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diff --git a/old/50515-0.txt b/old/50515-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3dedaac..0000000 --- a/old/50515-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7313 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sack of Monte Carlo, by Walter Frith - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Sack of Monte Carlo - An Adventure of To-day - -Author: Walter Frith - -Release Date: November 20, 2015 [EBook #50515] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SACK OF MONTE CARLO *** - - - - -Produced by Cindy Beyer, Shaun Pinder and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE SACK OF MONTE CARLO - - - =An Adventure of To-day= - - As narrated by Vincent Blacker, Esq. - Lieutenant H.M.’s East ——shire Militia - - BY - WALTER FRITH - AUTHOR OF “IN SEARCH OF QUIET” - - _Quo timoris minus est, eo minus est Periculi_ - LIVY, xii., 5 - - [Illustration] - - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK AND LONDON - 1898 - - - - - BY WALTER FRITH. - - * * * * * - - IN SEARCH OF QUIET. A Country Journal, May - to July. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25. - - A very entertaining book, written in a very entertaining - style.—_Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette._ - A book which will enchain the attention of the reader - from beginning to end.—_Boston Advertiser._ - * * * * * - NEW YORK AND LONDON: - HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS. - - Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - * * * * * - _All rights reserved._ - - - - - TO - - MRS. F. W. SHARON - - IN RECOLLECTION OF MANY HAPPY HOURS IN - - NEW YORK, ÉTRETAT, AND PARIS - - London, October, 1897 - - - - - CONTENTS - - * * * * * - - CHAPTER I - Some Slight Explanation—Objects of the - Expedition—Love the Promoter—Lucy Thatcher—Her - Portrait by Lamplight 1 - - CHAPTER II - “The French Horn”—Mabel Harker: My Unfortunate - Engagement to Her—Mr. Crage and Wharton Park 7 - - CHAPTER III - I Continue to Keep Out of Mabel Harker’s Way and - Go to Goring—Return to “The French - Horn”—Wanderings with Lucy—Mr. Crage Rehearses - His Own Funeral 17 - - CHAPTER IV - I am Free of Mabel Harker—Return to “The French - Horn”—Disastrous Interference of Harold Forsyth - in My Affairs 25 - - CHAPTER V - Anglesey Lodge—My Interview with Lucy in - Kensington Gardens—Not so Satisfactory as I - could Desire 29 - - CHAPTER VI - Early Difficulties—I Fail to Persuade the - Honorable Edgar Fanshawe, the Reverend Percy - Blyth, and Mr. Parker White, M.P., to Join our - Monte Carlo Party 37 - - CHAPTER VII - I Interview Mr. Brentin—His Sympathy and - Interest—Sir Anthony Hipkins and the Yacht - _Amaranth_—We Determine to Look Over It 47 - - CHAPTER VIII - We Go to Ryde—The _Amaranth_—Accidental Meeting - with Arthur Masters and His Lady Friend—I Enroll - Him Among Us, Provisionally—We Decide to - Purchase the Yacht 60 - - CHAPTER IX - My Sister’s Suspicions—Heroes of _The Argo_—My - Sister Determines to Come with Us as Chaperon to - Miss Rybot 70 - - CHAPTER X - Mr. Brentin’s Indiscretion—Lucy and I Make It - Up—Bailey Thompson Appears in Church—On - Christmas Day we Hold a Council of War 77 - - CHAPTER XI - Mr. Bailey Thompson Gives us His Ingenious - Advice—We are Fools enough to Trust - Him—Misplaced Confidence 87 - - CHAPTER XII - Monte Carlo—Mr. Van Ginkel’s Yacht _Saratoga_—We - Prospect—Fortunate Discovery of the Point of - Attack—First Visit to the Rooms 95 - - CHAPTER XIII - Mrs. Wingham and Teddy Parsons—He Foolishly - Confides in Her—I Make a Similar Mistake 103 - - CHAPTER XIV - Arrival of the _Amaranth_—All Well on Board—Their - First Experience of the Rooms 111 - - CHAPTER XV - Influence of Climate on Adventure—Unexpected - Arrival of Lucy—Her Revelations—Danger Ahead 118 - - CHAPTER XVI - Council of War—Captain Evans’s Decision—I Go to - the Rooms and Confide in My Sister 127 - - CHAPTER XVII - Enter Mr. Bailey Thompson—Van Ginkel Stands by - Us—We Show Thompson Round and Explain - Details—Teddy Parsons’s Alarm 136 - - CHAPTER XVIII - Exit Mr. Bailey Thompson 146 - - CHAPTER XIX - The Great Night—Dinner at the “Hôtel de Paris”—A - Last Look Round—The Sack and Its - Incidents—Flight 151 - - CHAPTER XX - We Discover Teddy Parsons is Left Behind—I Make Up - My Mind—To the Rescue!—Unmanly Conduct of the - Others—I Go Alone—Disguise—The Garde Champêtre 171 - - CHAPTER XXI - In My Disguise I am Mistaken for Lord B.—A Club - Acquaintance—Teddy at the Law Courts—Mrs. - Wingham—The Defence and The Acquittal—We Bolt 185 - - CHAPTER XXII - Our Flight to Venice—Thence to Athens—We all Meet - on the Acropolis—Reappearance of Mr. Bailey - Thompson!