thank you, Moody." - -"Thank you, my lady," and he moved stiffly off in the direction of the -foyer. - -The Marchioness languidly selected a magazine from the litter of -periodicals on the table. It was _La Figaro_, and of recent date. There -were magazines from every capital in Europe on that long and time-worn -table. - -A warm, soft light filled the room, shed by antique lanthorns and -wall-lamps that gave forth no cruel glare. Standing beside the table, -the Marchioness was a remarkable picture. The slight, drooping figure of -the woman with the dust-cloth and creaking knees had been transformed, -like Cinderella, into a fairly regal creature attired in one of the most -fetching costumes ever turned out by the rapacious Deborah, of the first -floor front! - -The foyer curtains parted, revealing the plump, venerable figure of a -butler who would have done credit to the lordliest house in all England. - -"Lady Jane Thorne," he announced, and a slim, radiant young person -entered the room, and swiftly approached the smiling Marchioness. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - OUT OF THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE EARTH - - -"AM I late?" she inquired, a trace of anxiety in her smiling blue eyes. -She was clasping the hand of the taut little Marchioness, who looked up -into the lovely face with the frankest admiration. - -"I have only this instant finished dressing," said her hostess. "Moody -informs me we're in for a blizzard. Is it so bad as all that?" - -"What a perfectly heavenly frock!" cried Lady Jane Thorne, standing off -to take in the effect. "Turn around, do. Exquisite! Dear me, I wish I -could--but there! Wishing is a form of envy. We shouldn't wish for -anything, Marchioness. If we didn't, don't you see how perfectly -delighted we should be with what we have? Oh, yes,--it is a horrid -night. The trolley-cars are blocked, the omnibuses are stalled, and -walking is almost impossible. How good the fire looks!" - -"Cheerful, isn't it? Now you must let me have my turn at wishing, my -dear. If I could have my wish, you would be disporting yourself in the -best that Deborah can turn out, and you would be worth millions to her -as an advertisement. You've got style, figure, class, verve--everything. -You carry your clothes as if you were made for them and not the other -way round." - -"This gown is so old I sometimes think I _was_ made for it," said the -girl gaily. "I can't remember when it was made for _me_." - -Moody had drawn two chairs up to the fire. - -"Rubbish!" said the Marchioness, sitting down. "Toast your toes, my -dear." - -Lady Jane's gown was far from modish. In these days of swift-changing -fashions for women, it had become passé long before its usefulness or -its beauty had passed. Any woman would have told you that it was a -"season before last model," which would be so distantly removed from the -present that its owner may be forgiven the justifiable invention -concerning her memory. - -But Lady Jane's figure was not old, nor passé, nor even a thing to be -forgotten easily. She was straight, and slim, and sound of body and -limb. That is to say, she stood well on her feet and suggested strength -rather than fragility. Her neck and shoulders were smooth and white and -firm; her arms shapely and capable, her hands long and slender and -aristocratic. Her dark brown hair was abundant and wavy;--it had never -experienced the baleful caress of a curling-iron. Her firm, red lips -were of the smiling kind,--and she must have known that her teeth were -white and strong and beautiful, for she smiled more often than not with -parted lips. There was character, intelligence and breeding in her face. - -She wore a simple black velvet gown, close-fitting,--please remember -that it was of an antiquity not even surpassed, as things go, by the -oldest rug in the apartment,--with a short train. She was fully a head -taller than the Marchioness, which isn't saying much when you are -informed that the latter was at least half-a-head shorter than a woman -of medium height. - -On the little finger of her right hand she wore a heavy seal ring of -gold. If you had known her well enough to hold her hand--to the light, I -mean,--you would have been able to decipher the markings of a crest, -notwithstanding the fact that age had all but obliterated the lines. - -Dinner was formal only in the manner in which it was served. Behind the -chair of the Marchioness, Moody posed loftily when not otherwise -employed. A critical observer would have taken note of the threadbare -condition of his coat, especially at the elbows, and the somewhat snug -way in which it adhered to him, fore and aft. Indeed, there was an -ever-present peril in its snugness. He was painfully deliberate and -detached. - -From time to time, a second footman, addressed as McFaddan, paused back -of Lady Jane. His chin was not quite so high in the air as Moody's; the -higher he raised it the less it looked like a chin. McFaddan, you would -remark, carried a great deal of weight above the hips. The ancient -butler, Cricklewick, decanted the wine, lifted his right eyebrow for the -benefit of Moody, the left in directing McFaddan, and cringed slightly -with each trip upward of the dumb-waiter. - -The Marchioness and Lady Jane were in a gay mood despite the studied -solemnity of the three servants. As dinner has no connection with this -narrative except to introduce an effect of opulence, we will hurry -through with it and allow Moody and McFaddan to draw back the chairs on -a signal transmitted by Cricklewick, and return to the drawing-room with -the two ladies. - -"A quarter of nine," said the Marchioness, peering at the French clock -through her lorgnon. "I am quite sure the Princess will not venture out -on such a night as this." - -"She's really quite an awful pill," said Lady Jane calmly. "I for one -sha'n't be broken-hearted if she doesn't venture." - -"For heaven's sake, don't let Cricklewick hear you say such a thing," -said the Marchioness in a furtive undertone. - -"I've heard Cricklewick say even worse," retorted the girl. She lowered -her voice to a confidential whisper. "No longer ago than yesterday he -told me that she made him tired, or something of the sort." - -"Poor Cricklewick! I fear he is losing ambition," mused the Marchioness. -"An ideal butler but a most dreary creature the instant he attempts to -be a human being. It isn't possible. McFaddan is quite human. That's why -he is so fat. I am not sure that I ever told you, but he was quite a -slim, puny lad when Cricklewick took him out of the stables and made a -very decent footman out of him. That was a great many years ago, of -course. Camelford left him a thousand pounds in his will. I have always -believed it was hush money. McFaddan was a very wide-awake chap in those -days." The Marchioness lowered one eye-lid slowly. - -"And, by all reports, the Marquis of Camelford was very well worth -watching," said Lady Jane. - -"Hear the wind!" cried the Marchioness, with a little shiver. "How it -shrieks!" - -"We were speaking of the Marquis," said Lady Jane. - -"But one may always fall back on the weather," said the Marchioness -drily. "Even at its worst it is a pleasanter thing to discuss than -Camelford. You can't get anything out of me, my dear. I was his next -door neighbour for twenty years, and I don't believe in talking about -one's neighbour." - -Lady Jane stared for a moment. "But--how quaint you are!--you were -married to him almost as long as that, were you not?" - -"My clearest,--I may even say my dearest,--recollection of him is as a -neighbour, Lady Jane. He was most agreeable next door." - -Cricklewick appeared in the door. - -"Count Antonio Fogazario," he announced. - -A small, wizened man in black satin knee-breeches entered the room and -approached the Marchioness. With courtly grace he lifted her fingers to -his lips and, in a voice that quavered slightly, declared in French that -his joy on seeing her again was only surpassed by the hideous gloom he -had experienced during the week that had elapsed since their last -meeting. - -"But now the gloom is dispelled and I am basking in sunshine so rare and -soft and--" - -"My dear Count," broke in the Marchioness, "you forget that we are -enjoying the worst blizzard of the year." - -"Enjoying,--vastly enjoying it!" he cried. "It is the most enchanting -blizzard I have ever known. Ah, my dear Lady Jane! This _is_ -delightful!" - -His sharp little face beamed with pleasure. The vast pleated shirt front -extended itself to amazing proportions, as if blown up by an invisible -though prodigious bellows, and his elbow described an angle of -considerable elevation as he clasped the slim hand of the tall young -woman. The crown of his sleek black toupee was on a line with her -shoulder. - -"God bless me," he added, in a somewhat astonished manner, "this is most -gratifying. I could not have lifted it half that high yesterday without -experiencing the most excruciating agony." He worked his arm up and down -experimentally. "Quite all right, quite all right. I feared I was in for -another siege. I cannot tell you how delighted I am. Ahem! Where was I? -Oh, yes--This is a pleasure, Lady Jane, a positive delight. How charming -you are look--" - -"Save your compliments, Count, for the Princess," interrupted the girl, -smiling. "She is coming, you know." - -"I doubt it," he said, fumbling for his snuff-box. "I saw her this -afternoon. Chilblains. Weather like this, you see. Quite a distance from -her place to the street-cars. Frightful going. I doubt it very much. -Now, what was it she said to me this afternoon? Something very -important, I remember distinctly,--but it seems to have slipped my mind -completely. I am fearfully annoyed with myself. I remember with great -distinctness that it was something I was determined to remember, and -here I am forgetting--Ah, let me see! It comes to me like a flash. I -have it! She said she felt as though she had a cold coming on or -something like that. Yes, I am sure that was it. I remember she blew her -nose frequently, and she always makes a dreadful noise when she blows -her nose. A really unforgettable noise, you know. Now, when I blow my -nose, I don't behave like an elephant. I--" - -"You blow it like a gentleman," interrupted the Marchioness, as he -paused in some confusion. - -"Indeed I do," he said gratefully. "In the most polished manner -possible, my dear lady." - -Lady Jane put her handkerchief to her lips. There was a period of -silence. The Count appeared to be thinking with great intensity. He had -a harassed expression about the corners of his nose. It was he who broke -the silence. He broke it with a most tremendous sneeze. - -"The beastly snuff," he said in apology. - -Cricklewick's voice seemed to act as an echo to the remark. - -"The Right-Honourable Mrs. Priestly-Duff," he announced, and an angular, -middle-aged lady in a rose-coloured gown entered the room. She had a -very long nose and prominent teeth; her neck was of amazing length and -appeared to be attached to her shoulders by means of vertical, -skin-covered ropes, running from torso to points just behind her ears, -where they were lost in a matting of faded, straw-coloured hair. On -second thought, it may be simpler to remark that her neck was amazingly -scrawny. It will save confusion. Her voice was a trifle strident and her -French execrable. - -"Isn't it awful?" she said as she joined the trio at the fireplace. "I -thought I'd never get here. Two hours coming, my dear, and I must be -starting home at once if I want to get there before midnight." - -"The Princess will be here," said the Marchioness. - -"I'll wait fifteen minutes," said the new-comer crisply, pulling up her -gloves. "I've had a trying day, Marchioness. Everything has gone -wrong,--even the drains. They're frozen as tight as a drum and heaven -knows when they'll get them thawed out! Who ever heard of such weather -in March?" - -"Ah, my dear Mrs. Priestly-Duff, you should not forget the beautiful -sunshine we had yesterday," said the Count cheerily. - -"Precious little good it does today," she retorted, looking down upon -him from a lofty height, and as if she had not noticed his presence -before. "When did you come in, Count?" - -"It is quite likely the Princess will not venture out in such weather," -interposed the Marchioness, sensing squalls. - -"Well, I'll stop a bit anyway and get my feet warm. I hope she doesn't -come. She is a good deal of a wet blanket, you must admit." - -"Wet blankets," began the Count argumentatively, and then, catching a -glance from the Marchioness, cleared his throat, blew his nose, and -mumbled something about poor people who had no blankets at all, God help -them on such a night as this. - -Lady Jane had turned away from the group and was idly turning the leaves -of the _Illustrated London News_. The smallest intelligence would have -grasped the fact that Mrs. Priestly-Duff was not a genial soul. - -"Who else is coming?" she demanded, fixing the little hostess with the -stare that had just been removed from the back of Lady Jane's head. - -Cricklewick answered from the doorway. - -"Lord Temple. Baron--ahem!--Whiskers--eh? Baron Wissmer. Prince Waldemar -de Bosky. Count Wilhelm Frederick Von Blitzen." - -Four young men advanced upon the Marchioness, Lord Temple in the van. He -was a tall, good-looking chap, with light brown hair that curled -slightly above the ears, and eyes that danced. - -"This, my dear Marchioness, is my friend, Baron Wissmer," he said, after -bending low over her hand. - -The Baron, whose broad hands were encased in immaculate white gloves -that failed by a wide margin to button across his powerful wrists, -smiled sheepishly as he enveloped her fingers in his huge palm. - -"It is good of you to let me come, Marchioness," he said awkwardly, a -deep flush spreading over his sea-tanned face. "If I manage to deport -myself like the bull in the china shop, pray lay it to clumsiness and -not to ignorance. It has been a very long time since I touched the hand -of a Marchioness." - -"Small people, like myself, may well afford to be kind and forgiving to -giants," said she, smiling. "Dear me, how huge you are." - -"I was once in the Emperor's Guard," said he, straightening his figure -to its full six feet and a half. "The Blue Hussars. I may add with pride -that I was not so horribly clumsy in regimentals. After all, it is the -clothes that makes the man." He smiled as he looked himself over. "I -shall not be at all offended or even embarrassed if you say 'goodness, -how you have grown!'" - -"The best tailor in London made that suit of clothes," said Lord Temple, -surveying his friend with an appraising eye. Out of the corner of the -same eye he explored the region beyond the group that now clustered -about the hostess. Evidently he discovered what he was looking for. -Leaving the Baron high and dry, he skirted the edge of the group and, -with beaming face, came to Lady Jane. - -"My family is of Vienna," the Baron was saying to the Marchioness, "but -of late years I have called Constantinople my home." - -"I understand," said she gently. She asked no other question, but, -favouring him with a kindly smile, turned her attention to the men who -lurked insignificantly in the shadow of his vast bulk. - -The Prince was a pale, dreamy young man with flowing black hair that -must have been a constant menace to his vision, judging by the frequent -and graceful sweep of his long, slender hand in brushing the encroaching -forelock from his eyes, over which it spread briefly in the nature of a -veil. He had the fingers of a musician, the bearing of a violinist. His -head drooped slightly toward his left shoulder, which was always raised -a trifle above the level of the right. And there was in his soft brown -eyes the faraway look of the detached. The insignia of his house hung -suspended by a red ribbon in the centre of his white shirt front, while -on the lapel of his coat reposed the emblem of the Order of the Golden -Star. He was a Pole. - -Count Von Blitzen, a fair-haired, pink-skinned German, urged himself -forward with typical, not-to-be-denied arrogance, and crushed the -fingers of the Marchioness in his fat hand. His broad face beamed with -an all-enveloping smile. - -"Only patriots and lovers venture forth on such nights as this," he -said, in a guttural voice that rendered his French almost laughable. - -"With an occasional thief or varlet," supplemented the Marchioness. - -"Ach, Dieu," murmured the Count. - -Fresh arrivals were announced by Cricklewick. For the next ten or -fifteen minutes they came thick and fast, men and women of all ages, -nationality and condition, and not one of them without a high-sounding -title. They disposed themselves about the vast room, and a subdued vocal -hubbub ensued. If here and there elderly guests, with gnarled and -painfully scrubbed hands, preferred isolation and the pictorial contents -of a magazine from the land of their nativity, it was not with snobbish -intentions. They were absorbing the news from "home," in the regular -weekly doses. - -The regal, resplendent Countess du Bara, of the Opera, held court in one -corner of the room. Another was glorified by a petite baroness from the -Artists' Colony far down-town, while a rather dowdy lady with a coronet -monopolized the attention of a small group in the centre of the room. - -Lady Jane Thorne and Lord Temple sat together in a dim recess beyond the -great chair of state, and conversed in low and far from impersonal -tones. - -Cricklewick appeared in the doorway and in his most impressive manner -announced Her Royal Highness, the Princess Mariana Theresa Sebastano -Michelini Celestine di Pavesi. - -And with the entrance of royalty, kind reader, you may consider yourself -introduced, after a fashion, to the real aristocracy of the City of New -York, United States of America,--the titled riff-raff of the world's -cosmopolis. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - THE CITY OF MASKS - - -NEW YORK is not merely a melting pot for the poor and the humble of the -lands of the earth. In its capacious depths, unknown and unsuspected, -float atoms of an entirely different sort: human beings with the blood -of the high-born and lofty in their veins, derelicts swept up by the -varying winds of adversity, adventure, injustice, lawlessness, fear and -independence. - -Lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, swarm to -the Metropolis in the course of the speeding year, heralded by every -newspaper in the land, fêted and feasted and glorified by a capricious -and easily impressed public; they pass with pomp and panoply and we let -them go with reluctance and a vociferous invitation to come again. They -come and they go, and we are informed each morning and evening of every -move they have made during the day and night. We are told what they eat -for breakfast, luncheon and dinner; what they wear and what they do not -wear; where they are entertained and by whom; who they are and why; what -they think of New York and--but why go on? We deny them privacy, and -they think we are a wonderful, considerate and hospitable people. They -go back to their homes in far-off lands,--and that is the end of them so -far as we are concerned. - -They merely pause on the lip of the melting pot, briefly peer into its -simmering depths, and then,--pass on. - -It is not with such as they that this narrative has to deal. It is not -of the heralded, the glorified and the toasted that we tell, but of -those who slip into the pot with the coarser ingredients, and who never, -by any chance, become actually absorbed by the processes of integration -but remain for ever as they were in the beginning: distinct foreign -substances. - -From all quarters of the globe the drift comes to our shores. New York -swallows the good with the bad, and thrives, like the cannibal, on the -man-food it gulps down with ravenous disregard for consequences or -effect. It rarely disgorges. - -It eats all flesh, foul or fair, and it drinks good red blood out of the -same cup that offers a black and nauseous bile. It conceals its inward -revulsion behind a bland, disdainful smile, and holds out its hands for -more of the meat and poison that comes up from the sea in ships. - -It is the City of Masks. - -Its men and women hide behind a million masks; no man looks beneath the -mask his neighbour wears, for he is interested only in that which he -sees with the least possible effort: the surface. He sees his neighbour -but he knows him not. He keeps his own mask in place and wanders among -the millions, secure in the thought that all other men are as casual as -he,--and as charitable. - -From time to time the newspapers come forward with stories that amaze -and interest those of us who remain, and always will remain, romantic -and impressionable. They tell of the royal princess living in squalor on -the lower east side; of the heir to a baronetcy dying in poverty in a -hospital somewhere up-town; of the countess who defies the wolf by -dancing in the roof-gardens; of the lost arch-duke who has been -recognized in a gang of stevedores; of the earl who lands in jail as an -ordinary hobo; of the baroness who supports a shiftless husband and -their offspring by giving music-lessons; of the retiring scholar who -scorns a life of idleness and a coronet besides; of shifty -ne'er-do-wells with titles at homes and aliases elsewhere; of fugitive -lords and forgotten ladies; of thieves and bauds and wastrels who stand -revealed in their extremity as the sons and daughters of noble houses. - -In this City of Masks there are hundreds of men and women in whose veins -the blood of a sound aristocracy flows. By choice or necessity they have -donned the mask of obscurity. They tread the paths of oblivion. They -toil, beg or steal to keep pace with circumstance. But the blood will -not be denied. In the breast of each of these drifters throbs the pride -of birth, in the soul of each flickers the unquenchable flame of caste. -The mask is for the man outside, not for the man inside. - -Recently there died in one of the municipal hospitals an old -flower-woman, familiar for three decades to the thousands who thread -their way through the maze of streets in the lower end of Manhattan. To -them she was known as Old Peg. To herself she was the Princess -Feododric, born to the purple, daughter of one of the greatest families -in Russia. She was never anything but the Princess to herself, despite -the squalor in which she lived. Her epitaph was written in the bold, -black head-lines of the newspapers; but her history was laid away with -her mask in a graveyard far from palaces--and flower-stands. Her -headstone revealed the uncompromising pride that survived her after -death. By her direction it bore the name of Feododric, eldest daughter -of His Highness, Prince Michael Androvodski; born in St. Petersburgh, -September 12, 1841; died Jan. 7, 1912; wife of James Lumley, of County -Cork, Ireland. - -It is of the high-born who dwell in low places that this tale is told. -It is of an aristocracy that serves and smiles and rarely sneers behind -its mask. - -When Cricklewick announced the Princess Mariana Theresa the hush of -deference fell upon the assembled company. In the presence of royalty no -one remained seated. - -She advanced slowly, ponderously into the room, bowing right and left as -she crossed to the great chair at the upper end. One by one the others -presented themselves and kissed the coarse, unlovely hand she held out -to them. It was not "make-believe." It was her due. The blood of a king -and a queen coursed through her veins; she had been born a Princess -Royal. - -She was sixty, but her hair was as black as the coat of the raven. Time, -tribulation, and a harsh destiny had put each its own stamp upon her -dark, almost sinister, face. The black eyes were sharp and calculating, -and they did not smile with her thin lips. She wore a great amount of -jewellery and a gown of blue velvet, lavishly bespangled and generously -embellished with laces of many periods, values and, you could say, -nativity. - -The Honourable Mrs. Priestly-Duff having been a militant suffragette -before a sudden and enforced departure from England, was the only person -there with the hardihood to proclaim, not altogether _sotto voce_, that -the "get-up" was a fright. - -Restraint vanished the instant the last kiss of tribute fell upon her -knuckles. The Princess put her hand to her side, caught her breath -sharply, and remarked to the Marchioness, who stood near by, that it was -dreadful the way she was putting on weight. She was afraid of splitting -something if she took a long, natural breath. - -"I haven't weighed myself lately," she said, "but the last time I had -this dress on it felt like a kimono. Look at it now! You could not stuff -a piece of tissue paper between it and me to save your soul. I shall -have to let it out a couple of--What were you about to say, Count -Fogazario?" - -The little Count, at the Marchioness's elbow, repeated something he had -already said, and added: - -"And if it continues there will not be a trolley-car running by -midnight." - -The Princess eyed him coldly. "That is just like a man," she said. "Not -the faintest idea of what we were talking about, Marchioness." - -The Count bowed. "You were speaking of tissue paper, Princess," said he, -stiffly. "I understood perfectly." - -Once a week the Marchioness held her amazing salon. Strictly speaking, -it was a co-operative affair. The so-called guests were in reality -contributors to and supporters of an enterprise that had been going on -for the matter of five years in the heart of unsuspecting New York. -According to his or her means, each of these exiles paid the tithe or -tax necessary, and became in fact a member of the inner circle. - -From nearly every walk in life they came to this common, converging -point, and sat them down with their equals, for the moment laying aside -the mask to take up a long-discarded and perhaps despised reality. They -became lords and ladies all over again, and not for a single instant was -there the slightest deviation from dignity or form. - -Moral integrity was the only requirement, and that, for obvious reasons, -was sometimes overlooked,--as for example in the case of the Countess -who eloped with the young artist and lived in complacent shame and -happiness with him in a three-room flat in East Nineteenth street. The -artist himself was barred from the salon, not because of his ignoble -action, but for the sufficient reason that he was of ignoble birth. -Outside the charmed conclave he was looked upon as a most engaging chap. -And there was also the case of the appallingly amiable baron who had -fired four shots at a Russian Grand-Duke and got away with his life in -spite of the vaunted secret service. It was of no moment whatsoever that -one of his bullets accidentally put an end to the life of a guardsman. -That was merely proof of his earnestness and in no way reflected on his -standing as a nobleman. Nor was it adequate cause for rejection that -certain of these men and women were being sought by Imperial Governments -because they were political fugitives, with prices on their heads. - -The Marchioness, more prosperous than any of her associates, assumed the -greater part of the burden attending this singular reversion to form. It -was she who held the lease on the building, from cellar to roof, and it -was she who paid that important item of expense: the rent. The -Marchioness was no other than the celebrated Deborah, whose gowns -issuing from the lower floors at prodigious prices, gave her a standing -in New York that not even the plutocrats and parvenus could dispute. In -private life she may have been a Marchioness, but to all New York she -was known as the queen of dressmakers. - -If you desired to consult Deborah in person you inquired for Mrs. -Sparflight, or if you happened to be a new customer and ignorant, you -were set straight by an attendant (with a slight uplifting of the -eyebrows) when you asked for Madame "Deborah." - -The ownership of the rare pieces of antique furniture, rugs, tapestries -and paintings was vested in two members of the circle, one occupying a -position in the centre of the ring, the other on the outer rim: Count -Antonio Fogazario and Moody, the footman. For be it known that while -Moody reverted once a week to a remote order of existence he was for the -balance of the time an exceedingly prosperous, astute and highly -respected dealer in antiques, with a shop in Madison Avenue and a -clientele that considered it the grossest impertinence to dispute the -prices he demanded. He always looked forward to these "drawing-rooms," -so to speak. It was rather a joy to disregard the aspirates. He dropped -enough hs on a single evening to make up for a whole week of deliberate -speech. - -As for Count Antonio, he was the purveyor of Italian antiques and -primitive paintings, "authenticity guaranteed," doing business under the -name of "Juneo & Co., Ltd. London, Paris, Rome, New York." He was known -in the trade and at his bank as Mr. Juneo. - -Occasionally the exigencies of commerce necessitated the substitution of -an article from stock for one temporarily loaned to the fifth-floor -drawing-room. - -During the seven days in the week, Mr. Moody and Mr. Juneo observed a -strained but common equality. Mr. Moody contemptuously referred to Mr. -Juneo as a second-hand dealer, while Mr. Juneo, with commercial -bitterness, informed his patrons that Pickett, Inc., needed a lot of -watching. But on these Wednesday nights a vast abyss stretched between -them. They were no longer rivals in business. Mr. Juneo, without the -slightest sign of arrogance, put Mr. Moody in his place, and Mr. Moody, -with perfect equanimity, quite properly stayed there. - -"A chair over here, Moody," the Count would say (to Pickett, Inc.,) and -Moody, with all the top-lofty obsequiousness of the perfect footman, -would place a chair in the designated spot, and say: - -"H'anythink else, my lord? Thank you, sir." - -On this particular Wednesday night two topics of paramount interest -engaged the attention of the company. The newspapers of that day had -printed the story of the apprehension and seizure of one Peter Jolinski, -wanted in Warsaw on the charge of assassination. - -As Count Andreas Verdray he was known to this exclusive circle of -Europeans, and to them he was a persecuted, unjustly accused fugitive -from the land of his nativity. Russian secret service men had run him to -earth after five years of relentless pursuit. As a respectable, -industrious window-washer he had managed for years to evade arrest for a -crime he had not committed, and now he was in jail awaiting extradition -and almost certain death at the hands of his intriguing enemies. A -cultured scholar, a true gentleman, he was, despite his vocation, one of -the most distinguished units in this little world of theirs. The -authorities in Warsaw charged him with instigating the plot to -assassinate a powerful and autocratic officer of the Crown. In more or -less hushed voices, the assemblage discussed the unhappy event. - -The other topic was the need of immediate relief for the family of the -Baroness de Flamme, who was on her death-bed in Harlem and whose three -small children, deprived of the support of a hard-working music-teacher -and deserted by an unconscionably plebeian father, were in a pitiable -state of destitution. Acting on the suggestion of Lord Temple, who as -Thomas Trotter earned a weekly stipend of thirty dollars as chauffeur -for a prominent Park Avenue gentleman, a collection was taken, each -person giving according to his means. The largest contribution was from -Count Fogazario, who headed the list with twenty-five dollars. The -Marchioness was down for twenty. The smallest donation was from Prince -Waldemar. Producing a solitary coin, he made change, and after saving -out ten cents for carfare, donated forty cents. - -Cricklewick, Moody and McFaddan were not invited to contribute. No one -would have dreamed of asking them to join in such a movement. And yet, -of all those present, the three men-servants were in a better position -than any one else to give handsomely. They were, in fact, the richest -men there. The next morning, however, would certainly bring checks from -their offices to the custodian of the fund, the Hon. Mrs. Priestly-Duff. -They knew their places on Wednesday night, however. - -The Countess du Bara, from the Opera, sang later on in the evening; -Prince Waldemar got out his violin and played; the gay young baroness -from the Artists' Colony played accompaniments very badly on the baby -grand piano; Cricklewick and the footmen served coffee and sandwiches, -and every one smoked in the dining-room. - -At eleven o'clock the Princess departed. She complained a good deal of -her feet. - -"It's the weather," she explained to the Marchioness, wincing a little -as she made her way to the door. - -"Too bad," said the Marchioness. "Are we to be honoured on next -Wednesday night, your highness? You do not often grace our gatherings, -you know. I--" - -"It will depend entirely on circumstances," said the Princess, -graciously. - -Circumstances, it may be mentioned,--though they never were mentioned on -Wednesday nights,--had a great deal to do with the Princess's actions. -She conducted a pawn-shop in Baxter street. As the widow and sole -legatee of Moses Jacobs, she was quite a figure in the street. Customers -came from all corners of the town, and without previous appointment. -Report had it that Mrs. Jacobs was rolling in money. People slunk in and -out of the front door of her place of business, penniless on entering, -affluent on leaving,--if you would call the possession of a dollar or -two affluence,--and always with the resolve in their souls to some day -get even with the leech who stood behind the counter and doled out -nickels where dollars were expected. - -It was an open secret that more than one of those who kissed the -Princess's hand in the Marchioness's drawing-room carried pawnchecks -issued by Mrs. Jacobs. Business was business. Sentiment entered the soul -of the Princess only on such nights as she found it convenient and -expedient to present herself at the Salon. It vanished the instant she -put on her street clothes on the floor below and passed out into the -night. Avarice stepped in as sentiment stepped out, and one should not -expect too much of avarice. - -For one, the dreamy, half-starved Prince Waldemar was rarely without -pawnchecks from her delectable establishment. Indeed it had been -impossible for him to entertain the company on this stormy evening -except for her grudging consent to substitute his overcoat for the -Stradivarius he had been obliged to leave the day before. - -Without going too deeply into her history, it is only necessary to say -that she was one of those wayward, wilful princesses royal who -occasionally violate all tradition and marry good-looking young -Americans or Englishmen, and disappear promptly and automatically from -court circles. - -She ran away when she was nineteen with a young attaché in the British -legation. It was the worst thing that could have happened to the poor -chap. For years they drifted through many lands, finally ending in New -York, where, their resources having been exhausted, she was forced to -pawn her jewellery. The pawn-broker was one Abraham Jacobs, of Baxter -street. - -The young English husband, disheartened and thoroughly disillusioned, -shot himself one fine day. By a single coincidence, a few weeks -afterward, old Abraham went to his fathers in the most agreeable fashion -known to nature, leaving his business, including the princess's jewels, -to his son Moses. - -With rare foresight and acumen, Mrs. Brinsley (the Princess, in other -words), after several months of contemplative mourning, redeemed her -treasure by marrying Moses. And when Moses, after begetting Solomon, -David and Hannah, passed on at the age of twoscore years and ten, she -continued the business with even greater success than he. She did not -alter the name that flourished in large gold letters on the two show -windows and above the hospitable doorway. For twenty years it had read: -The Royal Exchange: M. Jacobs, Proprietor. And now you know all that is -necessary to know about Mariana, to this day a true princess of the -blood. - -Inasmuch as a large share of her business came through customers who -preferred to visit her after the fall of night, there is no further need -to explain her reply to the Marchioness. - -When midnight came the Marchioness was alone in the deserted -drawing-room. The company had dispersed to the four corners of the -storm-swept city, going by devious means and routes. - -They fared forth into the night _sans_ ceremony, _sans_ regalia. In the -locker-rooms on the floor below each of these noble wights divested -himself and herself of the raiment donned for the occasion. With the -turning of a key in the locker door, barons became ordinary men, -countesses became mere women, and all of them stole regretfully out of -the passage at the foot of the first flight of stairs and shivered in -the wind that blew through the City of Masks. - -"I've got more money than I know what to do with, Miss Emsdale," said -Tom Trotter, as they went together out into the bitter wind. "I'll blow -you off to a taxi." - -"I couldn't think of it," said the erstwhile Lady Jane, drawing her -small stole close about her neck. - -"But it's on my way home," said he. "I'll drop you at your front door. -Please do." - -"If I may stand half," she said resolutely. - -"We'll see," said he. "Wait here in the doorway till I fetch a taxi from -the hotel over there. Oh, I say, Herman, would you mind asking one of -those drivers over there to pick us up here?" - -"Sure," said Herman, one time Count Wilhelm Frederick Von Blitzen, who -had followed them to the side-walk. "Fierce night, ain'd it? Py chiminy, -ain'd it?" - -"Where is your friend, Mr. Trotter," inquired Miss Emsdale, as the -stalwart figure of one of the most noted head-waiters in New York -struggled off against the wind. - -"He beat it quite a while ago," said he, with an enlightening grin. - -"Oh?" said she, and met his glance in the darkness. A sudden warmth -swept over her. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - THE SCION OF A NEW YORK HOUSE - - -AS Miss Emsdale and Thomas Trotter got down from the taxi, into a huge -unbroken snowdrift in front of a house in one of the cross-town streets -just off upper Fifth Avenue, a second taxi drew up behind them and -barked a raucous command to pull up out of the way. But the first taxi -was unable to do anything of the sort, being temporarily though -explosively stalled in the drift along the curb. Whereupon the fare in -the second taxi threw open the door and, with an audible imprecation, -plunged into the drift, just in time to witness the interesting -spectacle of a lady being borne across the snow-piled sidewalk in the -arms of a stalwart man; and, as he gazed in amazement, the man and his -burden ascended the half-dozen steps leading to the storm-vestibule of -the very house to which he himself was bound. - -His first shock of apprehension was dissipated almost instantly. The -man's burden giggled quite audibly as he set her down inside the storm -doors. That giggle was proof positive that she was neither dead nor -injured. She was very much alive, there could be no doubt about it. But -who was she? - -The newcomer swore softly as he fumbled in his trousers' pocket for a -coin for the driver who had run him up from the club. After an -exasperating but seemingly necessary delay he hurried up the steps. He -met the stalwart burden-bearer coming down. A servant had opened the -door and the late burden was passing into the hall. - -He peered sharply into the face of the man who was leaving, and -recognized him. - -"Hello," he said. "Some one ill, Trotter?" - -"No, Mr. Smith-Parvis," replied Trotter in some confusion. "Disagreeable -night, isn't it?" - -"In some respects," said young Mr. Smith-Parvis, and dashed into the -vestibule before the footman could close the door. - -Miss Emsdale turned at the foot of the broad stairway as she heard the -servant greet the young master. A swift flush mounted to her cheeks. Her -heart beat a little faster, notwithstanding the fact that it had been -beating with unusual rapidity ever since Thomas Trotter disregarded her -protests and picked her up in his strong arms. - -"Hello," he said, lowering his voice. - -There was a light in the library beyond. His father was there, taking -advantage, no doubt, of the midnight lull to read the evening -newspapers. The social activities of the Smith-Parvises gave him but -little opportunity to read the evening papers prior to the appearance of -the morning papers. - -"What is the bally rush?" went on the young man, slipping out of his -fur-lined overcoat and leaving it pendant in the hands of the footman. -Miss Emsdale, after responding to his hushed "hello" in an equally -subdued tone, had started up the stairs. - -"It is very late, Mr. Smith-Parvis. Good night." - -"Never too late to mend," he said, and was supremely well-satisfied with -what a superior intelligence might have recorded as a cryptic remark but -what, to him, was an awfully clever "come-back." He had spent three -years at Oxford. No beastly American college for him, by Jove! - -Overcoming a cultivated antipathy to haste,--which he considered the -lowest form of ignorance,--he bounded up the steps, three at a time, and -overtook her midway to the top. - -"I say, Miss Emsdale, I saw you come in, don't you know. I couldn't -believe my eyes. What the deuce were you doing out with that -common--er--chauffeur? D'you mean to say that you are running about with -a chap of that sort, and letting him--" - -"If you _please_, Mr. Smith-Parvis!" interrupted Miss Emsdale coldly. -"Good night!" - -"I don't mean to say you haven't the _right_ to go about with any one -you please," he persisted, planting himself in front of her at the top -of the steps. "But a common chauffeur--Well, now, 'pon my word, Miss -Emsdale, really you might just as well be seen with Peasley down there." - -"Peasley is out of the question," said she, affecting a wry little -smile, as of self-pity. "He is tooken, as you say in America. He walks -out with Bessie, the parlour-maid." - -"Walks out? Good Lord, you don't mean to say you'd--but, of course, -you're spoofing me. One never knows how to take you English, no matter -how long one may have lived in England. But I am serious. You cannot -afford to be seen running around nights with fellows of that stripe. -Rotten bounders, that's what I call 'em. Ever been out with him before?" - -"Often, Mr. Smith-Parvis," she replied calmly. "I am sure you would like -him if you knew him better. He is really a very--" - -"Nonsense! He is a good chauffeur, I've no doubt,--Lawrie Carpenter says -he's a treasure, but I've no desire to know him any better. And I don't -like to think of you knowing him quite as well as you do, Miss Emsdale. -See what I mean?" - -"Perfectly. You mean that you will go to your mother with the report -that I am not a fit person to be with the children. Isn't that what you -mean?" - -"Not at all. I'm not thinking of the kids. I'm thinking of myself. I'm -pretty keen about you, and--" - -"Aren't you forgetting yourself, Mr. Smith-Parvis?" she demanded curtly. - -"Oh, I know there'd be a devil of a row if the mater ever dreamed that -I--Oh, I say! Don't rush off in a huff. Wait a--" - -But she had brushed past him and was swiftly ascending the second flight -of stairs. - -He stared after her in astonishment. He couldn't understand such -stupidity, not even in a governess. There wasn't another girl in New -York City, so far as he knew, who wouldn't have been pleased out of her -boots to receive the significant mark of interest he was bestowing upon -this lowly governess,--and here was she turning her back upon,--Why, -what was the matter with her? He passed his hand over his brow and -blinked a couple of times. And she only a paid governess! It was -incredible. - -He went slowly downstairs and, still in a sort of daze, found himself a -few minutes later pouring out a large drink of whiskey in the -dining-room. It was his habit to take a bottle of soda with his whiskey, -but on this occasion he overcame it and gulped the liquor "neat." It -appeared to be rather uplifting, so he had another. Then he went up to -his own room and sulked for an hour before even preparing for bed. The -more he thought of it, the graver her unseemly affront became. - -"And to have her insult _me_ like that," he said to himself over and -over again, "when not three minutes before she had let that bally -bounder carry her up--By gad, I'll give her something to think about in -the morning. She sha'n't do that sort of thing to me. She'll find -herself out of a job and with a damned poor reference in her pocket if -she gets gay with me. She'll come down from her high horse, all right, -all right. Positions like this one don't grow in the park. She's got to -understand that. She can't go running around with chauffeurs and all--My -God, to think that he had her in his arms! The one girl in all the world -who has ever really made me sit up and take notice! Gad, I--I can't -stand it--I can't bear to think of her cuddling up to that--The damned -bounder!" - -He sprang to his feet and bolted out into the hall. He was a spoiled -young man with an aversion: an aversion to being denied anything that he -wanted. - -In the brief history of the Smith-Parvis family he occupied many full -and far from prosaic pages. Smith-Parvis, Senior, was not a prodigal -sort of person, and yet he had squandered a great many thousands of -dollars in his time on Smith-Parvis, Junior. It costs money to bring up -young men like Smith-Parvis, Junior; and by the same token it costs -money to hold them down. The family history, if truthfully written, -would contain passages in which the unbridled ambitions of Smith-Parvis, -Junior, overwhelmed everything else. There would be the chapters -excoriating the two chorus-girls who, in not widely separated instances, -consented to release the young man from matrimonial pledges in return -for so much cash; and there would be numerous paragraphs pertaining to -auction-bridge, and others devoted entirely to tailors; to say nothing -of uncompromising café and restaurant keepers who preferred the -Smith-Parvis money to the Smith-Parvis trade. - -The young man, having come to the conclusion that he wanted Miss -Emsdale, ruthlessly decided to settle the matter at once. He would not -wait till morning. He would go up to her room and tell her that if she -knew what was good for her she'd listen to what he had to say. She was -too nice a girl to throw herself away on a rotter like Trotter. - -Then, as he came to the foot of the steps, he remembered the expression -in her eyes as she swept past him an hour earlier. It suddenly occurred -to him to pause and reflect. The look she gave him, now that he thought -of it, was not that of a timid, frightened menial. Far from it! There -was something imperious about it; he recalled the subtle, fleeting and -hitherto unfamiliar chill it gave him. - -Somewhat to his own amazement, he returned to his room and closed the -door with surprising care. He usually slammed it. - -"Dammit all," he said, half aloud, scowling at his reflection in the -mirror across the room, "I--I wonder if she thinks she can put on airs -with me." Later on he regained his self-assurance sufficiently to utter -an ultimatum to the invisible offender: "You'll be eating out of my hand -before you're two days older, my fine lady, or I'll know the reason -why." - -Smith-Parvis, Junior, wore the mask of a gentleman. As a matter-of-fact, -the entire Smith-Parvis family went about masked by a similar air of -gentility. - -The hyphen had a good deal to do with it. - -The head of the family, up to the time he came of age, was William -Philander Smith, commonly called Bill by the young fellows in Yonkers. A -maternal uncle, name of Parvis, being without wife or child at the age -of seventy-eight, indicated a desire to perpetuate his name by hitching -it to the sturdiest patronymic in the English language, and forthwith -made a will, leaving all that he possessed to his only nephew, on -condition that the said nephew and all his descendants should bear, -henceforth and for ever, the name of Smith-Parvis. - -That is how it all came about. William Philander, shortly after the -fusion of names, fell heir to a great deal of money and in due time -forsook Yonkers for Manhattan, where he took unto himself a wife in the -person of Miss Angela Potts, only child of the late Simeon Potts, Esq., -and Mrs. Potts, neither of whom, it would seem, had the slightest desire -to perpetuate the family name. Indeed, as Angela was getting along -pretty well toward thirty, they rather made a point of abolishing it -before it was too late. - -The first-born of William Philander and Angela was christened Stuyvesant -Van Sturdevant Smith-Parvis, after one of the Pottses who came over at a -time when the very best families in Holland, according to the infant's -grandparents, were engaged in establishing an aristocracy at the foot of -Manhattan Island. - -After Stuyvesant,--ten years after, in fact,--came Regina Angela, who -languished a while in the laps of the Pottses and the Smith-Parvis -nurses, and died expectedly. When Stuyvie was fourteen the twins, -Lucille and Eudora, came, and at that the Smith-Parvises packed up and -went to England to live. Stuyvie managed in some way to make his way -through Eton and part of the way through Oxford. He was sent down in his -third year. It wasn't so easy to have his own way there. Moreover, he -did not like Oxford because the rest of the boys persisted in calling -him an American. He didn't mind being called a New Yorker, but they were -rather obstinate about it. - -Miss Emsdale was the new governess. The redoubtable Mrs. Sparflight had -recommended her to Mrs. Smith-Parvis. Since her advent into the home in -Fifth Avenue, some three or four months prior to the opening of this -narrative, a marked change had come over Stuyvesant Van Sturdevant. It -was principally noticeable in a recently formed habit of getting down to -breakfast early. The twins and the governess had breakfast at half-past -eight. Up to this time he had detested the twins. Of late, however, he -appeared to have discovered that they were his sisters and rather -interesting little beggars at that. - -They were very much surprised by his altered behaviour. To the new -governess they confided the somewhat startling suspicion that Stuyvie -must be having softening of the brain, just as "grandpa" had when "papa" -discovered that he was giving diamond rings to the servants and smiling -at strangers in the street. It must be that, said they, for never before -had Stuyvie kissed them or brought them expensive candies or smiled at -them as he was doing in these wonderful days. - -Stranger still, he never had been polite or agreeable to -governesses--before. He always had called them frumps, or cats, or -freaks, or something like that. Surely something must be the matter with -him, or he wouldn't be so nice to Miss Emsdale. Up to now he positively -had refused to look at her predecessors, much less to sit at the same -table with them. He said they took away his appetite. - -The twins adored Miss Emsdale. - -"We love you because you are so awfuly good," they were wont to say. -"And so beautiful," they invariably added, as if it were not quite the -proper thing to say. - -It was obvious to Miss Emsdale that Stuyvesant endorsed the supplemental -tribute of the twins. He made it very plain to the new governess that he -thought more of her beauty than he did of her goodness. He ogled her in -a manner which, for want of a better expression, may be described as -possessive. Instead of being complimented by his surreptitious -admiration, she was distinctly annoyed. She disliked him intensely. - -He was twenty-five. There were bags under his eyes. More than this need -not be said in describing him, unless one is interested in the tiny -black moustache that looked as though it might have been pasted, with -great precision, in the centre of his long upper lip,--directly beneath -the spreading nostrils of a broad and far from aristocratic nose. His -lips were thick and coarse, his chin a trifle undershot. Physically, he -was a well set-up fellow, tall and powerful. - -For reasons best known to himself, and approved by his parents, he -affected a distinctly English manner of speech. In that particular, he -frequently out-Englished the English themselves. - -As for Miss Emsdale, she was a long time going to sleep. The encounter -with the scion of the house had left her in a disturbed frame of mind. -She laid awake for hours wondering what the morrow would produce for -her. Dismissal, no doubt, and with it a stinging rebuke for what Mrs. -Smith-Parvis would consider herself justified in characterizing as -unpardonable misconduct in one employed to teach innocent and -impressionable young girls. Mingled with these dire thoughts were -occasional thrills of delight. They were, however, of short duration and -had to do with a pair of strong arms and a gentle, laughing voice. - -In addition to these shifting fears and thrills, there were even more -disquieting sensations growing out of the unwelcome attentions of -Smith-Parvis, Junior. They were, so to speak, getting on her nerves. And -now he had not only expressed himself in words, but had actually -threatened her. There could be no mistake about that. - -Her heart was heavy. She did not want to lose her position. The monthly -checks she received from Mrs. Smith-Parvis meant a great deal to her. At -least half of her pay went to England, and sometimes more than half. A -friendly solicitor in London obtained the money on these drafts and -forwarded it, without fee, to the sick young brother who would never -walk again, the adored young brother who had fallen prey to the most -cruel of all enemies: infantile paralysis. - -Jane Thorne was the only daughter of the Earl of Wexham, who shot -himself in London when the girl was but twelve years old. He left a -penniless widow and two children. Wexham Manor, with all its fields and -forests, had been sacrificed beforehand by the reckless, ill-advised -nobleman. The police found a half-crown in his pocket when they took -charge of the body. It was the last of a once imposing fortune. The -widow and children subsisted on the charity of a niggardly relative. -With the death of the former, after ten unhappy years as a dependent, -Jane resolutely refused to accept help from the obnoxious relative. She -set out to earn a living for herself and the crippled boy. We find her, -after two years of struggle and privation, installed as Miss Emsdale in -the Smith-Parvis mansion, earning one hundred dollars a month. - -It is safe to say that if the Smith-Parvises had known that she was the -daughter of an Earl, and that her brother was an Earl, there would have -been great rejoicing among them; for it isn't everybody who can boast an -Earl's daughter as governess. - -One night in each week she was free to do as she pleased. It was, in -plain words, her night out. She invariably spent it with the Marchioness -and the coterie of unmasked spirits from lands across the seas. - -What was she to say to Mrs. Smith-Parvis if called upon to account for -her unconventional return of the night before? How could she explain? -Her lips were closed by the seal of honour so far as the meetings above -"Deborah's" were concerned. A law unwritten but steadfastly observed by -every member of that remarkable, heterogeneous court, made it impossible -for her to divulge her whereabouts or actions on this and other -agreeable "nights out." No man or woman in that company would have -violated, even under the gravest pressure, the compact under which so -many well-preserved secrets were rendered secure from exposure. - -Stuyvesant, in his rancour, would draw an ugly picture of her midnight -adventure. He would, no doubt, feel inspired to add a few conclusions of -his own. Her word, opposed to his, would have no effect on the verdict -of the indulgent mother. She would stand accused and convicted of -conduct unbecoming a governess! For, after all, Thomas Trotter was a -chauffeur, and she couldn't make anything nobler out of him without -saying that he wasn't Thomas Trotter at all. - -She arose the next morning with a splitting headache, and the fear of -Stuyvesant in her soul. - -He was waiting for her in the hall below. The twins were accorded an -unusually affectionate greeting by their big brother. He went so far as -to implant a random kiss on the features of each of the "brats," as he -called them in secret. Then he roughly shoved them ahead into the -breakfast-room. - -Fastening his gaze upon the pale, unsmiling face of Miss Emsdale, he -whispered: - -"Don't worry, my dear. Mum's the word." - -He winked significantly. Revolted, she drew herself up and hurried after -the children, unpleasantly conscious of the leer of admiration that -rested upon her from behind. - -He was very gay at breakfast. - -"Mum's the word," he repeated in an undertone, as he drew back her chair -at the conclusion of the meal. His lips were close to her ear, his hot -breath on her cheek, as he bent forward to utter this reassuring remark. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - MR. THOMAS TROTTER HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS - ADVANTAGE - - -TWO days later Thomas Trotter turned up at the old book shop of J. -Bramble, in Lexington Avenue. - -"Well," he said, as he took his pipe out of his pocket and began to -stuff tobacco into it, "I've got the sack." - -"Got the sack?" exclaimed Mr. Bramble, blinking through his horn-rimmed -spectacles. "You can't be serious." - -"It's the gospel truth," affirmed Mr. Trotter, depositing his long, -graceful body in a rocking chair facing the sheet-iron stove at the back -of the shop. "Got my walking papers last night, Bramby." - -"What's wrong? I thought you were a fixture on the job. What have you -been up to?" - -"I'm blessed if I know," said the young man, shaking his head slowly. -"Kicked out without notice, that's all I know about it. Two weeks' pay -handed me; and a simple statement that he was putting some one on in my -place today." - -"Not even a reference?" - -"He offered me a good one," said Trotter ironically. "Said he would give -me the best send-off a chauffeur ever had. I told him I couldn't accept -a reference and a discharge from the same employer." - -"Rather foolish, don't you think?" - -"That's just what he said. I said I'd rather have an explanation than a -reference, under the circumstances." - -"Um! What did he say to that?" - -"Said I'd better take what he was willing to give." - -Mr. Bramble drew up a chair and sat down. He was a small, sharp-featured -man of sixty, bookish from head to foot. - -"Well, well," he mused sympathetically. "Too bad, too bad, my boy. -Still, you ought to thank goodness it comes at a time when the streets -are in the shape they're in now. Almost impossible to get about with an -automobile in all this snow, isn't it? Rather a good time to be -discharged, I should say." - -"Oh, I say, that _is_ optimism. 'Pon my soul, I believe you'd find -something cheerful about going to hell," broke in Trotter, grinning. - -"Best way I know of to escape blizzards and snow-drifts," said Mr. -Bramble, brightly. - -The front door opened. A cold wind blew the length of the book-littered -room. - -"This Bramble's?" piped a thin voice. - -"Yes. Come in and shut the door." - -An even smaller and older man than himself obeyed the command. He wore -the cap of a district messenger boy. - -"Mr. J. Bramble here?" he quaked, advancing. - -"Yes. What is it? A telegram?" demanded the owner of the shop, in some -excitement. - -"I should say not. Wires down everywheres. Gee, that fire looks good. I -gotta letter for you, Mr. Bramble." He drew off his red mittens and -produced from the pocket of his thin overcoat, an envelope and receipt -book. "Sign here," he said, pointing. - -Mr. Bramble signed and then studied the handwriting on the envelope, his -lips pursed, one eye speculatively cocked. - -"I've never seen the writing before. Must be a new one," he reflected -aloud, and sighed. "Poor things!" - -"That establishes the writer as a woman," said Trotter, removing his -pipe. "Otherwise you would have said 'poor devils.' Now what do you mean -by trifling with the women, you old rogue?" The loss of his position did -not appear to have affected the nonchalant disposition of the -good-looking Mr. Trotter. - -"God bless my soul," said Mr. Bramble, staring hard at the envelope, "I -don't believe it is from one of them, after all. By 'one of them,' my -lad, I mean the poor gentlewomen who find themselves obliged to sell -their books in order to obtain food and clothing. They always write -before they call, you see. Saves 'em not only trouble but humiliation. -The other kind simply burst in with a parcel of rubbish and ask how much -I'll give for the lot. But this,--Well, well, I wonder who it can be -from? Doesn't seem like the sort of writing--" - -"Why don't you open it and see?" suggested his visitor. - -"A good idea," said Mr. Bramble; "a very clever thought. There _is_ a -way to find out, isn't there?" His gaze fell upon the aged messenger, -who warmed his bony hands at the stove. He paused, the tip of his -forefinger inserted under the flap. "Sit down and warm yourself, my -friend," he said. "Get your long legs out of the way, Tom, and make room -for him. That's right! Must be pretty rough going outside for an old -codger like you." - -The messenger "boy" sat down. "Yes, sir, it sure is. Takes 'em forever -in this 'ere town to clean the snow off'n the streets. 'Twasn't that way -in my day." - -"What do you mean by your 'day'?" - -"Haven't you ever heard about me?" demanded the old man, eyeing Mr. -Bramble with interest. - -"Can't say that I have." - -"Well, can you beat that? There's a big, long street named after me way -down town. My name is Canal, Jotham W. Canal." He winked and showed his -toothless gums in an amiable grin. "I used to be purty close to old Boss -Tweed; kind of a lieutenant, you might say. Things were so hot in the -old town in those days that we used to charge a nickel apiece for -snowballs. Five cents apiece, right off the griddle. That's how hot it -was in my day." - -"My word!" exclaimed Mr. Bramble. - -"He's spoofing you," said young Mr. Trotter. - -"My God," groaned the messenger, "if I'd only knowed you was English I'd -have saved my breath. Well, I guess I'll be on my way. Is there an -answer, Mr. Bramble?" - -"Um--aw--I quite forgot the--" He tore open the envelope and held the -missive to the light. "'Pon my soul!" he cried, after reading the first -few lines and then jumping ahead to the signature. "This is most -extraordinary." He was plainly agitated as he felt in his pocket for a -coin. "No answer,--that is to say,--none at present. Ahem! That's all, -boy. Goodbye." - -Mr. Canal shuffled out of the shop,--and out of this narrative as well. - -"This will interest you," said Mr. Bramble, lowering his voice as he -edged his chair closer to the young man. "It is from Lady Jane Thorne--I -should say, Miss Emsdale. Bless my soul!" - -Mr. Trotter's British complacency was disturbed. He abandoned his -careless sprawl in the chair and sat up very abruptly. - -"What's that? From Lady Jane? Don't tell me it's anything serious. One -would think she was on her deathbed, judging by the face you're--" - -"Read it for yourself," said the other, thrusting the letter into -Trotter's hand. "It explains everything,--the whole blooming business. -Read it aloud. Don't be uneasy," he added, noting the young man's glance -toward the door. "No customers on a day like this. Some one may drop in -to get warm, but--aha, I see you are interested." - -An angry flush darkened Trotter's face as his eyes ran down the page. - - "'Dear Mr. Bramble: (she wrote) I am sending this to you by - special messenger, hoping it may reach you before Mr. Trotter - drops in. He has told me that he spends a good deal of his spare - time in your dear old shop, browsing among the books. In the - light of what may already have happened, I am quite sure you - will see him today. I feel that I may write freely to you, for - you are his friend and mine, and you will understand. I am - greatly distressed. Yesterday I was informed that he is to be - summarily dismissed by Mr. Carpenter. I prefer not to reveal the - source of information. All I may say is that I am, in a way, - responsible for his misfortune. If the blow has fallen, he is - doubtless perplexed and puzzled, and, I fear, very unhappy. - Influence has been brought to bear upon Mr. Carpenter, who, you - may not be by way of knowing, is a close personal friend of the - people in whose home I am employed. Indeed, notwithstanding the - difference in their ages, I may say that he is especially the - friend of young Mr. S-P. Mr. Trotter probably knows something - about the nature of this friendship, having been kept out till - all hours of the morning in his capacity as chauffeur. My object - in writing to you is two-fold: first, to ask you to prevail upon - him to act with discretion for the present, at least, as I have - reason to believe that there may be an attempt to carry out a - threat to "run him out of town"; secondly, to advise him that I - shall stop at your place at five o'clock this afternoon in quest - of a little book that now is out of print. Please explain to him - also that my uncertainty as to where a letter would reach him - under these new conditions accounts for this message to you. - Sincerely your friend, - "JANE EMSDALE.'" - -"Read it again, slowly," said Mr. Bramble, blinking harder than ever. - -"What time is it now?" demanded Trotter, thrusting the letter into his -own pocket. A quick glance at the watch on his wrist brought a groan of -dismay from his lips. "Good Lord! A few minutes past ten. Seven hours! -Hold on! I can almost see the words on your lips. I'll be discreet, so -don't begin prevailing, there's a good chap. There's nothing to be said -or done till I see her. But,--seven hours!" - -"Stop here and have a bite of lunch with me," said Mr. Bramble, -soothingly. - -"Nothing could be more discreet than that," said Trotter, getting up to -pace the floor. He was frowning. - -"It's quite cosy in our little dining-room upstairs. If you prefer, I'll -ask Mirabeau to clear out and let us have the place to ourselves -while--" - -"Not at all. I'll stop with you, but I will not have poor old Mirabeau -evicted. We will show the letter to him. He is a Frenchman and he can -read between the lines far better than either of us." - -At twelve-thirty, Mr. Bramble stuck a long-used card in the front door -and locked it from the inside. The world was informed, in bold type, -that he had gone to lunch and would not return until one-thirty. - -In the rear of the floor above the book-shop were the meagrely furnished -bedrooms and kitchen shared by J. Bramble and Pierre Mirabeau, -clock-maker and repairer. The kitchen was more than a kitchen. It was -also a dining-room, a sitting-room and a scullery, and it was as clean -and as neat as the proverbial pin. At the front was the work-shop of M. -Mirabeau, filled with clocks of all sizes, shapes and ages. Back of -this, as a sort of buffer between the quiet bedrooms and the busy -resting-place of a hundred sleepless chimes, was located the combination -store-room, utilized by both merchants: a musty, dingy place crowded -with intellectual rubbish and a lapse of Time. - -Mirabeau, in response to a shout from the fat Irishwoman who came in by -the day to cook, wash and clean up for the tenants, strode briskly into -the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. He was a tall, spare old man -with uncommonly bright eyes and a long grey beard. - -His joy on beholding the young guest at their board was surpassed only -by the dejection communicated to his sensitive understanding by the -dismal expression on the faces of J. Bramble and Thomas Trotter. - -He broke off in the middle of a sentence, and, still grasping the hand -of the guest, allowed his gaze to dart from one to the other. - -"Mon dieu!" he exclaimed, swiftly altering his tone to one of the -deepest concern. "What has happened? Has some one died? Don't tell me it -is your grandfather, my boy. Don't tell me that the old villain has died -at last and you will have to go back and step into his misguided boots. -Nothing else can--" - -"Worse than that," interrupted Trotter, smiling. "I've lost my -situation." - -M. Mirabeau heaved a sigh of relief. "Ah! My heart beats again. Still," -with a vastly different sigh, "he cannot go on living for ever. The time -is bound to come when you--" - -An admonitory cough from Mr. Bramble, and a significant jerk of the head -in the direction of the kitchen-range, which was almost completely -obscured by the person of Mrs. O'Leary, caused M. Mirabeau to bring his -remarks to an abrupt close. - -When he was twenty-five years younger, Monsieur Mirabeau, known to every -one of consequence in Paris by his true and lawful name, Count André -Drouillard, as handsome and as high-bred a gentleman as there was in all -France, shot and killed, with all the necessary ceremony, a prominent -though bourgeoise general in the French Army, satisfactorily ending a -liaison in which the Countess and the aforesaid general were the -principal characters. Notwithstanding the fact that the duel had been -fought in the most approved French fashion, which almost invariably -(except, in case of accident) provides for a few well-scattered shots -and subsequent embraces on the part of the uninjured adversaries, the -general fell with a bullet through his heart. - -So great was the consternation of the Republic, and so unpardonable the -accuracy of the Count, that the authorities deemed it advisable to make -an example of the unfortunate nobleman. He was court-martialled by the -army and sentenced to be shot. On the eve of the execution he escaped -and, with the aid of friends, made his way into Switzerland, where he -found refuge in the home of a sequestered citizen who made antique -clocks for a living. A price was put upon his head, and so relentless -were the efforts to apprehend him that for months he did not dare show -it outside the house of his protector. - -He repaid the clockmaker with honest toil. In course of time he became -an expert repairer. With the confiscation of his estates in France, he -resigned himself to the inevitable. He became a man without a country. -One morning the newspapers in Paris announced the death, by suicide, of -the long-sought pariah. A few days later he was on his way to the United -States. His widow promptly re-married and, sad to relate, from all -reports lived happily ever afterwards. - -The bourgeoise general, in his tomb in France, was not more completely -dead to the world than Count André Drouillard; on the other hand, no -livelier, sprightlier person ever lived than Pierre Mirabeau, repairer -of clocks in Lexington Avenue. - -And so if you will look at it in quite the proper spirit, there is but -one really morbid note in the story of M. Mirabeau: the melancholy -snuffing-out of the poor general,--and even that was brightened to some -extent by the most sumptuous military funeral in years. - -"What do you make of it?" demanded Mr. Trotter, half-an-hour later in -the crowded work-shop of the clockmaker. - -M. Mirabeau held Miss Emsdale's letter off at arm's length, and squinted -at it with great intensity, as if actually trying to read between the -lines. - -"I have an opinion," said M. Mirabeau, frowning. Whereupon he rendered -his deductions into words, and of his two listeners Thomas Trotter was -the most dumbfounded. - -"But I don't know the blooming bounder," he exclaimed,--"except by sight -and reputation. And I have reason to know that Lady Jane loathes and -detests him." - -"Aha! There we have it! Why does she loathe and detest him?" cried M. -Mirabeau. "Because, my stupid friend, he has been annoying her with his -attentions. It is not an uncommon thing for rich young men to lose their -heads over pretty young maids and nurses, and even governesses." - -"'Gad, if I thought he was annoying her I'd--I'd--" - -"There you go!" cried Mr. Bramble, nervously. "Just as she feared. She -knew what she was about when she asked me to see that you did not do -anything--" - -"Hang it all, Bramble, I'm not _doing_ anything, am I? I'm only _saying_ -things. Wait till I begin to do things before you preach." - -"That's just it!" cried Mr. Bramble. "You invariably do things when you -get that look in your eyes. I knew you long before you knew yourself. -You looked like that when you were five years old and wanted to thump -Bobby Morgan, who was thirteen. You--" - -M. Mirabeau interrupted. He had not been following the discussion. -Leaning forward, he eyed the young man keenly, even disconcertingly. - -"What is back of all this? Admitting that young Mr. S.-P. is enamoured -of our lovely friend, what cause have you given him for jealousy? Have -you--" - -"Great Scot!" exclaimed Trotter, fairly bouncing off the work-bench on -which he sat with his long legs dangling. "Why,--why, if _that's_ the -way he feels toward her he must have had a horrible jolt the other -night. Good Lord!" A low whistle followed the exclamation. - -"Aha! Now we are getting at the cause. We already have the effect. Out -with it," cried M. Mirabeau, eager as a boy. His fine eyes danced with -excitement. - -"Now that I think of it, he saw me carry her up the steps the other -night after we'd all been to the Marchioness's. The night of the -blizzard, you know. Oh, I say! It's worse than I thought." He looked -blankly from one to the other of the two old men. - -"Carried her up the steps, eh? In your good strong arms, eh? And you say -'_now_ that I think of it.' Bless your heart, you scalawag, you've been -thinking of nothing else since it happened. Ah!" sighed M. Mirabeau, -"how wonderful it must have been! The feel of her in your arms, and the -breath of her on your cheek, and--Ah! It is a sad thing not to grow old. -I am not growing old despite my seventy years. If I could but grow old, -and deaf, and feeble, perhaps I should then be able to command the blood -that thrills now with the thought of--But, alas! I shall never be so old -as that! You say he witnessed this remarkable--ah--exhibition of -strength on your part?" He spoke briskly again. - -"The snow was a couple of feet deep, you see," explained Trotter, who -had turned a bright crimson. "Dreadful night, wasn't it, Bramble?" - -"I know what kind of a night it was," said the old Frenchman, -delightedly. "My warmest congratulations, my friend. She is the -loveliest, the noblest, the truest--" - -"I beg your pardon," interrupted Trotter, stiffly. "It hasn't gone as -far as all that." - -"It has gone farther than you think," said M. Mirabeau shrewdly. "And -that is why you were discharged without--" - -"By gad! The worst of it all is, she will probably get her walking -papers too,--if she hasn't already got them," groaned the young man. -"Don't you see what has happened? The rotter has kicked up a rumpus -about that innocent,--and if I do say it,--gallant act of mine the other -night. They've had her on the carpet to explain. It looks bad for her. -They're the sort of people you can't explain things to. What rotten -luck! She needs the money and--" - -"Nothing of the kind has happened," said M. Mirabeau with conviction. -"It isn't in young Mr. S.-P.'s plans to have her dismissed. That would -be--ah, what is it you say?--spilling the beans, eh? The instant she -relinquishes her place in that household all hope is lost, so far as he -is concerned. He is shrewd enough to realize that, my friend. You are -the fly in his ointment. It is necessary to the success of his -enterprise to be well rid of you. He doesn't want to lose sight of her, -however. He--" - -"Run me out of town, eh?" grated Trotter, his thoughts leaping back to -the passage in Lady Jane's letter. "Easier said than done, he'll find." - -Mr. Bramble coughed. "Are we not going it rather blindly? All this is -pure speculation. The young man may not have a hand in the business at -all." - -"He'll discover he's put his foot in it if he tries any game on me," -said Mr. Trotter. - -M. Mirabeau beamed. "There is always a way to checkmate the villain in -the story. You see it exemplified in every melodrama on the stage and in -every shilling shocker. The hero,--and you are our hero,--puts him to -rout by marrying the heroine and living happily to a hale old age. What -could be more beautiful than the marriage of Lady Jane Thorne and Lord -Eric Carruthers Ethelbert Temple? Mon dieu! It is--" - -"Rubbish!" exclaimed Mr. Trotter, suddenly looking down at his foot, -which was employed in the laudable but unnecessary act of removing a -tiny shaving from a crack in the floor. "Besides," he went on an instant -later, acknowledging an interval of mental consideration, "she wouldn't -have me." - -"It is my time to say 'rubbish,'" said the old Frenchman. "Why wouldn't -she have you?" - -"Because she doesn't care for me in that way, if you must know," blurted -out the young man. - -"Has she said so?" - -"Of course not. She wouldn't be likely to volunteer the information, -would she?" with fine irony. - -"Then how do you know she doesn't care for you in that way?" - -"Well, I--I just simply know it, that's all." - -"I see. You are the smartest man of all time if you know a woman's heart -without probing into it, or her mind without tricking it. She permitted -you to carry her up the steps, didn't she?" - -"She had to," said Trotter forcibly. "That doesn't prove anything. And -what's more, she objected to being carried." - -"Um! What did she say?" - -"Said she didn't in the least mind getting her feet wet. She'd have her -boots off as soon as she got into the house." - -"Is that all?" - -"She said she was awfully heavy, and--Oh, there is no use talking to me. -I know how to take a hint. She just didn't want me to--er--carry her, -that's the long and the short of it." - -"Did she struggle violently?" - -"What?" - -"You heard me. Did she?" - -"Certainly not. She gave in when I insisted. What else could she do?" He -whirled suddenly upon Mr. Bramble. "What are you grinning about, -Bramby?" - -"Who's grinning?" demanded Mr. Bramble indignantly, after the lapse of -thirty or forty seconds. - -"You _were_, confound you. I don't see anything to laugh at in--" - -"My advice to you," broke in M. Mirabeau, still detached, "is to ask -her." - -"Ask her? Ask her what?" - -"To marry you. As I was saying--" - -"My God!" gasped Trotter. - -"That is my advice also," put in Mr. Bramble, fumbling with his glasses -and trying to suppress a smile,--for fear it would be misinterpreted. "I -can't think of anything more admirable than the union of the Temple and -Wexham families in--" - -"But, good Lord," cried Trotter, "even if she'd have me, how on earth -could I take care of her on a chauffeur's pay? And I'm not getting that -now. I wish to call your attention to the fact that your little hero has -less than fifty pounds,--a good deal less than fifty,--laid by for a -rainy day." - -"I've known a great many people who were married on rainy days," said M. -Mirabeau brightly, "and nothing unlucky came of it." - -"Moreover, when your grandfather passes away," urged Mr. Bramble, "you -will be a very rich man,--provided, of course, he doesn't remain -obstinate and leave his money to some one else. In any event, you would -come in for sufficient to--" - -"You forget," began Trotter, gravely and with a dignity that chilled the -eager old man, "that I will not go back to England, nor will I claim -anything that is _in_ England, until a certain injustice is rectified -and I am set straight in the eyes of the unbelievers." - -Mr. Bramble cleared his throat. "Time will clear up everything, my lad. -God knows you never did the--" - -"God knows it all right enough, but God isn't a member of the Brunswick -Club, and His voice is never heard there in counsel. He may lend a -helping hand to those who are trying to clear my name, because they -believe in me, but the whole business is beginning to look pretty dark -to me." - -"Ahem! What does Miss--ah, Lady Jane think about the--ah, unfortunate -affair?" stammered Mr. Bramble. - -"She doesn't believe a damn' word of it," exploded Trotter, his face -lighting up. - -"Good!" cried M. Mirabeau. "Proof that she pities you, and what more -could you ask for a beginning? She believes you were unjustly accused of -cheating at cards, that there was a plot to ruin you and to drive you -out of the Army, and that your grandfather ought to be hung to a lamp -post for believing what she doesn't believe. Good! Now we are on solid, -substantial ground. What time is it, Bramble?" - -Mr. Bramble looked at a half-dozen clocks in succession. - -"I'm blessed if I know," he said. "They range from ten o'clock to -half-past six." - -"Just three hours and twenty-two minutes to wait," said Thomas Trotter. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE UNFAILING MEMORY - - -PRINCE WALDEMAR DE BOSKY, confronted by the prospect of continued cold -weather, decided to make an appeal to Mrs. Moses Jacobs, sometime -Princess Mariana di Pavesi. She had his overcoat, the precious one with -the fur collar and the leather lining,--the one, indeed, that the -friendly safe-blower who lodged across the hall from him had left behind -at the outset of a journey up-state. - -"More than likely," said the safe-blower, who was not only surprised but -gratified when the "little dago" came to visit him in the Tombs, "more -than likely I sha'n't be needin' an overcoat for the next twelve or -fourteen year, kid, so you ain't robbin' me,--no, sir, not a bit of it. -I make you a present of it, with my compliments. Winter is comin' on an' -I can't seem to think of anybody it would fit better'n it does you. You -don't need to mention as havin' received it from me. The feller who -owned it before I did might accidentally hear of it and--but I guess it -ain't likely, come to think of it. To the best of my recollection, he -lives 'way out West somewhere,--Toledo, I think, or maybe Omaha,--and -he's probably got a new one by this time. Much obliged fer droppin' in -here to see me, kid. So long,--and cut it out. Don't try to come any of -that thanks guff on me. You might as well be usin' that coat as the -moths. Besides, I owe you something for storage, don't forget that. I -was in such a hurry the last time I left town I didn't have a chance to -explain. You didn't know it then,--and I guess if you had knowed it you -wouldn't have been so nice about lookin' out for my coat durin' the -summer,--but I was makin' a mighty quick getaway. Thanks fer stoppin' in -to remind me I left the coat in your room that night. I clean forgot it, -I was in such a hurry. But lemme tell you one thing, kid, I'll never -ferget the way you c'n make that fiddle talk. I don't know as you'd 'a' -played fer me as you used to once in awhile if you'd knowed I was what I -am, but it makes no difference now. I just loved hearin' you play. I -used to have a hard time holdin' in the tears. And say, kid, keep -straight. Keep on fiddlin'! So long! I may see you along about 1926 or -8. And say, you needn't be ashamed to wear that coat. I didn't steal it. -It was a clean case of mistaken identity, if there ever was one. It -happened in a restaurant." He winked. - -And that is how the little violinist came to be the possessor of an -overcoat with a sable collar and a soft leather lining. - -He needed it now, not only when he ventured upon the chilly streets but -when he remained indoors. In truth, he found it much warmer walking the -streets than sitting in his fireless room, or even in going to bed. - -It was a far cry from the dapper, dreamy-eyed courtier who kissed the -chapped knuckles of the Princess Mariana on Wednesday night to the -shrinking, pinched individual who threaded his way on Friday through the -cramped lanes that led to the rear of the pawn-shop presided over by -Mrs. Jacobs. - -And an incredibly vast gulf lay between the Princess Mariana and the -female Shylock who peered at him over a glass show-case filled with -material pledges in the shape of watches, chains, rings, bracelets, and -other gaudy tributes left by a shifting constituency. - -"Well?" she demanded, fixing him with a cold, offensive stare. "What do -you want?" - -He turned down the collar of his thin coat, and straightened his slight -figure in response to this unfriendly greeting. - -"I came to see if you would allow me to take my overcoat for a few -days,--until this cold spell is over,--with the understanding--" - -"Nothing doing," said she curtly. "Six dollars due on it." - -"But I have not the six dollars, madam. Surely you may trust me." - -"Why didn't you bring your fiddle along? You could leave it in place of -the coat. Go and get it and I'll see what I can do." - -"I am to play tonight at the house of a Mr. Carpenter. He has heard of -me through our friend Mr. Trotter, his chauffeur. You know Mr. Trotter, -of course." - -"Sure I know him, and I don't like him. He insulted me once." - -"Ah, but you do not understand him, madam. He is an Englishman and he -may have tried to be facetious or even pleasant in the way the -English--" - -"Say, don't you suppose I know when I'm insulted? When a cheap guy like -that comes in here with a customer of mine and tells me I'm so damned -mean they won't even let me into hell when I die,--well, if you don't -call that an insult, I'd like to know what it is. Don't talk to me about -that bum!" - -"Is _that_ all he said?" involuntarily fell from the lips of the -violinist, as if, to his way of thinking, Mr. Trotter's remark was an -out-and-out compliment. "Surely you have no desire to go to hell when -you die." - -"No, I haven't, but I don't want anybody coming in here telling me to my -face that there'd be a revolution down there if I _tried_ to get in. -I've got as much right there as anybody, I'd have him know. Cough up six -or get out. That's all I've got to say to you, my little man." - -"It is freezing cold in my room. I--" - -"Don't blame me for that. I don't make the weather. And say, I'm busy. -Cough up or--clear out." - -"You will not let me have it for a few days if I--" - -"Say, do you think I'm in business for my health? I haven't that much -use--" she snapped her fingers--"for a fiddler anyhow. It's not a man's -job. That's what I think of long-haired guys like--Beat it! I'm busy." - -With head erect the little violinist turned away. He was half way to the -door when she called out to him. - -"Hey! Come back here! Now, see here, you little squirt, you needn't go -turning up your nose at me and acting like that. I've got the goods on -you and a lot more of those rummies up there. I looked 'em over the -other night and I said to myself, says I: 'Gee whiz, couldn't I start -something if I let out what I know about this gang!' Talk about -earthquakes! They'd--Here! What are you doing? Get out from behind this -counter! I'll call a cop if you--" - -The pallid, impassioned face of Prince Waldemar de Bosky was close to -hers; his dark eyes were blazing not a foot from her nose. - -"If I thought you were that kind of a snake I'd kill you," he said -quietly, levelly. - -"Are--are you threatening me?" sputtered Mrs. Jacobs, trying in vain to -look away from those compelling eyes. She could not believe her senses. - -"No. I am merely telling you what I would do if you were that kind of a -snake." - -"See here, don't you get gay! Don't you forget who you are addressing, -young man. I am--" - -"I am addressing a second-hand junk dealer, madam. You are at home now, -not sitting in the big chair up at--at--you know where. Please bear that -in mind." - -"I'll call some one from out front and have you chucked into--" - -"Do you even _think_ of violating the confidence we repose in you?" he -demanded. "The thought must have been in your mind or you would not have -uttered that remark a moment ago. You are one of us, and we've treated -you as a--a queen. I want to know just where you stand, Mrs. Jacobs." - -"You can't come in here and bawl me out like this, you little shrimp! -I'll--" - -"Keep still! Now, listen to me. If I should go to our friends and repeat -what you have just said, you would never see the inside of that room -again. You would never have the opportunity to exchange a word with a -single person you have met there. You would be stripped of the last -vestige of glory that clings to you. Oh, you may sneer! But down in your -heart you love that bit of glory,--and you would curse yourself if you -lost it." - -"It's--it's all poppy-cock, the whole silly business," she blurted out. -But it was not anger that caused her voice to tremble. - -"You know better than that," said he, coldly. - -"I don't care a rap about all that foolishness up there. It makes me -sick," she muttered. - -"You may lie to me but you cannot lie to yourself, madam. Under that -filthy, greasy skin of yours runs the blood that will not be denied. -Pawn-broker, miser,--whatever you may be to the world, to yourself you -are a princess royal. God knows we all despise you. You have not a -friend among us. But we can no more overlook the fact that you are a -princess of the blood than we can ignore the light of day. The blood -that is in you demands its tribute. You have no control over the -mysterious spark that fires your blood. It burns in spite of all you may -do to quench it. It is there to stay. We despise you, even as you would -despise us. Am I to carry your words to those who exalt you despite your -calling, despite your meanness, despite all that is base and sordid in -this rotten business of yours? Am I to let them know that you are the -only--the only--what is the name of the animal I've heard Trotter -mention?--ah, I have it,--the only skunk in our precious little circle? -Tell me, madam, are you a skunk?" - -Her face was brick red; she was having difficulty with her breathing. -The pale, white face of the little musician dazzled her in a most -inexplicable way. Never before had she felt just like this. - -"Am I a--what?" she gasped, her eyes popping. - -"It is an animal that has an odour which--" - -"Good God, you don't have to tell me what it is," she cried, but in -suppressed tones. Her gaze swept the rear part of the shop. "It's a good -thing for you, young fellow, that nobody heard you call me that name. -Thank the good Lord, it isn't a busy day here. If anybody _had_ heard -you, I'd have you skinned alive." - -"A profitless undertaking," he said, smiling without mirth, "but quite -in your line, if reports are true. You are an expert at skinning people, -alive or dead. But we are digressing. Are you going to turn against us?" - -"I haven't said I was going to, have I?" - -"Not in so many words." - -"Well, then, what's all the fuss about? You come in here and shoot off -your mouth as if--And say, who are you, anyhow? Tell me that! No, wait a -minute. Don't tell me. I'll tell myself. When a man is kicked out of his -own family because he'd sooner play a fiddle than carry a sword, I don't -think he's got any right to come blatting to me about--" - -"The cruelest monster the world has ever known, madam," he interrupted, -stiffening, "fiddled while Rome was burning. Fiddlers are not always -gentle. You may not have heard of one very small and unimportant -incident in my own life. It was I who fiddled,--badly, I must -confess,--while the Opera House in Poltna was burning. A panic was -averted. Not a life was lost. And when it was all over some one -remembered the fiddler who remained upon the stage and finished the aria -he was playing when the cry of fire went up from the audience. Brave -men,--far braver men than he,--rushed back through the smoke and found -him lying at the footlights, unconscious. But why waste words? Good -morning, madam. I shall not trouble you again about the overcoat. Be -good enough to remember that I have kissed your hand only because you -are a princess and not because you have lent me five dollars on the -wretched thing." - -The angry light in his brown eyes gave way to the dreamy look once more. -He bowed stiffly and edged his way out from behind the counter into the -clogged area that lay between him and the distant doorway. Towering -above him on all sides were heaps of nondescript objects, classified -under the generic name of furniture. The proprietress of this sordid, -ill-smelling crib stared after him as he strode away, and into her eyes -there stole a look of apprehension. - -She followed him to the front door, overtaking him as his hand was on -the latch. - -"Hold on," she said, nervously glancing at the shifty-eyed, cringing -assistant who toiled not in vain,--no one ever toiled in vain in the -establishment of M. Jacobs, Inc.,--behind a clump of chairs;--"hold on a -second. I don't want you to say a word to--to them about--about all -this. You are right, de Bosky. I--I have not lost all that once was -mine. You understand, don't you?" - -He smiled. "Perfectly. You can never lose it, no matter how low you may -sink." - -"Well," she went on, hesitatingly, "suppose we forget it." - -He eyed her for a moment in silence, shaking his head reflectively. "It -is most astonishing," he said at last. - -"What's astonishing?" she demanded sharply. - -"I was merely thinking of your perfect, your exquisite French, madam!" - -"French? Are you nutty? I've been talkin' to you in English all the -time." - -He nodded his head slowly. "Perhaps that is why your French is so -astonishing," he said, and let it go at that. - -"Look at me," she exclaimed, suddenly breaking into French as she spread -out her thick arms and surveyed with disgust as much of her ample person -as came within range of an obstructed vision, "just look at me. No one -on earth would take _me_ for a princess, would he? And yet that is just -what I am. I _think_ of myself as a princess, and always will, de Bosky. -I think of myself,--of my most unlovely, unregal self,--as the superior -of every other woman who treads the streets of New York, all of these -base born women. I cannot help it. I cannot think of them as equals, not -even the richest and the most arrogant of them. You say it is the blood, -but you are wrong. Some of these women have a strain of royal blood in -them--a far-off, remote strain, of course,--but they do not _know_ it. -That's the point, my friend. It is the _knowing_ that makes us what we -are. It isn't the blood itself. If we were deprived of the power to -_think_, we could have the blood of every royal family in Europe in our -veins, and that is all the good it would do us. We _think_ we are -nobler, better than all the rest of creation, and we would keep on -thinking it if we slept in the gutter and begged for a crust of bread. -And the proof of all this is to be found in the fact that the rest of -creation will not allow us to forget. They think as we do, in spite of -themselves, and there you have the secret of the supremacy we feel, in -spite of everything." - -Her brilliant, black eyes were flashing with something more than -excitement. The joy, the realization of power glowed in their depths, -welling up from fires that would never die. Waldemar de Bosky nodded his -head in the most matter-of-fact way. He was not enthralled. All this was -very simple and quite undebatable to him. - -"I take it, therefore, that you retract all that you said about its -being poppycock," he said, turning up his coat collar and fastening it -close to his throat with a long and formidable looking safety pin. - -"It may be poppycock," she said, "but we can't help liking it--not to -save our lives." - -"And I shall not have to kill you as if you were a snake, eh?" - -"Not on your life," said Mrs. Moses Jacobs in English, opening the door -for him. - -He passed out into the cold and windy street and she went back to her -dingy nook at the end of the store, pausing on the way to inform an -assistant that she was not to be disturbed, no matter who came in to see -her. - -While she sat behind her glittering show-case and gazed pensively at the -ceiling of her ugly storehouse, Waldemar de Bosky went shivering through -the streets to his cold little backroom many blocks away. While she was -for the moment living in the dim but unforgotten past, a kindly memory -leading her out of the maze of other people's poverty and her own -avarice into broad marble halls and vaulted rooms, he was thinking only -of the bitter present with its foodless noon and of pockets that were -empty. While maudlin tears ran down her oily cheeks and spilled -aimlessly upon a greasy sweater with the spur of memory behind them, -tears wrought by the sharp winds of the street glistened in his -squinting eyes. - -Memory carried him back no farther than the week before and he was -distressed only by its exceeding frailty. He could not, for the life of -him, remember the address of J. Bramble, bookseller,--a most -exasperating lapse in view of the fact that J. Bramble himself had urged -him to come up some evening soon and have dinner with him, and to bring -his Stradivarius along if he didn't mind. Mind? Why, he would have -played his heart out for a good square meal. The more he tried to -remember J. Bramble's address, the less he thought of the overcoat with -the fur collar and the soft leather lining. He couldn't eat that, you -know. - -In his bleak little room in the hall of the whistling winds, he took -from its case with cold-benumbed fingers the cherished violin. -Presently, as he played, the shivering flesh of him grew warm with the -heat of an inward fire; the stiff, red fingers became limp and pliable; -the misty eyes grew bright and feverish. Fire,--the fires of love and -genius and hope combined,--burnt away the chill of despair; he was as -warm as toast! - -And hours after the foodless noon had passed, he put the treasure back -into its case and wiped the sweat from his marble brow. Something -flashed across his mind. He shouted aloud as he caught at what the flash -of memory revealed. - -"Lexington Avenue! Three hundred and something, Lexington Avenue! J. -Bramble, bookseller! Ha! Come! Come! Let us be off!" - -He spoke to the violin as if it were a living companion. Grabbing up his -hat and mittens, he dashed out of the room and went clattering down the -hall with the black leather case clasped tightly under his arm. - -It was a long, long walk to three hundred and something Lexington -Avenue, but in due time he arrived there and read the sign above the -door. Ah, what a great thing it is to have a good, unfailing memory! - -And so it came to pass that Prince Waldemar de Bosky and Lady Jane -Thorne met at the door of J. Bramble, bookseller, at five of the clock, -and entered the shop together. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE FOUNDATION OF THE PLOT - - -MR. BRAMBLE had never been quite able to resign himself to a definitely -impersonal attitude toward Lord Eric Temple. He seemed to cling, despite -himself, to a privilege long since outlawed by time and circumstance and -the inevitable outgrowing of knickerbockers by the aforesaid Lord Eric. -Back in the good old days it had been his pleasant,--and sometimes -unpleasant,--duty to direct a very small Eric in matters not merely -educational but of deportment as well. In short, Eric, at the age of -five, fell into the capable, kindly and more or less resolute hands of a -well-recommended tutor, and that tutor was no other than J. Bramble. - -At the age of twelve, the boy went off to school in a little high hat -and an Eton suit, and J. Bramble was at once, you might say, out of the -frying pan into the fire. In other words, he was promoted by his -lordship, the boy's grandfather, to the honourable though somewhat -onerous positions of secretary, librarian and cataloguer, all in one. He -had been able to teach Eric a great many things he didn't know, but -there was nothing he could impart to his lordship. - -That irascible old gentleman knew everything. After thrice informing his -lordship that Sir Walter Scott was the author of _Guy Mannering_, and -being thrice informed that he was nothing of the sort, the desolate Mr. -Bramble realized that he was no longer a tutor,--and that he ought to be -rather thankful for it. It exasperated him considerably, however, to -have the authorship of _Guy Mannering_ arbitrarily ascribed to three -different writers, on three separate occasions, when any schoolboy could -have told the old gentleman that Fielding and Sterne and Addison had no -more to do with the book than William Shakespeare himself. His lordship -maintained that no one could tell _him_ anything about Scott; he had him -on his shelves and he had read him from A to Izzard. And he was rather -severe with Mr. Bramble for accepting a position as librarian when he -didn't know any more than that about books. - -And from this you may be able to derive some sort of an opinion -concerning the cantankerous, bull-headed old party (Bramble's -appellation behind the hand) who ruled Fenlew Hall, the place where Tom -Trotter was reared and afterwards disowned. - -Also you may be able to account in a measure for Mr. J. Bramble's -attitude toward the tall young man, an attitude brought on no doubt by -the revival, or more properly speaking the survival, of an authority -exercised with rare futility but great satisfaction at a time when Eric -was being trained in the way he should go. If at times Mr. Bramble -appears to be mildly dictatorial, or gently critical, or sadly -reproachful, you will understand that it is habit with him, and not the -captiousness of old age. It was his custom to shake his head -reprovingly, or to frown in a pained sort of way, or to purse his lips, -or even to verbally take Mr. Trotter to task when that young man -deviated,--not always accidentally,--from certain rules of deportment -laid down for him to follow in his earliest efforts to be a "little -gentleman." - -For example, when the two of them, after a rather impatient half-hour, -observed Miss Emsdale step down from the trolley car at the corner above -and head for the doorway through which they were peering, Mr. Bramble -peremptorily said to Mr. Trotter: - -"Go and brush your hair. You will find a brush at the back of the shop. -Look sharp, now. She will be here in a jiffy." - -And you will perhaps understand why Mr. Trotter paid absolutely no -attention to him. - -Miss Emsdale and the little violinist came in together. The latter's -teeth were chattering, his cheeks were blue with the cold. - -"God bless my soul!" said Mr. Bramble, blinking at de Bosky. Here was an -unforeseen complication. - -Miss Emsdale was resourceful. "I stopped in to inquire, Mr. -Bramble,--this is Mr. Bramble, isn't it?