—Again we Manage to Put Him Off the - Scent 202 - - CHAPTER XXIII - We Arrive Safe in London and Go to Medworth - Square—Back at “The French Horn”—News at Last of - the _Amaranth_—I Interview Mr. Crage and Find - Him Ill 219 - - CHAPTER XXIV - Arrival of Brentin—My Wedding-day—We Go to - Wharton—Bailey Thompson and Cochefort Follow - Us—We Finally Defeat Them Both 230 - - CONCLUSION 243 - - - - - THE SACK OF MONTE CARLO - “_I don’t say that it is possible; I only affirm it to be true._” - - - - - CHAPTER I - - SOME SLIGHT EXPLANATION—OBJECTS OF THE EXPEDITION—LOVE THE - PROMOTER—LUCY THATCHER—HER PORTRAIT BY LAMPLIGHT - - -THE idea occurred to me, quite unexpectedly and unsought for, early one -morning in bed; and, as ideas of such magnitude are valuable and scarce -(at any rate, with me), it was not long before I determined to try and -realize it. - -The expedition was so successful, and we got, on the whole, so clear and -clean away with the swag, or, as Mr. Julius C. Brentin, our esteemed -American _collaborateur_, called it, “the boodle,” that, for my part, -there I should have been perfectly content to let the affair rest; but, -the fact is, so many of my friends have taken upon themselves to doubt -whether we really did it at all, and the Monte Carlo authorities from -the very first so cunningly managed to suppress all details (with their -subsidized press), that I feel it due to us all to try and write the -adventure out; since I know very well how, with most, seeing in print is -believing. - -Briefly, then, my idea was to sack or raid the gambling-tables at Monte -Carlo, that highly notorious _cloaca maxima_ for all the scum of Europe, -which there gutters and gushes forth into the sapphire and tideless -Mediterranean. I had worked details out for myself, and believed that, -what with the money on the tables and the reserve in the vaults, there -could not be much short of £200,000 on the Casino premises, a sum as -much worth making a dash for, it seemed to me, as Spanish plate-ships to -Drake or Raleigh. Nor did it seem likely we should have to do much -fighting to secure it; for all the authorities I consulted assured me -the place was by no means a Gibraltar, and, in fact, that half a dozen -resolute gentlemen with revolvers and a swift steam-yacht waiting in the -harbor would be more than enough to do the trick and clean the place -out; which was pretty much what we found. - -As for the morality of the affair, I confess _that_ never in the least -troubled me—never once. One puts morality on one side when dealing with -a gaming-establishment, and to raid the place seemed to me just as -reasonable and fair as to go there with a system, besides being likely -to be a good deal more profitable. And since the objects to which we -destined the money were in the main charitable, I soon came to regard -the expedition strictly _in pios usus_ (as lawyers say), and hope and -believe the public will regard it in that light too. - -Let me say right here—to quote Mr. Brentin again—that not one of us -touched one single red cent of the large amount we so fortunately -secured, but that it was all expended for the purposes (in the main, as -I say, charitable) for which we had always intended it—with the single -exception of a necklet of napoleons I had made for the fat little neck -of my enchanting niece Mollie, which she always wears at parties, and -keeps to this day in an old French plum-box, along with her beads and -bangles and a small holy ring I once brought her from Rome; being -amazingly fond of all sorts of bedizenments, as most female children -are. - -Mollie, therefore, was the only person who really had any of the swag, -or boodle; though, of course, she doesn’t know it, and thinks it was -properly won at play. For as for Bob Hines, who had some for the new -gymnasium and swimming-bath at his boys’ school at Folkestone; and Mr. -Thatcher (my dear wife Lucy’s father), who got his old family estate, -Wharton Park, back; and the hospitals, convalescent homes, and -sanatoriums, which all shared alike; and Teddy Parsons, of my militia, -who had the bill paid off that was worrying him—that was all in the -original scheme, and all went to form the well-understood reasons for -our undertaking the expedition; without which inducements, indeed, it -would never even have started. - -So if, after this clear denial in print, the public still choose to -fancy anything has stuck to my fingers, all I can ask them in fairness -to do is to come to our flat in Victoria Street any morning between -twelve and two, when they can see the accounts and receipts for -themselves, all in order and properly audited by Messrs. Fitch & Black, -the eminent accountants of Lothbury, E. C.... - -Now, they say love is at the bottom of most of the affairs and -enterprises of the world, and so I believe it mostly is. At all events, -I don’t fancy I should have undertaken, or, at any rate, been so -prominent in this Monte Carlo affair, if I hadn’t at the time been so -deeply in love with Lucy, and correspondingly anxious to get her -father’s property back for them at Wharton Park. It is situate near -Nesshaven, on the Essex coast; which, though to many it may not be a -particularly attractive part of the country, is to me forever sacred as -the spot where I first met the dear girl who is now my wife, coming back -so rosily from her morning bath, through the whin and the sand, from the -long, flat shore and the idle sea, carrying her own damp towel back to -her father’s inn, “The French Horn.” - -I can see her now as I saw her then, on that warm September morning -eighteen