--if you have a copy of--" - -"Please close the door, Trotter, there's a good fellow," interrupted Mr. -Bramble, frowning significantly at the young man. - -"It is closed," said Mr. Trotter, tactlessly. He was looking intently, -inquiringly into the blue eyes of Miss Emsdale. - -"I closed it as I came in," chattered de Bosky. - -"Oh, did you?" said Mr. Bramble. "People always leave it open. I am so -in the habit of having people leave the door open that I never notice -when they close it. I--ahem! Step right this way, please, Miss -Ems--ahem! I think we have just the book you want." - -"I am not in any haste, Mr. Bramble," said she, regarding de Bosky with -pitying eyes. "Let us all go back to the stove and--and--" She -hesitated, biting her lip. The poor chap undoubtedly was sensitive. They -always are. - -"Good!" said Mr. Bramble eagerly. "And we'll have some tea. Bless my -soul, how fortunate! I always have it at five o'clock. Trotter and I -were just on the point of--so glad you happened in just at the right -moment, Miss Emsdale. Ahem! And you too, de Bosky. Most extraordinary. -You may leave your pipe on that shelf, Trotter. It smells dreadfully. -No, no,--I wouldn't even put it in my pocket if I were you. Er--ahem! -You have met Mr. Trotter, haven't you, Miss Emsdale?" - -"You poor old boob," said Trotter, laying his arm over Bramble's -shoulder in the most affectionate way. "Isn't he a boob, Miss Emsdale?" - -"Not at all," said she severely. "He is a dear." - -"Bless my soul!" murmured Mr. Bramble, doing as well as could be -expected. He blessed it again before he could catch himself up. - -"Sit here by the stove, Mr. de Bosky," said Miss Emsdale, a moment -later. "Just as close as you can get to it." - -"I have but a moment to stay," said de Bosky, a wistful look in his dark -eyes. - -"You'll have tea, de Bosky," said Mr. Bramble firmly. "Is the water -boiling, Trotter?" - -A few minutes later, warmed by the cup of tea and a second slice of -toast, de Bosky turned to Trotter. - -"Thanks again, my dear fellow, for speaking to your employer about my -playing. This little affair tonight may be the beginning of an era of -good fortune for me. I shall never forget your interest--" - -"Oh, that's off," said Trotter carelessly. - -"Off? You mean?" cried de Bosky. - -"I'm fired, and he has gone to Atlantic City for the week-end." - -"He--he isn't going to have his party in the private dining-room -at,--you said it was to be a private dining-room, didn't you, with a few -choice spirits--" - -"He has gone to Atlantic City with a few choice spirits," said Trotter, -and then stared hard at the musician's face. "Oh, by Jove! I'm sorry," -he cried, struck by the look of dismay, almost of desperation, in de -Bosky's eyes. "I didn't realize it meant so much to--" - -"It is really of no consequence," said de Bosky, lifting his chin once -more and straightening his back. The tea-cup rattled ominously in the -saucer he was clutching with tense fingers. - -"Never mind," said Mr. Bramble, anticipating a crash and inspired by the -kindliest of motives; "between us we've smashed half a dozen of them, so -don't feel the least bit uncomfortable if you _do_ drop--" - -"What are you talking about, Bramby?" demanded Trotter, scowling at the -unfortunate bookseller. "Have some more tea, de Bosky. Hand up your cup. -Little hot water, eh?" - -Mr. Bramble was perspiring. Any one with half an eye could see that it -_was_ of consequence to de Bosky. The old bookseller's heart was very -tender. - -"Don't drink too much of it," he warned, his face suddenly beaming. -"You'll spoil your appetite for dinner." To the others: "Mr. de Bosky -honours my humble board with his presence this evening. The finest -porterhouse steak in New York--Eh, what?" - -"It is I," came a crisp voice from the bottom of the narrow stairway -that led up to the living-quarters above. Monsieur Mirabeau, his -whiskers neatly brushed and twisted to a point, his velvet lounging -jacket adorned with a smart little boutonnière, his shoes polished till -they glistened, approached the circle and, bending his gaunt frame with -gallant disdain for the crick in his back, kissed the hand of the young -lady. "I observed your approach, my dear Miss Emsdale. We have been -expecting you for ages. Indeed, it has been the longest afternoon that -any of us has ever experienced." - -Mr. Bramble frowned. "Ahem!" he coughed. - -"I am sorry if I have intruded," began de Bosky, starting to arise. - -"Sit still," said Thomas Trotter. He glanced at Miss Emsdale. "You're -not in the way, old chap." - -"You mentioned a book, Miss Emsdale," murmured Mr. Bramble. "When you -came in, you'll remember." - -She looked searchingly into Trotter's eyes, and finding her answer -there, remarked: - -"Ample time for that, Mr. Bramble. Mr. de Bosky is my good friend. And -as for dear M. Mirabeau,--ah, what shall I say of him?" She smiled -divinely upon the grey old Frenchman. - -"I commend your modesty," said M. Mirabeau. "It prevents your saying -what every one knows,--that I am your adorer!" - -Tom Trotter was pacing the floor. He stopped in front of her, a scowl on -his handsome face. - -"Now, tell us just what the infernal dog said to you," he said. - -She started. "You--you have already heard something?" she cried, -wonderingly. - -"Ah, what did I tell you?" cried M. Mirabeau triumphantly, glancing -first at Trotter and then at Bramble. "He _is_ in love with her, and -this is what comes of it. He resorts to--" - -"Is this magic?" she exclaimed. - -"Not a bit of it," said Trotter. "We've been putting two and two -together, the three of us. Begin at the beginning," he went on, -encouragingly. "Don't hold back a syllable of it." - -"You must promise to be governed by my advice," she warned him. "You -must be careful,--oh, so very careful." - -"He will be good at any rate," said Mr. Bramble, fixing the young man -with a look. Trotter's face went crimson. - -"Ahem!" came guardedly from M. Mirabeau. "Proceed, my dear. We are most -impatient." - -The old Frenchman's deductions were not far from right. Young Mr. -Smith-Parvis, unaccustomed to opposition and believing himself to be -entitled to everything he set his heart on having, being by nature -predatory, sustained an incredible shock when the pretty and desirable -governess failed utterly to come up to expectations. Not only did she -fail to come up to expectations but she took the wind completely out of -his sails, leaving him adrift in a void so strange and unusual that it -was hours before he got his bearings again. Some of the things she said -to him got under a skin so thick and unsensitive that nothing had ever -been sharp enough to penetrate it before. - -The smartting of the pain from these surprising jabs at his egotism put -him into a state of fury that knew no bounds. He went so far as to -accuse her of deliberately trying to be a lady,--a most ridiculous -assumption that didn't fool him for an instant. She couldn't come that -sort of thing with him! The sooner she got off her high-horse the better -off she'd be. It had never entered the head of Smith-Parvis Jr. that a -wage-earning woman could be a lady, any more than a wage-earning man -could be a gentleman. - -The spirited encounter took place on the afternoon following her -midnight adventure with Thomas Trotter. Stuyvesant lay in wait for her -when she went out at five o'clock for her daily walk in the Park. -Overtaking her in one of the narrow, remote little paths, he suggested -that they cross over to Bustanoby's and have tea and a bite of something -sweet. He was quite out of breath. She had given him a long chase, this -long-limbed girl with her free English stride. - -"It's a nice quiet place," he said, "and we won't see a soul we know." - -Primed by assurance, he had the hardihood to grasp her arm with a sort -of possessive familiarity. Whereupon, according to the narrator, he -sustained his first disheartening shock. She jerked her arm away and -faced him with blazing eyes. - -"Don't do that!" she said. "What do you mean by following me like this?" - -"Oh, come now," he exclaimed blankly; "don't be so damned uppish. I -didn't sleep a wink last night, thinking about you. You--" - -"Nor did I sleep a wink, Mr. Smith-Parvis, thinking about you," she -retorted, looking straight into his eyes. "I am afraid you don't know me -as well as you think you do. Will you be good enough to permit me to -continue my walk unmolested?" - -He laughed in her face. "Out here to meet the pretty chauffeur, are you? -I thought so. Well, I'll stick around and make the crowd. Is he likely -to pop up out of the bushes and try to bite me, my dear? Better give him -the signal to lay low, unless you want to see him nicely booted." - -("My God!" fell from Thomas Trotter's compressed lips.) - -"Then I made a grievous mistake," she explained to the quartette. "It is -all my fault, Mr. Trotter. I brought disaster upon you when I only -intended to sound your praises. I told him that nothing could suit me -better than to have you pop up out of the bushes, just for the pleasure -it would give me to see him run for home as fast as he could go. It made -him furious." - -Smith-Parvis Jr. proceeded to give her "what for," to use his own words. -In sheer amazement, she listened to his vile insinuations. She was -speechless. - -"And here am I," he had said, toward the end of the indictment, "a -gentleman, born and bred, offering you what this scurvy bounder cannot -possibly give you, and you pretend to turn up your nose at me. I am -gentleman enough to overlook all that has transpired between you and -that loafer, and I am gentleman enough to keep my mouth shut at home, -where a word from me would pack you off in two seconds. And I'd like to -see you get another fat job in New York after that. You ought to be -jolly grateful to me." - -"If I am the sort of person you say I am," she had replied, trembling -with fury, "how can you justify your conscience in letting me remain for -a second longer in charge of your little sisters?" - -"What the devil do I care about them? I'm only thinking of you. I'm mad -about you, can't you understand? And I'd like to know what conscience -has to do with _that_." - -Then he had coolly, deliberately, announced his plan of action to her. - -"You are to stay on at the house as long as you like, getting your nice -little pay check every month, and something from me besides. Ah, I'm no -piker! Leave it all to me. As for this friend of yours, he has to go. -He'll be out of a job tomorrow. I know Carpenter. He will do anything I -ask. He'll have to, confound him. I've got him where he can't even -squeak. And what's more, if this Trotter is not out of New York inside -of three days, I'll land him in jail. Oh, don't think I can't do it, my -dear. There's a way to get these renegade foreigners,--every one of -'em,--so you'd better keep clear of him if you don't want to be mixed up -in the business. I am doing all this for your own good. Some day you'll -thank me. You are the first girl I've ever really loved, and--I--I just -can't stand by and let you go to the devil with my eyes shut. I am going -to save you, whether you like it or not. I am going to do the right -thing by you, and you will never regret chucking this rotter for me. We -will have to be a little careful at home, that's all. It would never do -to let the old folks see that I am more than ordinarily interested in -you, or you in me. Once, when I was a good deal younger and didn't have -much sense, I spoiled a--but you wouldn't care to hear about it." - -She declared to them that she would never forget the significant grin he -permitted himself in addition to the wink. - -"The dog!" grated Thomas Trotter, his knuckles white. - -M. Mirabeau straightened himself to his full height,--and a fine figure -of a man was he! - -"Mr. Trotter," he said, with grave dignity, "it will afford me the -greatest pleasure and honour to represent you in this crisis. Pray -command me. No doubt the scoundrel will refuse to meet you, but at any -rate a challenge may be--" - -Miss Emsdale broke in quickly. "Don't,--for heaven's sake, dear M. -Mirabeau,--don't put such notions into his head! It is bad enough as it -is. I beg of you--" - -"Besides," said Mr. Bramble, "one doesn't fight duels in this country, -any more than one does in England. It's quite against the law." - -"I sha'n't need any one to represent me when it comes to punching his -head," said Mr. Trotter. - -"It's against the law, strictly speaking, to punch a person's head," -began Mr. Bramble nervously. - -"But it's not against the law, confound you, Bramby, to provide a legal -excuse for going to jail, is it? He says he's going to put me there. -Well, I intend to make it legal and--" - -"Oh, goodness!" cried Miss Emsdale, in dismay. - -"--And I'm not going to jail for nothing, you can stake your life on -that." - -"Do you think, Mr. Trotter, that it will add to my happiness if you are -lodged in jail on my account?" said she. "Haven't I done you sufficient -injury--" - -"Now, you are not to talk like that," he interrupted, reddening. - -"But I _shall_ talk like that," she said firmly. "I have not come here -to ask you to take up my battles for me but to warn you of danger. -Please do not interrupt me. I know you would enjoy it, and all that sort -of thing, but it isn't to be considered. Hear me out." - -She went on with her story. Young Mr. Smith-Parvis, still contending -that he was a gentleman and a friend as well as an abject adorer, made -it very plain to her that he would stand no foolishness. He told her -precisely what he would do unless she eased up a bit and acted like a -good, sensible girl. He would have her dismissed without character and -he would see to it that no respectable house would be open to her after -she left the service of the Smith-Parvises. - -"But couldn't you put the true situation before his parents and tell 'em -what sort of a rotten bounder he is?" demanded Trotter. - -"You do not know them, Mr. Trotter," she said forlornly. - -"And they'd kick you out without giving you a chance to prove to them -that he is a filthy liar and--" - -"Just as Mr. Carpenter kicked you out," she said. - -"By gad, I--I wouldn't stay in their house another day if I were you," -he exclaimed wrathfully. "I'd quit so quickly they wouldn't have time -to--" - -"And then what?" she asked bitterly. "Am I so rich and independent as -all that? You forget that I must have a 'character,' Mr. Trotter. That, -you see, would be denied me. I could not obtain employment. Even Mrs. -Sparflight would be powerless to help me after the character they would -give me." - -"But, good Lord, you--you're not going to stay on in the house with that -da--that nasty brute, are you?" he cried, aghast. - -"I must have time to think, Mr. Trotter," she said quietly. "Now, don't -say anything more,--please! I shall take good care of myself, never -fear. My woes are small compared to yours, I am afraid. The next morning -after our little scene in the park, he came down to breakfast, smiling -and triumphant. He said he had news for me. Mr. Carpenter was to dismiss -you that morning, but had agreed not to prefer charges against you,--at -least, not for the present." She paused to moisten her lips. There was a -harassed look in her eyes. - -"Charges?" said Trotter, after a moment. The other men leaned forward, -fresh interest in their faces. - -"Did you say charges, Miss Emsdale?" asked Mr. Bramble, putting his hand -to his ear. - -"He told me that Mr. Carpenter was at first determined to turn you over -to the police, but that he had begged him to give you a chance. He--he -says that Mr. Carpenter has had a private detective watching you for a -fortnight, and--and--oh, I cannot say it!" - -"Go on," said Trotter harshly; "say it!" - -"Well, of course, I know and you understand it is simply part of his -outrageous plan, but he says your late employer has positive proof that -you took--that you took some marked bank notes out of his overcoat -pocket a few days ago. He had been missing money and had provided -himself with marked--" - -Trotter leaped to his feet with a cry of rage. - -"Sit down!" commanded Mr. Bramble. "Sit down! Where are you going?" - -"Great God! Do you suppose I can sit still and let him get away with -anything like that?" roared Trotter. "I'm going to jam those words down -Carpenter's craven throat. I'm--" - -"You forget he is in Atlantic City," said de Bosky, as if suddenly -coming out of a dream. - -"Oh, Lord!" groaned Trotter, very white in the face. - -There were tears in Miss Emsdale's eyes. "They--he means to drive you -out of town," she murmured brokenly. - -"Fine chance of that!" cried Trotter violently. - -"Let us be calm," said M. Mirabeau, gently taking the young man's arm -and leading him back to the box on which he had been sitting. "You must -not play into their hands, and that is what you would be doing if you -went to him in a rage. As long as you remain passive, nothing will come -of all this. If you show your teeth, they will stop at nothing. Take my -word for it, Trotter, before many hours have passed you will be -interviewed by a detective,--a genuine detective, by the way, for some -of them can be hired to do anything, my boy,--and you will be given your -choice of going to prison or to some far distant city. You--" - -"But how in thunder is he going to prove that I took any marked bills -from him? You've got to prove those things, you know. The courts would -not--" - -"Just a moment! Did he pay you by check or with bank notes this -morning?" - -"He gave me a check for thirty dollars, and three ten-dollar bills and a -five." · - -"Have you them on your person at present?" - -"Not all of them. I have--wait a second! We'll see." He fumbled in his -pocket for the bill-folder. - -"What did you do with the rest?" - -"Paid my landlady for--good Lord! I see what you mean! He paid me with -marked bills! The--the damned scoundrel!" - -"He not only did that, my boy, but he put a man on your trail to recover -them as fast as you disposed of them," said M. Mirabeau calmly. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - LADY JANE GOES ABOUT IT PROMPTLY - - -A FEW minutes before six o'clock that same afternoon, Mr. James -Cricklewick, senior member of the firm of Cricklewick, Stackable & Co., -linen merchants, got up from his desk in the crowded little compartment -labelled "Private," and peered out of the second-floor window into the -busy street below. Thousands of people were scurrying along the -pavements in the direction of the brilliantly lighted Fifth Avenue, a -few rods away; vague, dusky, unrecognizable forms in the darkness that -comes so early and so abruptly to the cross-town streets at the end of a -young March day. The middle of the street presented a serried line of -snow heaps, piled up by the shovellers the day before,--symmetrical -little mountains that formed an impassable range over which no chauffeur -had the temerity to bolt in his senseless ambition to pass the car -ahead. - -Mr. James Cricklewick sighed. He knew from past experience that the Rock -of Ages was but little more enduring than the snow-capped range in front -of him. Time and a persistent sun inevitably would do the work of man, -but in the meantime Mr. Cricklewick's wagons and trucks were a day and a -half behind with deliveries, and that was worth sighing about. As he -stood looking down the street, he sighed again. For more than forty -years Mr. Cricklewick had made constant use of the phrase: "It's always -something." If there was no one to say it to, he satisfied himself by -condensing the lament into a strictly personal sigh. - -He first resorted to the remark far back in the days when he was in the -service of the Marquis of Camelford. If it wasn't one thing that was -going wrong it was another; in any event it was "always something." - -Prosperity and environment had not succeeded in bringing him to the -point where he could snap his fingers and lightly say in the face of -annoyances: "It's really nothing." - -The fact that he was, after twenty-five years of ceaseless climbing, at -the head of the well-known and thoroughly responsible house of -Cricklewick, Stackable & Co., Linen Merchants and Drapers,--(he insisted -on attaching the London word, not through sentiment, but for the sake of -isolation),--operated not at all in bringing about a becalmed state of -mind. Habitually he was disturbed by little things, which should not be -in the least surprising when one stops to think of the multitudinous -annoyances he must have experienced while managing the staff of -under-servants in the extensive establishment of the late Marquis of -Camelford. - -He had never quite outgrown the temperament which makes for a good and -dependable butler,--and that, in a way, accounts for the contention that -"it is always something," and also for the excellent credit of the house -he headed. Mr. Cricklewick made no effort to deceive himself. He -occasionally deceived his wife in a mild and innocuous fashion by -secretly reverting to form, but not for an instant did he deceive -himself. He was a butler and he always would be a butler, despite the -fact that the business and a certain section of the social world looked -upon him as a very fine type of English gentleman, with a crest in his -shop window and a popularly accepted record of having enjoyed a speaking -acquaintance with Edward, the late King of England. Indeed, the late -king appears to have enjoyed the same privilege claimed and exercised by -the clerks, stenographers and floorwalkers in his employ, although His -Majesty had a slight advantage over them in being free to call him -"Cricky" to his face instead of behind his back. - -Mr. Cricklewick, falling into a snug fortune when he was forty-five and -at a time when the Marquis felt it to be necessary to curtail expenses -by not only reducing his staff of servants but also the salaries of -those who remained, married very nicely into a draper's family, and soon -afterward voyaged to America to open and operate a branch of the concern -in New York City. His fortune, including the savings of twenty years, -amounted to something like thirty thousand pounds, most of which had -been accumulated by a sheep-raising brother who had gone to and died in -Australia. He put quite a bit of this into the business and became a -partner, making himself doubly welcome to a family that had suffered -considerably through competition in business and a complete lack of it -in respect to the matrimonial possibilities of five fully matured -daughters. - -Mr. Cricklewick had the further good sense to marry the youngest, -prettiest and most ambitious of the quintette, and thereby paved the way -for satisfactory though wholly unexpected social achievements in the -City of Now York. His wife, with the customary British scorn for -Americans, developed snobbish tendencies that rather alarmed Mr. -Cricklewick at the outset of his business career in New York, but which -ultimately produced the most remarkable results. - -Almost before he was safely out of the habit of saying "thank you" when -it wasn't at all necessary to say it, his wife had him down at Hot -Springs, Virginia, for a month in the fall season, where, because of his -exceptionally mellifluous English accent and a stateliness he had never -been able to overcome, he was looked upon by certain Anglo-maniacs as a -real and unmistakable "toff." - -Cricklewick had been brought up in, or on, the very best of society. -From his earliest days as third groom in the Camelford ménage to the end -of his reign as major-domo, he had been in a position to observe and -assimilate the manners of the elect. No one knew better than he how to -go about being a gentleman. He had had his lessons, not to say examples, -from the first gentlemen of England. Having been brought up on dukes and -earls,--and all that sort of thing,--to say nothing of quite a majority -in the House of Lords, he was in a fair way of knowing "what's what," to -use his own far from original expression. - -You couldn't fool Cricklewick to save your life. The instant he looked -upon you he could put you where you belonged, and, so far as he was -concerned, that was where you would have to stay. - -It is doubtful if there was ever a more discerning, more discriminating -butler in all England. It was his rather astonishing contention that one -could be quite at one's ease with dukes and duchesses and absolutely -ill-at-ease with ordinary people. That was his way of making the -distinction. It wasn't possible to be on terms of intimacy with the -people who didn't belong. They never seemed to know their place. - -The next thing he knew, after the Hot Springs visit, his name began to -appear in the newspapers in columns next to advertising matter instead -of the other way round. Up to this time it had been a struggle to get it -in next to reading matter on account of the exorbitant rates demanded by -the newspapers. - -He protested to his wife. "Oh, I say, my dear, this is cutting it a bit -thick, you know. You can't really be in earnest about it. I shouldn't -know how to act sitting down at a dinner table like that, you know. I am -informed that these people are regarded as real swells over 'ere,--here, -I should say. You must sit down and drop 'em a line saying we can't -come. Say we've suddenly been called out of town, or had bad news from -home, or--" - -"Rubbish! It will do them no end of good to see how you act at table. -Haven't you had the very best of training? All you have to do--" - -"But I had it standing, my dear." - -"Just the same, I shall accept the invitation. They are very excellent -people, and I see no reason why we shouldn't know the best while we're -about it." - -"But they've got millions," he expostulated. - -"Well," said she, "you musn't believe everything you hear about people -with millions. I must say that I've not seen anything especially vulgar -about them. So don't let that stand in your way, old dear." It was -unconscious irony. - -"It hasn't been a great while since I was a butler, my love; don't -forget that. A matter of a little over seven years." - -"Pray do not forget," said she coldly, "that it hasn't been so very long -since all these people over here were Indians." - -Mr. Cricklewick, being more or less hazy concerning overseas history, -took heart. They went to the dinner and he, remembering just how certain -noblemen of his acquaintance deported themselves, got on famously. And -although his wife never had seen a duchess eat, except by proxy in the -theatre, she left nothing to be desired,--except, perhaps, in the way of -food, of which she was so fond that it was rather a bore to nibble as -duchesses do. - -Being a sensible and far-seeing woman, she did not resent it when he -mildly protested that Lady So-and-So wouldn't have done this, and the -Duchess of You-Know wouldn't have done that. She looked upon him as a -master in the School of Manners. It was not long before she was able not -only to hold her own with the élite, but also to hold her lorgnette with -them. If she did not care to see you in a crowd she could overlook you -in the very smartest way. - -And so, after twenty or twenty-five years, we find the -Cricklewicks,--mother, father and daughter,--substantially settled in -the City of Masks, occupying an enviable position in society, and -seldom, if ever,--even in the bosom of the family,--referring to the -days of long ago,--a precaution no doubt inspired by the fear that they -might be overheard and misunderstood by their own well-trained and -admirable butler, whose respect they could not afford to lose. - -Once a week, on Wednesday nights, Mr. Cricklewick took off his mask. It -was, in a sense, his way of going to confession. He told his wife, -however, that he was going to the club. - -He sighed a little more briskly as he turned away from the window and -crossed over to the closet in which his fur-lined coat and silk hat were -hanging. It had taken time and a great deal of persuasion on the part of -his wife to prove to him that it wasn't quite the thing to wear a silk -hat with a sack coat in New York; he had grudgingly compromised with the -barbaric demands of fashion by dispensing with the sack coat in favour -of a cutaway. The silk hat was a fixture. - -"A lady asking to see you, sir," said his office-boy, after knocking on -the door marked "Private." - -"Hold my coat for me, Thomas," said Mr. Cricklewick. - -"Yes, sir," said Thomas. "But she says you will see her, sir, just as -soon as you gets a look at her." - -"Obviously," said Mr. Cricklewick, shaking himself down into the great -coat. "Don't rub it the wrong way, you simpleton. You should always -brush a silk hat with the nap and not--" - -"May I have a few words with you, Mr. Cricklewick?" inquired a sweet, -clear voice from the doorway. - -The head of the house opened his lips to say something sharp to the -office-boy, but the words died as he obeyed a magnetic influence and -hazarded a glance at the intruder's face. - -"Bless my soul!" said he, staring. An instant later he had recovered -himself. "Take my coat, Thomas. Come in, Lady--er--Miss Emsdale. Thank -you. Run along, Thomas. This is--ah--a most unexpected pleasure." The -door closed behind Thomas. "Pray have a chair, Miss Emsdale. Still quite -cold, isn't it?" - -"I sha'n't detain you for more than five or ten minutes," said Miss -Emsdale, sinking into a chair. - -"At your service,--quite at your service," said Mr. Cricklewick, -dissolving in the presence of nobility. He could not have helped himself -to save his life. - -Miss Emsdale came to the point at once. To save _her_ life she could not -think of Cricklewick as anything but an upper servant. - -"Please see if we are quite alone, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, laying -aside her little fur neck-piece. - -Mr. Cricklewick started. Like a flash there shot into his brain the -voiceless groan: "It's always something." However, he made haste to -assure her that they would not be disturbed. "It is closing time, you -see," he concluded, not without hope. - -"I could not get here any earlier," she explained. "I stopped in to ask -a little favour of you, Mr. Cricklewick." - -"You have only to mention it," said he, and then abruptly looked at his -watch. The thought struck him that perhaps he did not have enough in his -bill-folder; if not, it would be necessary to catch the cashier before -the safe was closed for the day. - -"Lord Temple is in trouble, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, a queer little -catch in her voice. - -"I--I am sorry to hear that," said he. - -"And I do not know of any one who is in a better position to help him -than you," she went on coolly. - -"I shall be happy to be of service to Lord Temple," said Mr. -Cricklewick, but not very heartily. Observation had taught him that -young noblemen seldom if ever get into trouble half way; they make a -practice of going in clean over their heads. - -"Owing to an unpleasant misunderstanding with Mr. Stuyvesant -Smith-Parvis, he has lost his situation as chauffeur for Mr. Carpenter," -said she. - -"I hope he has not--ahem!--thumped him," said Mr. Cricklewick, in such -dismay that he allowed the extremely undignified word to slip out. - -She smiled faintly. "I said unpleasant, Mr. Cricklewick,--not pleasant." - -"Bless my soul," said Mr. Cricklewick, blinking. - -"Mr. Smith-Parvis has prevailed upon Mr. Carpenter to dismiss him, and I -fear, between them, they are planning to drive him out of the city in -disgrace." - -"Bless me! This is too bad." - -Without divulging the cause of Smith-Parvis's animosity, she went -briefly into the result thereof. - -"It is really infamous," she concluded, her eyes flashing. "Don't you -agree with me?" - -Having it put to him so abruptly as that, Mr. Cricklewick agreed with -her. - -"Well, then, we must put our heads together, Mr. Cricklewick," she said, -with decision. - -"Quite so," said he, a little vaguely. - -"He is not to be driven out of the city," said she. "Nor is he to be -unjustly accused of--of wrongdoing. We must see to that." - -Mr. Cricklewick cleared his throat. "He can avoid all that sort of -thing, Lady--er--Miss Emsdale, by simply announcing that he is Lord -Temple, heir to one of the--" - -"Oh, he wouldn't think of doing such a thing," said she quickly. - -"People would fall over themselves trying to put laurels on his head," -he urged. "And, unless I am greatly mistaken, the first to rush up would -be the--er--the Smith-Parvises, headed by Stuyvesant." - -"No one knows the Smith-Parvises better than you, Mr. Cricklewick," she -said, and for some reason he turned quite pink. - -"Mrs. Cricklewick and I have seen a great deal of them in the past few -years," he said, almost apologetically. - -"And that encourages me to repeat that no one knows them better than -you," she said coolly. - -"We are to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Smith-Parvis tonight," said Mr. -Cricklewick. - -"Splendid!" she cried, eagerly. "That works in very nicely with the plan -I have in mind. You must manage in some way to remark--quite casually, -of course,--that you are very much interested in the affairs of a young -fellow-countryman,--omitting the name, if you please,--who has been -dismissed from service as a chauffeur, and who has been threatened--" - -"But my dear Miss Emsdale, I--" - -"--threatened with all sorts of things by his late employer. You may -also add that you have communicated with our Ambassador at Washington, -and that it is your intention to see your fellow-countryman through if -it takes a--may I say leg, Mr. Cricklewick? Young Mr. Smith-Parvis will -be there to hear you, so you may bluster as much as you please about -Great Britain protecting her subjects to the very last shot. The entire -machinery of the Foreign Office may be called into action, if necessary, -to--but I leave all that to you. You might mention, modestly, that it's -pretty ticklish business trying to twist the British lion's tail. Do you -see what I mean?" - -Mr. Cricklewick may have had an inward conviction that this was hardly -what you would call asking a favour of a person, but if he had he kept -it pretty well to himself. It did not occur to him that his present -position in the world, as opposed to hers, justified a rather stiff -reluctance on his part to take orders, or even suggestions, from this -penniless young person,--especially in his own sacred lair. On the -contrary, he was possessed by the instant and enduring realization that -it was the last thing he could bring himself to the point of doing. His -father, a butler before him, had gone to considerable pains to convince -him, at the outset of his career, that insolence is by far the greatest -of vices. - -Still, in this emergency, he felt constrained to argue,--another vice -sometimes modified by circumstances and the forbearance of one's -betters. - -"But I haven't communicated with our Ambassador at Washington," he said. -"And as for the Foreign Office taking the matter up--" - -"But, don't you see, _they_ couldn't possibly know that, Mr. -Cricklewick," she interrupted, frowning slightly. - -"Quite true,--but I should be telling a falsehood if I said anything of -the sort." - -"Knowing you to be an absolutely truthful and reliable man, Mr. -Cricklewick," she said mendaciously, "they would not even dream of -questioning your veracity. They do not believe you capable of telling a -falsehood. Can't you see how splendidly it would all work out?" - -Mr. Cricklewick couldn't see, and said so. - -"Besides," he went on, "suppose that it should get to the ears of the -Ambassador." - -"In that event, you could run over to Washington and tell him in private -just who Thomas Trotter is, and then everything would be quite all -right. You see," she went on earnestly, "all you have to do is to drop a -few words for the benefit of young Mr. Smith-Parvis. He looks upon you -as one of the most powerful and influential men in the city, and he -wouldn't have you discover that he is in anyway connected with such a -vile, underhanded--" - -"How am I to lead up to the subject of chauffeurs?" broke in -Mr. Cricklewick weakly. "I can hardly begin talking about -chauffeurs--er--out of a clear sky, you might say." - -"Don't begin by talking about chauffeurs," she counselled. "Lead up to -the issue by speaking of the friendly relations that exist between -England and America, and proceed with the hope that nothing may ever -transpire to sever the bond of blood--and so on. You know what I mean. -It is quite simple. And then look a little serious and distressed,--that -ought to be easy, Mr. Cricklewick. You must see how naturally it all -leads up to the unfortunate affair of your young countryman, whom you -are bound to defend,--and _we_ are bound to defend,--no matter what the -consequences may be." - -Two minutes later she arose triumphant, and put on her stole. Her eyes -were sparkling. - -"I knew you couldn't stand by and see this outrageous thing done to Eric -Temple. Thank you. I--goodness gracious, I quite forgot a most important -thing. In the event that our little scheme does not have the desired -result, and they persist in persecuting him, we must have something to -fall back upon. I know McFaddan very slightly. (She did not speak of the -ex-footman as Mr. McFaddan, nor did Cricklewick take account of the -omission). He is, I am informed, one of the most influential men in New -York,--one of the political bosses, Mr. Smith-Parvis says. He says he is -a most unprincipled person. Well, don't you see, he is just the sort of -person to fall back upon if all honest measures fail?" - -Mr. Cricklewick rather blankly murmured something about "honest -measures," and then mopped his brow. Miss Emsdale's enthusiasm, while -acutely ingenuous, had him "sweating blood," as he afterwards put it -during a calm and lucid period of retrospection. - -"I--I assure you I have no influence with McFaddan," he began, looking -at his handkerchief,--and being relieved, no doubt, to find no crimson -stains,--applied it to his neck with some confidence and vigour. "In -fact, we differ vastly in--" - -"McFaddan, being in a position to dictate to the police and, if it -should come to the worst, to the magistrates, is a most valuable man to -have on our side, Mr. Cricklewick. If you could see him tomorrow -morning,--I suppose it is too late to see him this evening,--and tell -him just what you want him to do, I'm sure--" - -"But, Miss Emsdale, you must allow me to say that McFaddan will -absolutely refuse to take orders from me. He is no longer what you might -say--er--in a position to be--er--you see what I mean, I hope." - -"Nonsense!" she said, dismissing his objection with a word. "McFaddan is -an Irishman and therefore eternally committed to the under dog, right or -wrong. When you explain the circumstances to him, he will come to our -assistance like a flash. And don't, overlook the fact, Mr. Cricklewick, -that McFaddan will never see the day when he can ignore a--a request -from you." She had almost said command, but caught the word in time. "By -the way, poor Trotter is out of a situation, and I may as well confess -to you that he can ill afford to be without one. It has just occurred to -me that you may know of some one among your wealthy friends, Mr. -Cricklewick, who is in need of a good man. Please rack your brain. Some -one to whom you can recommend him as a safe, skilful and competent -chauffeur." - -"I am glad you mention it," said he, brightening perceptibly in the -light of something tangible. "This afternoon I was called up on the -telephone by a party--by some one, I mean to say,--asking for -information concerning Klausen, the man who used to drive for me. I was -obliged to say that his habits were bad, and that I could not recommend -him. It was Mrs. Ellicott Millidew who inquired." - -"The young one or the old one?" inquired Miss Emsdale quickly. - -"The elder Mrs. Millidew," said Mr. Cricklewick, in a tone that implied -deference to a lady who was entitled to it, even when she was not within -earshot. "Not the pretty young widow," he added, risking a smile. - -"That's all right, then," said Miss Emsdale briskly. "I am sure it would -be a most satisfactory place for him." - -"But she is a very exacting old lady," said he, "and will require -references." - -"I am sure you can give him the very best of references," said she. "She -couldn't ask for anything better than your word that he is a splendid -man in every particular. Thank you so much, Mr. Cricklewick. And Lord -Temple will be ever so grateful to you too, I'm sure. Oh, you cannot -possibly imagine how relieved I am--about everything. We are very great -friends, Lord Temple and I." - -He watched the faint hint of the rose steal into her cheeks and a -velvety softness come into her eyes. - -"Nothing could be more perfect," he said, irrelevantly, but with real -feeling, and the glow of the rose deepened. - -"Thank you again,--and good-bye," she said, turning toward the door. - -It was then that the punctilious Cricklewick forgot himself, and in his -desire to be courteous, committed a most unpardonable offence. - -"My motor is waiting, Lady Jane," he said, the words falling out -unwittingly. "May I not drop you at Mr. Smith-Parvis's door?" - -"No, thank you," she said graciously. "You are very good, but the stages -go directly past the door." - -As the door closed behind her, Mr. Cricklewick sat down rather suddenly, -overcome by his presumption. Think of it! He had had the brass to invite -Lady Jane Thorne to accept a ride in his automobile! He might just as -well have had the effrontery to ask her to dine at his house! - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - MR. TROTTER FALLS INTO A NEW POSITION - - -THE sagacity of M. Mirabeau went far toward nullifying the -hastily laid plans of Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. It was he who -suggested a prompt effort to recover the two marked bills that -Trotter had handed to his landlady earlier in the day. - -Prince Waldemar de Bosky, with a brand new twenty-dollar bill in his -possession,--(supplied by the excited Frenchman)--boarded a Lexington -Avenue car and in due time mounted the steps leading to the front door -of the lodging house kept by Mrs. Dulaney. Ostensibly he was in search -of a room for a gentleman of refinement and culture; Mrs. Dulaney's -house had been recommended to him as first class in every particular. -The landlady herself showed him a room, fourth-floor front, just vacated -(she said) by a most refined gentleman engaged in the phonograph -business. It was her rule to demand references from prospective lodgers, -but as she had been in the business a great many years it was now -possible for her to distinguish a gentleman the instant she laid eyes on -him, so it would only be necessary for the present applicant to pay the -first week's rent in advance. He could then move in at once. - -With considerable mortification, she declared that she wouldn't insist -on the "advance,"--knowing gentlemen as perfectly as she did,--were it -not for the fact that her rent was due and she was short exactly that -amount,--having recently sent more than she could spare to a sick sister -in Bridgeport. - -De Bosky was very amiable about it,--and very courteous. He said that, -so far as he knew, all gentlemen were prepared to pay five dollars in -advance when they engaged lodgings by the week, and would she be so good -as to take it out of the twenty-dollar bill? - -Mrs. Dulaney was slightly chagrined. The sight of a twenty-dollar bill -caused her to regret not having asked for two weeks down instead of one. - -"If it does not inconvenience you, madam," said de Bosky, "I should like -the change in new bills. You have no idea how it offends my artistic -sense to--" He shuddered a little. "I make a point of never having -filthy, germ-disseminating bank notes on my person." - -"And you are quite right," said she feelingly. "I wish to God I could -afford to be as particular. If there's anything I hate it's a dirty old -bill. Any one could tell that you are a real gentleman, Mr.--Mr.--I -didn't get the name, did I?" - -"Drexel," he said. - -"Excuse me," she said, and moved over a couple of paces in order to -place the parlour table between herself and the prospective lodger. -Using it as a screen, she fished a thin flat purse from her stocking, -and opened it. "I wouldn't do this in the presence of any one but a -gentleman," she explained, without embarrassment. As she was twice the -size of Prince Waldemar and of a ruggedness that challenged offence, one -might have been justified in crediting her with egotism instead of -modesty. - -Selecting the brightest and crispest from the layer of bank notes, she -laid them on the table. De Bosky's eyes glistened. - -"The city has recently been flooded with counterfeit fives and tens, -madam," he said politely. This afforded an excuse for holding the bills -to the light for examination. - -"Now, don't tell me they're phoney," said Mrs. Dulaney, bristling. "I -got 'em this morning from the squarest chap I've ever had in my--" - -"I have every reason to believe they are genuine," said he, concealing -his exultation behind a patronizing smile. He had discovered the -tell-tale marks on both bills. Carefully folding them, he stuck them -into his waistcoat pocket. "You may expect me tomorrow, madam,--unless, -of course, destiny should shape another end for me in the meantime. One -never can tell, you know. I may be dead, or your comfortable house may -be burned to the ground. It is--" - -"For the Lord's sake, don't make a crack like that," she cried -vehemently. "It's bad luck to talk about fire." - -"In any event," said he jauntily, "you have my five dollars. Au revoir, -madam. Auf wiedersehn!" He buttoned Mr. Bramble's ulster close about his -throat and gravely bowed himself out into the falling night. - -In the meantime, Mr. Bramble had substituted two unmarked bills for -those remaining in the possession of Thomas Trotter, and, with the -return of Prince Waldemar, triumphant, M. Mirabeau arbitrarily -confiscated the entire thirty dollars. - -"These bills must be concealed at once," he explained. "Temporarily they -are out of circulation. Do not give them another thought, my dear -Trotter. And now, Monsieur Bookseller, we are in a proper frame of mind -to discuss the beefsteak you have neglected to order." - -"God bless my soul," cried Mr. Bramble in great dismay. His -unceremonious departure an instant later was due to panic. Mrs. O'Leary -had to be stopped before the tripe and tunny fish had gone too far. -Moreover, he had forgotten to tell her that there would be two extra for -dinner,--besides the extra sirloin. - -On the following Monday, Thomas Trotter entered the service of Mrs. -Millidew, and on the same day Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis returned to New -York after a hasty and more or less unpremeditated visit to Atlantic -City, where he experienced a trying half hour with the unreasonable Mr. -Carpenter, who spoke feelingly of a personal loss and most unfeelingly -of the British Foreign Office. Every nation in the world, he raged, has -a foreign office; foreign offices are as plentiful as birds'-nests. But -Tom Trotters were as scarce as hen's-teeth. He would never find another -like him. - -"And what's more," he interrupted himself to say, glowering at the -shocked young man, "he's a gentleman, and that's something you -ain't,--not in a million years." - -"Ass!" said Mr. Smith-Parvis, under his breath. - -"What's that?" roared the aggrieved one. - -"Don't shout like that! People are beginning to stare at--" - -"Thank the Lord I had sense enough to engage a private detective and not -to call in the police, as you suggested. That would have been the limit. -I've a notion to hunt that boy up and tell him the whole rotten story." - -"Go ahead and do it," invited Stuyvie, his eyes narrowing, "and I will -do a little telling myself. There is one thing in particular your wife -would give her ears to hear about you. It will simplify matters -tremendously. Go ahead and tell him." - -Mr. Carpenter appeared to be reflecting. His inflamed sullen eyes -assumed a misty, faraway expression. - -"For two cents I'd tell you to go to hell," he said, after a long -silence. - -"Boy!" called Mr. Smith-Parvis loftily, signalling a passing bell-hop. -"Go and get me some small change for this nickel." - -Mr. Carpenter's face relaxed into a sickly grin. "Can't you take a -joke?" he inquired peevishly. - -"Never mind," said Stuyvie to the bell-boy. "I sha'n't need it after -all." - -"What I'd like to know," mused Mr. Carpenter, later on, "is how in -thunder the New York police department got wind of all this." - -Mr. Smith-Parvis, Junior, wiped a fine moisture from his brow, and said: -"I forgot to mention that I had to give that plain-clothes man fifty -dollars to keep him from going to old man Cricklewick with the whole -blooming story. It seems that he got it from your bally private -detective." - -"Good!" said the other brightly. "You got off cheap," he added quickly, -catching the look in Stuyvie's eye. - -"I did it to spare Cricklewick a whole lot of embarrassment," said the -younger man stiffly. - -"I don't get you." - -"He never could look me in the face again if he found out I was the man -he was panning so unmercifully the other night at our own dinner table." -He wiped his brow again. "'Gad, he'd never forgive himself." - -Which goes to prove that Stuyvie was more considerate of the feelings of -others than one might have credited him with being. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Millidew was very particular about chauffeurs,--an idiosyncrasy, it -may be said, that brought her into contact with a great many of them in -the course of a twelvemonth. The last one to leave her without giving -the customary week's notice had remained in her employ longer than any -of his predecessors. A most astonishing discrepancy appeared in their -statements as to the exact length of time he was in her service. Mrs. -Millidew maintained that he was with her for exactly three weeks; the -chauffeur swore to high heaven that it was three centuries. - -She had Thomas Trotter up before her. - -"You have been recommended to me by Mr. Cricklewick," she said, -regarding him with a critical eye. "No other reference is necessary, so -don't go fumbling in your pockets for a pack of filthy envelopes. What -is your name?" - -She was a fat little old woman with yellow hair and exceedingly black -and carefully placed eyebrows. - -"Thomas Trotter, madam." - -"How tall are you?" - -"Six feet." - -"I am afraid you will not do," she said, taking another look at him. - -Trotter stared. "I am sorry, madam." - -"You are much too tall. Nothing will fit you." - -"Are you speaking of livery, madam?" - -"I'm speaking of a uniform," she said. "I can't be buying new uniforms -every two weeks. I don't mind a cap once in awhile, but uniforms cost -money. Mr. Cricklewick didn't tell me you were so tall. As a matter of -fact, I think I neglected to say to him that you would have to be under -five feet nine and fairly thin. You couldn't possibly squeeze into the -uniform, my man. I am sorry. I have tried everything but an English -chauffeur, and--you _are_ English, aren't you?" - -"Yes, madam. Permit me to solve the problem for you. I never, under any -circumstances, wear livery,--I beg your pardon, I should say a uniform." - -"You never what?" demanded Mrs. Millidew, blinking. - -"Wear livery," said he, succinctly. - -"That settles it," said she. "You'd have to if you worked for me. Now, -see here, my man, it's possible you'll change your mind after you've -seen the uniform I put on my chauffeurs. It's a sort of maroon--" - -"I beg your pardon, madam," he interrupted politely, favouring her with -his never-failing smile. Her gaze rested for a moment on his white, even -teeth, and then went up to meet his deep grey eyes. "A cap is as far as -I go. A sort of blue fatigue cap, you know." - -"I like your face," said she regretfully. "You are quite a good-looking -fellow. The last man I had looked like a street cleaner, even in his -maroon coat and white pants. I--Don't you think you could be persuaded -to put it on if I,--well, if I added five dollars a week to your wages? -I like your looks. You look as if you might have been a soldier." - -Trotter swallowed hard. "I shouldn't in the least object to wearing the -uniform of a soldier, Mrs. Millidew. That's quite different, you see." - -"Suppose I take you on trial for a couple of weeks," she ventured, -surrendering to his smile and the light in his unservile eyes. -Considering the matter settled, she went on brusquely: "How old are you, -Trotter?" - -"Thirty." - -"Are you married? I never employ married men. Their wives are always -having babies or operations or something disagreeable and unnecessary." - -"I am not married, Mrs. Millidew." - -"Who was your last employer in England?" - -"His Majesty King George the Fifth," said Trotter calmly. - -Her eyes bulged. "What?" she cried. Then her eyes narrowed. "And do you -mean to tell me you didn't wear a uniform when you worked for him?" - -"I wore a uniform, madam." - -"Umph! America has spoiled you, I see. That's always the way. -Independence is a curse. Have you ever been arrested? Wait! Don't -answer. I withdraw the question. You would only lie, and that is a bad -way to begin." - -"I lie only when it is absolutely necessary, Mrs. Millidew. In police -courts, for example." - -"Good! Now, you are young, good looking and likely to be spoiled. It -must be understood in the beginning, Trotter, that there is to be no -foolishness with women." She regarded him severely. - -"No foolishness whatsoever," said he humbly, raising his eyes to heaven. - -"How long were you employed in your last job--ah, situation?" - -"Not quite a twelve-month, madam." - -"And now," she said, with a graciousness that surprised her, "perhaps -you would like to put a few questions to me. The cooks always do." - -He smiled more engagingly than ever. "As they say in the advertisements -of lost jewellery, madam,--'no questions asked,'" he said. - -"Eh? Oh, I see. Rather good. I hope you know your place, though," she -added, narrowly. "I don't approve of freshness." - -"No more do I," said he, agreeably. - -"I suppose you are accustomed to driving in--er--in good society, -Trotter. You know what I mean." - -"Perfectly. I have driven in the very best, madam, if I do say it as -shouldn't. Beg pardon, I daresay you mean smart society?" He appeared to -be very much concerned, even going so far as to send an appraising eye -around the room,--doubtless for the purpose of satisfying himself that -_she_ was quite up to the standard. - -"Of course," she said hastily. Something told her that if she didn't nab -him on the spot he would get away from her. "Can you start in at once, -Trotter?" - -"We have not agreed upon the wages, madam." - -"I have never paid less than forty a week," she said stiffly. "Even for -bad ones," she added. - -He smiled, but said nothing, apparently waiting for her to proceed. - -"Would fifty a week suit you?" she asked, after a long pause. She was a -little helpless. - -"Quite," said he. - -"It's a lot of money," she murmured. "But I like the way you speak -English. By the way, let me hear you say: 'It is half after four, madam. -Are you going on to Mrs. Brown's.'" - -Trotter laid himself out. He said "hawf-paast," and "fou-ah," and -"Meddem," and "gehing," in a way that delighted her. - -"I shall be going out at three o'clock, Trotter. Be on time. I insist on -punctuality." - -"Very good, madam," he said, and retreated in good order. She halted him -at the door. - -"Above all things you mustn't let any of these silly women make a fool -of you, Trotter," she said, a troubled gleam in her eyes. - -"I will do my best, madam," he assured her. - -And that very afternoon she appeared in triumph at the home of her -daughter-in-law (the _young_ Mrs. Millidew) and invited that widowed -siren to go out for a spin with her "behind the stunningest creature you -ever laid your eyes on." - -"Where did you get him?" inquired the beautiful daughter-in-law, later -on, in a voice perfectly audible to the man at the wheel. "He's the best -looking thing in town. Don't be surprised if I steal him inside of a -week." She might as well have been at the zoo, discussing impervious -captives. - -"Now, don't try anything like that," cried Mrs. Millidew the elder, -glaring fiercely. - -"I like the way his hair kinks in the back,--and just above his ears," -said the other. "And his skin is as smooth and as clear--" - -"Is there any drive in particular you would like to take, madam?" broke -in Trotter, turning in the seat. - -"Up--up and down Fifth Avenue," said Mrs. Millidew promptly. - -"Did you ever see such teeth?" cried Mrs. Millidew, the younger, -delightedly. - -Trotter's ears were noticeable on account of their colour. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - PUTTING THEIR HEADS--AND HEARTS--TOGETHER - - -"FOR every caress," philosophized the Marchioness, "there is a pinch. -Somehow they manage to keep on pretty even terms. One receives the -caresses fairly early in life, the pinches later on. You shouldn't be -complaining at your time of life, my friend." - -She was speaking to Lord Temple, who had presented himself a full thirty -minutes ahead of other expected guests at the Wednesday evening salon. -He explained that he came early because he had to leave early. Mrs. -Millidew was at the theatre. She was giving a box party. He had been -directed to return to the theatre before the end of the second act. Mrs. -Millidew, it appears, was in the habit of "walking out" on every play -she attended, sometimes at the end of an act but more frequently in the -middle of it, greatly to the relief of actors and audience. - - * * * * * - -("Tell me something good to read," said one of her guests, in the middle -of the first act, addressing no one in particular, the audience being a -very large one. "Is there anything new that's worth while?" - -"_The Three Musketeers_ is a corker," said the man next her. "Awfully -exciting." - -"Write it down for me, dear boy. I will order it sent up tomorrow. One -has so little time to read, you know. Anything else?" - -"You _must_ read _Trilby_," cried one of the other women, frowning -slightly in the direction of the stage, where an actor was doing his -best to break into the general conversation. "It's perfectly ripping, I -hear. And there is another book called _Three Men in a Yacht_, or -something like that. Have you had it?" - -"No. Good Lord, what a noisy person he is! One can't hear oneself think, -the way he's roaring. _Three Men in a Yacht._ Put that down, too, -Bertie. Dear me, how do you find the time to keep up with your reading, -my dear? It's absolutely impossible for me. I'm always six months or a -year behind--" - -"Have you read _Brewster's Millions_, Mrs. Corkwright?" timidly inquired -a rather up-to-date gentleman. - -"That isn't a book. It's a play," said Mrs. Millidew. "I saw it ten -years ago. There is a ship in it.") - - * * * * * - -"I'm not complaining," remarked Lord Temple, smiling down upon the -Marchioness, who was seated in front of the fireplace. "I merely -announced that the world is getting to be a dreary old place,--and -that's all." - -"Ah, but you made the announcement after a silence of five minutes -following my remark that Lady Jane Thorne finds it impossible to be with -us tonight." - -He blushed. "Did it seem as long as that?" he said, penitently. "I'm -sorry." - -"How do you like your new situation?" she inquired, changing the subject -abruptly. - -He gave a slight start. It was an unwritten law that one's daily -occupation should not be discussed at the weekly drawing-rooms. For -example, it is easy to conceive that one could not be forgiven for -asking the Count Pietro Poloni how many nickels he had taken in during -the day as Humpy the Organ-grinder. - -Lord Temple also stared. Was it possible that she was forgetting that -Thomas Trotter, the chauffeur, was hanging over the back of a chair in -the locker room down-stairs,--where he had been left by a hurried and -somewhat untidy Lord Temple? - -"As well as could be expected," he replied, after a moment. - -"Mrs. Millidew came in to see me today. She informed me that she had put -in her thumb and pulled out a plum. Meaning you, of course." - -"How utterly English you are, my dear Marchioness. She mentioned a fruit -of some kind, and you missed the point altogether. 