months ago; sea and sky and monotonous Essex land all bathed in -hazy sunshine, the whins still glistening with the morning mist, which -at that time of the year lies heavily till the sun at mid-day warms them -dry and sets the seed-cases exploding like Prince-Rupert drops—I can -see her, I say, come towards me along the coast-guard path, round the -pole that sticks up to mark it, and towards the wooden bridge that -crosses one of the dikes. - -If any line of that sweet face were faint in my memory, I have only to -look across at her now, as she sits sewing under the lamp as I write, -for all its charm and perfection to be present as first I saw it. I have -only to put a straw-hat on the pretty, rough, dark hair, which in -sunshine gleams with the bronze of chestnut, give her a freckle or two -on the low, white forehead, color her round cheek a little more -delicately rose-leaf, and there she is—not forgetting to take away the -wedding-ring!—as she passed me on the Nesshaven golf-links that hazy -September morning eighteen months ago. There is the straight nose, the -short upper lip, the pure, fresh mouth, the plump and rounded chin, and -the soft, pink lips that part so readily with a smile and show the -beautiful white teeth, white as the youngest hazel-nuts.... - -Lucy felt my eyes were upon her, and looked up at me and smiled, with -something of a blush, for she blushes very readily. She saw me still -looking longingly, the invitation in my eyes, and after a moment’s -hesitation (for, though we have been married nearly six months, she -still is shy) she put down her sewing and came to me at my -writing-table. She bent over me and put her arms round my neck, her warm -cheek against mine. Her soft lips kissed me; I felt the tender, loving -palpitation of her bosom as I bent my head back. Our sitting-room seemed -full of silence, happy and melodious silence, while from outside in -Victoria Street I head the jingle of a passing cab.... - - - - - CHAPTER II - - “THE FRENCH HORN”—MABEL HARKER, MY UNFORTUNATE ENGAGEMENT TO HER - —MR. CRAGE AND WHARTON PARK - - -THOUGH the idea to sack Monte Carlo did not occur to me till late in the -year (in the September of which I first met Lucy Thatcher), I must first -say something of my going down to Nesshaven in June, and the events -which led to my being in a position to undertake an affair of such nerve -and magnitude. - -Lucy thought I should take readers straight to Monte Carlo, confining -myself to that part of the work only; but, after talking it over, she -agrees with me now that the adventure must be led up to in the natural -way it really was or the public won’t believe in it, after all, and I -shall have all my pains for nothing. So that’s what I shall do, in the -shortest and best way I can; promising, like the esteemed old -circus-rider Ducrow, as soon as possible to “cut the cackle and come to -the ’osses.” - -Well, then, it was towards the middle of June when I joined the golf -club at Nesshaven, just after my militia training month was over. I was -introduced by Harold Forsyth (one of our Monte Carlo band later, and one -of the stanchest of them), who had the golf fever very badly, and, I -must say, was beginning to make himself rather a bore with it. - -He and I went down from Liverpool Street and stayed at “The French -Horn,” the inn kept by Mr. Thatcher, Lucy’s father; and after Forsyth -had introduced me to the club and shown me round the links, he went back -to his regiment, the “Devon Borderers,” then stationed at Colchester, -very angry and complaining, as soldiers mostly are when obliged to do -any work. I remained behind, not that I had yet seen Lucy, but rather to -keep out of Mabel Harker’s way—the young lady to whom (as Lucy knows) I -happened, much against my will, to be at that time unfortunately engaged -to be married. - -My first visit to “The French Horn” lasted three weeks, during which -time I manfully held my ground, though heavily bombarded by Mabel’s -letters, regularly discharged thrice a week from her aunt’s house in -Clifton Gardens at Folkestone. At last, as Mabel came to stay at her -sister’s in the Regent’s Park (on purpose, I believe), I was obliged to -go up to town for ten days, and there passed a sad time with her at the -University match, Henley, and the Eton and Harrow; at which noted places -of amusement and relaxation I cannot help thinking I was the most -unhappy visitor, though, to be sure, I tried hard not to show it. - -But it was dreadful when I got back to my rooms in Little St. James’s -Street and attempted sleep; for I really think that _not_ being in love -with the person you have bound yourself to marry keeps more men awake -_more miserably_ than any of the so-called torments of love, which, with -scarcely an exception, I have never found otherwise than agreeable. - -At last Mabel went back to Folkestone, and I was free to return to “The -French Horn,” and I never saw her again (thank goodness!) till the -momentous interview between us in October, from which I emerged a free -man; she having discovered in a boarding-house at Lucerne an architect -named Byles, whom she’d the sense to see was