'Peach' is the word -she's been using for the past two days, just plain, ordinary 'peach.' A -dozen times a day she sticks a finger almost up against my manly back, -and says proudly: 'See my new chauffeur. Isn't he a peach?' I can't see -how you make plum out of it." - -The Marchioness laughed. "It doesn't matter. She dragged me to the -window this afternoon and pointed down at you sitting alone in all your -splendour. I am afraid I gasped. I couldn't believe my eyes. You won't -last long, dear boy. She's a dreadful woman." - -"I'm not worrying. I shouldn't be out of a situation long. Do you happen -to know her daughter-in-law?" - -"I do," said the Marchioness, frowning. - -"She told me this morning that the instant I felt I couldn't stand -the old lady any longer, she'd give me a job on the spot. As a -matter-of-fact, she went so far as to say she'd be willing to pay me -more money if I felt the slightest inclination to leave my present -position at once." - -The Marchioness smiled faintly. "No other recommendation necessary, eh?" - -"Beg pardon?" - -"In other words, she is willing to accept you at your face value." - -"I daresay I have a competent face," he acknowledged, his smile -broadening into a grin. - -"Designed especially for women," said she. - -He coloured. "Oh, I say, that's a bit rough." - -"And thoroughly approved by men," she added. - -"That's better," he said. "I'm not a ladies' man, you know,--thank God." -His face clouded. "Is Lady Jane ill?" - -"Apparently not. She merely telephoned to say it would be impossible to -come." She eyed him shrewdly. "Do you know anything about it, young -man?" - -"Have you seen her,--lately?" he parried. - -"Yesterday afternoon," she answered, keeping her eyes upon his -half-averted face. "See here, Eric Temple," she broke out suddenly, "she -is unhappy--most unhappy. I am not sure that I ought to tell you--and -yet, you are in love with her, so you should know. Now, don't say you -are not in love with her! Save your breath. The trouble is, you are not -the only man who is in that peculiar fix." - -"I know," he said, frowning darkly. "She's being annoyed by that -infernal blighter." - -"Oho, so you _do_ know, then?" she cried. "She was very careful to leave -you out of the story altogether. Well, I'm glad you know. What are you -going to do about it?" - -"I? Why,--why, what _can_ I do?" - -"There is a great deal you can do." - -"But she has laid down the law, hard and fast. She won't let me," he -groaned. - -The Marchioness blinked rapidly. "Well, of all the stupid,--Say that -again, please." - -"She won't let me. I would in a second, you know,--no matter if it did -land me in jail for--" - -"What are you talking about?" she gasped. - -"Punching his bally head till he wouldn't know it himself in the -mirror," he grated, looking at his fist almost tearfully. - -The Marchioness opened her lips to say something, thought better of it, -and turned her head to smile. - -"Moreover," he went on, "she's right. Might get her into no end of a -mess with those people, you see. It breaks my heart to think of her--" - -"He wants her to run away with him and be married," she broke in. - -"What!" he almost shouted, glaring at her as if she were the real -offender. "You--did she tell you that?" - -"Yes. He rather favours San Francisco. He wants her to go out there with -him and be married by a chap to whom he promised the distinction while -they were still in their teens." - -"The cur! That's his game, is it? Why, that's the foulest trick known -to--" - -"But she isn't going, my friend,--so possess yourself in peace. That's -why he is turning off so nasty. He is making things most unpleasant for -her." - -He wondered how far Jane had gone in her confidences. Had she told the -Marchioness everything? - -"Why doesn't she leave the place?" he demanded, as a feeler. - -Lady Jane had told the Marchioness everything, and a great deal more -besides, including, it may be said, something touching upon her own -feelings toward Lord Temple. But the Marchioness was under imperative -orders. Not for the world, was Thomas Trotter to know that Miss Emsdale, -among others, was a perfect fool about him. - -"She must have her bread and butter, you know," said she severely. - -"But she can get that elsewhere, can't she?" - -"Certainly. She can get it by marrying some decent, respectable fellow -and all that sort of thing, but she can't get another place in New York -as governess if the Smith-Parvis establishment turns her out with a bad -name." - -He swallowed hard, and went a little pale. "Of course, she isn't -thinking of--of getting married." - -"Yes, she is," said the Marchioness flatly. - -"Has--has she told you that in so many words, Marchioness?" he asked, -his heart going to his boots. - -"Is it fair to ask that question, Lord Temple?" - -"No. It isn't fair. I have no right to pry into her affairs. I'm--I'm -desperately concerned, that's all. It's my only excuse." - -"It isn't strange that she should be in love, is it?" - -"But I--I don't see who the deuce she can have found over here to--to -fall in love with," he floundered. - -"There are millions of good, fine Americans, my friend. Young -Smith-Parvis is one of the exceptions." - -"He isn't an American," said Lord Temple, savagely. "Don't insult -America by mentioning his name in--" - -"Please, please! Be careful not to knock over the lamp, dear boy. It's -Florentine, and Count Antonio says it came from some dreadful -sixteenth-century woman's bedroom, price two hundred guineas net. She's -afraid she's being watched." - -"She? Oh, you mean Lady Jane?" - -"Certainly. The other woman has been dead for centuries. Jane thinks it -isn't safe for her to come here for a little while. There's no telling -what the wretch may stoop to, you see." - -Lord Temple squared his shoulders. "I don't see how you can be so -cheerful about it," he said icily. "I fear it isn't worth while to ask -the favour I came to--er--to ask of you tonight." - -"Don't be silly. Tell me what I can do for you." - -"It isn't for me. It's for her. I came early tonight so that we could -talk it all over before any one else arrived. I've slept precious little -the last few nights, Marchioness." His brow was furrowed as with pain. -"In the first place, you will agree that she cannot remain in that house -up there. That's settled." As she did not offer any audible support, he -demanded, after a pause: "Isn't it?" - -"I daresay she will have something to say about that," she said, -temporizing. "She is her own mistress, you know." - -"But the poor girl doesn't know where to turn," he protested. "She'd -chuck it in a second if something else turned up." - -"I spoke of marriage, you will remember," she remarked, drily. - -"I--I know," he gulped. "But we've just got to tide her over the rough -going until she's--until she's ready, you see." He could not force the -miserable word out of his mouth. "Now, I have a plan. Are you prepared -to back me up in it?" - -"How can I answer that question?" - -"Well, I'll explain," he went on rapidly, eagerly. "We've got to make a -new position for her. I can't do it without your help, of course, so -we'll have to combine forces. Now, here's the scheme I've worked out. -You are to give her a place here,--not downstairs in the shop, mind -you,--but upstairs in your own, private apartment. You--" - -"Good heavens, man! What are you saying? Would you have Lady Jane Thorne -go into service? Do you dare suggest that she should put on a cap and -apron and--" - -"Not at all," he interrupted. "I want you to engage her as your private -secretary, at a salary of one hundred dollars a month. She's receiving -that amount from the Smith-Parvises. I don't see how she can get along -on less, so--" - -"My dear man!" cried the Marchioness, in amazement. "What _are_ you -talking about? In the first place, I haven't the slightest use for a -private secretary. In the second place, I can't afford to pay one -hundred--" - -"You haven't heard all I have to say--" - -"And in the third place, Lady Jane wouldn't consider it in the first -place. Bless my soul, you _do_ need sleep. You are losing your--" - -"She sends nearly all of her salary over to the boy at home," he went on -earnestly. "It will have to be one hundred dollars, at the very lowest. -Now, here's my proposition. I am getting two hundred a month. It's just -twice as much as I'm worth,--or any other chauffeur, for that matter. -Well, now what's the matter with me taking just what I'm worth and -giving her the other half? See what I mean?" - -He was standing before her, his eyes glowing, his voice full of boyish -eagerness. As she looked up into his shining eyes, a tender smile came -and played about her lips. - -"I see," she said softly. - -"Well?" he demanded anxiously, after a moment. - -"Do sit down," she said. "You appear to have grown prodigiously tall in -the last few minutes. I shall have a dreadful crick in my neck, I'm -afraid." - -He pulled up a chair and sat down. - -"I can get along like a breeze on a hundred dollars a month," he -pursued. "I've worked it all out,--just how much I can save by moving -into cheaper lodgings, and cutting out expensive cigarettes, and going -on the water-wagon entirely,--although I rarely take a drink as it -is,--and getting my clothes at a department store instead of having them -sent out from London,--I'd be easy to fit, you see, even with -hand-me-downs,--and in a lot of other ways. Besides, it would be a -splendid idea for me to practise economy. I've never--" - -"You dear old goose," broke in the Marchioness, delightedly; "do you -think for an instant that I will allow you to pay the salary of my -private secretary,--if I should conclude to employ one?" - -"But you say you can't afford to employ one," he protested. "Besides, I -shouldn't want her to be a real secretary. The work would be too hard -and too confining. Old Bramble was my grandfather's secretary. He worked -sixteen hours a day and never had a holiday. She must have plenty of -fresh air and outdoor exercise and--and time to read and do all sorts of -agreeable things. I couldn't think of allowing her to learn how to use a -typing machine, or to write shorthand, or to get pains in her back -bending over a desk for hours at a time. That isn't my scheme, at all. -She mustn't do any of those stupid things. Naturally, if you were to pay -her out of your own pocket, you'd be justified in demanding a lot of -hard, exacting work--" - -"Just a moment, please. Let's be serious," said the Marchioness, pursing -her lips. - -"Suffering--" he began, staring at her in astonishment. - -"I mean, let's seriously consider your scheme," she hastened to amend. -"You are assuming, of course, that she will accept a position such as -you suggest. Suppose she says no,--what then?" - -"I leave that entirely to you," said he, composedly. "You can persuade -her, I'm sure." - -"She is no fool. She is perfectly well aware that I don't require the -services of a secretary, that I am quite able to manage my private -affairs myself. She would see through me in a second. She is as proud as -Lucifer. I don't like to think of what she would say to me. And if I -were to offer to pay her one hundred dollars a month, she would--well, -she would think I was losing my mind. She knows I--" - -"By Jove!" he exclaimed, slapping his knee, his face beaming. "That's -the ticket! That simplifies everything. Let her think you _are_ losing -your mind. From worry and overwork--and all that sort of thing. It's the -very thing, Marchioness. She would drop everything to help you in a case -like that." - -"Well, of all the--" began the Marchioness, aghast. - -"You can put it up to her something like this," he went on, -enthusiastically. "Tell her you are on the point of having a nervous -breakdown,--a sort of collapse, you know. You know how to put it, better -than I do. You--" - -"I certainly do _not_ know how to put it better than you do," she cried, -sitting up very straight. - -"Tell her you are dreadfully worried over not being able to remember -things,--mental strain, and all that sort of thing. May have to give up -business altogether unless you can--Is it a laughing matter, -Marchioness?" he broke off, reddening to the roots of his hair. - -"You are delicious!" she cried, dabbing her eyes with a bit of a lace -handkerchief. "I haven't laughed so heartily in months. Bless my soul, -you'll have me telling her there is insanity in my family before you're -through with it." - -"Not at all," he said severely. "People _never_ admit that sort of -thing, you know. But certainly it isn't asking too much of you to act -tired and listless, and a _little_ distracted, is it? She'll ask what's -the matter, and you simply say you're afraid you're going to have a -nervous breakdown or--or--" - -"Or paresis," she supplied. - -"Whatever you like," he said promptly. "Now you _will_ do this for me, -won't you? You don't know what it will mean to me to feel that she is -safe here with you." - -"I will do my best," she said, for she loved him dearly--and the girl -that he loved dearly too. - -"Hurray!" he shouted,--and kissed her! - -"Don't be foolish," she cried out. "You've tumbled my hair, and Julia -had a terrible time with it tonight." - -"When will you tackle--see her, I mean?" he asked, sitting down abruptly -and drawing his chair a little closer. - -"The first time she comes in to see me," she replied firmly, "and not -before. You must not demand too much of a sick, collapsible old lady, -you know. Give me time,--and a chance to get my bearings." - -He drew a long breath. "I seem to be getting my own for the first time -in days." - -She hesitated. "Of course, it is all very quixotic,--and most unselfish -of you, Lord Temple. Not every man would do as much for a girl -who--well, I'll not say a girl who is going to be married before long, -because I'd only be speculating,--but for a girl, at any rate, who can -never be expected to repay. I take it, of course, that Lady Jane is -never, under any circumstances to know that you are the real paymaster." - -"She must never know," he gasped, turning a shade paler. "She would hate -me, and--well, I couldn't stand that, you know." - -"And you will not repent when the time comes for her to marry?" - -"I'll--I'll be miserably unhappy, but--but, you will not hear a whimper -out of me," he said, his face very long. - -"Spoken like a hero," she said, and again she laughed, apparently -without reason. "Some one is coming. Will you stay?" - -"No; I'll be off, Marchioness. You don't know how relieved I am. I'll -drop in tomorrow some time to see what she says,--and to arrange with -you about the money. Good night!" He kissed her hand, and turned to -McFaddan, who had entered the room. "Call a taxi for me, McFaddan." - -"Very good, sir." - -"Wait! Never mind. I'll walk or take a street car." To the Marchioness: -"I'm beginning right now," he said, with his gayest smile. - -In the foyer he encountered Cricklewick. - -"Pleasant evening, Cricklewick," he said. - -"It is, your lordship. Most agreeable change, sir." - -"A bit soft under foot." - -"Slushy, sir," said Cricklewick, obsequiously. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - WINNING BY A NOSE - - -MRS. SMITH-PARVIS, having received the annual spring announcement -from Juneo & Co., repaired, on an empty Thursday, to the show-rooms -and galleries of the little Italian dealer in antiques. - -Twice a year she disdainfully,--and somewhat hastily,--went through -his stock, always proclaiming at the outset that she was merely -"looking around"; she'd come in later if she saw anything really -worth having. It was her habit to demand the services of Mr. Juneo -himself on these profitless visits to his establishment. She looked -holes through the presumptuous underlings who politely adventured to -inquire if she was looking for anything in particular. It would seem -that the only thing in particular that she was looking for was the -head of the house, and if he happened to be out she made it very -plain that she didn't see how he ever did any business if he wasn't -there to look after it. - -And if little Mr. Juneo was in, she swiftly conducted him through -the various departments of his own shop, questioning the genuineness -of everything, denouncing his prices, and departing at last with the -announcement that she could always find what she wanted at -Pickett's. - -At Pickett's she invariably encountered coldly punctilious gentlemen -in "frockaway" coats, who were never quite sure, without inquiring, -whether Mr. Moody was at liberty. Would she kindly take a seat and -wait, or would she prefer to have a look about the galleries while -some one went off to see if he could see her at once or a little -later on? She liked all this. And she would wander about the -luxurious rooms of the establishment of Pickett, Inc., content to -stare languidly at other and less influential patrons who had to be -satisfied with the smug attentions of ordinary salesmen. - -And Moody, being acutely English, laid it on very thick when it came -to dealing with persons of the type of Mrs. Smith-Parvis. Somehow he -had learned that in dealing with snobs one must transcend even in -snobbishness. The only way to command the respect of a snob is to go -him a little better,--indeed, according to Moody, it isn't altogether -out of place to go him a great deal better. The loftier the snob, the -higher you must shoot to get over his head (to quote Moody, whose -training as a footman in one of the oldest houses in England had -prepared him against almost any emergency). He assumed on occasion a -polite, bored indifference that seldom failed to have the desired -effect. In fact, he frequently went so far as to pretend to stifle a -yawn while face to face with the most exalted of patrons,--a revelation -of courage which, being carefully timed, usually put the patron in a -corner from which she could escape only by paying a heavy ransom. - -He sometimes had a way of implying,--by his manner, of course,--that -he would rather not sell the treasure at all than to have it go into -_your_ mansion, where it would be manifestly alone in its splendour, -notwithstanding the priceless articles you had picked up elsewhere -in previous efforts to inhabit the place with glory. On the other -hand, if you happened to be nobody at all and therefore likely to -resent being squelched, he could sell you a ten-dollar candlestick -quite as amiably as the humblest clerk in the place. Indeed, he was -quite capable of giving it to you for nine dollars if he found he -had not quite correctly sized you up in the beginning. - -As he never erred in sizing up people of the Smith-Parvis ilk, however, -his profits were sublime. Accident, and nothing less, brought him into -contact with the common people looking for bargains: such as the faulty -adjustment of his monocle, or a similarity in backs, or the perverseness -of the telephone, or a sudden shower. Sudden showers always remind -pedestrians without umbrellas that they've been meaning for a long time -to stop in and price things, and they clutter up the place so. - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis was bent on discovering something cheap and unusual -for the twins, whose joint birthday anniversary was but two days off. It -occurred to her that it would be wise to give them another heirloom -apiece. Something English, of course, in view of the fact that her -husband's forebears had come over from England with the twenty or thirty -thousand voyagers who stuffed the _Mayflower_ from stem to stern on her -historic maiden trip across the Atlantic. - -Secretly, she had never got over being annoyed with the twins for having -come regardless, so to speak. She had prayed for another boy like -Stuyvesant, and along came the twins--no doubt as a sort of sop in the -form of good measure. If there had to be twins, why under heaven -couldn't she have been blessed with them on Stuyvesant's natal day? She -couldn't have had too many Stuyvesants. - -Still, she considered it her duty to be as nice as possible to the -twins, now that she had them; and besides, they were growing up to be -surprisingly pretty girls, with a pleasantly increasing resemblance to -Stuyvesant. - -Always, a day or two prior to the anniversary, she went surreptitiously -into the antique shops and picked out for each of them a piece of -jewellery, or a bit of china, or a strip of lace, or anything else that -bore evidence of having once been in a very nice sort of family. On the -glad morning she delivered her gifts, with sweet impressiveness, into -the keeping of these remote little descendants of her beloved ancestors! -Invariably something English, heirlooms that she had kept under lock and -key since the day they came to Mr. Smith-Parvis under the terms of his -great-grandmother's will. Up to the time Stuyvesant was sixteen he had -been getting heirlooms from a long-departed great-grandfather, but on -reaching that vital age, he declared that he preferred cash. - -The twins had a rare assortment of family heirlooms in the little glass -cabinets upstairs. - -"You must cherish them for ever," said their mother, without -compunction. "They represent a great deal more than mere money, my -dears. They are the intrinsic bonds that connect you with a glorious -past." - -When they were ten she gave them a pair of beautiful miniatures,--a most -alluring and imperial looking young lady with powdered hair, and a -gallant young gentleman with orders pinned all over his bright red coat. -It appears that the lady of the miniature was a great personage at court -a great many years before the misguided Colonists revolted against King -George the Third, and they--her darling twins--were directly descended -from her. The gentleman was her husband. - -"He was awfully handsome," one of the twins had said, being romantic. -"Are we descended from him too, mamma?" she inquired innocently. - -"Certainly," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis severely. - -A predecessor of Miss Emsdale's got her walking papers for putting -nonsense (as well as the truth) into the heads of the children. At -least, she told them something that paved the way for a most -embarrassing disclosure by one of the twins when a visitor was -complimenting them on being such nice, lovely little ladies. - -"We ought to be," said Eudora proudly. "We are descended from Madam du -Barry. We've got her picture upstairs." - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis took Miss Emsdale with her on this particular Thursday -afternoon. This was at the suggestion of Stuyvesant, who held forth that -an English governess was in every way qualified to pass upon English -wares, new or old, and there wasn't any sense in getting "stung" when -there was a way to protect oneself, and all that sort of thing. - -Stuyvesant also joined the hunt. - -"Rather a lark, eh, what?" he whispered in Miss Emsdale's ear as they -followed his stately mother into the shop of Juneo & Co. She jerked her -arm away. - -The proprietor was haled forth. Courteous, suave and polished though he -was, Signor Juneo had the misfortune to be a trifle shabby, and -sartorially remiss. Mrs. Smith-Parvis eyed him from a peak,--a very -lofty peak. - -Ten minutes sufficed to convince her that he had nothing in his place -that she could think of buying. - -"My dear sir," she said haughtily, "I know just what I want, so don't -try to palm off any of this jewellery on me. Miss Emsdale knows the -Queen Anne period quite as well as I do, I've no doubt. Queen Anne never -laid eyes on that wristlet, Mr. Juneo." - -"Pardon me, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, I fear you misunderstood me," said the -little dealer politely. "I think I said that it was of Queen Anne's -period--" - -"What time is it, Stuyvesant?" broke in the lady, turning her back on -the merchant. "We must be getting on to Pickett's. It is really a waste -of time, coming to places like this. One should go to Pickett's in the -first--" - -"There are a lot of ripping things here, mater," said Stuyvesant, his -eyes resting on a comfortable couch in a somewhat secluded corner of the -shop. "Take a look around. Miss Emsdale and I will take a back seat, so -that you may go about it with an open mind. I daresay we confuse you -frightfully, tagging at your heels all the time, what? Come along, Miss -Emsdale. You look fagged and--" - -"Thank you, I am quite all right," said Miss Emsdale, the red spots in -her cheeks darkening. - -"Oh, be a sport," he urged, under his voice. "I've just got to have a -few words with you. It's been days since we've had a good talk. Looks as -though you were deliberately avoiding me." - -"I am," said she succinctly. - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis had gone on ahead with Signor Juneo, and was loudly -criticizing a beautiful old Venetian mirror which he had the temerity to -point out to her. - -"Well, I don't like it," Stuyvesant said roughly. "That sort of thing -doesn't go with me, Miss Emsdale. And, hang it all, why haven't you had -the decency to answer the two notes I stuck under your door last night -and the night before?" - -"I did not read the second one," she said, flushing painfully. "You -have no right to assume that I will meet you--oh, _can't_ you be a -gentleman?" - -He gasped. "My God! Can you beat _that_!" - -"It is becoming unbearable, Mr. Smith-Parvis," said she, looking him -straight in the eye. "If you persist, I shall be compelled to speak to -your mother." - -"Go ahead," he said sarcastically. "I'm ready for exposure if you are." - -"And I am now prepared to give up my position," she added, white and -calm. - -"Good!" he exclaimed promptly. "I'll see that you never regret it," he -went on eagerly, his enormous vanity reaching out for but one -conclusion. - -"You beast!" she hissed, and walked away. - -He looked bewildered. "I'm blowed if I understand what's got into women -lately," he muttered, and passed his fingers over his brow. - -On the way to Pickett's, Mrs. Smith-Parvis dilated upon the unspeakable -Mr. Juneo. - -"You will be struck at once, Miss Emsdale, by the contrast. The -instant you come in contact with Mr. Moody, at Pickett's--he is really -the head of the firm,--you will experience the delightful,--and -unique, I may say,--sensation of being in the presence of a cultured, -high-bred gentleman. They are most uncommon among shop-keepers in -these days. This little Juneo is as common as dirt. He hasn't a shred -of good-breeding. Utterly low-class Neapolitan person, I should say at -a venture,--although I have never been by way of knowing any of the -lower class Italians. They must be quite dreadful in their native -gutters. Now, Mr. Moody,--but you shall see. Really, he is so splendid -that one can almost imagine him in the House of Lords, or being -privileged to sit down in the presence of the king, or--My word, -Stuyvesant, what are you scowling at?" - -"I'm not scowling," growled Stuyvesant, from the little side seat in -front of them. - -"He actually makes me feel sometimes as though I were dirt under his -feet," went on Mrs. Smith-Parvis. - -"Oh, come now, mother, you know I never make you feel anything of the--" - -"I was referring to Mr. Moody, dear." - -"Oh,--well," said he, slightly crestfallen. - -Miss Emsdale suppressed a desire to giggle. Moody, a footman without the -normal supply of aitches; Juneo, a nobleman with countless generations -of nobility behind him! - -The car drew up to the curb on the side street paralleling Pickett's. -Another limousine had the place of vantage ahead of them. - -"Blow your horn, Galpin," ordered Mrs. Smith-Parvis. "They have no right -to stand there, blocking the way." - -"It's Mrs. Millidew's car, madam," said the footman up beside Galpin. - -"Never mind, Galpin," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis hastily. "We will get out -here. It's only a step." - -Miss Emsdale started. A warm red suffused her cheeks. She had not seen -Trotter since that day in Bramble's book-shop. Her heart began to beat -rapidly. - -Trotter was standing on the curb, carrying on a conversation with some -one inside the car. He too started perceptibly when his gaze fell upon -the third person to emerge from the Smith-Parvis automobile. Almost -instantly his face darkened and his tall frame stiffened. He had taken a -second look at the first person to emerge. The reply he was in process -of making to the occupant of his own car suffered a collapse. It became -disjointed, incoherent and finally came to a halt. He was afforded a -slight thrill of relief when Miss Emsdale deliberately ignored the hand -that was extended to assist her in alighting. - -Mrs. Millidew, the younger, turned her head to glance at the passing -trio. Her face lighted with a slight smile of recognition. The two -Smith-Parvises bowed and smiled in return. - -"Isn't she beautiful?" said Mrs. Smith-Parvis to her son, without -waiting to get out of earshot. - -"Oh, rather," said he, quite as distinctly. - -"Who is that extremely pretty girl?" inquired Mrs. Millidew, the -younger, also quite loudly, addressing no one in particular. - -Trotter cleared his throat. - -"Oh, you wouldn't know, of course," she observed. "Go on, Trotter. You -were telling me about your family in--was it Chester? Your dear old -mother and the little sisters. I am very much interested." - -Trotter looked around cautiously, and again cleared his throat. - -"It is awfully good of you to be interested in my people," he said, an -uneasy note in his voice. For his life, he could not remember just what -he had been telling her in response to her inquiries. The whole thing -had been knocked out of his head by the sudden appearance of one who -knew that he had no dear old mother in Chester, nor little sisters -anywhere who depended largely on him for support! "Chester," he said, -rather vaguely. "Yes, to be sure,--Chester. Not far from Liverpool, you -know,--it's where the cathedral is." - -"Tell me all about them," she persisted, leaning a little closer to the -window, an encouraging smile on her carmine lips. - -In due time the impassive Mr. Moody issued forth from his private office -and bore down upon the two matrons, who, having no especial love for -each other, were striving their utmost to be cordial without -compromising themselves by being agreeable. - -Mrs. Millidew the elder, arrayed in many colours, was telling Mrs. -Smith-Parvis about a new masseuse she had discovered, and Mrs. -Smith-Parvis was talking freely at the same time about a person named -Juneo. - -Miss Emsdale had drifted over toward the broad show window looking out -upon the cross-town street, where Thomas Trotter was visible,--out of -the corner of her eye. Also the younger Mrs. Millidew. - -Stuyvesant, sullenly smoking a cigarette, lolled against a show-case -across the room, dropping ashes every minute or two into the mouth of a -fragile and, for the time being, priceless vase that happened to be -conveniently located near his elbow. - -Mr. Moody adjusted his monocle and eyed his matronly visitors in a most -unfeeling way. - -"Ah,--good awfternoon, Mrs. Millidew. Good awfternoon, Mrs. -Smith-Parvis," he said, and then catching sight of an apparently -neglected customer in the offing, beckoned to a smart looking salesman, -and said, quite loudly: - -"See what that young man wants, Proctor." - -The young man, who happened to be young Mr. Smith-Parvis, started -violently,--and glared. - -"Stupid blight-ah!" he said, also quite loudly, and disgustedly chucked -his cigarette into the vase, whereupon the salesman, in some horror, -grabbed it up and dumped the contents upon the floor. - -"You shouldn't do that, you know," he said, in a moment of righteous -forgetfulness. "That's a peach-blow--" - -"Oh, is it?" snapped Stuyvesant, and walked away. - -"That is my son, Mr. Moody," explained Mrs. Smith-Parvis quickly. "Poor -dear, he hates so to shop with me." - -"Ah,--ah, I see," drawled Mr. Moody. "Your son? Yes, yes." And then, as -an afterthought, with a slight elevation of one eyebrow, "Bless my soul, -Mrs. Smith-Parvis, you amaze me. It's incredible. You cawn't convince me -that you have a son as old as--Well, now, really it's a bit thick." - -"I--I'm not spoofing you, Mr. Moody," cried Mrs. Smith-Parvis -delightedly. - -His face relaxed slightly. One might have detected the faint, suppressed -gleam of a smile in his eyes,--but it was so brief, so evanescent that -it would be folly to put it down as such. - -The ensuing five minutes were devoted entirely to manoeuvres on the part -of all three. Mrs. Smith-Parvis was trying to shunt Mrs. Millidew on to -an ordinary salesman, and Mrs. Millidew was standing her ground, -resolute in the same direction. The former couldn't possibly inspect -heirlooms under the eye of that old busy-body, nor could the latter -resort to cajolery in the effort to obtain a certain needle-point chair -at bankrupt figures. As for Mr. Moody, he was splendid. The lordliest -duke in all of Britain could not have presented a truer exemplification -of lordliness than he. He quite outdid himself. The eighth letter in the -alphabet behaved in a most gratifying manner; indeed, he even took -chances with it, just to see how it would act if he were not watching -it,--and not once did it fail him. - -"But, of course, one never can find anything one wants unless one goes -to the really exclusive places, you know," Mrs. Smith-Parvis was saying. -"It is a waste of time, don't you think?" - -"Quate--oh, yes, quate," drawled Mr. Moody, in a roving sort of way. -That is to say, his interest seemed to be utterly detached, as if -nothing that Mrs. Smith-Parvis said really mattered. - -"Naturally we try to find things in the cheaper places before we come -here," went on the lady boldly. - -"More int'resting," said Mr. Moody, indulgently eyeing a great brass -lanthorn that hung suspended over Mrs. Millidew's bonnet,--but safely to -the left of it, he decided. - -"I've been looking for something odd and quaint and--and--you know,--of -the Queen Anne period,--trinkets, you might say, Mr. Moody. What have -you in that--" - -"Queen Anne? Oh, ah, yes, to be sure,--Queen Anne. Yes, yes. I see. 'Pon -my soul, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, I fear we haven't anything at all. Most -uncommon dearth of Queen Anne material nowadays. We cawn't get a thing. -Snapped up in England, of course. I know of some extremely rare pieces -to be had in New York, however, and, while I cannot procure them for you -myself, I should be charmed to give you a letter to the dealer who has -them." - -"Oh, how kind of you. That is really most gracious of you." - -"Mr. Juneo, of Juneo & Co., has quite a stock," interrupted Mr. Moody -tolerantly,--"quite a remarkable collection, I may say. Indeed, nothing -finer has been brought to New York in--in--in--" - -Mr. Moody faltered. His whole manner underwent a swift and peculiar -change. His eyes were riveted upon the approaching figure of a young -lady. Casually, from time to time, his roving, detached gaze had rested -upon her back as she stood near the window. As a back, it did not mean -anything to him. - -But now she was approaching,--and a queer, cold little something ran -swiftly down his spine. It was Lady Jane Thorne! - -Smash went his house of cards into a jumbled heap. It collapsed from a -lofty height. Lady Jane Thorne! - -No use trying to lord it over her! She was the real thing! Couldn't put -on "lugs" with her,--not a bit of it! She knew! - -His monocle dropped. He tried to catch it. Missed! - -"My word!" he mumbled, as he stooped over to retrieve it from the rug at -his feet. The exertion sent a ruddy glow to his neck and ears and brow. - -"Did you break it?" cried Mrs. Millidew. - -He stuck it in his waist-coat pocket without examination. - -"This is Miss Emsdale, our governess," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis. "She's an -English girl, Mr. Moody." - -"Glad to meet you," stammered Mr. Moody, desperately. - -"How do you do, Mr. Moody," said Jane, in the most matter-of-fact way. - -Mr. Moody knew that she was a paid governess. He had known it for many -months. But that didn't alter the case. She was the "real thing." He -couldn't put on any "side" with her. He couldn't bring himself to it, -not if his life depended on it. Not even if she had been a scullery-maid -and appeared before him in greasy ginghams. All very well to "stick it -on" with these fashionable New Yorkers, but when it came to the daughter -of the Earl of Wexham,--well, it didn't matter _what_ she was as long as -he knew _who_ she was. - -His mask was off. - -The change in his manner was so abrupt, so complete, that his august -customers could not fail to notice it. Something was wrong with the poor -man! Certainly he was not himself. He looked ill,--at any rate, he did -not look as well as usual. Heart, that's what it was, flashed through -Mrs. Millidew's brain. Mrs. Smith-Parvis took it to be vertigo. -Sometimes her husband looked like that when-- - -"Will you please excuse me, ladies,--just for a moment or two?" he -mumbled, in a most extraordinary voice. "I will go at once and write a -note to Mr. Juneo. Make yourselves at 'ome. And--and--" He shot an -appealing glance at Miss Emsdale,--"and you too, Miss." - -In a very few minutes a stenographer came out of the office into which -Mr. Moody had disappeared, with a typewritten letter to Mr. Juneo, and -the word that Mr. Moody had been taken suddenly ill and begged to be -excused. He hoped that they would be so gracious as to allow Mr. Paddock -to show them everything they had in stock,--and so on. - -"It was so sudden," said Mrs. Millidew. "I never saw such a change in a -man in all my life. Heart, of course. High living, you may be sure. It -gets them every time." - -"I shall run in tomorrow and tell him about Dr. Brodax," said Mrs. -Smith-Parvis firmly. "He ought to see the best man in the city, of -course, and no one--" - -"For the Lord's sake, don't let him get into the clutches of that man -Brodax," interrupted Mrs. Millidew. "He is--" - -"No, thank you, Mr. Paddock,--I sha'n't wait. Another day will do just -as well. Come, Miss Emsdale. Good-bye, my dear. Come and see me." - -"Dr. Brown stands at the very top of the profession as a heart -specialist. He--" - -"I've never heard of him," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis icily, and led the way -to the sidewalk, her head very high. You could say almost anything you -pleased to Mrs. Smith-Parvis about her husband, or her family, or her -religion, or even her figure, but you couldn't belittle her doctor. That -was lese-majesty. She wouldn't have it. - -A more or less peaceful expedition came to grief within sixty seconds -after its members reached the sidewalk,--and in a most astonishing -manner. - -Stuyvesant was in a nasty humour. He had not noticed Thomas Trotter -before. Coming upon the tall young man suddenly, after turning the -corner of the building, he was startled into an expression of disgust. -Trotter was holding open the limousine door for Mrs. Millidew, the -elder. - -Young Mr. Smith-Parvis stopped short and stared in a most offensive -manner at Mrs. Millidew's chauffeur. - -"By gad, you weren't long in getting a job after Carpenter fired you, -were you? Fish!" - -Now, there is no way in the world to recall the word "fish" after it has -been uttered in the tone employed by Stuyvesant. Ordinarily it is a most -inoffensive word, and signifies something delectable. In French it is -_poisson_, and we who know how to pronounce it say it with pleasure and -gusto, quite as we say _pomme de terre_ when we mean potato. If -Stuyvesant had said _poisson_, the chances are that nothing would have -happened. But he didn't. He said fish. - -No doubt Thomas Trotter was in a bad humour also. He was a very sensible -young man, and there was no reason why he should be jealous of -Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. He had it from Miss Emsdale herself that she -loathed and despised the fellow. And yet he saw red when she passed him -a quarter of an hour before with Stuyvesant at her side. For some time -he had been harassed by the thought that if she had not caught sight of -him as she left the car, the young man's offer of assistance might not -have been spurned. In any event, there certainly was something queer -afoot. Why was she driving about with Mrs. Smith-Parvis,--_and_ -Stuyvesant,--as if she were one of the family and not a paid employé? - -In the twinkling of an eye, Thomas Trotter forgot that he was a -chauffeur. He remembered only that he was Lord Eric Carruthers Ethelbert -Temple, the grandson of a soldier, the great-grandson of a soldier, and -the great-great grandson of a soldier whose father and grandfather had -been soldiers before him. - -Thomas Trotter would have said,--and quite properly, too, considering -his position:--"Quite so, sir." - -Lord Temple merely put his face a little closer to Stuyvesant's and -said, very audibly, very distinctly: "You go to hell!" - -Stuyvesant fell back a step. He could not believe his ears. The fellow -couldn't have said--and yet, there was no possible way of making -anything else out of it. He _had_ said "You go to hell." - -Fortunately he had said it in the presence of ladies. Made bold by the -continued presence of at least three ladies, Stuyvesant, assuming that a -chauffeur would not dare go so far as a physical retort, snapped his -fingers under Trotter's nose and said: - -"For two cents I'd kick you all over town for that." - -Miss Emsdale erred slightly in her agitation. She grasped Stuyvesant's -arm. Trotter also erred. He thought she was trying to keep Smith-Parvis -from carrying out the threat. - -Mrs. Millidew, the elder, cried out sharply: "What's all this? Trotter, -get up on the seat at once. I--" - -Mrs. Millidew, the younger, leaned from the window and patted Trotter on -the shoulder. Her eyes were sparkling. - -"Give it to him, Trotter. Don't mind me!" she cried. - -Stuyvesant turned to Miss Emsdale. "Don't be alarmed, my dear. I sha'n't -do it, you know. Pray compose yourself. I--" - -At that juncture Lord Eric Temple reached out and, with remarkable -precision, grasped Stuyvesant's nose between his thumb and forefinger. -One sharp twist brought a surprised grunt from the owner of the nose, a -second elicited a pained squeak, and the third,--pressed upward as well -as both to the right and left,--resulted in a sharp howl of anguish. - -The release of his nose was attended by a sudden push that sent -Stuyvesant backward two or three steps. - -"Oh, my God!" he gasped, and felt for his nose. There were tears in his -eyes. There would have been tears in anybody's eyes after those -merciless tweaks. - -Finding his nose still attached, he struck out wildly with both fists, a -blind fury possessing him. Even a coward will strike if you pull his -nose severely enough. As Trotter remained motionless after the -distressing act of Lord Temple, Stuyvesant missed him by a good yard and -a half, but managed to connect solidly with the corner of the limousine, -barking his knuckles, a circumstance which subsequently provided him -with something to substantiate his claim to having planted a "good one" -on the blighter's jaw. - -His hat fell off and rolled still farther away from the redoubtable -Trotter, luckily in the direction of the Smith-Parvis car. By the time -Stuyvesant retrieved it, after making several clutches in his haste, he -was, singularly enough, beyond the petrified figure of his mother. - -"Call the police! Call the police!" Mrs. Smith-Parvis was whimpering. -"Where are the police?" - -Mrs. Millidew, the elder, cried out sharply: "Hush up! Don't be idiotic! -Do you want to attract the police and a crowd and--What do you mean, -Trotter, by attacking Mr. Smith-Par--" - -"Get out of the way, mother," roared Stuyvesant. "Let me at him! Don't -hold me! I'll break his infernal neck--Shut up!" His voice sank to a -hoarse whisper. "We don't want the police. Shut up, I say! My God, -don't make a scene!" - -"Splendid!" cried Mrs. Millidew, the younger, enthusiastically, -addressing herself to Trotter. "Perfectly splendid!" - -Trotter, himself once more, calmly stepped to the back of the car to see -what, if any, damage Stuyvesant had done to the polished surface! - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis advanced. Her eyes were blazing. - -"You filthy brute!" she exclaimed. - -Up to this instant, Miss Emsdale had not moved. She was very white and -breathless. Now her eyes flashed ominously. - -"Don't you dare call him a brute," she cried out. - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis gasped, but was speechless in the face of this amazing -defection. Stuyvesant opened his lips to speak, but observing that the -traffic policeman at the Fifth Avenue corner was looking with some -intensity at the little group, changed his mind and got into the -automobile. - -"Come on!" he called out. "Get in here, both of you. I'll attend to -this fellow later on. Come on, I say!" - -"How dare you speak to me in that manner?" flared Mrs. Smith-Parvis, -turning from Trotter to the girl. "What do you mean, Miss Emsdale? Are -you defending this--" - -"Yes, I am defending him," cried Jane, passionately. "He--he didn't do -half enough to him." - -"Good girl!" murmured Trotter, radiant. - -"That will do!" said Mrs. Smith-Parvis imperiously. "I shall not require -your services after today, Miss Emsdale." - -"Oh, good Lord, mother,--don't be a fool," cried Stuyvesant. "Let me -straighten this thing out. I--" - -"As you please, madam," said Jane, drawing herself up to her full -height. - -"Drive to Dr. Brodax's, Galpin, as quickly as possible," directed -Stuyvesant's mother, and entered the car beside her son. - -The footman closed the door and hopped up beside the chauffeur. He was -very pink with excitement. - -"Oh, for heaven's sake--" began her son furiously, but the closing of -the door smothered the rest of the complaint. - -"You may also take your notice, Trotter," said Mrs. Millidew the elder. -"I can't put up with such behaviour as this." - -"Very good, madam. I'm sorry. I--" - -Miss Emsdale was walking away. He did not finish the sentence. His eyes -were following her and they were full of concern. - -"You may come to me tomorrow, Trotter," said Mrs. Millidew, the younger. -"Now, don't glare at me, mother-in-law," she added peevishly. "You've -dismissed him, so don't, for heaven's sake, croak about me stealing him -away from you." - -Trotter's employer closed her jaws with a snap, then opened them -instantly to exclaim: - -"No, you don't, my dear. I withdraw the notice, Trotter. You stay on -with me. Drop Mrs. Millidew at her place first, and then drive me home. -That's all right, Dolly. I don't care if it is out of our way. I -wouldn't leave you alone with him for anything in the world." - -Trotter sighed. Miss Emsdale had turned the corner. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - IN THE FOG - - -MISS EMSDALE did not ask Mrs. Smith-Parvis for a "reference." She -dreaded the interview that was set for seven o'clock that evening. The -butler had informed her on her return to the house shortly after five -that Mrs. Smith-Parvis would see her at seven in the library, after -all, instead of in her boudoir, and she was to look sharp about being -prompt. - -The young lady smiled. "It's all one to me, Rogers,--the library or -the boudoir." - -"First it was the boudoir, Miss, and then it was the library, and then -the boudoir again,--and now the library. It seems to be quite settled, -however. It's been nearly 'arf an hour since the last change was made. -Shouldn't surprise me if it sticks." - -"It gives me an hour and a half to get my things together," said she, -much more brightly than he thought possible in one about to be -"sacked." "Will you be good enough to order a taxi for me at half-past -seven, Rogers?" - -Rogers stiffened. This was not the tone or the manner of a governess. -He had a feeling that he ought to resent it, and yet he suddenly found -himself powerless to do so. No one had spoken to him in just that way -in fifteen years. - -"Very good, Miss Emsdale. Seven-thirty." He went away strangely -puzzled, and not a little disgusted with himself. - -She expected to find that Stuyvesant had carried out his threat to -vilify her, and was prepared for a bitter ten minutes with the -outraged mistress of the house, who would hardly let her escape -without a severe lacing. She would be dismissed without a "character." - -She packed her boxes and the two or three hand-bags that had come over -from London with her. A heightened colour was in her cheeks, and there -was a repelling gleam in her blue eyes. She was wondering whether she -could keep herself in hand during the tirade. Her temper was a hot -one. - -A not distant Irish ancestor occasionally got loose in her blood and -played havoc with the strain inherited from a whole regiment of -English forebears. On such occasions, she flared up in a fine Celtic -rage, and then for days afterwards was in a penitential mood that -shamed the poor old Irish ghost into complete and grovelling -subjection. - -What she saw in the mirror over her dressing-table warned her that if -she did not keep a pretty firm grip tonight on the throat of that wild -Irishman who had got into the family-tree ages before the twig -represented by herself appeared, Mrs. Smith-Parvis was reasonably -certain to hear from him. A less captious observer, leaning over her -shoulder, would have taken an entirely different view of the -reflection. He (obviously he) would have pronounced it ravishing. - -Promptly at seven she entered the library. To her dismay, Mrs. -Smith-Parvis was not alone. Her husband was there, and also -Stuyvesant. If her life had depended on it, she could not have -conquered the impulse to favour the latter's nose with a rather -penetrating stare. A slight thrill of satisfaction shot through her. -It _did_ seem to be a trifle red and enlarged. - -Mr. Smith-Parvis, senior, was nervous. Otherwise he would not have -risen from his comfortable chair. - -"Good evening, Miss Emsdale," he said, in a palliative tone. "Have -this chair. Ahem!" Catching a look from his wife, he sat down again, -and laughed quite loudly and mirthlessly, no doubt actuated by a -desire to put the governess at her ease,--an effort that left him -rather flat and wholly non-essential, it may be said. - -His wife lifted her lorgnon. She seemed a bit surprised and nonplussed -on beholding Miss Emsdale. - -"Oh, I remember. It is you, of course." - -Miss Emsdale had the effrontery to smile. "Yes, Mrs. Smith-Parvis." - -Stuyvesant felt of his nose. He did it without thinking, and instantly -muttered something under his breath. - -"We owe you, according to my calculations, fifty-five dollars and -eighty-two cents," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis, abruptly consulting a tablet. -"Seventeen days in this month. Will you be good enough to go over it for -yourself? I do not wish to take advantage of you." - -"I sha'n't be exacting," said Miss Emsdale, a wave of red rushing to her -brow. "I am content to accept your--" - -"Be good enough to figure it up, Miss Emsdale," insisted the other -coldly. "We must have no future recriminations. Thirty-one days in this -month. Thirty-one into one hundred goes how many times?" - -"I beg pardon," said the girl, puzzled. "Thirty-one into one hundred?" - -"Can't you do sums? It's perfectly simple. Any school child could do it -in a--in a jiffy." - -"Quite simple," murmured her husband. "I worked it out for Mrs. -Smith-Parvis in no time at all. Three dollars and twenty-two and a half -cents a day. Perfectly easy, if you--" - -"I am sure it is quite satisfactory," said Miss Emsdale coldly. - -"Very well. Here is a check for the amount," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis, -laying the slip of paper on the end of the library table. "And now, Miss -Emsdale, I feel constrained to tell you how gravely disappointed I am in -you. For half-a-year I have laboured under the delusion that you were a -lady, and qualified to have charge of two young and innocent--" - -"Oh, Lord," groaned Stuyvesant, fidgeting in his chair. - -"--young and innocent girls. I find, however, that you haven't the first -instincts of a lady. I daresay it is too much to expect." She sighed -profoundly. "I know something about the lower classes in London, having -been at one time interested in settlement work there in connection with -Lady Bannistell's committee, and I am aware that too much should not be -expected of them. That is to say, too much in the way of--er--delicacy. -Still, I thought you might prove to be an exception. I have learned my -lesson. I shall in the future engage only German governesses. From time -to time I have observed little things in you that disquieted me, but I -overlooked them because you appeared to be earnestly striving to -overcome the handicap placed upon you at birth. For example, I have -found cigarette stubs in your room when I--" - -"Oh, I say, mother," broke in Stuyvesant; "cut it out." - -"My dear!" - -"You'd smoke 'em yourself if father didn't put up such a roar about it. -Lot of guff about your grandmothers turning over in their graves. I -don't see anything wrong in a woman smoking cigarettes. Besides, you may -be accusing Miss Emsdale unjustly. What proof have you that the stubs -were hers?" - -"I distinctly said that I found them in her room," said Mrs. -Smith-Parvis icily. "I don't know how they got there." - -"Circumstantial evidence," retorted Stuyvie, an evil twist at one corner -of his mouth. "Doesn't prove that she smoked 'em, does it?" He met Miss -Emsdale's burning gaze for an instant, and then looked away. "Might have -been the housekeeper. She smokes." - -"It was not the housekeeper," said Jane quietly. "I smoke." - -"We are digressing," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis sternly. "There are other -instances of your lack of refinement, Miss Emsdale, but I shall not -recite them. Suffice to say, I deeply deplore the fact that my children -have been subject to contamination for so long. I am afraid they have -acquired--" - -Jane had drawn herself up haughtily. She interrupted her employer. - -"Be good enough, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, to come to the point," she said. -"Have you nothing more serious to charge me with than smoking? Out with -it! Let's have the worst." - -"How dare you speak to me in that--My goodness!" She half started up -from her chair. "What _have_ you been up to? Drinking? Or some low -affair with the butler? Good heavens, have I been harbouring a--" - -"Don't get so excited, momsey," broke in Stuyvesant, trying to transmit -a message of encouragement to Miss Emsdale by means of sundry winks and -frowns and cautious head-shakings. "Keep your hair on." - -"My--my hair?" gasped his mother. - -Mr. Smith-Parvis got up. "Stuyvesant, you'd better retire," he said, -noisily. "Remember, sir, that you are speaking to your mother. It came -out at the time of her illness,--when we were so near to losing -her,--and you--" - -"Keep still, Philander," snapped Mrs. Smith-Parvis, very red in the -face. "It came in again, thicker than before," she could not help -explaining. "And don't be absurd, Stuyvesant. This is my affair. Please -do not interfere again. I--What was I saying?" - -"Something about drinking and the butler, Mrs. Smith-Parvis," said Jane, -drily. It was evident that Stuyvesant had not carried tales to his -mother. She would not have to defend herself against a threatened -charge. Her sense of humour was at once restored. - -"Naturally I cannot descend to the discussion of anything so perfectly -vile. Your conduct this afternoon is sufficient--ah,--sufficient unto -the day. I am forced to dismiss you without a reference. Furthermore, I -consider it my duty to protect other women as unsuspecting as I have -been. You are in no way qualified to have charge of young and well-bred -girls. No apology is desired," she hastily declared, observing symptoms -of protest in the face of the delinquent; "so please restrain yourself. -I do not care to hear a single word of apology, or any appeal to be -retained. You may go now, my girl. Spare us the tears. I am not turning -you out into the streets tonight. You may remain until tomorrow -morning." - -"I am going tonight," said Jane, quite white,--with suppressed anger. - -"It isn't necessary," said the other, loftily. - -"Where are you going?" inquired Mr. Smith-Parvis, senior, fumbling with -his nose-glasses. "Have you any friends in the city?" - -Miss Emsdale ignored the question. She picked up the check and folded it -carefully. - -"I should like to say good-bye to the--to Eudora and Lucille," she said, -with an effort. - -"That is out of the question," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis. - -Jane deliberately turned her back upon Mrs. Smith-Parvis and moved -toward the door. It was an eloquent back. Mrs. Smith-Parvis considered -it positively insulting. - -"Stop!" she cried out. "Is that the way to leave a room, Miss Emsdale? -Please remember who and what you are. I can not permit a servant to be -insolent to me." - -"Oh, come now, Angela, dear," began Mr. Smith-Parvis, uncomfortably. -"Seems to me she walks properly enough. What's the matter with -her--There, she's gone! I can't see what--" - -"You would think the hussy imagines herself to be the Queen of England," -sputtered Mrs. Smith-Parvis angrily. "I've never seen such airs." - -The object of her derision mounted the stairs and entered her -bed-chamber on the fourth floor. Her steamer-trunk and her bags were -nowhere in sight. A wry little smile trembled on her lips. - -"Must you be going?" she said to herself, whimsically, as she adjusted -her hat in front of the mirror. - -There was no one to say good-bye to her, except Peasley, the footman. He -opened the big front door for her, and she passed out into the foggy -March night. A fine mist blew upon her hot face. - -"Good-bye, Miss," said Peasley, following her to the top of the steps. - -"Good-bye, Peasley. Thank you for taking down my things." - -"You'll find 'em in the taxi," said he. He peered hard ahead and -sniffed. "A bit thick, ain't it? Reminds one of London, Miss." He -referred to the fog. - -At the bottom of the steps she encountered the irrepressible and -somewhat jubilant scion of the house. His soft hat was pulled well down -over his eyes, and the collar of his overcoat was turned up about his -ears. He promptly accosted her, his voice lowered to an eager, confident -undertone. - -"Don't cry, little girl," he said. "It isn't going to be bad at all. -I--Oh, I say, now, listen to me!" - -She tried to pass, but he placed himself directly in her path. The -taxi-cab loomed up vaguely through the screen of fog. At the corner -below an electric street lamp produced the effect of a huge, circular -vignette in the white mist. The raucous barking of automobile horns, and -the whir of engines came out of the street, and shadowy will-o'-the-wisp -lights scuttled through the yielding, opaque wall. - -"Be good enough to let me pass," she cried, suddenly possessed of a -strange fear. - -"Everything is all right," he said. "I'm not going to see you turned out -like this without a place to go--" - -"Will you compel me to call for help?" she said, backing away from him. - -"Help? Why, hang it all, can't you see that I'm trying to help you? It -was a rotten thing for mother to do. Poor little girl, you sha'n't go -wandering around the streets looking for--Why, I'd never forgive myself -if I didn't do something to offset the cruel thing she's done to you -tonight. Haven't I told you all along you could depend on me? Trust me, -little girl. I'll--" - -Suddenly she blazed out at him. - -"I see it all! That is _your_ taxi, not mine! So that is your game, is -it? You beast!" - -"Don't be a damn' fool," he grated. "I ought to be sore as a crab at -you, but I'm not. You need me now, and I'm going to stand by you. I'll -forgive all that happened today, but you've got to--" - -She struck his hand from her arm, and dashed out to the curb. - -"Driver!" she cried out. "If you are a man you will protect me from -this--" - -"Hop in, Miss," interrupted the driver from his seat. "I've got all your -bags and things up but,--What's that you're saying?" - -"I shall not enter this cab," she said resolutely. "If you are in the -pay of this man--" - -"I was sent here in answer to a telephone call half an hour ago. That's -all I know about it. What's the row?" - -"There is no row," said Stuyvesant, coming up. "Get in, Miss Emsdale. -I'm through. I've done my best to help you." - -But she was now thoroughly alarmed. She sensed abduction. - -"No! Stay on your box, my man! Don't get down. I shall walk to my--" - -"Go ahead, driver. Take those things to the address I just gave you," -said Stuyvesant. "We'll be along later." - -"I knew! I knew!" she cried out. In a flash she was running down the -sidewalk toward the corner. - -He followed her a few paces and then stopped, cursing softly. - -"Hey!" called out the driver, springing to the sidewalk. "What's all -this? Getting me in wrong, huh? That's what the little roll of bills was -for, eh? Well, guess again! Get out of the way, you, or I'll bat you one -over the bean." - -In less time than it takes to tell it, he had whisked the trunk from the -platform of the taxi and the three bags from the interior. - -"I ought to beat you up anyhow," he grunted. "The Parkingham Hotel, eh? -Fine little place, that! How much did you say was in this roll?" - -"Never mind. Give it back to me at once or I'll--I'll call the police." - -"Go ahead! Call your head off. Good _night_!" - -Ten seconds later, Stuyvesant alone stood guard over the scattered -effects on the curb. A tail-light winked blearily at him for an -additional second or two, the taxi chortled disdainfully, and seemed to -grind its teeth as it joined the down-town ghosts. - -"Blighter!" shouted Stuyvesant, and urged by a sudden sense of alarm, -strode rapidly away,--not in the wake of Miss Emsdale nor toward the -house from which she had been banished, but diagonally across the -street. A glance in the direction she had taken revealed no sign of her, -but the sound of excited voices reached his ear. On the opposite -sidewalk he slowed down to a walk, and peering intently into the fog, -listened with all his ears for the return of the incomprehensible -governess, accompanied by a patrolman! - -A most amazing thing had happened to Lady Jane. At the corner below she -bumped squarely into a pedestrian hurrying northward. - -"I'm sorry," exclaimed the pedestrian. He did not say "excuse me" or "I -beg pardon." - -Jane gasped. "Tom--Mr. Trotter!" - -"Jane!" cried the man in surprise. "I say, what's up? 