a more determined wooer -than I had ever been, and likely to make her a far better husband. - -“The French Horn” is not an old house, having been built in about the -year 1830, from designs made by Mr. Thatcher’s father, who had copied it -from an inn he had once stayed in in Spain. For a country gentleman of -old family, the father seems to have been a somewhat remarkable person. -He had, for instance, been an intimate friend of the celebrated Lord -Byron, and was the only man in England (so Mr. Thatcher always said) who -knew the real story of the quarrel between the poet and his wife. Byron -confided it to him at Pisa as the closest of secrets; but, as he had -always told it to everybody when alive, and his son, my father-in-law, -invariably did and still does the same, there must be a good many people -in England by now who know all about it. - -In fact, there was scarcely a golfer or bicyclist came to the house but -Mr. Thatcher didn’t fix him sooner or later in the bar and ask him if he -knew the real reason why Byron quarrelled with his wife and left -England. And as it was a hundred to one chance that they didn’t, Mr. -Thatcher always informed them in a loud, husky whisper, and shouted -after them as they left, “But you mustn’t publish it, because it’s a -family secret!” - -And the reason was, according to Mr. Thatcher, that Lord Byron had -killed a country girl when a young man (somebody he’d got into trouble, -I suppose) and flung her body in the pond at Newstead; and that having, -in a moment of loving expansion, bragged of it to his wife, Lady Byron -had, very properly, promptly kicked him out of the house in Piccadilly; -which, also according to Mr. Thatcher, was the origin of those touching -lines: - - “They tell me ’tis decided you depart: - ’Tis wise, ’tis well, but not the less a pain,” - -invariably quoted by him on the departure of a guest. - -It was this same father of Mr. Thatcher’s who had parted with Wharton -Park, their ancestral home. He had been a great gambler in his youth, -and lost enormous sums at Crockford’s and on the turf, so that when he -died, in 1850, he had nothing to leave his only son, my Lucy’s father, -but three or four thousand pounds, very soon muddled away in unfortunate -business speculations. - -At last, about twenty years ago, it occurred to Mr. Thatcher to come -down to Nesshaven and take “The French Horn,” close to the Park gates of -his old home, where, until the golf mania set in, beyond gaining a bare -livelihood, he did no particular good; having to depend on -natural-history lunatics, who came there in winter and prowled the shore -with shot-guns after rare birds, and, in summer, on families from -Colchester—tradespeople and bank-clerks and so on—who spent their -holidays lying about in the warm sand among the whins and complaining of -the food. Betweenwhiles there was scarcely a soul about except the -coast-guards, who came up to fill their whiskey-bottles, and a few -bicyclists who ate enormous teas and never would pay more than -ninepence. - -But when a Colchester builder erected the club-house down on the links, -Mr. Thatcher’s business looked up wonderfully, and he really began to -make money, and even sometimes to turn it away, for the house was small. -Harold Forsyth discovered it, being quartered so near, and it was he who -introduced me, for which I can never be sufficiently grateful. - -It was a curious place, as most amateur buildings are. Forsyth had not -told me anything about it, and I was indeed astonished when we first -drove up; for, with its colored bricks, veranda, high-pitched roof, and -odd carved wood-work, it reminded me somehow of an illustration to _Don -Quixote_, and I quite expected to see a team of belled mules and hear -the gay castanet click of the fandango. Instead of which, out came Mr. -Thatcher in a dirty old cricket blazer. - -It was towards the middle of June, and the sun was just setting at the -end of a long, warm day. Mr. Thatcher showed us our rooms, and then took -us into the great hall up-stairs, from which a balcony and steps -descended into the garden. It had a very high-pitched roof, and was -decorated in the Moorish fashion (rather like the old London Crystal -Palace; where, by-the-way, I have eaten pop-corn many a time as a boy, -but cannot honestly say I ever enjoyed it), and would hold, I dare say, -a hundred and fifty people; rather senseless, I thought, seeing there -were only seven or eight bedrooms, but possibly useful for bean-feasts -or a printer’s wayz-goose. - -The broad June sun was setting, as I say, and streamed right in from the -garden, as Forsyth and I ate our dinner. The only other guests were two -brothers named Walton, who spent their lives playing golf. They played -at Nesshaven all day, and wrote accounts of it every night, sitting -close together, smoking and mumbling about the condition of the greens -and their tee-shots, all of which was solemnly committed to paper. - -What they would have done with themselves twenty years ago I can’t -conceive—possibly taken to drink. At any rate, now they only live for -golf, and their thick legs and indifferent play are to be seen wherever -there’s a links and they can get permission to perform. - -Mr. Thatcher’s wife, a doctor’s daughter, had long been dead; but his -old mother, of the astonishing age of ninety-three, was still alive, and -lived with him in the inn. At first she had not at all liked the idea of -settling down almost at the gates of Wharton Park, her old home; but -every year since they came she had expected would be her last, and she -only lived on on sufferance, as it were, in the hope she would soon die. -Sprier old lady, however, I must say, I never saw. She wasn’t in the -least deaf, and never wore glasses, and she was simply the keenest hand -at bezique I ever encountered; at which entertaining game, by-the-way, -if she wasn’t watched, she would cheat outrageously. - -She came of a good old Norfolk family, and actually remembered the -jubilee of George III. in 1810; but when asked for details of that -touching and patriotic event, all she could say was, “Well, I remember -the blacksmith’s children dressed in white.” - -Old Mrs. Thatcher and I were great friends, and used to potter about the -garden together in the early mornings. Farther abroad she never -ventured, except once a year, I believe, when she trotted off to the -church to visit her husband’s grave and see the tablet inside was kept -clean. - -So June and part of July slipped away, diversified, as I have explained, -by a visit to London and some melancholy pleasures sipped in Mabel -Harker’s society, from which I returned to “The French Horn” in a truly -desperate and pitiable frame of mind. Indeed, so low and forlorn was I -at times that Mr. Thatcher, with great sympathy, once or twice fetched -me out a bottle of old port (and not bad tipple, either, for a country -inn), which we drank together, while he related to me at some length the -misfortunes of his life. - -Chief among them was the loss of his ancestral home, Wharton Park. The -Thatchers had lived there since the first of them, a Lord Mayor of the -time of Henry VIII., had built the house in the year 1543—of which -original structure only the stables, in an extremely ramshackle -condition, remained. A drunken Thatcher with a bedroom candle had burned -the rest, towards the end of the last century, when the present house -was built by my father-in-law’s grandfather; a bad man, apparently, -since though he had a wife and children established in Portman Square, -he kept a mistress in one of the wings of Wharton Park, where one night -she went suddenly raving mad (treading on her long boa and believing it -a serpent come from the lower regions to claim and devour her), and -filled the air with her screechings till, a year later, she died. - -Mr. Thatcher’s father had mortgaged the place heavily to Mr. Crage, an -attorney and moneylender of Clement’s Inn, and soon after his death, in -1850, the mortgage was foreclosed, and Mr. Crage took possession and had -lived there with great disrepute ever since. He was a very vile old man, -who had killed his wife with ill-treatment and turned his daughters -out-of-doors; no female domestic servant was safe from his dreadful -advances, and at last he was left with no one to serve him but the -gardener and his wife, with whom, especially when they all got drunk -together on gin-and-water in the kitchen, he was as often as not engaged -in hand-to-hand fighting. - -When I first saw him he was well over eighty, and a more -abandoned-looking old villain I never set eyes on; with a gashed, -slobbering mouth, in which the yellow teeth stuck up out of the -under-jaw like an old hound’s; a broken nose, which had once been -hooked, until displaced by a young carpenter in the village, whose -sweetheart he had been rude to; and the most extraordinary, bushy, black -eyebrows. His hand shook so he always cut himself shaving, and his chin -was always dabbled with dry blood. In short, a more malignant and gaunt -personality I never saw, as I first did quite close, leaning on a gate -and mumbling to himself, dressed in a tight body-coat, gaiters, and a -dull, square, black hat, like a horse-coper’s. - -I remember he called out to me over the gate in a rasping voice, “Hi, -there, you young Cockney! what’s the time?” Whereupon I haughtily -replied it was time he thought of his latter end and behaved himself. At -which he fell to cursing and shaking his stick, and making sham, -impotent efforts to get over the gate. For they told me he was mortally -afraid of dying, as all bad (and, for the matter of that, many good) men -are. He knew, of course, Mr. Thatcher was the rightful owner of the -place, and he would sometimes come down to “The French Horn” and jeer -him about it, offering it for £30,000, which, he dared say, Mr. Thatcher -had in the house. And more than once, curse his senile impudence! Mr. -Thatcher told me he had offered to marry Lucy!