'Gad, you're -trembling like a leaf." - -She tried to tell him. - -"Take a long breath," he suggested gently, as the words came swiftly and -disjointedly from her lips. - -She did so, and started all over again. This time he was able to -understand her. - -"Wait! Tell me the rest later on," he interrupted. "Come along! This -looks pretty ugly to me. By gad, I--I believe he was planning to abduct -you or something as--" - -"I must have a policeman," she protested, holding back. "I was looking -for one when you came up." - -"Nonsense! We don't need a bobby. I can take care of--" - -"But that man will make off with my bags." - -"We'll see," he cried, and she was swept along up the street, running to -keep pace with his prodigious strides. He had linked his arm through -hers. - -They found her effects scattered along the edge of the sidewalk. Trotter -laughed, but it was not a good-humoured laugh. - -"Skipped!" he grated. "I might have known it. Now, let me think. What is -the next, the best thing to do? Go up there and ring that doorbell -and--" - -"No! You are not to do that. Sit down here beside me. My--my knees are -frightfully shaky. So silly of them. But I--I--really it was quite a -shock I had, Mr. Trotter." - -"Better call me Tom,--for the present at least," he suggested, sitting -down beside her on the trunk. - -"What a strange coincidence," she murmured. There was not much room on -the trunk for two. He sat quite on one end of it. - -"You mean,--sitting there?" he inquired, blankly. - -"No. Your turning up as you did,--out of a clear sky." - -"I shouldn't call it clear," said he, suddenly diffident. "Thick as a -blanket." - -"It was queer, though, wasn't it?" - -"Not a bit. I've been walking up and down past this house for twenty -minutes at least. We were bound to meet. Sit still. I'll keep an eye out -for an empty taxi. The first thing to do is to see that you get safely -down to Mrs. Sparflight's." - -"How did you know I was to go there?" she demanded. - -"She told me," said he bluntly. - -"She wasn't to tell any one--at present." She peered closely,--at the -side of his face. - -He abruptly changed the subject. "And then I'll come back here and wait -till he ventures out. I'm off till nine o'clock. I sha'n't pull his nose -this time." - -"Please explain," she insisted, clutching at his arm as he started to -arise. "Did she send you up here, Mr. Trotter?" - -"No, she didn't," said he, almost gruffly, and stood up to hail an -approaching automobile. "Can't see a thing," he went on. "We'll just -have to stop 'em till we catch one that isn't engaged. Taxi?" he -shouted. - -"No!" roared a voice from the shroud of mist. - -"The butler telephoned for one, I am sure," said she. "He must have been -sent away before I came downstairs." - -"Don't think about it. You'll get yourself all wrought up -and--and--Everything's all right, now, Lady Jane,--I should say Miss--" - -"Call me Jane," said she softly. - -"You--you don't mind?" he cried, and sat down beside her again. The -trunk seemed to have increased in size. At any rate there was room to -spare at the end. - -"Not--not in the least," she murmured. - -He was silent for a long time. "Would you mind calling me Eric,--just -once?" he said at last, wistfully. His voice was very low. "I--I'm -rather homesick for the sound of my own name, uttered by one of my own -people." - -"Oh, you poor dear boy!" - -"Say 'Eric,'" he pleaded. - -"Eric," she half-whispered, suddenly shy. - -He drew a long, deep breath, and again was silent for a long time. Both -of them appeared to have completely forgotten her plight. - -"We're both a long, long way from home, Jane," he said. - -"Yes, Eric." - -"Odd that we should be sitting here like this, on a trunk, on the -sidewalk,--in a fog." - -"The 'two orphans,'" she said, with feeble attempt at sprightliness. - -"People passing by within a few yards of us and yet we--we're quite -invisible." There was a thrill in his voice. - -"Almost as if we were in London, Eric,--lovely black old London." - -Footsteps went by in the fog in front of them, automobiles slid by -behind them, tooting their unheard horns. - -"Oh, Jane, I--I can't help it," he whispered in her ear, and his arm -went round her shoulders. "I--I love you so." - -She put her hand up to his cheek and held it there. - -"I--I know it, Eric," she said, ever so softly. - -It may have been five minutes, or ten minutes--even so long as half an -hour. There is no way to determine the actual lapse of time, or -consciousness, that followed her declaration. The patrolman who came up -and stopped in front of them, peering hard at the dense, immobile mass -that had attracted his attention for the simple reason that it wasn't -there when he passed on his uptown round, couldn't have thrown any light -on the question. He had no means of knowing just when it began. - -"Well, what's all this?" he demanded suspiciously. - -Jane sighed, and disengaged herself. Trotter stood up, confronting the -questioner. - -"We're waiting for a taxi," he said. - -"What's this? A trunk?" inquired the officer, tapping the object with -his night-stick. - -"It is," said Trotter. - -"Out of one of these houses along here?" He described a half-circle with -his night-stick. - -"Right in front of you." - -"That's the Smith-Parvis house. They've got a couple of cars, my bucko. -What you givin' me? Whadda you mean taxi?" - -"She happens not to be one of the family. The courtesy of the port is -not extended to her, you see." - -"Hired girl?" - -"In a way. I say, officer, be a good fellow. Keep your eye peeled for a -taxi as you go along and send it up for us. She had one ordered, -but--well, you can see for yourself. It isn't here." - -"That's as plain as the nose on your face. I guess I'll just step up to -the door and see if it's all right. Stay where you are. Looks queer to -me." - -"Oh, it isn't necessary to inquire, officer," broke in Jane nervously. -"You have my word for it that it's all right." - -"Oh, I have, have I? Fine! And what if them bags and things is filled -with silver and God knows what? You don't--" - -"Go ahead and inquire," said Trotter, pressing her arm encouragingly. -"Ask the butler if he didn't call a cab for Miss Emsdale,--and also ask -him why in thunder it isn't here." - -The patrolman hesitated. "Who are you," he asked, stepping a little -closer to Trotter. - -"I am this young lady's fiancé," said Trotter, with dignity. - -"Her what?" - -"Her steady," said Trotter. - -The policeman laughed,--good-naturedly, to their relief. - -"Oh, well, _that_ being the case," said he, and started away. "Excuse me -for buttin' in." - -"Sure," said Trotter amiably. "If you see a taxi, old man." - -"Leave it to me," came back from the fog. - -Jane nestled close to her tall young man. His arm was about her. - -"Wasn't he perfectly lovely?" she murmured. - -"Everything is perfectly lovely," said he, vastly reassured. He had -taken considerable risk with the word "fiancé." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - NOT CLOUDS ALONE HAVE LININGS - - -THE weather turned off warm. The rise in the temperature may have been -responsible for the melting of Princess Mariana Theresa Sebastano -Michelini Celestine di Pavesi's heart, or it may have sharply revealed -to her calculating mind the prospect of a long and profitless season in -cold storage for Prince de Bosky's fur-lined coat. In any event, she -notified him by post to call for his coat and take it away with him. - -The same post brought a letter from the Countess du Bara advising him -that her brother-in-law, who conducted an all-night café just off -Broadway in the very heart of the thriftless district, had been -compelled to dismiss the leader of his far-famed Czech orchestra, and -that she had recommended him for the vacancy. He would have to hurry, -however. - -In a postscript, she hoped he wouldn't mind wearing a red coat. - -The Countess du Bara was of the Opera, where she was known as -Mademoiselle Belfort and occupied a fairly prominent position in the -front row of chorus sopranos. Some day she was to make her début as -a principal. The Director of the Opera had promised her that, and -while she regarded his promise as being as good as gold, it was, -unfortunately, far more elastic, as may be gathered from the fact that -it already had stretched over three full seasons and looked capable of -still further extension without being broken. - -But that is neither here nor there. It is only necessary to state that -the Countess, being young and vigorous and satisfactorily endowed with -good looks, was not without faith in the promises of man. In return for -the Director's faith in her, she was one day going to make him famous as -the discoverer of Corinne Belfort. For the moment, her importance, so -far as this narrative is concerned, rests on the fact that her -brother-in-law conducts a café and had named his youngest daughter -Corinne, a doubtful compliment in view of his profane preference for -John or even George. He was an American and had five daughters. - -De Bosky was ecstatic. Luck had turned. He was confident, even before he -ventured to peer out of his single little window, that the sun was -shining brightly and that birds were singing somewhere, if not in the -heart of the congested East Side. And sure enough the sun was shining, -and hurdy-gurdies were substituting for bobolinks, and the air was -reeking of spring. A little wistfully he regretted that the change had -not come when he needed the overcoat to shield his shivering body, and -when the "opportunity" would have insured an abundance of meat and -drink, to say nothing of a couple of extra blankets,--but why lament? - -There was a sprightliness in his gait, a gleam in his eyes, and a cheery -word on his lips as he forged his way through the suddenly alive -streets, and made his way to the Subway station. This morning he would -not walk. There was something left of the four dollars he had earned the -week before shovelling snow into the city's wagons. True, his hands were -stiff and blistered, but all that would respond to the oil of affluence. -There was no time to lose. She had said in the postscript that he would -have to hurry. - -Two hours later he burst excitedly into the bookshop of J. Bramble and -exclaimed: - -"And now, my dear, good friend, I shall soon be able to return to you -the various amounts you have advanced me from time to time, out of the -goodness of your heart, and I shall--what do I say?--blow you off to a -banquet that even now, in contemplation, makes my own mouth water,--and -I shall--" - -"Bless my soul," gasped Mr. Bramble. "Would you mind saying _all_ of it -in English? What is the excitement? Just a moment, please." The latter -to a mild-looking gentleman who was poising a book in one hand and -inquiring the price with the uplifting of his eyebrows. - -De Bosky rapped three or four times on the violin case tucked under his -arm. - -"After all the years and all the money I spent in mastering this--But, -you are busy, my good friend. Pray forgive the interruption--" - -"What has happened?" demanded Mr. Bramble, uneasily. - -"I have fallen into a fortune. Twenty-five dollars a week,--so!" he said -whimsically. "Also I shall restore the five dollars that Trotter forced -me to take,--and the odd amounts M. Mirabeau has--Yes, yes, my friend, I -am radiant. I am to lead the new orchestra at Spangler's café. I have -concluded negotiations with--ah, how quickly it was done! And I -approached him with fear and trembling. I would have played for him, so -that he might judge,--but no! He said 'No, no!' It was not necessary. -Corinne's word was enough for him. You do not know Corinne. She is -beautiful. She is an artiste! One day she will be on the lips of every -one. Go! Be quick! The gentleman is departing. You will have lost a--a -sale, and all through the fault of me. I beseech you,--catch him quick. -Do not permit me to bring you bad luck. Au revoir! I go at once to -acquaint M. Mirabeau with--au revoir!" - -He dashed up the back stairway, leaving Mr. Bramble agape. - -"It was only a ten-cent book," he muttered to the back of the departing -customer. "And, besides, you do not belong to the union," he shouted -loudly, addressing himself to de Bosky, who stopped short on the stairs. - -"The union?" - -"The union will not permit you to play," said the bookseller, mounting -the steps. "It will permit you to starve but not to play." - -"But the man--the man he said it was because I do not belong to the -union that he engages me. He says the union holds him, up, what? So! He -discharge the union--all of them. We form a new orchestra. Then we don't -give a damn, he say. Not a tinkle damn! And Corinne say also not a -tinkle damn! And I say not a tinkle damn! _Voila!_" - -"God bless my soul," said Mr. Bramble, shaking his head. - -M. Mirabeau rejoiced. He embraced the little musician, he pooh-hooed Mr. -Bramble's calamitous regard for the union, and he wound up by inviting -de Bosky to stop for lunch with him. - -"No, no,--impossible," exclaimed de Bosky, feeling in his waistcoat -pocket absent-mindedly, and then glancing at a number of M. Mirabeau's -clocks in rotation; "no, I have not the time. Your admirable clocks urge -me to be off. See! I am to recover the overcoat of my excellent friend, -the safe-blower. This letter,--see! Mrs. Moses Jacobs. She tells me to -come and take it away with me. Am I not the lucky dog,--no, no! I mean -am I not the lucky star? I must be off. She may change her mind. She--" - -"Mon dieu! I'd let her change it if I were you," cried M. Mirabeau. "I -call it the height of misfortune to possess a fur coat on a day like -this. One might as well rejoice over a linen coat in mid-winter. You are -excited! Calm yourself. A bit of cold tongue, and a salad, and--" - -"Au revoir!" sang out de Bosky from the top of the steps. "And remember! -I shall repay you within the fortnight, monsieur. I promise! Ah, it is a -beautiful, a glorious day!" - -The old Frenchman dashed to the landing and called down after his -speeding guest: - -"Fetch the coat with you to luncheon. I shall order some moth-balls, and -after we've stuffed it full of them, we'll put the poor thing away for a -long, long siesta. It shall be like the anaconda. I have a fine cedar -chest--" - -But Mr. Bramble was speaking from the bottom of the steps. - -"And the unfeeling brutes may resort to violence. They often do. They -have been known to inflict serious injury upon--" - -"Tonight I shall play at Spangler's," cried de Bosky, slapping his -chest. "In a red coat,--and I shall not speak the English language. I am -the recent importation from Budapesth. So! I am come especially to -direct the orchestra--at great expense! In big letters on the menu card -it shall be printed that I am late of the Royal Hungarian Orchestra, and -at the greatest expense have I been secured. The newspapers shall say -that I came across the ocean in a special steamer, all at Monsieur -Spangler's expense. I and my red coat! So! Come tonight, my friend. Come -and hear the great de Bosky in his little red coat,--and--" - -"Do not forget that you are to return for luncheon," sang out M. -Mirabeau from the top of the stairs. - -There were tears in de Bosky's eyes. "God bless you both," he cried. -"But for you I should have starved to death,--as long ago as last week. -God bless you!" - -His frail body swayed a little as he made his way down the length of the -shop. Commanding all his strength of will, he squared his shoulders and -stiffened his trembling knees, but not soon enough to delude the -observing Mr. Bramble, who hurried after him, peering anxiously through -his horn-rimmed spectacles. - -"It is just like you foreigners," he said, overtaking the violinist near -the door, and speaking with some energy. "Just like you, I say, to -forget to eat breakfast when you are excited. You did not have a bite of -breakfast, now did you? Up and out, all excited and eager, forgetting -everything but--I say, Mirabeau, lend a hand! He is ready to drop. God -bless my soul! Brace up, your highness,--I should say old chap--brace -up! Damme, sir, what possessed you to refuse our invitation to dine with -us last night? And it was the third time within the week. Answer me -that, sir!" - -De Bosky sat weakly, limply, pathetically, before the two old men. They -had led him to a chair at the back of the shop. Both were regarding him -with justifiable severity. He smiled wanly as he passed his hand over -his moist, pallid brow. - -"You are poor men. Why,--why should I become a charge upon you?" - -"Mon dieu!" sputtered M. Mirabeau, lifting his arms on high and shaking -his head in absolute despair,--despair, you may be sure, over a most -unaccountable and never-to-be-forgotten moment in which he found himself -utterly and hopelessly without words. - -Mr. Bramble suddenly rammed a hand down into the pocket of his ancient -smoking-coat, and fished out a huge, red, glistening apple. - -"Here! Eat this!" - -De Bosky shook his head. His smile broadened. - -"No, thank you. I--I do not like apples." - -The bookseller was aghast. Moreover, pity and alarm rendered him -singularly inept in the choice of a reply to this definite statement. - -"Take it home to the children," he pleaded, with the best intention in -the world. - -By this time, M. Mirabeau had found his tongue. He took the situation in -hand. With tact and an infinite understanding, he astonished the -matter-of-fact Mr. Bramble by appearing to find something amusing in the -plight of their friend. He made light of the whole affair. Mr. Bramble, -who could see no farther than the fact that the poor fellow was -starving, was shocked. It certainly wasn't a thing one should treat as a -joke,--and here was the old simpleton chuckling and grinning like a -lunatic when he should be-- - -Lunatic! Mr. Bramble suddenly went cold to the soles of his feet. A -horrified look came into his eyes. Could it be possible that something -had snapped in the old Frenchman's--but M. Mirabeau was now addressing -him instead of the smiling de Bosky. - -"Come, come!" he was shouting merrily. "We're not following de Bosky to -the grave. He is not even having a funeral. Cheer up! Mon dieu, such a -face!" - -Mr. Bramble grew rosy. "Blooming rubbish," he snorted, still a trifle -apprehensive. - -The clock-maker turned again to de Bosky. "Come upstairs at once. I -shall myself fry eggs for you, and bacon,--nice and crisp,--and my -coffee is not the worst in the world, my friend. _His_ is abominable. -And toast, hot and buttery,--ah, I am not surprised that your mouth -waters!" - -"It isn't my mouth that is watering," said de Bosky, wiping his eyes. - -"Any fool could see that," said Mr. Bramble, scowling at the maladroit -Mirabeau. - -It was two o'clock when Prince Waldemar de Bosky took his departure from -the hospitable home of the two old men, and, well-fortified in body as -well as in spirit, moved upon the stronghold of Mrs. Moses Jacobs. - -The chatelaine of "The Royal Exchange. M. Jacobs, Proprietor," received -him with surprising cordiality. - -"Well, well!" she called out cheerily as he approached the "desk." "I -thought you'd never get here. I been waitin' since nine o'clock." - -Her dark, heavy face bore signs of a struggle to overcome the set, -implacable expression that avarice and suspicion had stamped upon it in -the course of a long and resolute abstinence from what we are prone to -call the milk of human kindness. She was actually trying to beam as she -leaned across the gem-laden showcase and extended her coarse, unlovely -hand to the visitor. - -"I am sorry," said he, shaking hands with her. "I have been extremely -busy. Besides, on a hot day like this, I could get along very nicely -without a fur coat, Mrs. Jacobs." - -"Sure!" said she. "It sure is hot today. You ought to thank God you -ain't as fat as I am. It's awful on fat people. Well, wasn't you -surprised?" - -"It was most gracious of you, Mrs. Jacobs," he said with dignity. "I -should have come in at once to express my appreciation of your--" - -"Oh, that's all right. Don't mention it. You're a decent little feller, -de Bosky, and I've got a heart,--although most of these mutts around -here don't think so. Yes, sir, I meant it when I said you could tear up -the pawn ticket and take the coat--with the best wishes of yours truly." - -"Spoken like a lady," said he promptly. He was fanning himself with his -hat. - -"Mind you, I don't ask you for a penny. The slate is clean. There's the -coat, layin' over there on that counter. Take it along. No one can ever -say that I'd let a fellow-creature freeze to death for the sake of a -five-dollar bill. No, sir! With the compliments of 'The Royal -Exchange,'--if you care to put it that way." - -"But I cannot permit you to cancel my obligation, Mrs. Jacobs. I shall -hand you the money inside of a fortnight. I thank you, however, for the -generous impulse--" - -"Cut it out," she interrupted genially. "Nix on the sentiment stuff. I'm -in a good humour. Don't spoil it by tryin' to be polite. And don't talk -about handin' me anything. I won't take it." - -"In that case, Mrs. Jacobs, I shall be obliged to leave the coat with -you," he said stiffly. - -She stared. "You mean,--you won't accept it from me?" - -"I borrowed money on it. I can say no more, madam." - -"Well, I'll be--" She extended her hand again, a look of genuine -pleasure in her black eyes. "Shake hands again, Prince de Bosky. I--I -understand." - -"And I--I think I understand, Princess," said he, grasping the woman's -hand. - -"I hope you do," said she huskily. "I--I just didn't know how to go -about it, that's all. Ever since that day you were in here to see -me,--that bitterly cold day,--I've been trying to think of a way to--And -so I waited till it turned so hot that you'd know I wasn't trying to do -it out of charity--You _do_ understand, don't you, Prince?" - -"Perfectly," said he, very soberly. - -"I feel better than I've felt in a good long time," she said, drawing a -long breath. - -"That's the way we all feel sometimes," said he, smiling. "No doubt it's -the sun," he added. "We haven't seen much of it lately." - -"Quit your kiddin'," she cried, donning her mask again and relapsing -into the vernacular of the district. - -He bore the coat in triumph to the work-shop of M. Mirabeau, and loudly -called for moth-balls as he mounted the steps. - -"I jest, good friend," he explained, as the old Frenchman laid aside his -tools and started for the shelves containing a vast assortment of boxes -and packages. "Time enough for all that. At four o'clock I am due at -Spangler's for a rehearsal of the celebrated Royal Hungarian Orchestra, -imported at great expense from Budapesth. I leave the treasure in your -custody. Au revoir!" He had thrown the coat on the end of the work -bench. - -"You will return for dinner," was M. Mirabeau's stern reminder. "A pot -roast tonight, Bramble has announced. We will dine at six, since you -must report at seven." - -"In my little red coat," sang out de Bosky blithely. - -"Mon dieu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, in dismay, running his fingers over -the lining of the coat. "They are already at work. The moths! See! Ah, -_le diable!_ They have devoured--" - -"What!" cried de Bosky, snatching up the coat. - -"The arm pits and--ah, the seams fall apart! One could thrust his hand -into the hole they have made. Too late!" he groaned. "They have ruined -it, my friend." - -De Bosky leaned against the bench, the picture of distress. "What will -my friend, the safe-blower, say to this? What will he think of me for--" - -"Now we know how the estimable Mrs. Jacobs came to have softening of the -heart," exploded M. Mirabeau, pulling at his long whiskers. - -Mr. Bramble, abandoning the shop downstairs, shuffled into the room. - -"Did I hear you say 'moths'?" he demanded, consternation written all -over his face. "For God's sake, don't turn them loose in the house. -They'll be into everything--" - -"What is this?" cried de Bosky, peering intently between the crumbling -edges of the rent, which widened hopelessly as he picked at it with -nervous fingers. - -Stitched securely inside the fur at the point of the shoulder was a thin -packet made of what at one time must have been part of a rubber -rain-coat. The three men stared at it with interest. - -"Padding," said Mr. Bramble. - -"Rubbish," said M. Mirabeau, referring to Mr. Bramble's declaration. He -was becoming excited. Thrusting a keen-edged knife into de Bosky's hand, -he said: "Remove it--but with care, with care!" - -A moment later de Bosky held the odd little packet in his hand. - -"Cut the threads," said Mr. Bramble, readjusting his big spectacles. "It -is sewed at the ends." - -The old bookseller was the first of the stupefied men to speak after the -contents of the rubber bag were revealed to view. - -"God bless my soul!" he gasped. - -Bank notes,--many of them,--lay in de Bosky's palm. - -Almost mechanically he began to count them. They were of various -denominations, none smaller than twenty dollars. The eyes of the men -popped as he ran off in succession two five-hundred-dollar bills. - -Downstairs in the shop of J. Bramble, some one was pounding violently on -a counter, but without results. He could produce no one to wait on him. -He might as well have tried to rouse the dead. - -"Clever rascal," said M. Mirabeau at last. "The last place in the world -one would think of looking for plunder." - -"What do you mean?" asked de Bosky, still dazed. - -"It is quite simple," said the Frenchman. "Who but your enterprising -friend, the cracksman, could have thought of anything so original as -hiding money in the lining of a fur overcoat? He leaves the coat in your -custody, knowing you to be an honest man. At the expiration of his term, -he will reclaim--" - -"Ah, but he has still a matter of ten or eleven years to serve," agreed -de Bosky. "A great deal could happen in ten or eleven years. He would -not have taken so great a risk. He--" - -"Um!" mused M. Mirabeau, frowning. "That is so." - -"What am I to do with it?" cried de Bosky. "Nearly three thousand -dollars! Am I awake, Mr. Bramble?" - -"We can't all be dreaming the same thing," said the bookseller, his -fascinated gaze fixed on the bank notes. - -"Ah-h!" exclaimed M. Mirabeau suddenly. "Try the other shoulder! There -will be more. He would not have been so clumsy as to put it all on one -side. He would have padded both shoulders alike." - -And to the increased amazement of all of them, a similar packet was -found in the left shoulder of the coat. - -"What did I tell you!" cried the old Frenchman, triumphantly. - -Included among the contents of the second bag, was a neatly folded sheet -of writing-paper. De Bosky, with trembling fingers, spread it out, and -holding it to the light, read in a low, halting manner: - - "'Finder is keeper. This coat dont belong to me, and the money - neither. It is nobodies buisness who they belonged to before. I - put the money inside here becaus it is a place no one would ever - look and I am taken a gamblers chanse on geting it back some - day. Stranger things have happened. Something tells me that they - are going to get me soon, and I dont want them to cop this - stuff. It was hard earned. Mighty hard. I am hereby trusting to - luck. I leave this coat with my neighbor, Mr. Debosky, so in - case they get me, they wont get it when they search my room. My - neighber is an honest man. He dont know what I am and he dont - know about this money. If anybody has to find it I hope it will - be him. Maybe they wont get me after all so all this writing is - in vain. But Im taken no chance on that, and Im willing to take - a chance on this stuff getting back to me somehow. I will say - this before closing. The money belonged to people in various - parts of the country and they could all afford to lose it, - espeshilly the doctor. He is a bigger robber than I am, only he - lets people see him get away with it. If this should fall into - the hands of the police I want them to believe me when I say my - neighber, a little forreigner who plays the violin till it - brings tears to my eyes, has no hand in this business. I am - simply asking him to take care of my coat and wear it till I - call for it, whenever that may be. And the following remarks is - for him. If he finds this dough, he can keep it and use as much - of it as he sees fit. I would sooner he had it than anybody, - because he is poorer than anybody. And what he dont know wont - hurt him. I mean what he dont know about who the stuff belonged - to in the beginning. Being of sound mind and so fourth I hereby - subscribe myself, in the year of our lord, September 26, 1912. - - "HENRY LOVELESS." - -"How very extraordinary," said Mr. Bramble after a long silence. - -"Nearly five thousand dollars," said M. Mirabeau. "What will you do -with it, de Bosky?" - -The little violinist passed his hand over his brow, as if to clear -away the last vestige of perplexity. - -"There is but one thing to do, my friends," he said slowly, -straightening up and facing them. "You will understand, of course, -that I cannot under any circumstances possess myself of this stolen -property." - -Another silence ensued. - -"Certainly not," said Mr. Bramble at last. - -"It would be impossible," said M. Mirabeau, sighing. - -"I shall, therefore, address a letter to my friend, acquainting him -with the mishap to his coat. I shall inform him that the insects -have destroyed the fur in the shoulders, laying bare the padding, -and that while I have been negligent in my care of his property up -to this time, I shall not be so in the future. Without betraying the -secret, I shall in some way let him know that the money is safe and -that he may expect to regain all of it when he--when he comes out." - -"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Bramble warmly. - -M. Mirabeau suddenly broke into uproarious laughter. - -"Mon dieu!" he gasped, when he could catch his breath. The others -were staring at him in alarm. "It is rare! It is exquisite! The -refinement of justice! That _this_ should have happened to the -blood-sucking Mrs. Jacobs! Oho--ho--ho!" - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - DIPLOMACY - - -MR. SMITH-PARVIS, Senior, entertained one old-fashioned, back-number -idea,--relict of a throttled past; it was a pestiferous idea that always -kept bobbing up in an insistent, aggravating way the instant he realized -that he had a few minutes to himself. - -Psychologists might go so far as to claim that he had been born with it; -that it was, after a fashion, hereditary. He had come of honest, -hard-working Smiths; the men and women before him had cultivated the -idea with such unwavering assiduity that, despite all that had conspired -to stifle it, the thing still clung to him and would not be shaken off. - -In short, Mr. Smith-Parvis had an idea that a man should work. -Especially a young man. - -In secret he squirmed over the fact that his son Stuyvesant had never -been known to do a day's work in his life. Not that it was actually -necessary for the young man to descend to anything so common and -inelegant as earning his daily bread, or that there was even a remote -prospect of the wolf sniffing around a future doorway. Not at all. He -knew that Stuyvie didn't have to work. Still, it grieved him to see so -much youthful energy going to waste. He had never quite gotten over the -feeling that a man could make something besides a mere gentleman of -himself, and do it without seriously impairing the family honour. - -He had once suggested to his wife that Stuyvesant ought to go to work. -He didn't care what he took up, just so he took up something. Mrs. -Smith-Parvis was horrified. She would not listen to his reiterations -that he didn't mean clerking in a drygoods shop, or collecting fares on -a street car, or repairing electric doorbells, or anything of the kind, -and she wouldn't allow him to say just what sort of work he did mean. -The subject was not mentioned again for years. Stuyvesant was allowed to -go on being a gentleman in his own sweet way. - -One day Mrs. Smith-Parvis, to his surprise and joy, announced that she -thought Stuyvesant ought to have a real chance to make something of -himself,--a vocation or an avocation, she wasn't sure which,--and she -couldn't see why the father of such a bright, capable boy had been so -blind to the possibilities that lay before him. She actually blamed him -for holding the young man back. - -"I suggested some time ago, my dear," he began, in self-defence, "that -the boy ought to get a job and settle down to--" - -"Job? How I loathe that word. It is almost as bad as situation." - -"Well, then, position," he amended. "You wouldn't hear to it." - -"I have no recollection of any such conversation," said she firmly. "I -have been giving the subject a great deal of thought lately. The dear -boy is entitled to his opportunity. He must make a name for himself. I -have decided, Philander, that he ought to go into the diplomatic -service." - -"Oh, Lord!" - -"I don't blame you for saying 'Oh, Lord,' if you think I mean the -American diplomatic service," she said, smiling. "That, of course, is -not even to be considered. He must aim higher than that. I know it is a -vulgar expression, but there is no class to the American embassies -abroad. Compare our embassies with any of the other--" - -"But, my dear, you forget that--" - -"They are made up largely of men who have sprung from the most ordinary -walks in life,--men totally unfitted for the social position that-- -Please do not argue, Philander. You know perfectly well that what I say -is true. I shouldn't think of letting Stuyvesant enter the American -diplomatic service. Do you remember that dreadful person who came to see -us in Berlin,--about the trunks we sent up from Paris by _grande -vitesse_? Well, just think of Stuyvesant--" - -"He was a clerk from the U. S. Consul's office," he interrupted -doggedly. "Nothing whatever to do with the embassy. Besides, we can't--" - -"It doesn't matter. I have been giving it a great deal of thought -lately, trying to decide which is the best service for Stuyvesant to -enter. The English diplomatic corps in this country is perfectly -stunning, and so is the French,--and the Russian, for that matter. He -doesn't speak the Russian language, however, so I suppose we will have -to--" - -"See here, my dear,--listen to me," he broke in resolutely. "Stuyvesant -can't get into the service of any of these countries. He--" - -"I'd like to know why not!" she cried sharply. "He is a gentleman, he -has manner, he is--Well, isn't he as good as any of the young men one -sees at the English or the French Legations in Washington?" - -"I grant you all that, but he is an American just the same. He can't be -born all over again, you know, with a new pair of parents. He's got to -be in the American diplomatic corps, or in no corps at all. Now, get -that through your head, my dear." - -She finally got it through her head, and resigned herself to the -American service, deciding that the Court of St. James offered the most -desirable prospects in view of its close proximity to the other great -capitals of Europe. - -"Stuyvesant likes London next to Paris, and he could cross over to -France whenever he felt the need of change." - -Mr. Smith-Parvis looked harassed. - -"Easier said than done," he ventured. "These chaps in the legations have -to stick pretty close to their posts. He can't be running about, all -over the place, you know. It isn't expected. You might as well -understand in the beginning that he'll have to work like a nailer for a -good many years before he gets anywhere in the diplomatic service." - -"Nonsense. Doesn't the President appoint men to act as Ambassadors who -never had an hour's experience in diplomacy? It's all a matter of -politics. I'm sorry to say, Philander, the right men are never -appointed. It seems to be the practice in this country to appoint men -who, so far as I know, have absolutely no social standing. Mr. Choate -was an exception, of course. I am sure that Stuyvesant will go to the -top rapidly if he is given a chance. Now, how shall we go about it, -Philander?" She considered the matter settled. Her husband shook his -head. - -"Have you spoken to Stuyvie about it?" he inquired. - -"Oh, dear me, no. I want to surprise him." - -"I see," said he, rather grimly for him. "I see. We simply say: 'Here is -a nice soft berth in the diplomatic corps, Stuyvie. You may sail -tomorrow if you like.'" - -"Don't be silly. And please do not call him Stuyvie. I've spoken to you -about that a thousand times, Philander. Now, don't you think you ought -to run down to Washington and see the President? It may--" - -"No, I don't," said he flatly. "I'm not a dee fool." - -"Don't--don't you care to see your son make something of himself?" she -cried in dismay. - -"Certainly. I'd like nothing better than--" - -"Then, try to take a little interest in him," she said coldly. - -"In the first place," said he resignedly, "what are his politics?" - -"The same as yours. He is a Republican. All the people we know are -Republicans. The Democrats are too common for words." - -"Well, his first attempt at diplomacy will be to change his politics," -he said, waxing a little sarcastic as he gained courage. "And I'd advise -you not to say nasty things about the Democrats. They are in the saddle -now, you know. I suppose you've heard that the President is a Democrat?" - -"I can't help that," she replied stubbornly. - -"And he appoints nothing but Democrats." - -"Is there likely to be a Republican president soon?" she inquired, -knitting her brows. - -"That's difficult to say." - -"I suppose Stuyvesant could, in a diplomatic sort of way, pretend to be -a Democrat, couldn't he, dear?" - -"He lost nearly ten thousand dollars at the last election betting on -what he said was a sure thing," said he, compressing his lips. - -"The poor dear!" - -"I can't see very much in this diplomatic game, anyhow," said Mr. -Smith-Parvis determinedly. - -"I asked you a direct question, Philander," she said stiffly. - -"I--I seem to have forgotten just what--" - -"I asked you how we are to go about securing an appointment for him." - -"Oh," said he, wilting a little. "So you did. Well,--um--aw--let me -think. There's only one way. He's got to have a pull. Does he know any -one high up in the Democratic ranks? Any one who possesses great -influence?" There was a twinkle in his eye. - -"I--I don't know," she replied, helplessly. "He is quite young, -Philander. He can't be expected to know everybody. But you! Now that I -think of it, you must know any number of influential Democrats. There -must be some one to whom you could go. You would simply say to him that -Stuyvesant agrees to enter the service, and that he will do everything -in his power to raise it to the social standard--" - -"The man would die laughing," said he unfeelingly. "I was just thinking. -Suppose I were to go to the only influential Democratic politician I -know,--Cornelius McFaddan,--and tell him that Stuyvesant advocates the -reconstruction of our diplomatic service along English lines, he would -undoubtedly say things to me that I could neither forget nor forgive. I -can almost hear him now." - -"You refuse to make any effort at all, then?" - -"Not at all," he broke in quickly. "I will see him. As a matter of fact, -McFaddan is a very decent sort of chap, and he is keen to join the -Oxford Country Club. He knows I am on the Board of Governors. In fact, -he asked me not long ago what golf club I'd advise him to join. He -thinks he's getting too fat. Wants to take up golf." - -"But you _couldn't_ propose him for membership in the Oxford, -Philander," she said flatly. "Only the smartest people in town--" - -"Leave it to me," he interrupted, a flash of enthusiasm in his eyes. "By -gad, I shouldn't be surprised if I could do something through him. He -carries a good deal of weight." - -"Would it be wise to let him reduce it by playing golf?" she inquired -doubtfully. - -He stared. "I mean politically. Figure of speech, my dear." - -"Oh, I see." - -"A little coddling on my part, and that sort of thing. They all want to -break into society,--every last one of them. You never can tell. A -little soft soap goes a long way sometimes. I could ask him to have -luncheon with me at Bombay House. Um-m-m!" He fell into a reflective -mood. - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis also was thoughtful. An amazing idea had sprouted in -her head. - -"Has he a wife?" she inquired, after many minutes. - -"They always have, those chaps," said he. "And a lot of children." - -"I was just wondering if it wouldn't be good policy to have them to -dinner some night, Philander," she said. - -"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly and staring at her in -astonishment. - -"Every little helps," she said argumentatively. "It would be like -opening the seventh heaven to her if I were to invite her here to dine. -Just think what it would mean to her. She would meet--" - -"They probably eat with their knives and tuck their napkins under their -chins." - -"I am sure that would be amusing," said she, eagerly. "It is so -difficult nowadays to provide amusement for one's guests. Really, my -dear, I think it is quite an idea. We could explain beforehand to the -people we'll have in to meet them,--explain everything, you know. The -plan for Stuyvesant, and everything." - -He was still staring. "Well, who would you suggest having in with Mr. -and Mrs. Con McFaddan?" - -"Oh, the Cricklewicks, and the Blodgetts,--and old Mrs. Millidew,--I've -been intending to have her anyway,--and perhaps the Van Ostrons and -Cicely Braithmere, and I am sure we could get dear old Percy Tromboy. He -would be frightfully amused by the McFinnegans, and--" - -"McFaddan," he edged in. - -"--and he could get a world of material for those screaming Irish -imitations he loves to give. Now, when will you see Mr. McFaddan?" - -"You'd have to call on his wife, wouldn't you, before asking her to -dinner?" - -"She probably never has heard of the custom," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis -composedly. - -The next day, Mr. Smith-Parvis strolled into the offices of Mr. -Cornelius McFaddan, Contractor, and casually remarked what a wonderful -view of the Bay he had from his windows. - -"I dropped in, Mr. McFaddan," he explained, "to see if you were really -in earnest about wanting to join the Oxford Country Club." He had -decided that it was best to go straight to the point. - -McFaddan regarded him narrowly. "Did I ever say I wanted to join the -Oxford Country Club?" he demanded. - -"Didn't you?" asked his visitor, slightly disturbed by this ungracious -response. - -"I did not," said Mr. McFaddan promptly. - -"Dear me, I--I was under the impression--Ahem! I am sure you spoke of -wanting to join a golf club." - -"That must have been some time ago. I've joined one," said the other, a -little more agreeably. - -Mr. Smith-Parvis punched nervously with his cane at one of his pearl -grey spats. The contractor allowed his gaze to shift. He didn't wear -"spats" himself. - -"I am sorry. I daresay I could have rushed you through in the Oxford. -They are mighty rigid and exclusive up there, but--well, you would have -gone in with a rush. Men like you are always shoved through ahead of -others. It isn't quite--ah--regular, you know, but it's done when a -candidate of special prominence comes up. Of course, I need not explain -that it's--ah--quite sub rosa?" - -"Sure," said Mr. McFaddan promptly; "I know. We do it at the Jolly Dog -Club." He was again eyeing his visitor narrowly, speculatively. "It's -mighty good of you, Mr. Smith-Parvis. Have a cigar?" - -"No, thank you. I seldom-- -On second thoughts, I will take one." It -occurred to him that it was the diplomatic thing to do, no matter what -kind of a cigar it was. Besides, he wouldn't feel called upon to -terminate his visit at once if he lighted the man's cigar. He could at -least smoke an inch or even an inch and a half of it before announcing -that he would have to be going. And a great deal can happen during the -consumption of an inch or so of tobacco. - -"That's a good cigar," he commented, after a couple of puffs. He took it -from his lips and inspected it critically. - -Mr. McFaddan was pleased. "It ought to be," he said. "Fifty cents -straight." - -The visitor looked at it with sudden respect. "A little better than I'm -in the habit of smoking," he said ingratiatingly. - -"What does it cost to join the Oxford Club?" inquired the contractor. - -"Twelve hundred dollars admission, and two hundred a year dues," said -Mr. Smith-Parvis, pricking up his ears. "Really quite reasonable." - -"My wife don't like the golf club I belong to," said the other, -squinting at his own cigar. "Rough-neck crowd, she says." - -Mr. Smith-Parvis looked politely concerned. - -"That's too bad," he said. - -The contractor appeared to be weighing something in his mind. - -"How long does it take to get into your club?" he asked. - -"Usually about five years," said Mr. Smith-Parvis, blandly. "Long -waiting list, you know. Some of the best people in the city are on it, -by the way. I daresay it wouldn't be more than two or three months in -your case, however," he concluded. - -"I'll speak to the wife about it," said Mr. McFaddan. "She may put her -foot down hard. Too swell for us, maybe. We're plain people." - -"Not a bit of it," said Mr. Smith-Parvis readily. "Extremely -democratic club, my dear McFaddan. Exclusive and all that, but -quite--ah--unconventional. Ha-ha!" - -Finding himself on the high-road to success, he adventured a little -farther. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he got to his feet with -an exclamation of well-feigned dismay. - -"My dear fellow, I had no idea it was so near the luncheon hour. Stupid -of me. Why didn't you kick me out? Ha-ha! Let me know what you decide to -do, and I will be delighted to--But better still, can't you have lunch -with me? I could tell you something about the club and--What do you say -to going around to Bombay House with me?" - -"I'd like nothing better," said the thoroughly perplexed politician. -"Excuse me while I wash me hands." - -And peering earnestly into the mirror above the washstand in the corner -of the office, Mr. McFaddan said to himself: - -"I must look easier to him than I do to meself. If I'm any kind of a -guesser at all he's after one of two things. He either wants his tax -assessment rejuced or wants to run for mayor of the city. The poor -boob!" - -That evening Mr. Smith-Parvis announced, in a bland and casual manner, -that things were shaping themselves beautifully. - -"I had McFaddan to lunch with me," he explained. "He was tremendously -impressed." - -His wife was slightly perturbed. "And I suppose you were so stupid as to -introduce him to a lot of men in the club who--" - -"I didn't have to," interrupted Mr. Smith-Parvis, a trifle crossly. "It -was amazing how many of the members knew him. I daresay four out of -every five men in the club shook hands with him and called him Mr. -McFaddan. Two bank presidents called him Con, and, by gad, Angela, he -actually introduced me to several really big bugs I've been wanting to -meet for ten years or more. Most extraordinary, 'pon my word." - -"Did you--did you put out any feelers?" - -"About Stuyvie--sant? Certainly not. That would have been fatal. I did -advance a few tactful and pertinent criticisms of our present diplomatic -service, however. I was relieved to discover that he thinks it can be -improved. He agreed with me when I advanced the opinion that we, as -sovereign citizens of this great Republic, ought to see to it that a -better, a higher class of men represent us abroad. He said,--in his -rough, slangy way: 'You're dead right. What good are them authors and -poets we're sendin' over there now? What we need is good, live -hustlers,--men with ginger instead of ink in their veins.' I remember -the words perfectly. 'Ginger instead of ink!' Ha-ha,--rather good, eh?" - -"You must dress at once, Philander," said his wife. "We are dining with -the Hatchers." - -"That reminds me," he said, wrinkling his brow. "I dropped in to see -Cricklewick on the way up. He didn't appear to be very enthusiastic -about dining here with the McFaddans." - -"For heaven's sake, you don't mean to say you've already asked the man -to dine with us!" cried his wife. - -"Not in so many words," he made haste to explain. "He spoke several -times about his wife. Seemed to want me to know that she was a snappy -old girl,--his words, not mine. The salt of the earth, and so on. Of -course, I had to say something agreeable. So I said I'd like very much -to have the pleasure of meeting her." - -"Oh, you did, did you?" witheringly. - -"He seemed really quite affected, my dear. It was several minutes before -he could find the words to reply. Got very red in the face and managed -to say finally that it was very kind of me. I think it rather made a hit -with him. I merely mentioned the possibility of dining together some -time,--_en famille_,--and that I'd like him to meet you. Nothing -more,--not a thing more than that!" he cried, quailing a little under -his wife's eye. - -"And what did he say to that?" she inquired. The rising inflection was -ominous. - -"He was polite enough to say he'd be pleased to meet you," said he, with -justifiable exasperation. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - ONE NIGHT AT SPANGLER'S - - -A FEW mornings after de Bosky's _premier_ as director of the Royal -Hungarian Orchestra, Mrs. Sparflight called Jane Emsdale's attention to -a news "story" in the _Times_. The headline was as follows: - - A ROYAL VIOLINIST - - _Prince de Bosky Leads the Orchestra - at Spangler's_ - -Three-quarters of a column were devoted to the first appearance in -America of the royal musician; his remarkable talent; his glorious -ancestry; his singular independence; and (through an interpreter) his -impressions of New York. - -"Oh, I am so glad," cried Jane, after she had read the story. "The poor -fellow was so dreadfully up against it." - -"We must go and hear him soon," said the other. - -They were at the breakfast-table. Jane had been with the elder woman for -nearly a week. She was happy, radiant, contented. Not so much as an -inkling of the truth arose to disturb her serenity. She believed herself -to be actually in the pay of "Deborah." From morning till night she went -cheerfully about the tasks set for her by her sorely tried employer, -who, as time went on, found herself hard put to invent duties for a -conscientious private secretary. Jane was much too active, much too -eager; such indefatigable energy harassed rather than comforted her -employer. And, not for the world, would the latter have called upon her -to take over any of the work downstairs. The poor lady lay awake nights -trying to think of something that she could set the girl to doing in the -morning! - -A curt, pointed epistle had come to Mrs. Sparflight from Mrs. -Smith-Parvis. That lady announced briefly that she had been obliged to -discharge Miss Emsdale, and that she considered it her duty to warn Mrs. -Sparflight against recommending her late governess to any one else. - -"You may answer the note, my dear," the Marchioness had said, her eyes -twinkling as she watched Jane's face. "Thank her for the warning and say -that I regret having sent Miss Emsdale to her. Say that I shall be -exceedingly careful in the future. Sign it, and append your initials. It -isn't a bad idea to let her know that I do not regard her communication -as strictly confidential,--between friends, you might say. And now you -must get out for a long walk today. A strong, healthy English girl like -you shouldn't go without stretching her legs. You'll be losing the bloom -in your cheek if you stay indoors as you've been doing the past week." - -Jane's dread of meeting her tormentor had kept her close to the -apartment since the night of her rather unconventional arrival. Twice -the eager Trotter, thrilled and exalted by his new-found happiness, had -dashed in to see her, but only for a few minutes' stay on each occasion. - -"How do you like your new position?" he had asked in the dimness at the -head of the stairway. She could not see his face, but it was because he -kept her head rather closely pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. -Otherwise she might have detected the guilty flicker in his eyes. - -"I love it. She is such a dear. But, really, Eric, I don't think I'm -worth half what she pays me." - -He chuckled softly. "Oh, yes, you are. You are certainly worth half what -my boss pays me." - -"But I do not earn it," she insisted. - -"Neither do I," said he. - -To return to the Marchioness and the newspaper: - -"We will go off on a little spree before long, my dear. A good dinner at -Spangler's, a little music, and a chat with the sensation of the hour. -Get Mrs. Hendricks on the telephone, please. I will ask her to join us -there some night soon with her husband. He is the man who wrote that -delightful novel with the name I never can remember. You will like him, -I know. He is so dreadfully deaf that all one has to do to include him -in the conversation is to return his smiles occasionally." - -And so, on a certain night in mid-April, it came to pass that Spangler's -Café, gay and full of the din that sustains the _genus_ New Yorker in -his contention that there is no other place in the world fit to live in, -had among its patrons a number of the persons connected with this story -of the City of Masks. - -First of all, there was the new leader of the orchestra, a dapper, -romantic-looking young man in a flaming red coat. Ah, but you should -have seen him! The admirable Mirabeau, true Frenchman that he was, had -performed wonders with pomades and oils and the glossy brilliantine. The -sleek black hair of the little Prince shone like the raven's wing; his -dark, gipsy eyes, rendered more vivid by the skilful application of -"lampblack," gleamed with an ardent excitement; there was colour in his -cheeks, and a smile on his lips. - -At a table near the platform on which the orchestra was stationed, sat -the Honourable Cornelius McFaddan, his wife, and a congenial party of -friends. In a far-off corner, remote from the music, you would have -discovered the Marchioness and her companions; the bland, perpetually -smiling Mr. Hendricks who wrote the book, his wife, and the lovely, -blue-eyed Jane. - -By a strange order of coincidence, young Mr. Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis, -quite mellow and bereft of the power to focus steadily with eye or -intellect, occupied a seat,--and frequently a seat and a half,--at a -table made up of shrill-voiced young women and bald-headed gentlemen of -uncertain age who had a whispering acquaintance with the head waiter and -his assistants. - -The Countess du Bara, otherwise Corinne, entertained a few of the lesser -lights of the Opera and two lean, hungry-looking critics she was -cultivating against an hour of need. - -At a small, mean table alongside the swinging door through which a -procession of waiters constantly streamed on their way from the kitchen, -balancing trays at hazardous heights, sat two men who up to this moment -have not been mentioned in these revelations. Very ordinary looking -persons they were, in business clothes. - -One of them, a sallow, liverish individual, divided his interest between -two widely separated tables. His companion was interested in nothing -except his food, which being wholly unsatisfactory to him, relieved him -of the necessity of talking about anything else. He spoke of it from -time to time, however, usually to the waiter, who could only say that he -was sorry. This man was a red-faced, sharp-nosed person with an -unmistakable Cockney accent. He seemed to find a great deal of comfort -in verbally longing for the day when he could get back to Simpson's in -the Strand for a bit of "roast that is a roast." - -The crowd began to thin out shortly after the time set for the lifting -of curtains in all of the theatres. It was then that the sallow-faced -man arose from his seat and, after asking his companion to excuse him -for a minute, approached Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. That gentleman had -been dizzily ogling a dashing, spirited young woman at the table -presided over by Mr. McFaddan, a circumstance which not only annoyed the -lady but also one closer at hand. The latter was wanting to know, in -some heat, what he took her for. If he thought she'd stand for anything -like that, he had another guess coming. - -"May I have a word with you?" asked the sallow man, inserting his head -between Stuyvesant and the protesting young woman. - -"The bouncer," cried the young woman, looking up. "Good work. That's -what you get for making eyes at strange--" - -"Shut up," said Stuyvie, who had, after a moment's concentration, -recognized the man. "What do you want?" - -"A word in private," said the other. - -Stuyvesant got up and followed him to a vacant table in the rear. - -"She is here," said the stranger. "Here in this restaurant. Not more -than fifty feet from where we're sitting." - -The listener blinked. His brain was foggy. - -"What's that?" he mumbled, thickly. - -"The girl you're lookin' for," said the man. - -Stuyvesant sat up abruptly. His brain seemed to clear. - -"You mean--Miss Emsdale?" he demanded, rather distinctly. - -The little man in the red coat, sitting just above them on the edge of -the platform, where he was resting after a particularly long and arduous -number, pricked up his ears. He, too, had seen the radiant, friendly -face of the English girl at the far end of the room, and had favoured -her with more than one smile of appreciation. - -"Yes. Stand up and take a look. Keep back of this palm, so's she won't -lamp you. 'Way over there with the white-haired old lady. Am I right? -She's the one, ain't she?" - -Smith-Parvis became visibly excited. "Yes,--there's not the slightest -doubt. How--how long has she been here? Why the devil didn't you tell me -sooner?" - -"Don't get excited. Better not let her see you in this condition. She -looks like a nice, refined girl. She--" - -"What do you mean 'condition'? I'm all right," retorted the young man, -bellicose at once. - -"I know you are," said the other soothingly. - -"Darn the luck," growled Stuyvie, following a heroic effort to restore -his physical equilibrium. "I wouldn't have had her see me here with this -crowd for half the money in New York. She'll get a bad impression of me. -Look at 'em! My Lord, they're all stewed. I say, you go over and tell -that man with the big nose at the head of my table that I've been -suddenly called away, and--" - -"Take my advice, and sit tight." - -Stuyvie's mind wandered. "Say, do you know who that rippin' creature is -over there with the fat Irishman? She's a dream." - -The sallow man did not deign to look. He bent a little closer to Mr. -Smith-Parvis. - -"Now, what is the next move, Mr. Smith-Parvis? I've located her right -enough. Is this the end of the trail?" - -"Sh!" cautioned Stuyvie, loudly. Then even more loudly: "Don't you know -any better than to roar like that? There's a man sitting up there--" - -"He can't understand a word of English. Wop. Just landed. That's the guy -the papers have been--" - -"I am not in the least interested in your conversation," said Stuyvie -haughtily. "What were you saying?" - -"Am I through? That's what I want to know." - -"You have found out where she's stopping?" - -"Yep. Stayin' with the white-haired old lady. Dressmaking establishment. -The office will make a full report to you tomorrow." - -"Wait a minute. Let me think." - -The sallow man waited for some time. Then he said: "Excuse me, Mr. -Smith-Parvis, but I've got a friend over here. Stranger in New York. I'm -detailed to entertain him." - -"You've got to shake him," said Stuyvie, arrogantly. "I want you to -follow her home, and I'm going with you. As soon as I know positively -where she lives, I'll decide on the next step we're to take. We'll have -to work out some plan to get her away from that dressmakin' -'stablishment." - -The other gave him a hard look. "Don't count our people in on any rough -stuff," he said levelly. "We don't go in for that sort of thing." - -Stuyvie winked. "We'll talk about that when the time comes." - -"Well, what I said goes. We're the oldest and most reliable agency in--" - -"I know all that," said Stuyvie, peevishly. "It is immaterial to me -whether your agency or some other one does the job. Remember that, will -you? I want that girl, and I don't give a--" - -"Good night, Mr. Smith-Parvis." - -"Wait a minute,--_wait_ a minute. Now, listen. When you see her getting -ready to leave this place, rush out and get a taxi. I'll join you -outside, and we'll--" - -"Very well. That's part of my job, I suppose. I will have to explain to -my friend. He will understand." He lowered his voice to almost a -whisper. "He's in the same business. Special from Scotland Yard. My God, -what bulldogs these Britishers are. He's been clear around the world, -lookin' for a young English swell who lit out a couple of years ago. -We've been taken in on the case,--and I'm on the job with him from -now--" - -"And say," broke in Stuyvie, irrelevantly, "before you leave find out -who that girl is over there with the fat Irishman. Understand?" - -Prince Waldemar de Bosky's thoughts and reflections, up to the beginning -of this duologue, were of the rosiest and most cheerful nature. He was -not proud to be playing the violin in Spangler's, but he was human. He -was not above being gratified by the applause and enthusiasm of the -people who came to see if not to hear a prince of the blood perform. - -His friends were out there in front, and it was to them that he played. -He was very happy. And the five thousand dollars in the old steel safe -at the shop of Mirabeau the clockmaker! He had been thinking of them and -of the letter he had posted to the man "up the river,"--and of the -interest he would take in the reply when it came. Abruptly, in the midst -of these agreeable thoughts, came the unlovely interruption. - -At first he was bewildered, uncertain as to the course he should pursue. -He never had seen young Smith-Parvis before, but he had no difficulty in -identifying him as the disturber of Trotter's peace of mind. That there -was something dark and sinister behind the plans and motives of the -young man and his spy was not a matter for doubt. How was he to warn -Lady Jane? He was in a fearful state of perturbation as he stepped to -the front of the platform for the next number on the program. - -As he played, he saw Smith-Parvis rejoin his party. He watched the -sallow man weave his way among the diners to his own table. His anxious -gaze sought out the Marchioness and Jane, and he was relieved to find -that they were not preparing to depart. Also, he looked again at -McFaddan and the dashing young woman at the foot of his table. He had -recognized the man who once a week came under his critical observation -as a proper footman. As a matter of fact, he had been a trifle -flabbergasted by the intense stare with which McFaddan favoured him. Up -to this hour he had not associated McFaddan with opulence or a -tailor-made dress suit. - -After the encore, he descended from the platform and made his way, -bowing right and left to the friendly throng, until he brought up at the -Marchioness's table. There he paused and executed a profound bow. - -The Marchioness proffered her hand, which he was careful not to see, and -said something to him in English. He shook his head, expressive of -despair, and replied in the Hungarian tongue. - -"He does not understand English," said Jane, her eyes sparkling. Then -she complimented him in French. - -De Bosky affected a faint expression of hope. He managed a few halting -words in French. Jane was delighted. This was rare good fun. The -musician turned to the others at the table and gave utterance to the -customary "Parle vouz Francais, madame--m'sieu?" - -"Not a word," said Mrs. Hendricks. "_He_ understands it but he can't -hear it," she went on, and suddenly turned a fiery red. "How silly of -me," she said to the Marchioness, giggling hysterically. - -De Bosky's face cleared. He addressed himself to Jane; it was quite safe -to speak to her in French. He forgot himself in his eagerness, however, -and spoke with amazing fluency for one who but a moment before had been -so at a loss. In a few quick, concise sentences he told her of -Stuyvesant's presence, his condition and his immediate designs. - -Both Jane and the Marchioness were equal to the occasion. Although -filled with consternation, they succeeded admirably in concealing their -dismay behind a mask of smiles and a gay sort of chatter. De Bosky -beamed and smirked and gesticulated. One would have thought he was -regaling them with an amusing story. - -"He is capable of making a horrid scene," lamented Jane, through smiling -lips. "He may come over to this table and--" - -"Compose yourself," broke in de Bosky, a smile on his lips but not in -his eyes. "If he should attempt to annoy you here, I--I myself will take -him in hand. Have no fear. You may depend on me." - -He was interrupted at this juncture by a brass-buttoned page who passed -the table, murmuring the name of Mrs. Sparflight. - -Spangler's is an exceptional place. Pages do not bawl out one's name as -if calling an "extra." On the contrary, in quiet, repressed tones they -politely inquire at each table for the person wanted. Mr. Spangler was -very particular about this. He came near to losing his license years -before simply because a page had meandered through the restaurant -bellowing the name of a gentleman whose influence was greater at City -Hall than it was at his own fireside,--from which, by the way, he -appears to have strayed on the night in question. - -"Dear me," cried the Marchioness, her agitation increasing. "No one -knows I am here. How on earth--Here, boy!" - -A note was delivered to her. It was from Thomas Trotter. Her face -brightened as she glanced swiftly through the scrawl. - -"Splendid!" she exclaimed. "It is from Mr. Trotter. He is waiting -outside with his automobile." - -She passed the note to Jane, whose colour deepened. De Bosky drew a deep -breath of relief, and, cheered beyond measure by her reassuring words, -strode off, his head erect, his white teeth showing in a broad smile. - -Trotter wrote: "It is raining cats and dogs. I have the car outside. The -family is at the theatre. Don't hurry. I can wait until 10:15. If you -are not ready to come away by that time, you will find my friend Joe -Glimm hanging about in front of the café,--drenched to the skin, I'll -wager. You will recall him as the huge person I introduced to you -recently as from Constantinople. Just put yourselves under his wing if -anything happens. He is jolly well able to protect you. I know who's in -there, but don't be uneasy. He will not dare molest you." - -"Shall I keep it for you?" asked Jane, her eyes shining. - -"I fancy it was intended for you, my dear," said the other drily. - -"How very interesting," observed Mr. Hendricks, who occasionally offered -some such remark as his contribution to the gaiety of the evening. He -had found it to be a perfectly safe shot, even when fired at random. - -In the meantime, Mr. McFaddan had come to the conclusion that the young -man at the next table but one was obnoxious. It isn't exactly the way -Mr. McFaddan would have put it, but as he would have put it less -elegantly, it is better to supply him with a word out of stock. - -The dashing young woman upon whom Stuyvesant lavished his bold and -significant glances happened to be Mrs. McFaddan, whose scant twelve -months as a wife gave her certain privileges and a distinction that -properly would have been denied her hearth-loving predecessor who came -over from Ireland to marry Con McFaddan when he was promoted to the -position of foreman in the works,--and who, true to her estate of -muliebrity, produced four of the most exemplary step-children that any -second wife could have discovered if she had gone storking over the -entire city. - -Cornelius had married his stenographer. It was not his fault that she -happened to be a very pretty young woman, nor could he be held -responsible for the fact that he was approximately thirty years of age -on the day she was born. Any way you look at it, she was his wife and -dependent on him for some measure of protection. - -And Mr. McFaddan, being an influence, sent for the proprietor of the -café himself, and whispered to him. Whereupon, Mr. Spangler, considering -the side on which his bread was buttered, whispered back that it should -be attended to at once. - -"And," pursued Mr. McFaddan, purple with suppressed rage, "if you don't, -I will." - -A minute or two later, one of the waiters approached young Mr. -Smith-Parvis and informed him that he was wanted outside at once. - -Stuyvesant's heart leaped. He at once surmised that Miss Emsdale, -repentant and envious, had come off her high horse and was eager to get -away from the dull, prosaic and stupidly respectable old "parties" over -in the corner. Conceivably she had taken a little more champagne than -was good for her. He got up immediately, and without so much as a word -of apology to his host, made his way eagerly, though unsteadily, to the -entrance-hall. - -He expected Miss Emsdale to follow; he was already framing in his -beaddled brain the jolly little lecture he would give her when-- - -A red-faced person jostled him in a most annoying manner. - -"Look sharp there," said Stuyvie thickly. "Watch where you're going." - -"Steady, sir,--steady!" came in a hushed, agitated voice from Mr. -Spangler, who appeared to be addressing himself exclusively to the -red-faced person. "Let me manage it,--please." - -"Who the devil is this bally old blighter?" demanded Stuyvie loudly. - -"Leave him to me, Spangler," said the red-faced man. "I have a few -choice words I--" - -"Here! Confound you! Keep off of my toes, you fool! I say, Spangler, -what's the matter with you? Throw him out! He's--" - -"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" - -"I ought to knock your block off," said Mr. McFaddan, without raising -his voice. As his face was within six inches of Stuyvesant's nose, the -young man had no difficulty whatever in hearing what he said, and yet it -should not be considered strange that he failed to understand. In all -fairness, it must be said that he was bewildered. Under the -circumstances any one would have been bewildered. Being spoken to in -that fashion by a man you've never seen before in your life is, to say -the least, surprising. "I'll give you ten seconds to apologize." - -"Ap--apologize? Confound you, what do you mean? You're drunk." - -"I said ten seconds," growled Cornelius. - -"And then what?" gulped Stuyvie. - -"A swat on the nose," said Mr. McFaddan. - -At no point in the course of this narrative has there been either proof -or assertion that Smith-Parvis, Junior, possessed the back-bone of a -caterpillar. It has been stated, however, that he was a young man of -considerable bulk. We have assumed, correctly, that this rather -impressive physique masked a craven spirit. As a matter of fact, he was -such a prodigious coward that he practised all manner of "exercises" in -order to develop something to inspire in his fellow-men the belief that -he would be a pretty tough customer to tackle. - -Something is to be said for his method. It has been successfully -practised by man ever since the day that Solomon, in all his glory, -arrayed himself so sumptuously that the whole world hailed him as the -wisest man extant. - -Stuyvie took great pride in revealing his well-developed arms; it was -not an uncommon thing for him to ask you to feel his biceps, or his back -muscles, or the cords in his thigh; he did a great deal of strutting in -his bathing suit at such places as Atlantic City, Southampton and -Newport. In a way, it paid to advertise. - -Now when Mr. McFaddan, a formidable-looking person, made that emphatic -remark, Stuyvesant realized that there was no escape. He was trapped. -Panic seized him. In sheer terror he struck blindly at the awful, -reddish thing that filled his vision. - -He talked a good deal about it afterwards, explaining in a casual sort -of way just how he had measured the distance and had picked out the -point of the fat man's jaw. He even went so far as to say that he felt -sorry for the poor devil even before he delivered the blow. - -The fact of the matter is, Stuyvie's wild, terrified swing,--delivered -with the eyes not only closed but covered by the left arm,--landed -squarely on Mr. McFaddan's jaw. And when the aggressor, after a moment -or two of suspense, opened his eyes and lowered his arm, expecting to -find his adversary's fist on its irresistible approach toward his nose, -there was no Mr. McFaddan in sight;--at least, he was not where he had -been the moment before. - -Mr. McFaddan lay in a crumpled heap against a chair, ten feet away. - -Stuyvie was suddenly aware that some one was assisting him into his -coat, and that several men were hustling him toward the door. - -"Get out,--quick!" said one, who turned out to be the agitated Mr. -Spangler. "Before he gets up. He is a terrible man." - -By this time they were in the vestibule. - -"I will not tell him who you are," Mr. Spangler was saying. "I will give -you another name,--Jones or anything. He must never know who you are." - -"What's the difference?" chattered Stuyvie. "He's--he's dead, isn't he?" - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - SCOTLAND YARD TAKES A HAND - - -IT was raining hard. Stuyvesant, thoroughly alarmed and not at all -elated by his astonishing conquest, halted in dismay. The pelting -torrent swept up against the side of the canvas awning that extended to -the street; the thick matting on the sidewalk was almost afloat. -Headlights of automobiles drawn up to the curb blazed dimly through the -screen of water. He peered out beyond the narrow opening left for -pedestrians and groaned. - -"Taxi!" he frantically shouted to the doorman. Some one tapped him on -the shoulder. He started as if a gun had gone off at his back. It was -all up! For once the police were on the spot when--A voice was shouting: - -"By thunder, I didn't think it was in you!" - -He whirled to face, not the expected bluecoat, but the sallow detective. - -"My God, how you startled me!" - -"I'd have bet my last dollar you hadn't the nerve to--ahem! I--I--Say, -take a tip from me. Beat it! Don't hang around here waitin' for that -girl. That guy in there is beginning to see straight again, and if he -was to bust out here and find you--Well, it would be something awful!" - -"Get me a taxi, you infernal idiot!" roared the conqueror in flight, -addressing the starter. - -"Have one here in five minutes, sir," began the taxi starter, grabbing -up the telephone. - -"Five minutes?" gasped Stuyvie, with a quick glance over his shoulder. -"Oh, Lord! Tell one of those chauffeurs out there I'll give him ten -dollars to run me to the Grand Central Station. Hurry up!" - -"The Grand Central?" exclaimed the detective. "Great Scott, man, you -don't have to beat it clear out of town, you know. What are you going to -the Station for?" - -"For a taxi, you damn' fool," shouted Stuyvie. "Say, who was that man in -there?" - -"Didn't you know him?" - -"Never saw him in my life before,--the blighter. Who is he?" - -The detective stared. He opened his mouth to reply, and as suddenly -closed it. He, too, knew on which side his bread was precariously -buttered. - -"I don't know," he said. - -"Well, the papers will give his name in the morning,--and mine, too, -curse them," chattered Stuyvie. - -"Don't you think it," said the other promptly. "There won't be a word -about it, take it from me. That guy,--whoever he is,--ain't going to -have the newspapers say he was knocked down by a pinhead like you." - -The insult passed unnoticed. Stuyvie was gazing, pop-eyed, at a man who -suddenly appeared at the mouth of the canopy, a tall fellow in a -dripping raincoat. - -The newcomer's eyes were upon him. They were steady, unfriendly eyes. He -advanced slowly. - -"I sha'n't wait," said Stuyvie, and swiftly passed out into the deluge. -No other course was open to him. There was trouble ahead and trouble -behind. - -Thomas Trotter laughed. The sallow-faced man made a trumpet of his hands -and shouted after the departing one: - -"Beat it! He's coming!" - -The retreating footsteps quickened into a lively clatter. Trotter -distinctly heard the sallow-faced man chuckle. - -The Marchioness and Jane went home in the big Millidew limousine instead -of in a taxi. They left the restaurant soon after the departure of -Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. The pensive-looking stranger from Scotland Yard -came out close upon their heels. He was looking for his American guide. - -Trotter brought his car up to the awning and grinned broadly as he -leaned forward for "orders." - -"Home, James," said Lady Jane, loftily. - -"Very good, my lady," said Trotter. - -The man from Scotland Yard squinted narrowly at the chauffeur's face. He -moved a few paces nearer and stared harder. For a long time after the -car had rolled away, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning -perplexedly. Then he shook his head and apparently gave it up. He went -inside to look for his friend. - -The next day, the sallow-faced detective received instructions over the -telephone from one who refused to give his name to the operator. He was -commanded to keep close watch on the movements of a certain party, and -to await further orders. - -"I shall be out of town for a week or ten days," explained young Mr. -Smith-Parvis. - -"I see," said the sallow-faced man. "Good idea. That guy--" But the -receiver at the other end clicked rudely and without ceremony. - -Stuyvesant took an afternoon train for Virginia Hot Springs. At the -Pennsylvania Station he bought all of the newspapers,--morning, noon and -night. There wasn't a line in any one of them about the fracas. He was -rather hurt about it. He was beginning to feel proud of his achievement. -By the time the train reached Philadelphia he had worked himself into -quite a fury over the way the New York papers suppress things that -really ought to be printed. Subsidized, that's what they were. Jolly -well bribed. He had given the fellow,--whoever he was,--a well-deserved -drubbing, and the world would never hear of it! Miss Emsdale would not -hear of it. He very much wished her to hear of it, too. The farther away -he got from New York the more active became the conviction that he owed -it to himself to go back there and thrash the fellow all over again, as -publicly as possible,--in front of the Public Library at four o'clock in -the afternoon, while he was about it. - -He had been at Hot Springs no longer than forty-eight hours when a long -letter came from his mother. She urged him to return to New York as soon -as possible. It was imperative that he should be present at a very -important dinner she was giving on Friday night. One of the most -influential politicians in New York was to be there,--a man whose name -was a household word,--and she was sure something splendid would come of -it. - -"You must not fail me, dear boy," she wrote. "I would not have him miss -seeing you for anything in the world. Don't ask me any questions. I -can't tell you anything now, but I will say that a great surprise is in -store for my darling boy." - -Meanwhile the nosy individual from Scotland Yard had not been idle. The -fleeting, all too brief glimpse he had had of the good-looking chauffeur -in front of Spangler's spurred him to sudden energy in pursuit of what -had long since shaped itself as a rather forlorn hope. He got out the -photograph of the youngster in the smart uniform of the Guard, and -studied it with renewed intensity. Mentally he removed the cocky little -moustache so prevalent in the Army, and with equal arrogance tried to -put one on the smooth-faced chauffeur. He allowed for elapsed time, and -the wear and tear of three years knocking about the world, and altered -circumstances, and still the resemblance persisted. - -For a matter of ten months he had been seeking the young gentleman who -bore such a startling resemblance to the smiling chauffeur. He had -traced him to Turkey, into Egypt, down the East Coast of Africa, over to -Australia, up to Siam and China and Japan, across the Pacific to British -Columbia, thence to the United States, where the trail was completely -lost. His quarry had a good year and a half to two years the start of -him. - -Still, a chap he knew quite well in the Yard, after chasing a man twice -around the world, had nabbed him at the end of six years. So much for -British perseverance. - -Inquiry had failed to produce the slightest enlightenment from the -doorman or the starter at Spangler's. He always remembered them as the -stupidest asses he had ever encountered. They didn't recognize the -chauffeur, nor the car, nor the ladies; not only were they unable to -tell him the number of the car, but they couldn't, for the life of them, -approximate the number of ladies. All they seemed to know was that some -one had been knocked down by a "swell" who was "hot-footing it" up the -street. - -His sallow-faced friend, however, had provided him with an encouraging -lead. That worthy knew the ladies, but somewhat peevishly explained that -it was hardly to be expected that he should know all of the taxi-cab -drivers in New York,--and as he had seen them arrive in a taxi-cab it -was reasonable to assume that they had departed in one. - -"But it wasn't a taxi-cab," the Scotland Yard man protested. "It was a -blinking limousine." - -"Then, all I got to say is that they're not the women I mean. If I'd -been out here when they left I probably could have put you wise. But I -was in there listenin' to what Con McFaddan was sayin' to poor old -Spangler. The woman I mean is a dressmaker. She ain't got any more of a -limo than I have. Did you notice what they looked like?" - -The Scotland Yard man, staring gloomily up the rain-swept street, -confessed that he hadn't noticed anything but the chauffeur's face. - -"Well, there you are," remarked the sallow-faced man, shrugging his -shoulders in a patronizing, almost pitying way. - -The Londoner winced. - -"I distinctly heard the chauffeur say 'Very good, my lady,'" he said, -after a moment. "That was a bit odd, wasn't it, now? You don't have any -such things as titles over 'ere, do you?" - -"Sure. Every steamer brings one or two of 'em to our little city." - -The Englishman scratched his head. Suddenly his face brightened. - -"I remember, after all,--in a vague sort of way, don't you know,--that -one of the ladies had white hair. I recall an instant's speculation on -my part. I remember looking twice to be sure that it was hair and not a -bit of lace thrown--" - -"That's the party," exclaimed the sallow-faced man. "Now we're getting -somewhere." - -The next afternoon, the man from Scotland Yard paid a visit to -Deborah's. Not at all abashed at finding himself in a place where all -save angels fear to tread, he calmly asked to be conducted into the -presence of Mrs. Sparflight. He tactfully refrained from adding "alias -Deborah, Limited. London, Paris and New York." He declined to state his -business. - -"Madam," said he, coming straight to the point the instant he was -ushered into the presence of the white-haired proprietress, "I sha'n't -waste your time,--and mine, I may add,--by beating about the bush, as -you Americans would say. I represent--" - -"If you are an insurance agent or a book agent, you need not waste any -time at all," began Mrs. Sparflight. He held up his hand deprecatingly. - -"--Scotland Yard," he concluded, fixing his eyes upon her. The start she -gave was helpful. He went on briskly. "Last night you were at a certain -restaurant. You departed during the thunder-storm in a limousine driven -by a young man whose face is familiar to me. In short, I am looking for -a man who bears a most startling resemblance to him. May I prevail upon -you to volunteer a bit of information?" - -Mrs. Sparflight betrayed agitation. A hunted, troubled look came into -her eyes. - -"I--I don't quite understand," she stammered. "Who--who did you say you -were?" - -"My name is Chambers, Alfred Chambers, Scotland Yard. In the event that -you are ignorant of the character of the place called Scotland Yard, I -may explain that--" - -"I know what it is," she interrupted hastily. "What is it that you want -of me, Mr. Chambers?" She was rapidly gaining control of her wits. - -"Very little, madam. I should very much like to know whose car took you -away from Sprinkler's last night." - -She looked him straight in the eye. "I haven't the remotest idea," she -said. - -He nodded his head gently. "Would you, on the other hand, object to -telling me how long James has been driving for her ladyship?" - -This was a facer. Mrs. Sparflight's gaze wavered. - -"Her ladyship?" she murmured weakly. - -"Yes, madam,--unless my hearing was temporarily defective," he said. - -"I don't know what you mean." - -"Your companion was a young lady of--" - -"My good man," interrupted the lady sharply, "my companion last night -was my own private secretary." - -"A Miss Emsdale, I believe," said he. - -She gulped. "Precisely." - -"Um!" he mused. "And you do not know whose car you went off in,--is that -right?" - -"I have no hesitancy in stating, Mr. Chambers, that the car does not -belong to me or to my secretary," she said, smiling. - -"I trust you will pardon a seemingly rude question, Mrs. Sparflight. Is -it the custom in New York for people to take possession of private -automobiles--" - -"It is the custom for New York chauffeurs to pick up an extra dollar or -two when their employers are not looking," she interrupted, with a shrug -of her shoulders. She was instantly ashamed of her mendacity. She looked -over her shoulder to see if Mr. Thomas Trotter's sweetheart was anywhere -within hearing, and was relieved to find that she was not. "And now, -sir, if it is a fair question, may I inquire just what this chauffeur's -double has been doing that Scotland Yard should be seeking him so -assiduously?" - -"He has been giving us a deuce of a chase, madam," said Mr. Chambers, as -if that were the gravest crime a British subject could possibly commit. -"By the way, did you by any chance obtain a fair look at the man who -drove you home last night?" - -"Yes. He seemed quite a good-looking fellow." - -"Will you glance at this photograph, Mrs. Sparflight, and tell me -whether you detect a resemblance?" He took a small picture from his coat -pocket and held it out to her. - -She looked at it closely, holding it at various angles and distances, -and nodded her head in doubtful acquiescence. - -"I think I do, Mr. Chambers. I am not surprised that you should have -been struck by the resemblance. This man was a soldier, I perceive." - -Mr. Chambers restored the photograph to his pocket. - -"The King's Own," he replied succinctly. "Perhaps your secretary may be -able to throw a little more light on the matter, madam. May I have the -privilege of interrogating her?" - -"Not today," said Mrs. Sparflight, who had anticipated the request. "She -is very busy." - -"Of course I am in no position to insist," said he pleasantly. "I trust -you will forgive my intrusion, madam. I am here only in the interests of -justice, and I have no desire to cause you the slightest annoyance. -Permit me to bid you good day, Mrs. Sparflight. Thank you for your -kindness in receiving me. Tomorrow, if it is quite agreeable to you, I -shall call to see Miss Emsdale." - -At that moment, the door opened and Miss Emsdale came into the little -office. - -"You rang for me, Mrs. Sparflight?" she inquired, with a quick glance at -the stranger. - -Mrs. Sparflight blinked rapidly. "Not at all,--not at all. I did not -ring." - -Miss Emsdale looked puzzled. "I am sure the buzzer--" - -"Pardon me," said Mr. Chambers, easily. "I fancy I can solve the -mystery. Accidentally,--quite accidentally, I assure you,--I put my hand -on the button on your desk, Mrs. Sparflight,--while you were glancing at -the photograph. Like this,--do you see?" He put his hand on the top of -the desk and leaned forward, just as he had done when he joined her in -studying the picture a few moments before. - -A hot flush mounted to Mrs. Sparflight's face, and her eyes flashed. The -next instant she smiled. - -"You are most resourceful, Mr. Chambers," she said. "It happens, -however, that your cleverness gains you nothing. This young lady is one -of our stenographers. I think I said that Miss Emsdale is my private -secretary. She has no connection whatever with the business office. The -button you inadvertently pressed simply disturbed one of the girls in -the next room. You may return to your work, Miss Henry." - -She carried it off very well. Jane, sensing danger, was on the point of -retiring,--somewhat hurriedly, it must be confessed,--when Mr. Chambers, -in his most apologetic manner, remarked: - -"May I have a word with you, your ladyship?" - -It was a bold guess, encouraged by his discovery that the young lady was -not only English but of a class distinctly remote from shops and -stenography. - -Under the circumstances, Jane may be forgiven for dissembling, even at -the cost of her employer's honour. She stopped short, whirled, and -confronted the stranger with a look in her eyes that convicted her -immediately. Her hand flew to her heart, and a little gasp broke from -her parted lips. - -Mr. Chambers was smiling blandly. She looked from him to Mrs. -Sparflight, utter bewilderment in her eyes. - -"Oh, Lord!" muttered that lady in great dismay. - -The man from Scotland Yard hazarded another and even more potential -stroke while the iron was hot. - -"I am from Scotland Yard," he said. "We make some mistakes there, I -admit, but not many." He proceeded to lie boldly. "I know who you are, -my lady, and--But it is not necessary to go into that at present. Do not -be alarmed. You have nothing to fear from me,--or from Scotland Yard. -I--" - -"Well, I should hope _not_!" burst out Mrs. Sparflight indignantly. - -"What does he want?" cried Jane, in trepidation. She addressed her -friend, but it was Mr. Chambers who answered. - -"I want you to supply me with a little information concerning Lord Eric -Temple,--whom you addressed last evening as James." - -Jane began to tremble. Scotland Yard! - -"The man is crazy," said Mrs. Sparflight, leaping into the breach. "By -what right, sir, do you come here to impose your--" - -"No offence is intended, ma'am," broke in Mr. Chambers. "Absolutely no -offence. It is merely in the line of duty that I come. In plain words, I -have been instructed to apprehend Lord Eric Temple and fetch him to -London. You see, I am quite frank about it. You can aid me by being as -frank in return, ladies." - -By this time Jane had regained command of herself. Drawing herself up, -she faced the detective, and, casting discretion to the winds, took a -most positive and determined stand. - -"I must decline,--no matter what the cost may be to myself,--to give you -the slightest assistance concerning Lord Temple." - -To their infinite amazement, the man bowed very courteously and said: - -"I shall not insist. Pardon my methods and my intrusion. I shall trouble -you no further. Good day, madam. Good day, your ladyship." - -He took his leave at once, leaving them staring blankly at the closed -door. He was satisfied. He had found out just what he wanted to know, -and he was naturally in some haste to get out before they began putting -embarrassing questions to him. - -"Oh, dear," murmured Jane, distractedly. "What _are_ we to do? Scotland -Yard! That can mean but one thing. His enemies at home have brought some -vile, horrible charge against--" - -"We must warn him at once, Jane. There is no time to be lost. Telephone -to the garage where Mrs. Millidew--" - -"But the man doesn't know that Eric is driving for Mrs. Millidew," broke -in Jane, hopefully. - -"He _will_ know, and in very short order," said the other, -sententiously. "Those fellows are positively uncanny. Go at once and -telephone." She hesitated a moment, looking a little confused and -guilty. "Lay aside your work, dear, for the time being. There is nothing -very urgent about it, you know." - -In sheer desperation she had that very morning set her restless charge -to work copying names out of the _Social Register_,--names she had -checked off at random between the hours of ten and two the previous -night. - -Jane's distress increased to a state bordering on anguish. - -"Oh, dear! He--he is out of town for two or three days." - -"Out of town?" - -"He told me last night he was to be off early this morning for Mrs. -Millidew's country place somewhere on Long Island. Mrs. Millidew had to -go down to see about improvements or repairs or something before the -house is opened for the season." - -"Mrs. Millidew was in the shop this morning for a 'try-on,'" said the -other. "She has changed her plans, no doubt." - -Jane's honest blue eyes wavered slightly as she met her friend's -questioning gaze. - -"I think he said that young Mrs. Millidew was going down to look after -the work for her mother-in-law." - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - FRIDAY FOR LUCK - - -THE "drawing-room" that evening lacked not only distinction but -animation as well. To begin with, the attendance was small. The -Marchioness, after the usual collaboration with Julia in advance of the -gathering, received a paltry half-dozen during the course of the -evening. The Princess was there, and Count Antonio,--(he rarely missed -coming), and the Hon. Mrs. Priestley-Duff. Lord Eric Temple and Lady -Jane Thorne were missing, as were Prince Waldemar de Bosky, Count -Wilhelm von Blitzen and the Countess du Bara. Extreme dulness prevailed. -The Princess fell asleep, and, on being roused at a seasonable hour, -declared that her eyes had been troubling her of late, so she kept them -closed as much as possible on account of the lights. - -Mrs. Priestley-Duff, being greatly out-of-sorts, caustically remarked -that the proper way to treat bothersome eyes is to put them to bed in a -sound-proof room. - -Cricklewick yawned in the foyer, Moody yawned in the outer hall, and -McFaddan in the pantry. The latter did not yawn luxuriously. There was -something half-way about it. - -"Why don't you 'ave it out?" inquired Moody, sympathetically, after -solicitous inquiry. "They say the bloomin' things are the cause of all -the rheumatism we're 'aving nowadays. Is it a wisdom tooth?" - -"No," said McFaddan, with a suddenness that startled Moody; "it ain't. -It's a whole jaw. It's a dam' fool jaw at that." - -"Now that I look at you closer," said Moody critically, "it seems to be -a bit discoloured. Looks as though mortification had set in." - -"Ye never said a truer thing," said McFaddan. "It set in last night." - -The man from Scotland Yard waited across the street until he saw the -lights in the windows of the third, fourth and fifth floors go out, and -then strolled patiently away. Queer looking men and women came under his -observation during the long and lonely vigil, entering and emerging from -the darkened doorway across the street, but none of them, by any chance, -bore the slightest resemblance to the elusive Lord Temple, or "her -ladyship," the secretary. He made the quite natural error of putting the -queer looking folk down as tailors and seamstresses who worked far into -the night for the prosperous Deborah. - -Two days went by. He sat at a window in the hotel opposite and waited -for the young lady to appear. On three separate occasions he followed -her to Central Park and back. She was a brisk walker. She had the free -stride of the healthy English girl. He experienced some difficulty in -keeping her in sight, but even as he puffed laboriously behind, he was -conscious of a sort of elation. It was good to see some one who walked -as if she were in Hyde Park. - -For obvious reasons, his trailing was in vain. Jane did not meet Lord -Temple for the excellent reason that Thomas Trotter was down on Long -Island with the beautiful Mrs. Millidew. And while both Jane and Mrs. -Sparflight kept a sharp lookout for Mr. Chambers, they failed to -discover any sign of him. He seemed to have abandoned the quest. They -were not lured into security, however. He would bob up, like -Jack-in-the-box, when least expected. - -If they could only get word to Trotter! If they could only warn him of -the peril that stalked him! - -Jane was in the depths. She had tumbled swiftly from the great height to -which joy had wafted her; her hopes and dreams, and the castles they had -built so deftly, shrunk up and vanished in the cloud that hung like a -pall about her. Her faith in the man she loved was stronger than ever; -nothing could shatter that. No matter what Scotland Yard might say or -do, actuated by enemy injustice, she would never believe evil of him. -And she would not give him up! - -"Marchioness," she said at the close of the second day, her blue eyes -clouded with the agony of suspense, "is there not some way to resist -extradition? Can't we fight it? Surely it isn't possible to take an -innocent man out of this great, generous country--" - -"My dear child," said the Marchioness, putting down her coffee cup with -so little precision that it clattered in the saucer, "there isn't -_anything_ that Scotland Yard cannot do." She spoke with an air of -finality. - -"I have been thinking," began Jane, haltingly. She paused for a moment. -An appealing, wistful note was in her voice when she resumed, and her -eyes were tenderly resolute. "He hasn't very much money, you know, poor -boy. I have been thinking,--oh, I've been thinking of so many things," -she broke off confusedly. - -"Well, what have you been thinking?" inquired the other, helpfully. - -"It has occurred to me that I can get along very nicely on half of what -you are paying me,--or even less. If it were not for the fact that my -poor brother depends solely upon me for support, I could spare -practically all of my salary to--for--" - -"Go on," said the Marchioness gently. - -"In any case, I can give Eric half of my salary if it will be of any -assistance to him,--yes, a little more than half," said Jane, a warm, -lovely flush in her cheeks. - -The Marchioness hastily pressed the serviette to her lips. She seemed to -be choking. It was some time before she could trust herself to say: - -"Bless your heart, my dear, he wouldn't take it. Of course," she went -on, after a moment, "it would please him beyond words if you were to -suggest it to him." - -"I shall do more," said Jane, resolutely. "I shall insist." - -"It will tickle him almost to death," said the Marchioness, again -raising the napkin to her lips. - -At twelve o'clock the next day, Trotter's voice came blithely over the -telephone. - -"Are you there, darling? Lord, it seems like a century since I--" - -"Listen, Eric," she broke in. "I have something very important to tell -you. Now, _do_ listen--are you there?" - -"Right-o! Whisper it, dear. The telephone has a million ears. I want to -hear you say it,--oh, I've been wanting--" - -"It isn't that," she said. "You know I do, Eric. But this is something -perfectly terrible." - -"Oh, I say, Jane, you haven't changed your mind about--about--" - -"As if I _could_," she cried. "I love you more than ever, Eric. Oh, what -a silly thing to say over the telephone. I am blushing,--I hope no one -heard--" - -"Listen!" said he promptly, music in his voice. "I'm just in from the -country. I'll be down to see you about five this afternoon. Tell you all -about the trip. Lived like a lord,--homelike sort of feeling, -eh?