—but this is really too -horrible a subject to be dwelt on. - -In short, I loathed the old wretch so heartily that it was perhaps the -happiest moment of my life (with the exception of that blessed February -morning when I stood at the altar of Nesshaven church with Lucy and -heard her sweet and tremulous “I will”) when, after our triumphant -return from Monte Carlo, Mr. Thatcher and I went up to Wharton Park with -the £30,000 in notes and gold and paid the old ruffian out over the -coarse kitchen-table, almost the only furniture of the grand -drawing-room, where there were still the old yellow silk hangings—as -will all come in its place, later on. - -Lucy Thatcher at this time, in June and July, was staying with her aunt, -Miss Young, her mother’s sister, who kept a girls’ school in the -Ladbroke Grove Road, out at Notting Hill. She taught some of the younger -children and made herself generally useful, taking them out walks in -Kensington Gardens; for Mr. Thatcher wisely thought her too beautiful to -be always at “The French Horn,” since bicyclists and golfers are -somewhat apt to be too boldly attentive to the lovely faces they meet -with on their roundabouts. Nor can I altogether blame them. So, as I -have said, I never saw her till my return in September, when her beauty -and modesty—which in my judgment are synonymous—at once captured me, -and always will hold me captive till I die. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - I CONTINUE TO KEEP OUT OF MABEL HARKER’S WAY AND GO TO GORING— - RETURN TO “THE FRENCH HORN”—WANDERINGS WITH LUCY—MR. CRAGE - REHEARSES HIS OWN FUNERAL - - -AS August approached I began to feel apprehensive as to the right course -to pursue with regard to Mabel Harker, my _fiancée_. I don’t want to say -anything unkind about her here in print, but, the fact is, the -engagement had been an unfortunate one from the first. Let me only -observe that I really honestly think if a man is to choose between -behaving like a brute (as people say you do when you break off an -engagement) and making himself miserable for life (as I most certainly -should if I had married Mabel), he had much better select the former -course. At any rate, I know now that if I had had the brutality, or the -courage, to tell Mabel point-blank at first that I was very sorry, but I -didn’t care for her sufficiently to marry her, I should have spared -myself a vast deal of annoyance and self-reproach, which now I -understand to have been altogether unnecessary; seeing, I know now very -well, she didn’t really care for me in the least, but simply regarded me -as a lay-figure (with eight hundred a year) to stand beside her at the -altar rails and mechanically say “_I will_” and “_I do_” and the rest of -it. - -After her visit to her sister’s in the Regent’s Park, in July, she had -gone back to Folkestone, and I was in some tremor whether she might not -desire me to spend the holiday months with them there; but, most -fortunately, Mrs. Harker, her aunt, received a very good offer for her -house in Clifton Gardens, which she determined to take, and go abroad to -Switzerland, where she and Mabel could live in a _pension_ and save -quite three-fourths of the home rent. - -Mabel wanted me to join them, but I managed to get out of it, and very -lucky I did; for it was at that very _pension_ at Lucerne she met -Charles Byles, the architect, her present husband, and a great ass he -must have looked with that small face of his and huge mustache, and a -rope round him for going up Pilatus; besides being slightly bandy. - -As for me, I went off down to my sister’s, Mrs. Rivers, married to the -publisher, who had taken a little house on the river at Taplow, where I -spent the end of August and early part of September with great content, -more especially in the middle of the week, when my precious -brother-in-law (a dull fellow and a prig) was away doing his publishing -in town. - -I left Taplow the second week in September, and something gentle, yet -persuasive and strong, seeming to call me back to “The French Horn,” off -I went there; and there, as I have already mentioned, I met and fell -madly in love with Lucy Thatcher at first sight, a passion deepening to -a tempest before October dawned. - -Now, as I am telling the truth in this work, and not writing a romance, -I have to admit that the month I had of Lucy’s dear companionship, -before I knew I was free, was by no means spent idly, and that I made -all the running with her of which my amorous wits are capable, just as -though I had been really unappropriated. - -Nor was this altogether wrong, for I felt quite sure Providence would -stand my good friend, as always in such affairs before, and direct Mabel -Harker’s hopes into another, sounder matrimonial channel than mine. Even -if Providence had not, but had stood aloof and fought shy, I should then -most certainly have deemed it necessary to play the part myself, seeing -how deeply and truly my heart was now _for the first time_ engaged. - -Dear! dear! at what amazing speed that happy month flew past; how little -there seems I can say about it now. Isn’t it strange that Time, whom -poets prefigure as an ancient person with anchylosed joints, further -encumbered, notwithstanding his great age, with a scythe and an enormous -hour-glass, is yet on occasion capable of showing the panting hurry of a -sprinter? - -With Lucy I was alone almost all the time, for Mr. Thatcher, very -properly, wouldn’t allow her to help in the bar—a department he -gracefully presided over himself in his dirty blazer, grasping the -handle of the beer engine, and sometimes, on Saturday nights mostly, -slightly shaken with a gentlemanly but unmistakable attack of hiccoughs. -So dear Lucy had nothing much to do but go bathing and help her -grandmother in the garden, gathering the plums and raking down the -ripening apples. And though there were days when, womanlike, she shunned -me and kept out of my way (so as not to make herself too cheap), yet she -was very frank and simple and trusting in giving me at other times her -constant companionship; and as on the days when she desired to be more -alone I always respected her wish and kept away (just turning at the -fourth hole on the links to watch her light, firm figure crossing down -to her bathing-tent on the shore, and waving the putter at her), she -was, as she has since told me, pleased at my delicacy and perception, -and showed her pleasure when we again met by the extraordinary -brightness of her eyes and the sweet readiness of her smile. - -It was harvest-time, and though Mr. Thatcher had no acreage of his own, -still there was plenty of it round him under cultivation, and a fine -time it was for the Tap, for which there was a separate entrance, with a -painted hand pointing to it for those who couldn’t read. While my -sweetheart and I strolled about the lanes by day, gathering blackberries -and plucking at the wisps of corn caught by the high hedges and low -branches from the passing wagons, on warm evenings we would sit alone in -the garden, listening to the hearty rustic revelry of premature -harvest-homes from the inn, and, when it was very still, hearing the -faint, mysterious rustle of the waves on the long, sandy shore, as -though the lulling sea were whispering to the land, “Hush! hush! now go -to sleep like a good child. You’ve had a long day and must be -tired—_hush!_” - -It was at this time, as I very well remember, we strolled up late one -afternoon to Wharton Park, her old ancestral home, and a very curious -and unedifying sight we witnessed there. We went in at the empty lodge -gates, and had a look in first at the church in the Park grounds, of -which Mr. Thatcher kept the key in the bar; for there was no rectory, -and the parson came over only on Sundays from Nesshaven for an afternoon -service—at six in summer and at three in winter. - -The ancient, bird-haunted edifice was pretty full of deceased -Thatchers—all of them, in fact, I believe, lie there, except the Lord -Mayor of Henry VIII.’s reign, who gets what rest he can in a church off -Cornhill, and Mr. Thatcher’s grandfather, who is buried out at Florence; -and where there aren’t tablets and tombs of old-time, worthy Thatchers, -there are kindly memorials to their servants, house-keepers, and -bailiffs for forty years and so on; which when Lucy and I had duly and -reverently inspected and sighed over, we had a peep in at the vestry, -where hung the parson’s crisp surplice behind a piece of religious -arras, and a framed and glazed view of Wharton in 1750 (the mansion that -was burned), with pompous gentlemen in three-cornered hats giving their -hands to ladies in immense hoops up the centre path; and a tattered, -begrimed notice of the reign of Queen Anne, affording the clergy -instructions for sending parishioners up to St. James’s to be touched -for the king’s evil. - -And when we had mourned over these things, and inspected the fragment of -the holy-water scoop, and the blunt, whitewashed squint, and the broken -place where once the mass-priests sat, and the Wharton pew, with an icy -cold stove in it and a little frame of dingy red curtain hung round on -rods and rings, so that the hinds shouldn’t see when the quality -Thatchers fell asleep—not in the Lord!—on drowsy summer Sunday -afternoons—as, alas! they haven’t had the opportunity of doing for many -years past now; then we went on up to the house, leaving the drive, -however, and dodging across the fields to the _ha-ha_, for fear of -meeting that old villain Crage. - -We got up through a small spinney to the end of the ha-ha that faces the -house, and, as we were quite close, saw with our own eyes a most strange -and monstrous sight—a sight so strange that many readers would scarcely -credit it, had they not noticed that truth and not fiction is my object. - -Hidden in the spinney, we were not more than forty yards from the house, -which is long and low and not particularly beautiful—in fact, decidedly -Gothic and unsightly. In front of it, lengthways and pretty broad, runs -a gravel path, and up and down that broad gravel path was stamping and -swearing old Mr. Crage; stamping and swearing and shaking his stick at -six men (laborers of his, Lucy said, and all men she knew) who were -actually carrying a coffin, a smart, brand-new coffin with dandy silver -handles, on their shoulders. - -The old wretch was positively rehearsing his own funeral! We could very -plainly hear him cursing the men for walking too fast and jolting him, -and so on; as though, once the miserable old hunks were cold, it -mattered how anybody carried him. - -Then