--and--" - -"I don't care to hear about it," said Jane stiffly. "Besides, you must -not come here today, Eric. It is the very worst thing you could do. He -would be sure to see you." - -"He? What he?" he demanded quickly. - -"I can't explain. Listen, dear. Mrs. Sparflight and I have talked it all -over and we've decided on the best thing to do." - -And she poured into the puzzled young man's ear the result of prolonged -deliberations. He was to go to Bramble's Bookshop at half-past four, and -proceed at once to the workshop of M. Mirabeau upstairs. She had -explained the situation to Mr. Bramble in a letter. At five o'clock she -would join him there. In the meantime, he was to keep off of the -downtown streets as much as possible. - -"In the name of heaven, what's up?" he cried for the third time,--with -variations. - -"A--a detective from Scotland Yard," she replied in a voice so low and -cautious that he barely caught the words. "I--I can't say anything more -now," she went on rapidly. "Something tells me he is just outside the -door, listening to every word I utter." - -"Wait!" he ordered. "A detective? Has that beastly Smith-Parvis crowd -dared to insinuate that you--that you--Oh, Lord, I can't even say it!" - -"I said 'Scotland Yard,' Eric," she said. "Don't you understand?" - -"No, I'm hanged if I do. But don't worry, dear. I'll be at Bramble's -and, by the lord Harry, if they're trying to put up any sort of -a--Hello! Are you there?" - -There was no answer. - -Needless to say, he was at Bramble's Bookshop on the minute, vastly -perturbed and eager for enlightenment. - -"Don't stop down here an instant," commanded Mr. Bramble, glancing -warily at the front door. "Do as I tell you. Don't ask questions. Go -upstairs and wait,--and don't show yourself under any circumstance. Did -you happen to catch a glimpse of him anywhere outside?" - -"The street is full of 'hims,'" retorted Mr. Trotter in exasperation. -"What the devil is all this about, Bramby?" - -"She will be here at five. There's nothing suspicious in her coming in -to buy a book. It's all been thought out. Most natural thing in the -world that she should buy a book, don't you see? Only you must not be -buying one at the same time. Now, run along,--lively. Prince de Bosky is -with Mirabeau. And don't come down till I give you the word." - -"See here, Bramble, if you let anything happen to her I'll--" Mr. -Bramble relentlessly urged him up the steps. - -Long before Jane arrived, Trotter was in possession of the details. He -was vastly perplexed. - -"I daresay one of those beastly cousins of mine has trumped up some -charge that he figures will put me out of the running for ever," he said -gloomily. He sat, slack and dejected, in a corner of the shop farthest -removed from the windows. "I shouldn't mind so much if it weren't for -Lady Jane. She--you see, M'sieur, she has promised to be my wife. This -will hurt her terribly. The beastly curs!" - -"Sit down!" commanded M. Mirabeau. "You must not go raging up and down -past those windows." - -"Confound you, Mirabeau, he doesn't know this place exists. He never -will know unless he follows Lady Jane. I'll do as I jolly well please." - -De Bosky, inspired, produced a letter he had just received from his -friend, the cracksman. He had read it to the bookseller and clockmaker, -and now re-read it, with soulful fervour, for the benefit of the new -arrival. He interrupted himself to beg M. Mirabeau to unlock the safe -and bring forth the treasure. - -"You see what he says?" cried he, shaking the letter in front of -Trotter's eyes. "And here is the money! See! Touch it, my friend. It is -real. I thought I was also dreaming. Count them. Begin with this one. -Now,--one hundred, two hundred--" - -"I haven't the remotest idea what you're talking about," said Trotter, -staring blankly at the money. - -"What a fool I am!" cried de Bosky. "I begin at the back-end of the -story. How could you know? Have you ever known such a fool as I, -Mirabeau?" - -"Never," said M. Mirabeau, who had his ear cocked for sounds on the -stairway. - -"And so," said the Prince, at the end of the hastily told story of the -banknotes and the man up the river, "you see how it is. He replies to my -carefully worded letter. Shall I read it again? No? But, I ask you, my -dear Trotter, how am I to carry out his instructions? Naturally he is -vague. All letters are read at the prison, I am informed. He says: 'And -anything you may have come acrosst among my effects is so piffling that -I hereby instructs you to burn it up, sos I won't have to be bothered -with it when I come out, which ain't fer some time yet, and when I do -get out I certainly am not coming to New York, anyhow. I am going west -and start all over again. A feller has got a better chance out there.' -That is all he has to say about this money, Trotter. I cannot burn it. -What am I to do?" - -Trotter had an inspiration. - -"Put it into American Tobacco," he said. - -De Bosky stared. "Tobacco?" - -"Simplest way in the world to obey instructions. The easiest way to burn -money is to convert it into tobacco. Slip down to Wall Street tomorrow -and invest every cent of this money in American Tobacco, register the -stock in the name of Henry Loveless and put it away for him. Save out -enough for a round-trip ticket to Sing Sing, and run up there some day -and tell him what you've done." - -"By Jove!" exclaimed de Bosky, his eyes dancing. "But," he added, -doubtfully, "what am I to do if he doesn't approve?" - -"Tell him put it in his pipe and smoke it," said the resourceful Mr. -Trotter. - -"You know," said the other admiringly, "I have never been one of those -misguided persons who claim that the English have no sense of humour. -I--" - -"Sh!" warned M. Mirabeau from the top of the steps. And then, like a -true Frenchman, he bustled de Bosky out of the shop ahead of him and -closed the door, leaving Trotter alone among the ticking clocks. - -Jane came swiftly up the steps, hurrying as if pursued. Mr. Bramble was -pledging something, in a squeaky undertone, from the store below. - -"He may not have followed me," Jane called back in guarded tones, "but -if he has, Mr. Bramble, you must be sure to throw him off the trail." - -"Trust me,--trust me implicitly," came in a strangled sort of voice from -the faithful ex-tutor. - -"Oh,--Eric, dearest! How you startled me!" cried Lady Jane a moment -later. She gasped the words, for she was almost smothered in the arms of -her lover. - -"Forgive me," he murmured, without releasing her,--an oversight which -she apparently had no immediate intention of resenting. - -A little later on, she suddenly drew away from him, with a quick, -embarrassed glance around the noisy little shop. He laughed. - -"We are quite alone, Jane dear,--unless you count the clocks. They're -all looking at us, but they never tell anything more than the time of -day. And now, dear, what is this beastly business?" - -She closed the door to the stairway, very cautiously, and then came back -to him. The frown deepened in his eyes as he listened to the story she -told. - -"But why should I go into hiding?" he exclaimed, as she stopped to get -her breath. "I haven't done anything wrong. What if they have trumped up -some rotten charge against me? All the more reason why I should stand -out and defend--" - -"But, dear, Scotland Yard is such a dreadful place," she cried, -blanching. "They--" - -"Rubbish! I'm not afraid of Scotland Yard." - -"You--you're not?" she gasped, blankly. "But, Eric dear, you _must_ be -afraid of Scotland Yard. You don't know what you are saying." - -"Oh, yes, I do. And as for this chap they've sent after me,--where is -he? In two seconds I can tell him what's what. He'll go humping back to -London--" - -"I knew you would say something like that," she declared, greatly -perturbed. "But I sha'n't let you. Do you hear, Eric? I sha'n't let you. -You _must_ hide. You must go away from New York,--tonight." - -"And leave you?" he scoffed. "What can you be thinking of, darling? Am -I--Sit down, dear,--here beside me. You are frightened. That infernal -brute has scared you almost out of--" - -"I _am_ frightened,--terribly frightened. So is the Marchioness,--and -Mr. Bramble." She sat beside him on the bench. He took her cold hands in -his own and pressed them gently, encouragingly. His eyes were very soft -and tender. - -"Poor little girl!" For a long time he sat there looking at her white, -averted face. A slow smile slowly struggled to the corners of his mouth. -"I can't afford to run away," he said at last. "I've just got to stick -by my job. It means a lot to me now, Jane dear." - -She looked up quickly, her face clearing. - -"I love you, Eric. I know you are innocent of anything they may charge -you with. I _know_ it. And I would give all I have in the world to help -you in your hour of trouble. Listen, dear. I want you to accept this in -the right spirit. Don't let pride stand in the way. It is really -something I want to do,--something that will make me--oh, so happy, if -you will just let me do it. I am earning five guineas a week. It is more -than I need. Now, dear, just for a little while,--until you have found -another place in some city far away from New York,--you must let me -share my--What is there to laugh at, Eric?" she cried in a hurt voice. - -He grew sober at once. - -"I'm--I'm sorry," he said. "Thank you,--and God bless you, Jane. It's -fine. You're a brick. But,--but I can't accept it. Please don't say -anything more about it, dear. I just _can't_,--that's all." - -"Oh, dear," she sighed. "And--and you refuse to go away? You will not -escape while there is yet--" - -"See here, dear," he began, his jaw setting, "I am not underrating the -seriousness of this affair. They may have put up a beast of a job on me. -They fixed it so that I hadn't a chance three years ago. Perhaps they've -decided to finish the job and have done with me for ever. I don't put it -above them, curse them. Here's the story in a nutshell. I have two -cousins in the Army, sons of my mother's sisters. They're a pair of -rotters. It was they who hatched up the scheme to disgrace me in the -service,--and, by gad, they did it to the queen's taste. I had to get -out. There wasn't a chance for me to square myself. I--I sha'n't go into -that, dear. You'll understand why. It--it hurts. Cheating at cards. -That's enough, isn't it? Well, they got me. My grandfather and I--he is -theirs as well as mine,--we never hit it off very well at best. My -mother married Lord Temple. Grandfather was opposed to the match. Her -sisters did everything in their power to widen the breach that followed -the marriage. It may make it easier for you to understand when I remind -you that my grandfather is one of the wealthiest peers in England. - -"Odd things happen in life. When my father died, I went to Fenlew Hall -with my mother to live. Grandfather's heart had softened a little, you -see. I was Lord Eric Temple before I was six years old. My mother died -when I was ten. For fifteen years I lived on with Lord Fenlew, and, -while we rowed a good deal,--he is a crotchety old tyrant, bless -him!--he undoubtedly preferred me to either of my cousins. God bless him -for that! He showed his good sense, if I do say it who shouldn't. - -"So they set to work. That's why I am here,--without going into details. -That's why I am out of the Army. And I loved the Army, Jane,--God bless -it! I used to pray for another war, horrible as it may sound, so that I -could go out and fight for England as those lads did who went down to -the bottom of Africa. I would cry myself to sleep because I was so young -then, and so useless. I am not ashamed of the tears you see in my eyes -now. You can't understand what it means to me, Jane." - -He drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, and then went on. - -"Lord Fenlew turned me out,--disowned me. Don't blame the old boy. They -made out a good enough case against me. I was given the choice of -resigning from the regiment or--well, the other thing. My father was -practically penniless when he died. I had nothing of my own. It was up -to me to earn an honest living,--or go to the devil. I thought I'd try -out the former first. One can always go to the devil, you know. So off -into the far places of the earth I wandered,--and I've steered pretty -clear of the devil up to date. - -"It's easy to earn a living, dear, if you just half try. - -"And now for this new complication. For the three years that I have been -away from England, not a single word have I sent home. I daresay they -know that I am alive, and that I'll turn up some day like the bad penny. -I was named in my grandfather's will. He once told me he intended to -leave the bulk of the unentailed property to me,--not because he loved -me well but because he loved my two cousins not at all. For all I know, -he may never have altered his will. In that case, I still remain the -chief legatee and a source of tremendous uneasiness to my precious aunts -and their blackguard sons. It is possible, even probable, that they have -decided the safest place to have me is behind the bars,--at least until -Lord Fenlew has changed his will for the last time and lies securely in -the family vault. I can think of no other explanation for the action of -Scotland Yard. But, don't worry, dear. I haven't done anything wrong, -and they can't stow me away in--" - -"The beasts!" cried Jane, furiously. - -He stroked her clenched fingers. - -"I wouldn't call 'em names, dear," he protested. "They're honest -fellows, and simply doing--" - -"They are the most despicable wretches on earth." - -"You must be referring to my cousins. I thought--" - -"Now, Eric," she broke in firmly, "I sha'n't let you give yourself up. -You owe something to me. I love you with all my soul. If they were to -take you back to London and--and put you in prison,--I'd--I'd die. I -could not endure--" She suddenly broke down and, burying her face on his -shoulder, sobbed chokingly. - -He was deeply distressed. - -"Oh, I say, dearest, don't--don't go under like this. I--I can't stand -it. Don't cry, darling. It breaks my heart to see you--" - -"I--I can't help it," she sobbed. "Give--give me a little--time. I'll be -all right in a--minute." - -He whispered consolingly: "That's right. Take your time, dear. I never -dreamed you cared so much." - -She looked up quickly, her eyes flashing through the tears. - -"And do you care less for me, now that you see what a weak, silly--" - -"Good Lord, no! I adore you more than ever. I-- -Who's there?" - -M. Mirabeau, coughing considerately, was rattling the latch of the door -that separated the shop from the store-room beyond. A moment later he -opened the door slowly and stuck his head through the aperture. Then, -satisfied that his warning cough had been properly received, he entered -the shop. The lovers were sitting bolt upright and some distance apart. -Lady Jane was arranging a hat that had been somehow forgotten up to that -instant. - -"A thousand pardons," said the old Frenchman, his voice lowered. "We -must act at once. Follow me,--quickly, but as quietly as possible. He is -downstairs. I have listened from the top of the steps. Poor old Bramble -is doing his best to divert him. I have just this instant heard the -villain announce that his watch needs looking into, and from that I draw -a conclusion. He will come to my shop in spite of all that Bramble can -do. Come! I know the way to safety." - -"But I'm not going to hide," began Trotter. - -Jane seized his arm and dragged him toward the door. - -"Yes, you are," she whispered fiercely. "You belong to me, Eric Temple. -I shall do what I like with you. Don't be mulish, dear. I sha'n't leave -you,--not for anything in the world." - -"Bravo!" whispered M. Mirabeau. - -Swiftly they stole through the door and past the landing. Scraps of -conversation from below reached their ears. Jane's clutch tightened on -her lover's arm. She recognized the voice of Mr. Alfred Chambers. - -"De Bosky will do the rest," whispered the clockmaker, as they were -joined by the musician at the far end of the stock-room. "I must return -to the shop. He will suspect at once if I am not at work when he -appears,--for appear he will, you may be sure." - -He was gone in a second. De Bosky led them into the adjoining room and -pointed to a tall step-ladder over in the corner. A trap-door in the -ceiling was open, and blackness loomed beyond. - -"Go up!" commanded the agitated musician, addressing Trotter. "It is an -air-chamber. Don't break your head on the rafters. Follow close behind, -Lady Jane. I will hold the ladder. Close the trap after you,--and do not -make a sound after you are once up there. This is the jolliest moment of -my life! I was never so thrilled. It is beautiful! It is ravishing! Sh! -Don't utter a word, I command you! We will foil him,--we will foil old -Scotland Yard. Be quick! Splendid! You are wonderful, Mademoiselle. Such -courage,--such grace,--such--Sh! I take the ladder away! Ha, he will -never suspect. He--" - -"But how the deuce are we to get down from here?" groaned Trotter in a -penetrating whisper from aloft. - -"You can't get down,--but as he can't get up, why bother your head about -that? Close the trap!" - -"Oh-h!" shuddered Jane, in an ecstasy of excitement. She was kneeling -behind her companion, peering down through the square little opening -into which he had drawn her a moment before. - -Trotter cautiously lowered the trap-door,--and they were in Stygian -darkness. She repeated the exclamation, but this time it was a sharp, -quick gasp of dismay. - -For a long time they were silent, listening for sounds from below. At -last he arose to his feet. His head came in contact with something -solid. A smothered groan escaped his lips. - -"Good Lord!-- -Be careful, dear! There's not more than four feet -head-room. Sit still till I find a match." - -"Are you hurt? What a dreadful bump it was. I wonder if he could have -heard?" - -"They heard it in heaven," he replied, feeling his head. - -"How dark it is," she shuddered. "Don't you dare move an inch from my -side, Eric. I'll scream." - -He laughed softly. "By Jove, it's rather a jolly lark, after all. A -wonderful place this is for sweethearts." He dropped down beside her. - -After a time, she whispered: "You mentioned a match, Eric." - -"So I did," said he, and proceeded to go through the pocket in which he -was accustomed to carry matches. "Thunderation! The box is empty." - -She was silent for a moment. "I really don't mind, dear." - -"I remember saying this morning that I never have any luck on Friday," -said he resignedly. "But," he added, a happy note in his voice, "I never -dreamed there was such luck as this in store for me." - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - FRIDAY FOR BAD LUCK - - -SPEAKING of Friday and the mystery of luck. Luck is supposed to shift in -one direction or another on the sixth day of every week in the year. It -is supposed to shift for everybody. A great many people are either too -ignorant or too supercilious to acknowledge this vast and oppressive -truth, however. They regard Friday as a plain, ordinary day, and go on -being fatuously optimistic. - -On the other hand, when it comes Friday, the capable and the far-seeing -are prone to accept it as it was intended by the Creator, who, from -confidential reports, paused on the sixth day (as we reckon it) of his -labours and looked back on what already had been accomplished. He was -dissatisfied. He set to work again. Right then and there Friday became -an unlucky day, according to a great many philosophers. If the Creator -had stopped then and let well-enough alone, there wouldn't have been -any cause for complaint. He would have failed to create Adam (an -afterthought), and the human race, lacking existence, would not have -been compelled to put up with life,--which is a mess, after all. - -If more people would pause to consider the futility of living between -Thursday and Saturday, a great deal of woe and misfortune might be -avoided. - -For example, when Mrs. Smith-Parvis called on Mrs. McFaddan on the -Monday of the week that is now making history through these pages, she -completely overlooked the fact that there was a Friday still to be -reckoned with. - -True, she had in mind a day somewhat more remote when, after coming face -to face with the blooming Mrs. McFaddan who happened to open her own -front door,--it being Maggie's day out,--she had been compelled to -substitute herself in person for the cards she meant to leave. Mrs. -McFaddan had cordially sung out to her from the front stoop, over the -head of the shocked footman, that she was at home and would Mrs. -Smith-Parvis please step in. - -Thursday, two weeks hence, was the day Mrs. Smith-Parvis had in mind. -She had not been in the McFaddan parlour longer than a minute and a half -before she realized that an invitation by word of mouth would do quite -as well as an expensively engraved card by post. There was nothing -formal about Mrs. McFaddan. She was sorry that Con wasn't home; he would -hate like poison to have missed seeing Mrs. Smith-Parvis when she did -them the honour to call. But Con was not likely to be in before -seven,--he was that busy, poor man,--and it would be asking too much of -Mrs. Smith-Parvis to wait till then. - -So, the lady from the upper East Side had no hesitancy in asking the -lady from the lower West Side to dine with her on Thursday the -nineteenth. - -"I am giving a series of informal dinners, Mrs. McFad-_dan_," she -explained graciously. - -"They're the nicest kind," returned Mrs. McFaddan, somewhat startled by -the pronunciation of her husband's good old Irish name. She knew little -or nothing of French, but somehow she rather liked the emphasis, crisply -nasal, her visitor put upon the final syllable. Before the visit came to -an end, she was mentally repeating her own name after Mrs. Smith-Parvis, -and wondering whether Con would stand for it. - -"What date did you say?" she inquired, abruptly breaking in on a further -explanation. The reply brought a look of disappointment to her face. "We -can't come," she said flatly. "We're leaving on Saturday this week for -Washington to be gone till the thirtieth. Important business, Con says." - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis thought quickly. Washington, eh? - -"Could you come on Friday night of this week, Mrs. McFad-_dan_?" - -"We could," said the other. "Don't you worry about Con cooking up an -excuse for not coming, either. He does just about what I tell him." - -"Splendid!" said Mrs. Smith-Parvis, arising. "Friday at 8:30." - -"Have plenty of fish," said Mrs. McFaddan gaily. - -"Fish?" faltered the visitor. - -"It's Friday, you know." - -Greatly to Mrs. Smith-Parvis's surprise,--and in two or three cases, -irritation,--every one she asked to meet the McFaddans on Friday -accepted with alacrity. She asked the Dodges, feeling confident that -they couldn't possibly be had on such short notice,--and the same -with the Bittinger-Stuarts. They _did_ have previous engagements, but -they promptly cancelled them. It struck her as odd,--and later on -significant,--that, without exception, every woman she asked said she -was just dying for a chance to have a little private "talk" with the -notorious Mr. McFaddan. - -People who had never arrived at a dinner-party on time in their lives, -appeared on Friday at the Smith-Parvis home all the way from five to -fifteen minutes early. - -The Cricklewicks were not asked. Mr. Smith-Parvis remembered in time -that the Irish hate the English, and it wouldn't do at all. - -Mr. McFaddan and his wife were the last to arrive. They were so late -that not only the hostess but most of her guests experienced a sharp -fear that they wouldn't turn up at all. There were side glances at the -clock on the mantel, surreptitious squints at wrist-watches, and a -queer, unnatural silence while the big clock in the upper hall chimed a -quarter to nine. - -"Really, my dear," said Mrs. Dodge, who had the New York record for -tardiness,--an hour and three-quarters, she claimed,--"I can't -understand people being late for a dinner,--unless, of course, they mean -to be intentionally rude." - -"I can't imagine what can have happened to them," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis -nervously. - -"Accident on the Subway, no doubt," drawled Mr. Bittinger-Stuart, and -instantly looked around in a startled sort of way to see if there was -any cause for repenting the sarcasm. - -"Where is Stuyvesant?" inquired Mrs. Millidew the elder, who had arrived -a little late. She had been obliged to call a taxi-cab at the last -moment on account of the singular defection of her new chauffeur,--who, -she proclaimed on entering, was to have his walking papers in the -morning. Especially as it was raining pitchforks. - -"He is dressing, my dear," explained Stuyvesant's mother, with a -maternal smile of apology. - -"I should have known better," pursued Mrs. Millidew, still chafing, -"than to let him go gallivanting off to Long Island with Dolly." - -"I said he was dressing, Mrs. Millidew," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis stiffly. - -"If I could have five minutes alone with Mr. McFaddan," one of the -ladies was saying to the host, "I know I could interest him in our plan -to make Van Cortlandt Park the most attractive and the most exclusive -country club in--" - -"My dear," interrupted another of her sex, "if you get him off in a -corner and talk to him all evening about that ridiculous scheme of -yours, I'll murder you. You know how long Jim has been working to get -his brother appointed judge in the United States District Court,--his -brother Charlie, you know,--the one who doesn't amount to much,--and -I'll bet my last penny I can fix it if--" - -"It's an infernal outrage," boomed Mr. Dodge, addressing no one in -particular. "Yes, sir, a pernicious outrage." - -"As I said before, the more you do for them the worse they treat you in -return," agreed Mrs. Millidew. "It doesn't pay. Treat them like dogs and -they'll be decent. If you try to be kind and--" - -Mr. Dodge expanded. - -"You see, it will cut straight through the centre of the most valuable -piece of unimproved property in New York City. It isn't because I happen -to be the owner of that property that I'm complaining. It's the -high-handed way--Now, look! This is the Grand Concourse, and here is -Bunker Avenue." He produced an invisible diagram with his foot, jostling -Mr. Smith-Parvis off of the rug in order to extend the line beyond the -intersection to a point where the proposed street was to be opened. -"Right smack through this section of--" - -At that instant Mr. and Mrs. McFaddan were announced. - -"Where the deuce is Stuyvie?" Mr. Smith-Parvis whispered nervously into -the ear of his wife as the new arrivals approached. - -"Diplomacy," whispered she succinctly. "All for effect. Last but not -least. He--Good evening, dear Mrs. McFad-dán!" - -In the main hall, a moment before, Mr. McFaddan had whispered in _his_ -wife's ear. He transmitted an opinion of Peasley the footman. - -"He's a mutt." He had surveyed Peasley with a discriminating and -intensely critical eye, taking him in from head to foot. "Under-gardener -or vicar's man-of-all-work. Trained in a Sixth Avenue intelligence -office. Never saw livery till he--" - -"Hush, Con! The man will hear you." - -"And if he should, he can't accuse me of betrayin' a secret." - -To digress for a moment, it is pertinent to refer to the strange cloud -of preoccupation that descended upon Mr. McFaddan during the ride -uptown,--not in the Subway, but in his own Packard limousine. Something -back in his mind kept nagging at him,--something elusive yet strangely -fresh, something that had to do with recent events. He could not rid -himself of the impression that the Smith-Parvises were in some way -involved. - -Suddenly, as they neared their destination, the fog lifted and his mind -was as clear as day. His wife's unctuous reflections were shattered by -the force of the explosion that burst from his lips. He remembered -everything. This was the house in which Lady Jane Thorne was employed, -and it was the scion thereof who had put up the job on young Trotter. -Old Cricklewick had come to see him about it and had told him a story -that made his blood boil. It was all painfully clear to him now. - -Their delay in arriving was due to the protracted argument that took -place within a stone's throw of the Smith-Parvis home. Mr. McFaddan -stopped the car and flatly refused to go an inch farther. He would be -hanged if he'd have anything to do with a gang like that! His wife began -by calling him a goose. Later on she called him a mule, and still later, -in sheer exasperation, a beast. He capitulated. He was still mumbling -incoherently as they mounted the steps and were admitted by the -deficient Peasley. - -"What shall I say to the dirty spalpeen if he tries to shake hands with -me?" Mr. McFaddan growled, three steps from the top. - -"Say anything you like," said she, "but, for God's sake, say it under -your breath." - -However: the party was now complete with one notable exception. Stuyvie -was sound asleep in his room. He had reached home late that afternoon -and was in an irascible frame of mind. He didn't know the McFad-dáns, -and he didn't care to know them. Dragging him home from Hot Springs to -meet a cheap bounder,--what the deuce did she mean anyhow, entertaining -that sort of people? And so on and so forth until his mother lost her -temper and took it out on the maid who was dressing her hair. - -Peasley was sent upstairs to inform Mr. Stuyvesant that they were -waiting for him. - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis met her son at the foot of the stairs when he came -lounging down. He was yawning and making futile efforts to smooth out -the wrinkles in his coat, having reposed soundly in it for the better -part of an hour. - -"You must be nice to Mr. McFad-dán," said she anxiously. "He has a great -deal of influence with the powers that be." - -He stopped short, instantly alert. - -"Has a--a warrant been issued?" he demanded, leaping to a very natural -and sickening conclusion as to the identity of the "powers." - -"Not yet, of course," she said, benignly. "It is a little too soon for -that. But it will come, dear boy, if we can get Mr. McFad-dán on our -side. That is to be the lovely surprise I spoke about in my--" - -"You--you call _that_ lovely?" he snapped. - -"If everything goes well, you will soon be at the Court of St. James. -Wouldn't you call that lovely?" - -He was perspiring freely. "My God, that's just the thing I'm trying to -avoid. If they get me into court, they'll--" - -"You do not understand. The diplomatic court,--corps, I mean. You are to -go to London,--into the legation. The rarest opportunity--" - -"Oh, Lord!" gasped Stuyvesant, passing his hand over his wet brow. A -wave of relief surged over him. He leaned against the banister, weakly. -"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" - -"You must be very nice to Mr. McFad-dán," she said, taking his arm. "And -to Mrs. McFad-dán also. She is rather stunning--and quite young." - -"That's nice," said Stuyvie, regaining a measure of his tolerant, blasé -air. - -Now, while the intelligence of the reader has long since grasped the -fact that the expected is about to happen, it is only fair to state that -the swiftly moving events of the next few minutes were totally -unexpected by any one of the persons congregated in Mrs. Smith-Parvis's -drawing-room. - -Stuyvesant entered the room, a forced, unamiable smile on his lips. He -nodded in the most casual, indifferent manner to those nearest the door. -It was going to be a dull, deadly evening. The worst lot of he-fossils -and scrawny-necked-- - -"For the love o' Mike!" - -Up to that instant, one could have dropped a ten-pound weight on the -floor without attracting the slightest attention. For a second or two -following the shrill ejaculation, the crash of the axiomatic pin could -have been heard from one end of the room to the other. - -Every eye, including Stuyvie's, was fixed upon the shocked, surprised -face of the lady who uttered the involuntary exclamation. - -Mrs. McFaddan was staring wildly at the newcomer. Stuyvesant recognized -her at once. The dashing, vivid face was only too familiar. In a flash -the whole appalling truth was revealed to him. An involuntary "Oh, -Lord!" oozed from his lips. - -Cornelius McFaddan suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth, smothering -the words that surged up from the depths of his injured soul. He became -quite purple in the face. - -"This is my son Stuyvesant, Mr. McFaddan," said Mrs. Smith-Parvis, in a -voice strangely faint and faltering. And then, sensing catastrophe, she -went on hurriedly: "Shall we go in to dinner? Has it been announced, -Rogers?" - -Mr. McFaddan removed his hand. - -The hopes and ambitions, the desires and schemes of every one present -went hurtling away on the hurricane of wrath that was liberated by that -unfortunate action of Cornelius McFaddan. An unprejudiced observer would -have explained, in justice to poor Cornelius, that the force of the -storm blew his hand away, willy-nilly, despite his heroic efforts to -check the resistless torrent. - -I may be forgiven for a confessed inadequacy to cope with a really great -situation. My scope of delivery is limited. In a sense, however, -short-comings of this nature are not infrequently blessings. It would be -a pity for me or any other upstart to spoil, through sheer feebleness of -expression, a situation demanding the incomparable virility of a -Cornelius McFaddan. - -Suffice to say, Mr. McFaddan left nothing to the imagination. He had the -stage to himself, and he stood squarely in the centre of it for what -seemed like an age to the petrified audience. As a matter of fact, it -was all over in three minutes. He was not profane. At no time did he -forget there were ladies present. But from the things he said, no one -doubted, then or afterwards, that the presence of ladies was the only -thing that stood between Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis and an unhallowed -grave. - -It may be enlightening to repeat his concluding remark to Stuyvie. - -"And if I thought ye'd even dream of settin' foot outside this house I'd -gladly stand on the sidewalk in the rain, without food or drink, for -forty-eight hours, waitin' for ye." - -And as that was the mildest thing he said to Stuyvie, it is only fair to -state that Peasley, who was listening in the hall, hastily opened the -front door and looked up and down the street for a policeman. With -commendable foresight, he left it ajar and retired to the foot of the -stairs, hoping, perhaps, that Stuyvesant might undertake to throw the -obnoxious guest into the street,--in which case it would be possible for -him to witness the whirlwind without being in the path of it. - -To Smith-Parvis, Senior, the eloquent McFaddan addressed these parting -words: - -"I don't know what you had in mind when you invited me here, Mr. -Smith-Parvis, but whatever it was you needn't worry about it,--not for a -minute. Put it out of your mind altogether, my good man. And if I've -told you anything at all about this pie-faced son of yours that ye -didn't already know or suspect, you're welcome to the information. He's -a bad egg,--and if ye don't believe me, ask Lady Jane Thorne,--if she -happens to be about." - -He spoke without thinking, but he did no harm. No one there had the -remotest idea who he meant when he referred to Lady Jane Thorne. - -"Come, Peggy, we'd better be going," he said to his wife. "If we want a -bite o' dinner, I guess we'll have to go over to Healy's and get it." - -Far in the night, Mrs. Smith-Parvis groaned. Her husband, who sat beside -her bed and held her hand with somnolent devotion, roused himself and -inquired if the pain was just as bad as ever. - -She groaned again. - -He patted her hand soothingly. "There, there, now,--go to sleep again. -You'll be all right--" - -"Again?" she cried plaintively. "How can you say such a thing? I haven't -closed my eyes." - -"Oh, my dear," he expostulated. "You've been sound asleep for--" - -"I have not!" she exclaimed. "My poor head is splitting. You know I -haven't been asleep, so why will you persist in saying that I have?" - -"At any rate," said he, taking up a train of thought that had become -somewhat confused and unstable by passing through so many cat-naps, "we -ought to be thankful it isn't worse. The dear boy might have gone to the -electric chair if we had permitted him to follow the scoundrel to the -sidewalk." - -Mrs. Smith-Parvis turned her face toward him. A spark of enthusiasm -flashed for an instant in her tired eyes. - -"How many times did he knock him down at Spangler's?" she inquired. - -"Four," said Mr. Smith-Parvis, proudly. - -"And that dreadful woman was the cause of it all, writing notes to -Stuyvesant and asking him to meet her--What was it Stuyvesant called -them?" - -"Crush-notes, Angie. Now, try to go to sleep, dearie." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT - - -"GOODNESS! What's that?" whispered Lady Jane, starting violently. - -For what seemed to them many hours, she and Thomas Trotter had sat, -quite snugly comfortable, in the dark air-chamber. Comfortable, I say, -but I fear that the bewildering joy of having her in his arms rendered -him impervious to what under other conditions would most certainly have -been a severe strain upon his physical endurance. In other words, she -rested very comfortably and cosily in the crook of his arm, her head -against his shoulder, while he, sitting bolt upright with no support -whatsoever--But why try to provide him with cause for complaint when he -was so obviously contented? - -Her suppressed exclamation followed close upon the roar and crash of an -ear-splitting explosion. The reverberation rolled and rumbled and -dwindled away into the queerest silence. Almost immediately the clatter -of falling debris assailed their ears. She straightened up and clutched -his arm convulsively. - -"Rain," he said, with a short laugh. For an instant his heart had stood -still. So appalling was the crash that he involuntarily raised an arm to -shield his beloved companion from the shattered walls that were so soon -to tumble about their ears. "Beating on the tin roof," he went on, -jerkily. - -"Oh,--wasn't it awful?" she gasped, in smothered tones. "Are you sure?" - -"I am now," he replied, "but, by Jove, I wasn't a second or two ago. -Lord, I thought it was all over." - -"If we could only see!" she cried nervously. - -"Any how," he said, with a reassuring chuckle, "we sha'n't get wet." - -By this time the roar of rain on the roof so close to their heads was -deafening. - -"Goodness, Eric,--it's--it's leaking here," she cried out suddenly, -after a long silence. - -"That's the trouble with these ramshackle old--Oh, I say, Jane, your -frock! It will be ruined. My word! The confounded roof's like a sieve." - -He set out,--on all fours,--cautiously to explore. - -"I--I am frightfully afraid of thunder," she cried out after him, a -quaver in her voice. "And, Eric, wouldn't it be dreadful if the building -were to be struck by lightning and we should be found up here in -this--this unexplainable loft? What _could_ we say?" - -"Nothing, dearest," he replied, consolingly. "That is, provided the -lightning did its work properly. Ouch! It's all right! Don't bother, -dear. Nothing but a wall. Seems dry over here. Don't move. I'll come -back for you." - -"It's--it's rather jolly, isn't it?" she cried nervously as his hand -touched her shoulder. She grasped it eagerly. "Much jollier than if we -could see." A few moments later: "Isn't it nice and dry over here. How -clever of you, Eric, to find it in the dark." - -On their hands and knees they had crept to the place of shelter, and -were seated on a broad, substantial beam with their backs against a -thin, hollow-sounding partition. The journey was not without incident. -As they felt their way over the loose and sometimes widely separated -boards laid down to protect the laths and plaster of the ceiling below, -his knee slipped off and before he could prevent it, his foot struck the -lathing with considerable force. - -"Clumsy ass!" he muttered. - -After a long time, she said to him,--a little pathetically: - -"I hope M. Mirabeau doesn't forget we are up here." - -"I should hope not," he said fervently. "Mrs. Millidew is going out to -dinner this evening. I'd--" - -"Oh-h!" she whispered tensely. "Look!" - -A thin streak of light appeared in front of them. Fascinated, they -watched it widen, slowly,--relentlessly. - -The trap-door was being raised from below. A hand and arm came into -view,--the propelling power. - -"Is that you, de Bosky?" called out Trotter, in a penetrating whisper. - -Abruptly the trap flew wide open and dropped back on the scantlings with -a bang. - -The head and shoulders of a man,--a bald-headed man, at that,--rose -quickly above the ledge, and an instant later a lighted lantern -followed. - -"Oh, dear!" murmured Lady Jane, aghast. "It--it isn't Mr. de Bosky, -Eric. It's that man." - -"I beg your pardon, Lord Temple," said Mr. Alfred Chambers, setting the -lantern down in order to brush the dust off of his hands. "Are you -there?" - -"What is the meaning of this, sir?" demanded the young man on the beam, -blinking rapidly in the unaccustomed glare. - -Mr. Chambers rested his elbows on the ledge. The light of the lantern -shone full on his face, revealing the slow but sure growth of a joyous -grin. - -"Permit me to introduce myself, your lordship. Mr. Alfred Chambers, -of--" - -"I know,--I know!" broke in the other impatiently. "What the devil do -you want?" - -"Good evening, Miss Emsdale," said Mr. Chambers, remembering his -manners. "That is to say,--your ladyship. 'Pon my word, you can't -possibly be more surprised than I am,--either of you. I shouldn't have -dreamed of looking in this--this stuffy hole for--for anything except -bats." He chortled. - -"I can't understand why some one below there doesn't knock that ladder -from under you," said Mr. Trotter rudely. - -"I was on the point of giving up in despair," went on Mr. Chambers, -unoffended. "You know, I shouldn't have thought of looking up here for -you." - -His quarry bethought himself of the loyal, conspiring friends below. - -"See here, Mr. Chambers," he began earnestly, "I want you to understand -that those gentlemen downstairs are absolutely innocent of any criminal -complicity in--" - -"I understand perfectly," interrupted the man from Scotland Yard. -"Perfectly. And the same applies to her ladyship. Everything's as right -as rain, your lordship. Will you be so good, sir, as to come down at -once?" - -"Certainly," cried the other. "With the greatest pleasure. Come, -Jane,--" - -"Wait!" protested Jane. "I sha'n't move an inch until he promises to--to -listen to reason. In the first place, this gentleman is a Mr. Trotter," -she went on rapidly, addressing the head and shoulders behind the -lantern. "You will get yourself into a jolly lot of trouble if you--" - -"Thanks, Jane dear," interrupted her lover gently. "It's no use. He -knows I am Eric Temple,--so we'll just have to make the best of it." - -"He doesn't know anything of the kind," said she. "He noticed a -resemblance, that's all." - -Mr. Chambers beamed. - -"Quite so, your ladyship. I noticed it at once. If I do say it myself, -there isn't a man in the department who has anything on me when it comes -to that sort of thing. The inspector has frequently mentioned--" - -"By the way, Mr. Snooper, will you be kind enough to--" - -"Chambers, your lordship," interrupted the detective. - -"Kind enough to explain how you discovered that we were up here?" - -"Well, you see we were having our coffee,--after a most excellent -dinner, your lordship, prepared, I am bound to say, for your discussion -by the estimable Mr. Bramble,--" - -"Dinner? By George, you remind me that I am ravenously hungry. It must -be quite late." - -"Half-past eight, sir,--approximately. As I was saying, we were enjoying -our coffee,--the three of us only,--" - -Trotter made a wry face. "In that case, Mrs. Millidew will sack me in -the morning, Jane. I had orders for eight sharp." - -"It really shouldn't matter, your lordship," said Mr. Chambers -cheerfully. "Not in the least, if I may be so bold as to say so. -However, to continue, sir. Or rather, to go back a little if I may. You -see, I was rather certain you were hiding somewhere about the place. At -least, I was certain her ladyship was. She came in and she didn't go -out, if you see what I mean. I insisted on my right to search the -premises. Do you follow me, sir?" - -"Reluctantly." - -"In due time, I came to the little dining-room, where I discovered the -cook preparing dinner. You were not in evidence, your ladyship. I do not -mind in the least confessing that I was ordered out by the cook. I -retired to the clock-shop of M. Mirabeau and sat down to wait. The -Polish young gentleman was there. As time went on, Mr. Bramble joined -us. They were extremely ill-at-ease, your lordship, although they tried -very hard to appear amused and unconcerned. The slightest noise caused -them to fidget. Once, to test them, I stealthily dropped my pocket knife -on the floor. Now, you would say, wouldn't you, that so small an object -as a pen-knife--but that's neither here nor there. They jumped,--every -blessed one of them. Presently the young Polish gentleman, whose face is -strangely familiar to me,--I must have seen him in London,--announced -that he was obliged to depart. A little later on,--you see, it was quite -dark by this time,--the clockmaker prepared to close up for the night. -Mr. Bramble looked at his watch two or three times in rapid succession, -notwithstanding the fact that he was literally surrounded by clocks. He -said he feared he would have to go and see about the dinner,--and would -I kindly get out. I--" - -"They should have called in the police," interrupted his male listener -indignantly. "That's what I should have done, confound your impudence." - -"Ah, now _there_ is a point I should have touched upon before," -explained Mr. Chambers, casting an uneasy glance down into the room -below. "I may as well confess to you,--quite privately and -confidentially, of course, your lordship,--that I--er--rather deceived -the old gentlemen. Do not be alarmed. I am quite sure they can't hear -what I am saying. You see. I told them in the beginning that I had -surrounded the place with policemen and plain-clothes men. They--" - -"And hadn't you?" demanded Mr. Trotter quickly, a reckless light -appearing in his eyes. - -"Not at all, sir,--not at all. Why should I? I am quite capable of -handling the case single-handed. The less the police had to do with it -the better for all parties concerned. Still, it was necessary to -frighten them a little. Otherwise, they _might_ have ejected -me--er--bodily, if you know what I mean. Or, for that matter, they might -have called in the police, as you suggest. So I kept them from doing -either by giving them to understand that if there was to be any calling -of the police it would be I who would do it with my little whistle." - -He paused to chuckle. - -"You are making a long story of it," growled Mr. Trotter. - -"I beg your pardon, sir. The interruptions, you see,--ahem! I followed -Mr. Bramble to the dining-room. He was very nervous. He coughed a great -deal, and very loudly. I was quite convinced that you were secreted -somewhere about the place, but, for the life of me, I couldn't imagine -where." - -"I suppose it hadn't occurred to you that we might have gone down the -back stairway and escaped into the side-street," said Mr. Trotter -sarcastically. - -Mr. Chambers cleared his throat and seemed curiously embarrassed. - -"Perhaps I should have stated before that a--er--a chap from a local -agency was posted at the bottom of the kitchen stairway,--as a favour to -me, so to speak. A chap who had been detailed to assist me,--But I shall -explain all that in my report. So, you see, you couldn't have gone out -that way without--Yes, yes,--as I was saying, I accompanied Mr. Bramble -to the dining-room. The cook was in a very bad temper. The dinner was -getting cold. I observed that three places had been laid. Fixing my eye -upon Mr. Bramble I inquired who the third place was for. I shall never -forget his expression, nor the admirable way in which he recovered -himself. He was quite wonderful. He said it was for _me_. Rather neat of -him, wasn't it?" - -"You don't mean to say you had the brass to--Well, 'pon my soul, -Chambers, that _was_ going it a bit strong." - -"Under the circumstances, your lordship, I couldn't very well decline," -said Mr. Chambers apologetically. "He is such a decent, loyal old chap, -sir, that it would have been cruel to let him see that I knew he was -lying." - -"But, confound you, that was _my_ dinner," exclaimed Trotter wrathfully. - -"So I suspected, your lordship. I knew it _couldn't_ be her ladyship's. -Well, we had got on to the coffee, and I was just on the point of asking -Mr. Bramble for the loan of an umbrella, when there was a loud thump on -the ceiling overhead. An instant later a large piece of plaster fell to -the floor, not three feet behind my chair. I--" - -"By Jove! What a pity it didn't fall three feet nearer," exclaimed -Trotter, a note of regret in his voice. - -Mr. Chambers generously overlooked the remark. - -"After that it was plain sailing," said he, quite pleasantly. "Now you -know how I came to discover you, and how I happen to be here." - -"And those poor old dears," cried Lady Jane in distress; "where are -they? What have you done to them?" - -"They are--" he looked downward again before answering--"yes, they are -holding the ladder for me. Coming, gentlemen!" he called out. "We'll all -be down in a jiffy." - -"Before we go any farther," said Trotter seriously, "I should like to -know just what the charge is against me." - -"Beg pardon?" - -"The charge. What are you going to chuck me into prison for?" - -"Prison? My God, sir! Who said anything about prison?" gasped Mr. -Chambers, staring wide-eyed at the young man. - -Trotter leaned forward, his face a study in emotions. Lady Jane uttered -a soft little cry. - -"Then,--then they haven't trumped up some rotten charge against me?" - -"They? Charge? I say!" He bellowed the last to the supporters below. -"Hold this bally thing steady, will you? Do you want me to break my -neck?" - -"Well, don't jiggle it like that," came the voice of Mr. Bramble from -below. "We can't hold it steady if you're going to _dance_ on it." - -Mr. Chambers once more directed his remarks to Mr. Trotter. - -"So far as I am aware, Lord Temple, there is no--er--charge against you. -The only complaint I know of is that you haven't kept your grandfather -informed as to your whereabouts. Naturally he is a bit annoyed about it. -You see, if you had dropped him a line occasionally--" - -"Get on, man,--get on," urged Trotter excitedly. - -"He wouldn't have been put to the expense of having a man detached from -Scotland Yard to look the world over for you. Personal influence did it, -of course. He went direct to the chief and asked for the best man in the -service. I happened to be on another case at the time," explained Mr. -Chambers modestly, "but they took me off at once and started me out. -I--" - -"In a nutshell, you represent my grandfather and not the King of -England," interrupted Trotter. - -"On detached duty," said Mr. Chambers. - -"And you do not intend to arrest him?" cried Lady Jane. - -"Bless me, no!" exclaimed Mr. Chambers. - -"Then, what the deuce do you mean by frightening Miss Emsdale and my -friends downstairs?" demanded Lord Fenlew's grandson. "Couldn't you have -said in the beginning that there was no criminal charge against me?" - -"I hadn't the remotest idea, your lordship, that any one suspected you -of crime," said Mr. Chambers, with dignity. - -"But, confound you, why didn't you explain the situation to Bramble? -That was the sensible,--yes, the intelligent thing to do, Mr. Chambers." - -"That is precisely what I did, your lordship, while we were at -dinner,--we had a bottle of the wine Mr. Bramble says you are especially -partial to,--but it wasn't until your heel came through the ceiling that -they believed _anything_ at all. Subsequently I discovered that her -ladyship had prepared them for all sorts of trickery on my part. She had -made them promise to die rather than give you up. Now that I see things -as they are in a clear light, it occurs to me that your ladyship must -have pretty thoroughly convinced the old gentlemen that Lord Temple is a -fit subject for the gallows,--or at the very least, Newgate Prison. I -fancy--" - -Lady Jane laughed aloud, gaily, unrestrainedly. - -"Oh, dear! What a mess I've made of things!" she cried. "Can you ever -forgive me, Eric?" - -"Never!" he cried, and Mr. Chambers took that very instant to stoop over -for a word with the men at the foot of the ladder. He went farther and -had several words with them. Indeed, it is not unlikely that he, in his -eagerness to please, would have stretched it into a real chat if the -object of his consideration had not cried out: - -"And now let us get down from this stuffy place, Eric. I am sure there -must be rats and all sorts of things up here. And it was such a jolly -place before the lantern came." - -"Can you manage it, sir?" inquired Mr. Chambers anxiously, as Eric -prepared to lower her through the trap-door. - -"Perfectly, thank you," said the young man. "If you will be good enough -to stand aside and make room at the top of the ladder," he added, with a -grin. - -Mr. Chambers also grinned. "There's a difference between walking on air -and standing on it," said he, and hurriedly went down the steps. - -Presently they were all grouped at the foot of the ladder. Mr. Bramble -was busily engaged in brushing the dust and cobwebs from the excited -young lady's gown. - -M. Mirabeau rattled on at a prodigious rate. He clapped Trotter on the -back at least half-a-dozen times, and, forgetting most of his excellent -English, waxed eloquent over the amazing turn of affairs. The literal, -matter-of-fact Mr. Bramble after a time succeeded in stemming the flow -of exuberance. - -"If you don't mind, Mirabeau, I have a word I'd like to get in -edgewise," he put in loudly, seizing an opportunity when the old -Frenchman was momentarily out of breath. - -M. Mirabeau threw up his hands. - -"At a time like this?" he gasped incredulously. - -"And why not?" said Mr. Bramble stoutly. "It's time we opened that last -bottle of Chianti and drank to the health of Lord Eric Temple,--and the -beautiful Lady Jane." - -"The most sensible thing that has been uttered this evening," cried M. -Mirabeau, with enthusiasm. - -Lord Temple took this occasion to remind them,--and himself as -well,--that he was still Thomas Trotter and that the deuce would be to -pay with Mrs. Millidew. - -"By George, she'll skin me alive if I've been the cause of her missing a -good dinner," he said ruefully. - -"That reminds me,--" began Mr. Bramble, M. Mirabeau and Mr. Chambers in -unison. Then they all laughed uproariously and trooped into the -dining-room, where the visible signs of destruction were not confined to -the floor three feet back of the chair lately occupied by the man from -Scotland Yard. A very good dinner had been completely wrecked. - -Mrs. O'Leary, most competent of cooks, was already busily engaged in -preparing another! - -"Now, Mr. Chambers," cried Jane, as she set her wine glass down on the -table and touched her handkerchief to her lips, "tell us everything, you -dear good man." - -Mr. Chambers, finding himself suddenly out of employment and with an -unlimited amount of spare time on his hands, spent the better part of -the first care-free hour he had known in months in the telling of his -story. - -In a ruthlessly condensed and deleted form it was as follows: Lord -Fenlew, quietly, almost surreptitiously, had set about to ascertain just -how much of truth and how much of fiction there was in the unpublished -charges that had caused his favourite grandson to abandon the Army and -to seek obscurity that inevitably follows real or implied disgrace for -one too proud to fight. His efforts were rewarded in a most distressing -yet most satisfactory manner. One frightened and half-decent member of -the little clique responsible for the ugly stories, confessed that the -"whole bally business" was a put-up job. - -Lord Fenlew lost no time in putting his grandsons on the grill. He -grilled them properly; when they left his presence they were scorched to -a crisp, unsavoury mess. Indeed, his lordship went so far as to complain -of the stench, and had the windows of Fenlew Hall opened to give the -place a thorough airing after they had gone forth forevermore. With -characteristic energy and promptness, he went to the head of the War -Office, and laid bare the situation. With equal forethought and acumen -he objected to the slightest publicity being given the vindication of -Eric Temple. He insisted that nothing be said about the matter until the -maligned officer returned to England and to the corps from which he had -resigned. He refused to have his grandson's innocence publicly -advertised! That, he maintained, would be to start more tongues to -wagging, and unless the young man himself were on the ground to make the -wagging useless, speculation would have a chance to thrive on winks and -head-shakings, and the "bally business" would be in a worse shape than -before. Moreover, he argued, it wasn't Eric's place to humiliate himself -by _admitting_ his innocence. He wouldn't have that at all. - -Instead of beginning his search for the young man through the "lost," -"wanted" or "personal" columns of an international press, he went to -Scotland Yard. He abhorred the idea of such printed insults as these: -"If Lord Eric Temple will communicate with his grandfather he will learn -something to his advantage" or "Will the young English nobleman who left -London under a cloud in 1911 please address So-and-So"; or "Eric: All is -well. Return at once and be forgiving"; or "£5,000 reward will be paid -for information concerning the present whereabouts of one Eric Temple, -grandson of Lord Fenlew, of Fenlew Hall"; etc., etc. - -"And now, Lord Temple," said Mr. Alfred Chambers, after a minute and -unsparing account of his own travels and adventures, "your grandfather -is a very old man. I trust that you can start for England at once. I am -authorized to draw upon him for all the money necessary to--" - -Lord Temple held up his hand. His eyes were glistening, his breast was -heaving mightily, and his voice shook with suppressed emotion as he -said, scarcely above a whisper: - -"First of all, I shall cable him tonight. He'd like that, you know. -Better than anything." - -"A word direct from you, dear," said Jane softly, happily. "It will mean -more to him than anything else in the world." - -"As you please, sir," said Mr. Chambers. "The matter is now entirely in -your hands. I am, you understand, under orders not to return to England -without you,--but, I leave everything to you, sir. I was only hoping -that it would be possible for me to get back to my wife and babies -before,--er,--well, I was about to say before they forget what I look -like, but that would have been a stupid thing to say. They're not likely -to forget a mug like mine." - -"I am sorry to say, Mr. Chambers, that you and I will have to be content -to leave the matter of our departure entirely to the discretion of a -third party," said Eric, and blushed. A shy, diffident smile played -about his lips as he turned his wistful eyes upon Lady Jane Thorne. - -"Leave that to me, sir," said the man from Scotland Yard promptly and -with decision, but with absolutely no understanding. "I shall be happy -to attend to any little--Ow! Eh, what?" - -M. Mirabeau's boot had come violently in contact with his ankle. By a -singular coincidence, Mr. Bramble, at precisely the same instant, -effected a sly but emphatic prod in the ribs. - -"Ignoramus!" whispered the latter fiercely. - -"Imbecile!" hissed the former, and then, noting the bewildered look in -the eyes of Mr. Chambers, went on to say in his most suave manner: -"Can't you see that you are standing in the presence of the Third -Party?" - -"Any fool could see that," said Mr. Chambers promptly, and bowed to Lady -Jane. Later on he wanted to know what the deuce M. Mirabeau meant by -kicking him on the shin. - -"How soon can _you_ be ready to start home, dear?" inquired Eric, -ignoring the witnesses. - -Jane's cheeks were rosy. Her blue eyes danced. - -"It depends entirely on Mrs. Sparflight," said she. - -"What has Mrs. Sparflight to do with it?" - -"You dear silly, I can't go to Fenlew Hall with absolutely nothing to -wear, can I?" - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - AN EXCHANGE OF COURTESIES - - -LATER in the evening, Mr. Thomas Trotter--(so far as he knew he was -still in the service of Mrs. Millidew, operating under chauffeur's -license No. So-and-So, Thomas Trotter, alien)--strode briskly into a -Western Union office and sent off the following cablegram, directed to -Lord Fenlew, Fenlew Hall, Old-marsh, Blightwind Banks, Surrey: - - "God bless you. Returning earliest possible date. Will wire soon - as wedding day is set. Eric." - -It was a plain, matter-of-fact Britannical way of covering the -situation. He felt there was nothing more that could be said at the -moment, and his interest being centred upon two absorbing subjects he -touched firmly upon both of them and let it go at that. - -Quite as direct and characteristic was the reply that came early the -next day. - - "Do nothing rash. Who and what is she? Fenlew." - -This was the beginning of a sharp, incisive conversation between two -English noblemen separated by three thousand miles of water. - - "Loveliest girl in the world. You will be daffy over her. Take - my word for it. Eric." - -(While we are about it, it is just as well to set forth the brisk -dialogue now and get over with it. Something like forty-eight hours -actually were required to complete the transoceanic conversation. We -save time and avoid confusion, to say nothing of interrupted activities, -by telling it all in a breath, so to speak, disregarding everything -except sequence.) - -Lord Fenlew to Lord Temple: "I repeat, who and what is she?" - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew: "Forgive oversight. She is daughter of late -Earl of Wexham. I told you what she is." - -Lord Fenlew to Lord Temple: "What is date of wedding? Must know at -once." - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew: "I will ask her and let you know." - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew--(the next day): "Still undecided. Something -to do with gowns." - -Lord Fenlew to Lord Temple: "Nonsense. I cannot wait." - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew: "Gave her your message. She says you'll have -to." - -Lord Fenlew to Lord Temple: "Tell her I can't. I am a very old man." - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew: "Thanks. That brought her round. May -fifteenth in this city." - -Lord Fenlew to Lord Temple: "My blessings. Draw on me for any amount up -to ten thousand pounds. Wedding present on the way." - -Lord Temple to Lord Fenlew: "Happiness complete." - -An ordinary telegram signed "Eric Temple" was delivered on board one of -the huge American cruisers at Hampton Roads during this exchange of -cablegrams. It was directed to Lieut. Samuel Pickering Aylesworth, who -promptly replied: "Heartiest congratulations. Count on me for anything. -Nothing could give me greater happiness than to stand up with you on the -momentous occasion. It is great to know that you are not only still in -the land of the living but that you are living in the land that I love -best. My warmest felicitations to the future Lady Temple." - -Now, to go back to the morning on which the first cablegram was received -from Lord Fenlew. At precisely ten minutes past nine o'clock we take up -the thread of this narrative once more and find Thomas Trotter standing -in the lower hall of Mrs. Millidew's home, awaiting the return of a -parlour-maid who had gone to inform her mistress that the chauffeur was -downstairs and wanted to see her when it was convenient. The chauffeur -did not fail to observe the anxious, concerned look in the maid's eyes, -nor the glance of sympathy she sent over her shoulder as she made the -turn at the top of the stairs. - -Presently she came back. She looked positively distressed. - -"My goodness, Tommie," she said, "I'd hate to be you." - -He smiled, quite composedly. "Think I'd better beat it?" he inquired. - -"She's in an awful state," said the parlour-maid, twisting the hem of -her apron. - -"I don't blame her," said Trotter coolly. - -"What was you up to?" asked she, with some severity. - -He thought for a second or two and then puzzled her vastly by replying: - -"Up to my ears." - -"Pickled?" - -"Permanently intoxicated," he assured her. - -"Well, all I got to say is you'll be sober when she gets through with -you. I've been up against it myself, and I _know_. I've been on the -point of quittin' half a dozen times." - -"A very sensible idea, Katie," said he, solemnly. - -She stiffened. "I guess you don't get me. I mean quittin' my job, Mr. -Fresh." - -"I daresay I'll be quitting mine," said he and smiled so engagingly that -Katie's rancour gave way at once to sympathy. - -"You poor kid! But listen. I'll give you a tip. You needn't be out of a -job ten minutes. Young Mrs. Millidew is up there with the old girl now. -They've been havin' it hot and heavy for fifteen minutes. The old one -called the young one up on the 'phone at seven o'clock this morning and -gave her the swellest tongue-lashin' you ever heard. Said she'd been -stealin' her chauffeur, and--a lot of other things I'm ashamed to tell -you. Over comes the young one, hotter'n fire, and they're havin' it out -upstairs. I happened to be passin' the door a little while ago and I -heard young Mrs. Millidew tell the Missus that if she fired you she'd -take you on in two seconds. So, if you--" - -"Thanks, Katie," interrupted Trotter. "Did Mrs. Millidew say when she -would see me?" - -"Soon as she gets something on," said Katie. - -At that moment, a door slammed violently on the floor above. There was a -swift swish of skirts, and then the vivid, angry face of Mrs. Millidew, -the younger, came suddenly into view. She leaned far out over the -banister rail and searched the hallway below with quick, roving eyes. - -"Are you there, Trotter?" she called out in a voice that trembled -perceptibly. - -He advanced a few paces, stopping beside the newel post. He looked -straight up into her eyes. - -"Yes, Mrs. Millidew." - -"You begin driving for me today," she said hurriedly. "Do you -understand?" - -"But, madam, I am not open to--" - -"Yes, you are," she interrupted. "You don't know it, but you are out of -a job, Trotter." - -"I am not surprised," he said. - -"I don't care what you were doing last night,--that is your affair, not -mine. You come to me at once at the same wages--" - -"I beg your pardon," he broke in. "I mean to say I am not seeking -another situation." - -"If it is a question of pay, I will give you ten dollars a week more -than you were receiving here. Now, don't haggle. That is sixty dollars a -week. Hurry up! Decide! She will be out here in a minute. Oh, thunder!" - -The same door banged open and the voice of Mrs. Millidew, the elder, -preceded its owner by some seconds in the race to the front. - -"You are not fired, Trotter," she squealed. Her head, considerably -dishevelled, appeared alongside the gay spring bonnet that bedecked her -daughter-in-law. "You ought to be fired for what you did last night, but -you are not. Do you understand? Now, shut up, Dolly! It doesn't matter -if I _did_ say I was going to fire him. I've changed my mind." - -"You are too late," said the younger Mrs. Millidew coolly. "I've just -engaged him. He comes to me at--" - -"You little snake!" - -"Ladies, I beg of you--" - -"The next time I let him go gallivanting off with you for a couple of -days--and _nights_,--you'll know it," cried the elder Mrs. Millidew, -furiously. "I can see what you've been up to. You've been doing -everything in your power to get him away from me--" - -"Just what do you mean to insinuate, Mother Millidew?" demanded the -other, her voice rising. - -"My God!" cried Trotter's employer, straightening her figure and facing -the other. Something like horror sounded in her cracked old voice. -"Could--my God!--could it be possible?" - -"Speak plainly! What do you mean?" - -Mrs. Millidew, the elder, advanced her mottled face until it was but a -few inches from that of her daughter-in-law. - -"Where were _you_ last night?" she demanded harshly. - -There was a moment of utter silence. Trotter, down below, caught his -breath. - -Then, to his amazement, Mrs. Millidew the younger, instead of flying -into a rage, laughed softly, musically. - -"Oh, you are too rich for words," she gurgled. "I wish,--heavens, how I -wish you could see what a fool you look. Go back, quick, and look in the -mirror before it wears off. You'll have the heartiest laugh you've had -in years." - -She leaned against the railing and continued to laugh. Not a sound from -Mrs. Millidew, the elder. - -"Do come up a few steps, Trotter," went on the younger gaily,--"and have -a peep. You will--" - -The other found her voice. There was now an agitated note, as of alarm, -in it. - -"Don't you dare come up those steps, Trotter;--I forbid you, do you -hear!" - -Trotter replied with considerable dignity. He had been shocked by the -scene. - -"I have no intention of moving in any direction except toward the front -door," he said. - -"Don't go away," called out his employer. "You are not dismissed." - -"I came to explain my unavoidable absence last--" - -"Some other time,--some other time. I want the car at half-past ten." - -Young Mrs. Millidew was descending the stairs. Her smiling eyes were -upon the distressed young man at the bottom. There was no response in -his. - -"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Millidew," he said, raising his voice slightly. -"I came not only to explain, but to notify you that I am giving up my -place almost immediately." - -"What!" squeaked the old lady, coming to the top of the steps. - -"It is imperative. I shall, of course, stay on for a day or two while -you are finding--" - -"Do you mean to say you are quitting of your own accord?" she gasped. - -"Yes, madam." - -"Don't call me 'madam'! I've told you that before. So--so, you are going -to work for her in spite of me, are you? It's all been arranged, has it? -You two have--" - -"He is coming to me today," said young Mrs. Millidew sweetly. "Aren't -you, Trotter?" - -"No, I am not!" he exploded. - -She stopped short on the stairs, and gave him a startled, incredulous -look. Any one else but Trotter would have been struck by her loveliness. - -"You're not?" cried Mrs. Millidew from the top step. It was almost a cry -of relief. "Do you mean that?" - -"Absolutely." - -His employer fumbled for a pocket lost among the folds of her -dressing-gown. - -"Well, you can't resign, my man. Don't think for a minute you can -resign," she cried out shrilly. - -He thought she was looking for a handkerchief. - -"But I insist, Mrs. Millidew, that I--" - -"You can't resign for the simple reason that you're already fired," she -sputtered. "I never allow any one to give _me_ notice, young man. No one -ever left me without being discharged, let me tell you that. Where the -dev--Oh, here it is!" She not only had found the pocket but the crisp -slip of paper that it contained. "Here is a check for your week's wages. -It isn't up till next Monday, but take it and get out. I never want to -see your ugly face again." - -She crumpled the bit of paper in her hand and threw the ball in his -direction. Its flight ended half-way down the steps. - -"Come and get it, if you want it," she said. - -"Good day, madam," he said crisply, and turned on his heel. - -"How many times must I tell you not to call me--Come back here, Dolly! I -want to see you." - -But her tall, perplexed daughter-in-law passed out through the door, -followed by the erect and lordly Mr. Trotter. - -"Good-bye, Tommie," whispered Katie, as he donned his grey fedora. - -"Good-bye, Katie," he said, smiling, and held out his hand to her. "You -heard what she said. If you should ever think of resigning, I'd suggest -you do it in writing and from a long way off." He looked behind the -vestibule door and recovered a smart little walking-stick. "Something to -lean upon in my misfortune," he explained to Katie. - -Young Mrs. Millidew was standing at the top of the steps, evidently -waiting for him. Her brow wrinkled as she took him in from head to foot. -He was wearing spats. His two-button serge coat looked as though it had -been made for him,--and his correctly pressed trousers as well. He stood -for a moment, his head erect, his heels a little apart, his stick under -his arm, while he drew on,--with no inconsiderable effect--a pair of -light tan gloves. And the smile with which he favoured her was certainly -not that of a punctilious menial. On the contrary, it was the rather -bland, casual smile of one who is very well satisfied with his position. - -In a cheery, off-hand manner he inquired if she was by any chance going -in his direction. - -The metamorphosis was complete. The instant he stepped outside of Mrs. -Millidew's door, the mask was cast aside. He stood now before the -world,--and before the puzzled young widow in particular,--as a -thoroughbred, cocksure English gentleman. In a moment his whole being -seemed to have undergone a change. He carried himself differently; his -voice and the manner in which he used it struck her at once as -remarkably altered; more than anything else, was she impressed by the -calm assurance of his inquiry. - -She was nonplussed. For a moment she hesitated between resentment and -the swift-growing conviction that he was an equal. - -For the first time within the range of her memory, she felt herself -completely rattled and uncertain of herself. She blushed like a -fool,--as she afterwards confessed,--and stammered confusedly: - -"I--yes--that is, I am going home." - -"Come along, then," he said coolly, and she actually gasped. - -To her own amazement, she took her place beside him and descended the -steps, her cheeks crimson. At the bottom, she cast a wild, anxious look -up and down the street, and then over her shoulder at the second-story -windows of the house they had just left. - -Queer little shivers were running all over her. She couldn't account for -them,--any more than she could account for the astonishing performance -to which she was now committed: that of walking jauntily through a -fashionable cross-town street in the friendliest, most intimate manner -with her mother-in-law's discharged chauffeur! Fifth Avenue but a few -steps away, with all its mid-morning activities to be encountered! What -on earth possessed her! "Come along, then," he had said with all the -calmness of an old and privileged acquaintance! And obediently she had -"come along"! - -His chin was up, his eyes were sparkling; his body was bent forward -slightly at the waist to co-ordinate with the somewhat pronounced action -of his legs; his hat was slightly tilted and placed well back on his -head; his gay little walking-stick described graceful revolutions. - -She was suddenly aware of a new thrill--one of satisfaction. As she -looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her face cleared. -Instinctively she grasped the truth. Whatever he may have been -yesterday, he was quite another person today,--and it was a pleasure to -be seen with him! - -She lengthened her stride, and held up her head. Her red lips parted in -a dazzling smile. - -"I suppose it is useless to ask you to change your mind,--Trotter," she -said, purposely hesitating over the name. - -"Quite," said he, smiling into her eyes. - -She was momentarily disconcerted. She found it more difficult than she -had thought to look into his eyes. - -"Why do you call yourself Trotter?" she asked, after a moment. - -"I haven't the remotest idea," he said. "It came to me quite -unexpectedly." - -"It isn't a pretty name," she observed. "Couldn't you have done better?" - -"I daresay I might have called myself Marjoribanks with perfect -propriety," said he. "Or Plantagenet, or Cholmondeley. But it would have -been quite a waste of time, don't you think?" - -"Would you mind telling me who you really are?" - -"You wouldn't believe me." - -"Oh, yes, I would. I could believe anything of you." - -"Well, I am the Prince of Wales." - -She flushed. "I believe you," she said. "Forgive my impertinence, -Prince." - -"Forgive mine, Mrs. Millidew," he said soberly. "My name is Temple, Eric -Temple. That does not convey anything to you, of course." - -"It conveys something vastly more interesting than Trotter,--Thomas -Trotter." - -"And yet I am morally certain that Trotter had a great deal more to him -than Eric Temple ever had," said he. "Trotter was a rather good sort, if -I do say it myself. He was a hard-working, honest, intelligent fellow -who found the world a very jolly old thing. I shall miss Trotter -terribly, Mrs. Millidew. He used to read me to sleep nearly every night, -and if I got a headache or a pain anywhere he did my complaining for me. -He was with me night and day for three years and more, and that, let me -tell you, is the severest test. I've known him to curse me roundly, to -call me nearly everything under the sun,--and yet I let him go on doing -it without a word in self-defence. Once he saved my life in an Indian -jungle,--he was a remarkably good shot, you see. And again he pulled me -through a pretty stiff illness in Tokio. I don't know how I should have -got on without Trotter." - -"You are really quite delicious, Mr. Eric Temple. By the way, did you -allow the admirable Trotter to direct your affairs of the heart?" - -"I did," said he promptly. - -"That is rather disappointing," said she, shaking her head. "Trotter may -not have played the game fairly, you know. With all the best intentions -in the world, he may have taken advantage of your--shall I say -indifference?" - -"You may take my word for it, Mrs. Millidew, good old Trotter went to a -great deal of pains to arrange a very suitable match for me," said he -airily. "He was a most discriminating chap." - -"How interesting," said she, stiffening slightly. "Am I permitted to -inquire just what opportunities Thomas Trotter has had to select a -suitable companion for the rather exotic Mr. Temple?" - -"Fortunately," said he, "the rather exotic Mr. Temple approves entirely -of the choice made by Thomas Trotter." - -"I wouldn't trust a chauffeur too far, if I were you," said she, a -little maliciously. - -"Just how far _would_ you trust one?" he inquired, lifting his eyebrows. - -She smiled. "Well,--the length of Long Island," she said, with the -utmost composure. - -"Mr. Trotter's late employer would not, it appears, share your faith in -the rascal," said he. - -"She is a rather evil-minded old party," said Mrs. Millidew, the -younger, bowing to the occupants of an automobile which was moving -slowly in the same direction down the Avenue. - -A lady in the rear seat of the limousine leaned forward to peer at the -widow's companion, who raised his hat,--but not in greeting. The man who -slumped down in the seat beside her, barely lifted his hat. A second -later he sat up somewhat hastily and stared. - -The occupants of the car were Mrs. Smith-Parvis,--a trifle haggard about -the eyes,--and her son Stuyvesant. - -Young Mrs. Millidew laughed. "Evidently they recognize you, Mr. Temple, -in spite of your spats and stick." - -"I thought I was completely disguised," said he, twirling his stick. - -"Good-bye," said she, at the corner. She held out her hand. "It is very -nice to have known you, Mr. Eric Temple. Our mutual acquaintance, the -impeccable Trotter, has my address if you should care to avail yourself -of it. After the end of June, I shall be on Long Island." - -"It is very good of you, Mrs. Millidew," he said, clasping her hand. His -hat was off. The warm spring sun gleamed in his curly brown hair. "I -hope to be in England before the end of June." He hesitated a moment, -and then said: "Lady Temple and I will be happy to welcome you at Fenlew -Hall when you next visit England. Good-bye." - -She watched him stride off down the Avenue. She was still looking after -him with slightly disturbed eyes when the butler opened the door. - -"Any fool should have known," she said, to herself and not to the -servant. A queer little light danced in her eyes. "As a matter of fact, -I suppose I did know without realizing it. Is Mrs. Hemleigh at home, -Brooks?" - -"She is expecting you, Mrs. Millidew." - -"By the way, Brooks, do you happen to know anything about Fenlew Hall?" - -Brooks was as good a liar as any one. He had come, highly recommended, -from a Fifth Avenue intelligence office. He did not hesitate an instant. - -"The Duke of Aberdeen's county seat, ma'am? I know it quite well. I -cawn't tell you 'ow many times I've been in the plice, ma'am, while I -was valeting his Grice, the Duke of Manchester." - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - THE BRIDE-ELECT - - -Four persons, a woman and three men, assembled in the insignificant -hallway at the top of the steps reaching to the fifth floor of the -building occupied by Deborah, Limited. To be precise, they were the -butler, the parlour-maid and two austere footmen. Cricklewick was -speaking. - -"Marriage is a most venturesome undertaking, my dear." He addressed -himself to Julia, the parlour-maid. "So don't go saying it isn't." - -"I didn't say it wasn't," said Julia stoutly. "What I said was, if ever -any two people were made for each other it's him and her." - -"In my time," said Cricklewick, "I've seen what looked to be the most -excellent matches turn out to be nothing but fizzles." - -"Well, this one won't," said she. - -"As I was saying to McFaddan in the back 'all a minute ago, Mr. -Cricklewick, the larst weddin' of any consequence I can remember -hattending was when Lady Jane's mother was married to the Earl of -Wexham. I sat on the box with old 'Oppins and we ran hover a dog drivin' -away from St. George's in 'Anover Square." It was Moody who spoke. He -seemed to relish the memory. "It was such a pretty little dog, too. I -shall never forget it." He winked at Julia. - -"You needn't wink at me, Moody," said Julia. "I didn't like the little -beast any more than you did." - -"Wot I've always wanted to know is how the blinkin' dog got loose in the -street that day," mused McFaddan. "He was the most obstinate dog I ever -saw. It was absolutely impossible to coax 'im into the stable-yard when -Higgins's bull terrier was avisitin' us, and you couldn't get him into -the stall with Dandy Boy,--not to save your life. He seemed to know that -hoss would kick his bloomin' gizzard out. I used to throw little hunks -of meat into the stall for him, too,--nice little morsels that any other -dog in the world would have been proud to risk anything for. But him? -Not a bit of it. He was the most disappointin', bull-headed animal I -ever saw. I've always meant to ask how did it happen, Julia?" - -"I had him out for his stroll," said Julia, with a faraway, pleased -expression in her eyes. "I thought as how he might be interested in -seeing the bride and groom, and all that, when they came out of the -church, so I took him around past Claridge's, and would you believe it -he got away from me right in the thick of the carriages. He was that -kind of a dog. He would always have his own way. I was terribly upset, -McFaddan. You must remember how I carried on, crying and moaning and all -that till her ladyship had to send for the doctor. It seemed to sort of -get her mind off her bereavement, my hysterics did." - -"You made a puffeck nuisance of yourself," said Cricklewick. - -"I took notice, however, Mr. Cricklewick, that _you_ didn't shed any -tears," said she coldly. - -"Certainly not," said the butler. "I admit I should have cried as much -as anybody. You've no idea how fond the little darling was of me. There -was hardly a day he didn't take a bite out of me, he liked me so much. -He used to go without his regular meals, he had such a preference for my -calves. I've got marks on me to this day." - -"And just to think, it was twenty-six years ago," sighed Moody. "'Ow -times 'ave changed." - -"Not as much as you'd think," said Julia, a worried look in her eyes. -"My mistress is talking of getting another dog,--after all these years. -She swore she'd never have another one to take 'is place." - -"Thank 'eavings," said Moody devoutly, "I am in another situation." He -winked and chuckled loudly. - -"As 'andsome a pair as you'll see in a twelve-month," said McFaddan. "He -is a--" - -"Ahem!" coughed the butler. "There is some one on the stairs, Julia." - -Silently, swiftly, the group dissolved. Cricklewick took his place -in the foyer, Julia clattered down the stairs to the barred gate, -Moody went into the big drawing-room where sat the Marchioness, -resplendent,--the Marchioness, who, twenty-six years before, had owned a -pet that came to a sad and inglorious end on a happy wedding-day, and -she alone of a large and imposing household had been the solitary -mourner. She was the Marchioness of Camelford in those days. - -The nobility of New York,--or such of it as existed for the purpose of -dignifying the salon,--was congregating on the eve of the marriage of -Lady Jane Thorne and Lord Temple. Three o'clock the next afternoon was -the hour set for the wedding, the place a modest little church, somewhat -despised by its lordlier companions because it happened to be off in a -somewhat obscure cross-town street and encouraged the unconventional. - -The bride-elect was not so proud or so self-absorbed that she could -desert the Marchioness in the preparation of what promised to be the -largest, the sprightliest and the most imposing salon of the year. She -had put on an old gingham gown, had rolled up the sleeves, and had lent -a hand with a will and an energy that distressed, yet pleased the older -woman. She dusted and polished and scrubbed, and she laughed joyously -and sang little snatches of song as she toiled. And then, when the work -was done, she sat down to her last dinner with the delighted Marchioness -and said she envied all the charwomen in the world if they felt as she -did after an honest day's toil. - -"I daresay I ought to pay you a bit extra for the work you've done -today," the Marchioness had said, a sly glint in her eyes. "Would a -shilling be satisfactory, my good girl?" - -"Quite, ma'am," said Jane, radiant. "I've always wanted a lucky -shillin', ma'am. I haven't one to me name." - -"You'll be having sovereigns after tomorrow, God bless you," said the -other, a little catch in her voice,--and Jane got up from the table -instantly and kissed her. - -"I am ashamed of myself for having taken so much from you, dear, and -given so little in return," she said. "I haven't earned a tenth of what -you've paid me." - -The Marchioness looked up and smiled,--and said nothing. - -"Isn't Lieutenant Aylesworth perfectly stunning?" Lady Jane inquired, -long afterwards, as she obediently turned this way and that while the -critical Deborah studied the effect of her latest creation in gowns. - -"Raise your arm, my dear,--so! I believe it is a trifle tight--What were -you saying?" - -"Lieutenant Aylesworth,--isn't he adorable?" - -"My dear," said the Marchioness, "it hasn't been your good fortune to -come in contact with many of the _real_ American men. You have seen the -imitations. Therefore you are tremendously impressed with the real -article when it is set before you. Aylesworth is a splendid fellow. He -is big and clean and gentle. There isn't a rotten spot in him. But you -must not think of him as an exception. There are a million men like him -in this wonderful country,--ay, more than a million, my dear. Give me an -American every time. If I couldn't get along with him and be happy to -the end of my days with him, it would be my fault and not his. They know -how to treat a woman, and that is more than you can say for our own -countrymen as a class. All that a woman has to do to make an American -husband happy is to let him think that he isn't doing quite enough for -her. If I were twenty-five years younger than I am, I would get me an -American husband and keep him on the jump from morning till night doing -everything in his power to make himself perfectly happy over me. This -Lieutenant Aylesworth is a fair example of what they turn out over here, -my dear Jane. You will find his counterpart everywhere, and not always -in the uniform of the U. S. Navy. They are a new breed of men, and they -are full of the joy of living. They represent the revivified strength of -a dozen run-down nations, our own Empire among them." - -"He may be all you claim for him," said Jane, "but give me an English -gentleman every time." - -"That is because you happen to be very much in love with one, my -dear,--and a rare one into the bargain. Eric Temple has lost nothing by -being away from England for the past three years. He is as arrogant and -as cocksure of himself as any other Englishmen, but he has picked up -virtues that most of his countrymen disdain. Never fear, my dear,--he -will be a good husband to you. But he will not eat out of your hand as -these jolly Americans do. And when he is sixty he will be running true -to form. He will be a lordly old dear and you will have to listen to his -criticism of the government, and the navy and the army and all the rest -of creation from morning till night and you will have to agree with him -or he won't understand what the devil has got into you. But, as that is -precisely what all English wives love better than anything else in the -world, you will be happy." - -"I don't believe Eric will ever become crotchety or overbearing," said -Jane stubbornly. - -"That would be a pity, dear," said the Marchioness, rising; "for of such -is the kingdom of Britain." - - * * * * * - -Shortly after eleven o'clock, Julia came hurrying upstairs in great -agitation. She tried vainly for awhile to attract the attention of the -pompous Cricklewick by a series of sibilant whispers directed from -behind the curtains in the foyer. - -The huge room was crowded. Everybody was there, including Count Andrew -Drouillard, who rarely attended the functions; the Princess Mariana di -Pavesi, young Baron Osterholz (who had but recently returned to New York -after a tour of the West as a chorus-man in "The Merry Widow"); and -Prince Waldemar de Bosky, excused for the night from Spangler's on -account of a severe attack of ptomaine poisoning. - -"What do you want?" whispered Cricklewick, angrily, passing close to the -curtains and cocking his ear without appearing to do so. - -"Come out here," whispered Julia. - -"Don't hiss like that! I can't come." - -"You must. It's something dreadful." - -"Is it McFaddan's wife?" whispered Cricklewick, in sudden dismay. - -"Worse than that. The police." - -"My Gawd!" - -The butler looked wildly about. He caught McFaddan's eye, and signalled -him to come at once. If it was the police, McFaddan was the man to -handle them. All the princes and lords and counts in New York combined -were not worth McFaddan's little finger in an emergency like this. - -At the top of the steps Julia explained to the perspiring Cricklewick -and the incredulous McFaddan. - -"They're at the gate down there, two of 'em in full uniform,--awful -looking things,--and a man in a silk hat and evening dress. He says if -we don't let him up he'll have the joint pulled." - -"We'll see about _that_," said McFaddan gruffly and not at all in the -voice or manner of a well-trained footman. He led the way down the -steps, followed by Cricklewick and the trembling Julia. At the last -landing but one, he halted, and in a superlatively respectful whisper -restored Cricklewick to his natural position as a superior. - -"You go ahead and see what they want," he said. - -"What's wrong with your going first?" demanded Cricklewick, holding -back. - -"I suddenly remembered that the cops wouldn't know what to think if they -saw me in this rig," confessed McFaddan, ingratiatingly. "They might -drop dead, you know." - -"You can explain that you're attending a fancy dress party," said -Cricklewick earnestly. "I am a respectable, dignified merchant and I--" - -"Go on, man! If you need me I'll be waitin' at the top of the steps. -They don't know you from Adam, so what's there to be afraid of?" - -Fortified by McFaddan's promise, Cricklewick descended to the barred and -locked grating. - -"What's goin' on here?" demanded the burliest policeman he had ever -seen. The second bluecoat shook the gate till it rattled on its hinges. - -Mr. Cricklewick was staring, open-mouthed but speechless, at the figure -behind the policemen. - -"Open up," commanded the second officer. "Get a move on." - -"We got to see what kind of a joint this is, uncle. This gentleman says -something's been goin' on here for the past month to his certain -knowledge,--" - -"Just a moment," broke in Cricklewick, hastily covering the lower part -of his face with his hand,--that being the nearest he could come, under -the circumstances, to emulating the maladroit ostrich. "I will call -Mr.--" - -"You'll open the gate right now, me man, or we'll bust it in and jug the -whole gang of ye," observed the burlier one, scowling. - -"Go ahead and bust," said Cricklewick, surprising himself quite as much -as the officers. "Hey, Mack!" he called out. "Come down at once! Now, -you'll see!" he rasped, turning to the policemen again. The light of -victory was in his eye. - -"What's that!" roared the cop. - -"Break it down," ordered the young man in the rear. "I tell you there's -a card game or--even worse--going on upstairs. I've had the place -watched. All kinds of hoboes pass in and out of here on regular nights -every week,--the rottenest lot of men and women I've--" - -"Hurry up, Mack!" shouted Mr. Cricklewick. He was alone. Julia had fled -to the top landing. - -"Coming," boomed a voice from above. A gorgeous figure in full livery -filled the vision of two policemen. - -"For the love o' Mike," gasped the burly one, and burst into a roar of -laughter. "What is it?" - -"Well, of all the--" began the other. - -McFaddan interrupted him just in time to avoid additional ignominy. - -"What the hell do you guys mean by buttin' in here?" he roared, his face -brick-red with anger. - -"Cut that out," snarled the burly one. "You'll mighty soon see what we -mean by--" - -"Beat it. Clear out!" shouted McFaddan. - -"Smash the door down," shouted the young man in full evening dress. - -"Oh, my God!" gasped McFaddan, his eyes almost popping from his head. He -had recognized the speaker. - -By singular coincidence all three of the men outside the gate recognized -Mr. Cornelius McFaddan at the same time. - -"Holy mackerel!" gasped the burly one, grabbing for his cap. "It's--it's -Mr. McFaddan or I'm a goat." - -"You're a goat all right," declared McFaddan in a voice that shook all -the confidence out of both policemen and caused Mr. Stuyvesant -Smith-Parvis to back sharply toward the steps leading to the street. -"Where's Julia?" roared the district boss, glaring balefully at Stuyvie. -"Get the key, Cricklewick,--quick. Let me out of here. I'll never have -another chance like this. The dirty--" - -"Calm yourself, McFaddan," pleaded Cricklewick. "Remember where you -are--and who is upstairs. We can't have a row, you know. It--" - -"What's the game, Mr. McFaddan?" inquired one of the policemen, very -politely. "I hope we haven't disturbed a party or anything like that. We -were sent over here by the sergeant on the complaint of this gentleman, -who says--" - -"They've got a young girl up there," broke in Stuyvesant. "She's been -decoyed into a den of crooks and white-slavers headed by the woman who -runs the shop downstairs. I've had her watched. I--" - -"O'Flaherty," cried McFaddan, in a pleading voice, "will ye do me the -favour of breaking this damned door down? I'll forgive ye for -everything--yes, bedad, I'll get ye a promotion if ye'll only rip this -accursed thing off its hinges." - -"Ain't this guy straight?" demanded O'Flaherty, turning upon Stuyvesant. -"If he's been double-crossing us--" - -"I shall report you to the Commissioner of Police," cried Stuyvesant, -retreating a step or two as the gate gave signs of yielding. "He is a -friend of mine." - -"He is a friend of Mr. McFaddan's also," said O'Flaherty, scratching his -head dubiously. "I guess you'll have to explain, young feller." - -"Ask him to explain," insisted Stuyvie. - -"Permit me," interposed Cricklewick, in an agitated voice. "This is a -private little fancy dress party. We--" - -"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Stuyvesant, coming closer to a real -American being than he had ever been before in all his life. "It's old -Cricklewick! Why, you old roué!" - -"I--I--let me help you, McFaddan," cried Cricklewick suddenly. "If we -all put our strength to the bally thing, it may give way. Now! All -together!" - -Julia came scuttling down the steps. - -"Be quiet!" she cried, tensely. "Whatever are we to do? She's coming -down--they're both coming down. They are going over to the Ritz for -supper. The best man is giving a party. Oh, my soul! Can't you do -anything, McFaddan?" - -"Not until you unlock the gate," groaned McFaddan, perspiring freely. - -"There she is!" cried Stuyvesant, pointing up the stairs. "Now, will you -believe me?" - -"Get out of sight, you!" whispered McFaddan violently, addressing the -bewildered policemen. "Get back in the hall and don't breathe,--do you -hear me? As for _you_--" Cricklewick's spasmodic grip on his arm checked -the torrent. - -Lady Jane was standing at the top of the steps, peering intently -downward. - -"What is it, Cricklewick?" she called out. - -"Nothing, my lady,--nothing at all," the butler managed to say with -perfect composure. "Merely a couple of newspaper reporters asking -for--ahem--an interview. Stupid blighters! I--I sent them away in jolly -quick order." - -"Isn't that one of them still standing at the top of the steps?" -inquired she. - -"It's--it's only the night-watchman," said McFaddan. - -"Oh, I see. Send him off, please. Lord Temple and I are leaving at once, -Cricklewick. Julia, will you help me with my wraps?" - -She disappeared from view. Julia ran swiftly up the steps. - -Stuyvesant, apparently alone in the hall outside, put his hand to his -head. - -"Did--did she say Lord Temple?" - -"Beat it!" said McFaddan. - -"The chap the papers have been--What the devil has she to do with Lord -Temple?" - -"I forgot to get the key from Julia, damn it!" muttered McFaddan, -suddenly trying the gate again. - -"I say, Jane!" called out a strong, masculine voice from regions above. -"Are you nearly ready?" - -Rapid footsteps came down the unseen stairway, and a moment later the -erstwhile Thomas Trotter, as fine a figure in evening dress as you'd see -in a month of Sundays, stopped on the landing. - -"Will you see if there's a taxi waiting, Cricklewick?" he said. "Moody -telephoned for one a few minutes ago. I'll be down in a second, Jane -dear." - -He dashed back up the stairs. - -"Officer O'Flaherty!" called out Mr. McFaddan, in a cautious undertone, -"will you be good enough to step downstairs and see if Lord Temple's -taxi's outside?" - -"What'll we do with this gazabo, Mr. McFaddan?" - -"Was--is _that_ man--that chauffeur--was that Lord Temple?" sputtered -Stuyvesant. - -"Yes, it was," snapped McFaddan. "And ye'd better be careful how ye -speak of your betters. Now, clear out. I wouldn't have Lady Jane Thorne -know I lied to her for anything in the world." - -"Lied? Lied about what?" - -"When I said ye were a decent night-watchman," said McFaddan. - -Stuyvesant went down the steps and into the street, puzzled and sick at -heart. - -He paused irresolutely just outside the entrance. If they were really -the Lord Temple and the Lady Jane Thorne whose appearance in the -marriage license bureau at City Hall had provided a small sensation for -the morning newspapers, it wouldn't be a bad idea to let them see that -he was ready and willing to forget and forgive-- - -"Move on, now! Get a move, you!" ordered O'Flaherty, giving him a shove. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - THE BEGINNING - - -THE brisk, businesslike little clergyman was sorely disappointed. He had -looked forward to a rather smart affair, so to speak, on the afternoon -of the fifteenth. Indeed, he had gone to some pains to prepare himself -for an event far out of the ordinary. It isn't every day that one has -the opportunity to perform a ceremony wherein a real Lord and Lady -plight the troth; it isn't every parson who can say he has officiated -for nobility. Such an event certainly calls for a little more than the -customary preparations. He got out his newest vestments and did not -neglect to brush his hair. His shoes were highly polished for the -occasion and his nails shone with a brightness that fascinated him. -Moreover, he had tuned up his voice; it had gone stale with the monotony -of countless marriages in which he rarely took the trouble to notice -whether the responses were properly made. By dint of a little extra -exertion in the rectory he had brought it to a fine state of unctuous -mellowness. - -Moreover, he had given some thought to the prayer. It wasn't going to be -a perfunctory, listless thing, this prayer for Lord and Lady Temple. It -was to be a profound utterance. The glib, everyday prayer wouldn't do at -all on an occasion like this. The church would be filled with the best -people in New York. Something fine and resonant and perhaps a little -personal,--something to do with God, of course, but, in the main, worth -listening to. In fact, something from the diaphragm, sonorous. - -For a little while he would take off the well-worn mask of humility and -bask in the fulgent rays of his own light. - -But, to repeat, he was sorely disappointed. Instead of beaming upon an -assemblage of the elect, he found himself confronted by a company that -caused him to question his own good taste in shaving especially for the -occasion and in wearing gold-rimmed nose-glasses instead of the "over -the ears" he usually wore when in haste. - -He saw, with shocked and incredulous eyes, sparsely planted about the -dim church as if separated by the order of one who realized that closer -contact would result in something worse than passive antagonism, a -strange and motley company. - -For a moment he trembled. Had he, by some horrible mischance, set two -weddings for the same hour? He cudgelled his brain as he peeped through -the vestry door. A sickening blank! He could recall no other ceremony -for that particular hour,--and yet as he struggled for a solution the -conviction became stronger that he had committed a most egregious error. -Then and there, in a perspiring panic, he solemnly resolved to give -these weddings a little more thought. He had been getting a bit -slack,--really quite haphazard in checking off the daily grist. - -What was he to do when the noble English pair and their friends put in -an appearance? Despite the fact that the young American sailor-chap who -came to see him about the service had casually remarked that it was to -be a most informal affair,--with "no trimmings" or something like -that,--he knew that so far as these people were concerned, simplicity -was merely comparative. Doubtless, the young couple, affecting -simplicity, would appear without coronets; the guests probably would -saunter in and, in a rather dégagé fashion, find seats for themselves -without deigning to notice the obsequious verger in attendance. And here -was the church partially filled,--certainly the best seats were -taken,--by a most unseemly lot of people! What was to be done about it? -He looked anxiously about for the sexton. Then he glanced at his watch. -Ten minutes to spare. - -Some one tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face the stalwart -young naval officer. A tall young man was standing at some distance -behind the officer, clumsily drawing on a pair of pearl grey gloves. He -wore a monocle. The good pastor's look of distress deepened. - -"Good afternoon," said the smiling lieutenant. "You see I got him here -on time, sir." - -"Yes, yes," murmured the pastor. "Ha-ha! Ha-ha!" He laughed in his -customary way. Not one but a thousand "best men" had spoken those very -words to him before. The remark called for a laugh. It had become a -habit. - -"Is everybody here?" inquired Aylesworth, peeping over his shoulder -through the crack in the door. The pastor bethought himself and gently -closed the door, whereupon the best man promptly opened it again and -resumed his stealthy scrutiny of the dim edifice. - -"I can't fasten this beastly thing, Aylesworth," said the tall young man -in the background. "Would you mind seeing what you can do with the bally -thing?" - -"I see the Countess there," said Aylesworth, still gazing. "And the -Marchioness, and--" - -"The Marchioness?" murmured the pastor, in fresh dismay. - -"I guess they're all here," went on the best man, turning away from the -door and joining his nervous companion. - -"I'd sooner face a regiment of cavalry than--" began Eric Temple. - -"May I have the pleasure and the honour of greeting Lord Temple?" said -the little minister, approaching with outstretched hand. "A--er--a very -happy occasion, your lordship. Perhaps I would better explain the -presence in the church of a--er--rather unusual crowd of--er--shall we -say curiosity-seekers? You see, this is an open church. The doors are -always open to the public. Very queer people sometimes get in, despite -the watchfulness of the attendant, usually, I may say, when a wedding of -such prominence--ahem!--er--" - -"I don't in the least mind," said Lord Temple good-humouredly. "If it's -any treat to them, let them stay. Sure you've got the ring, Aylesworth? -I say, I'm sorry now we didn't have a rehearsal. It isn't at all simple. -You said it would be, confound you. You--" - -"All you have to do, old chap, is to give your arm to Lady Jane and -follow the Baroness and me to the chancel. Say 'I do' and 'I will' to -everything, and before you know it you'll come to and find yourself -still breathing and walking on air. Isn't that so, Doctor?" - -"Quite,--quite so, I am sure." - -"Let me take a peep out there, Aylesworth. I'd like to get my bearings." - -"Pray do not be dismayed by the--" began the minister. - -"Hullo! There's Bramby sitting in the front seat,--my word, I've never -known him to look so seraphic. Old Fogazario, and de Bosky, and--yes, -there's Mirabeau, and the amiable Mrs. Moses Jacobs. 'Gad, she's -resplendent! Du Bara and Herman and--By Jove, they're all here, every -one of them. I say, Aylesworth, what time is it? I wonder if anything -can have happened to Jane? Run out to the sidewalk, old chap, and have a -look, will you? I--" - -"Are all bridegrooms like this?" inquired Aylesworth drily, addressing -the bewildered minister. - -"Here she is!" sang out the bridegroom, leaping toward the little -vestibule. "Thank heaven, Jane! I thought you'd met with an accident -or--My God! How lovely you are, darling! Isn't she, Aylesworth?" - -"Permit me to present you, Doctor, to Lady Jane Thorne," interposed -Aylesworth. "And to the Baroness Brangwyng." - - * * * * * - -From that moment on, the little divine was in a daze. He didn't know -what to make of anything. Everything was wrong and yet everything was -right! How could it be? - -How was he to know that his quaint, unpretentious little church was -half-full of masked men and women? How was he to know that these -queer-looking people out there were counts and countesses, barons and -baronesses, princes and princesses? Swarthy Italians, sallow-faced -Frenchmen, dark Hungarians, bearded Russians and pompous Teutons! How -was he to know that once upon a time all of these had gone without masks -in the streets and courts of far-off lands and had worn "purple and fine -linen"? And those plainly, poorly dressed women? Where,--oh where, were -the smart New Yorkers for whom he had furbished himself up so neatly? - -What manner of companions had this lovely bride,--ah, but _she_ had the -real atmosphere!--What sort of people had she been thrown with during -her stay in the City of New York? She who might have known the best, the -most exclusive,--"bless me, what a pity!" - -Here and there in the motley throng, he espied a figure that suggested -upper Fifth Avenue. The little lady with the snow-white hair; the tall -brunette with the rather stunning hat; the austere gentleman far in the -rear, the ruddy faced old man behind him, and the aggressive-looking -individual with the green necktie,--Yes, any one of them might have come -from uptown and ought to feel somewhat out of place in this singular -gathering. The three gentlemen especially. He sized them up as -financiers, as plutocrats. And yet they were back where the family -servants usually sat. - -He got through with the service,--indulgently, it is to be feared, after -all. - -He would say, on the whole, that he had never seen a handsomer couple -than Lord and Lady Temple. There was compensation in that. Any one with -half an eye could see that they came of the very best stock. And the -little Baroness,--he had never seen a baroness before,--was somebody, -too. She possessed manner,--that indefinable thing they called -manner,--there was no mistake about it. He had no means of knowing, of -course, that she was struggling hard to make a living in the "artist -colony" down town. - -Well, well, it is a strange world, after all. You never can tell, mused -the little pastor as he stood in the entrance of his church with -half-a-dozen reporters and watched the strange company disperse,--some -in motors, some in hansoms, and others on the soles of their feet. A -large lady in many colours ran for a south-bound street car. He wondered -who she could be. The cook, perhaps. - - * * * * * - -Lieutenant Aylesworth was saying good-bye to the bride and groom at the -Grand Central Station. The train for Montreal was leaving shortly before -ten o'clock. - -The wedding journey was to carry them through Canada to the Pacific and -back to New York, leisurely, by way of the Panama Canal. Lord Fenlew had -not been niggardly. All he demanded of his grandson in return was that -they should come to Fenlew Hall before the first of August. - -"Look us up the instant you set foot in England, Sammy," said Eric, -gripping his friend's hand. "Watch the newspapers. You'll see when our -ship comes home, and after that you'll find us holding out our arms to -you." - -"When my ship _leaves_ home," said the American, "I hope she'll steer -for an English port. Good-bye, Lady Temple. Please live to be a hundred, -that's all I ask of you." - -"Good-bye, Sam," she said, blushing as she uttered the name he had urged -her to use. - -"You won't mind letting the children call me Uncle Sam, will you?" he -said, a droll twist to his lips. - -"How quaint!" she murmured. - -"By Jove, Sammy," cried Eric warmly, "you've no idea how much better you -look in Uncle Sam's uniform than you did in that stuffy frock coat this -afternoon. Thank God, I can get into a uniform myself before long. You -wouldn't understand, old chap, how good it feels to be in a British -uniform." - -"I'm afraid we've outgrown the British uniform," said the other drily. -"It used to be rather common over here, you know." - -"You don't know what all this means to me," said Temple seriously, his -hand still clasping the American's. "I can hold up my head once more. I -can fight for England. If she needs me, I can fight and die for her." - -"You're a queer lot, you Britishers," drawled the American. "You want to -fight and die for Old England. I have a singularly contrary ambition. I -want to _live_ and _fight_ for America." - - * * * * * - -On the twenty-fourth of July, 1914, Lord Eric Temple and his bride came -home to England. - - THE END - - - - - Transcriber Notes: - -Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_. - -Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS. - -Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe". - -Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of -the speakers. Those words were retained as-is. - -Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected -unless otherwise noted. - -On page 9, "Marchiness" was replaced with "Marchioness". - -On page 18, "unforgetable" was replaced with "unforgettable". - -On page 22, "respendent" was replaced with "resplendent". - -On page 26, "idlness" was replaced with "idleness". - -On page 47, "sacrified" was replaced with "sacrificed". - -On page 53, "spooffing" was replaced with "spoofing". - -On page 67, "shan't" was replaced with "sha'n't". - -On page 69, "constitutency" was replaced with "constituency". - -On page 78, "assed" was replaced with "passed". - -On page 80, "acccepting" was replaced with "accepting". - -On page 81, "lookingly" was replaced with "looking". - -On page 103, "acccused" was replaced with "accused". - -On page 107, "afternooon" was replaced with "afternoon". - -On page 224, "limmo" was replaced with "limo". - -On page 230, "pressent" was replaced with "present". - -On page 233, "EOR" was replaced with "FOR". - -On page 235, a period was placed after "in the depths". - -On page 240, "tobaccco" was replaced with "tobacco". - -On page 244, "crochetty" was replaced with "crotchety". - -On page 247, "properely" was replaced with "properly". - -On page 259, "expained" was replaced with "explained". - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The City of Masks, by George Barr McCutcheon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY OF MASKS *** - -***** This file should be named 40146-8.txt or 40146-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/1/4/40146/ - -Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Ernest Schaal, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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