he made them rest the coffin on one end while he showed them -himself the pace they should travel and the demeanor they ought to -exhibit; and truly, if it hadn’t been scandalous and horrible it would -have been ludicrous to see the way the blaspheming old scamp trailed the -path before them, dragging one foot along after another, with head and -shoulders bent in sham sorrow and reverence; trying, in short, to -play-act the distressed, grief-stricken mourner, touched to the quick at -his own loss. - -When he had finished his parade, he shook his stick at the six men, and -cursed them, raving and foaming, for damned scoundrels and thieves and -disrespectful ruffians, who would be glad to see him dead, and would -whistle and dance while carrying him off, instead of doing it all in the -proper depressed manner he had just shown them; while the men stood and -looked at him stupidly and sullenly, and, I’ve no doubt, would have -liked to jump on him there and then and beat him to a pulp, finishing -once and for all with so dreadful a mockery by making it real. - -Dear Lucy and I stole away, quite shocked and silent. Afterwards she -told me old Crage had had the coffin a long time, and rehearsed the -funeral once before; but that lately, having by threats of an action -screwed twenty pounds out of his daughter for money he had lent her (on -which, by-the-way, Miss Crage had promptly run away and got married), he -had had the silver handles added; and, now that the coffin was, in his -estimation, quite perfect, had doubtless gone through the unholy -ceremony again, so that when the hour struck there might be no excuse -for a hitch. - -So Lucy and I stole away back to “The French Horn” in shocked silence. -Pleasant and human it sounded, when we got on the road again, to hear a -carter singing as he rattled homeward in his empty wagon. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - I AM FREE OF MABEL HARKER—RETURN TO “THE FRENCH HORN”—DISASTROUS - INTERFERENCE OF HAROLD FORSYTH IN MY AFFAIRS - - -IT was the 13th of October, as I very well remember, that, shortly after -Mabel’s return to England from Switzerland, she wrote me an incoherent -epistle, begging me to come up to town and see her at once, for that she -was the most miserable of girls and had sad news for me, signed “your -heartbroken Mabel.” I must say I was glad to hear it, and greatly looked -forward to the sad news; since I very well knew it could only be that -another wooer had stepped up on to the Regent’s Park _tapis_, and one a -good deal more determined to win her than I. Directly I got there and -found the fire wasn’t lit in the drawing-room, though it was horribly -cold, I knew I was right, and the interview was meant to be brief and -painful. - -It was the same room, by-the-way (though the fire had been lit for us -then!) in which I had made my unfortunate declaration in the early -spring, soon after Easter—a declaration precipitated by Mabel, who -began playing the piano, but soon broke down over it and wept, alleging -me to be the cause of her unhappiness; which, being uncommon -tender-hearted where the sex are concerned, completely bowled me over -and drove me to propose. - -When she came in this time, with melancholy mouth but unmistakably -triumphant eyes, she at once told me the sad news; to which I listened -with as gloomy a face as I could, demanding in hoarse tones the name of -my successful rival. I could scarcely contain my mirth when I heard it -was Byles, the man she had so often laughed at in her letters from -Lucerne, as girls not infrequently do at the man they are one day -destined to marry. But I must say I think she might at any rate have -_offered_ to send me my presents back, for there are many of them -(particularly a diamond and sapphire ring—cost me eighteen pounds) I -should have liked to have given Lucy. I make no manner of doubt that if -it had been garnets and carnelian, I should have had it back at once in -a registered letter. - -Directly our painful interview was over, I hurried back to Nesshaven and -“The French Horn,” feeling happier than I had done for months past, a -free man, and my heart beating so rapturously I believe an old lady in -the carriage with me heard it, she looked so frightened at my -restlessness. - -But at “The French Horn” a blow awaited me, from which, when I think of -it, I yet reel; for judge of my stupor when, on my gay return, I was -met, not by Lucy, towards whom I was so impetuously rushing to tell all, -but by the whiskified thunders of Mr. Thatcher, who took me at once into -the bar-parlor, and proceeded there and then to claw me about the ears -with the angry rhetoric of a theatrically outraged heavy father. - -Of course he was quite right; but then I was myself _now_ quite right, -too; and when he talked in real Adelphi fashion about stealing -affections and repaying him in this way, I was—thank Heaven!—in a -position to be angry too, and give him as good as he gave me. - -So I let him fume on till he ran himself down, when I temperately -explained what my position really was, and how I was altogether free; -and how, above all, that if Lucy cared for me, as I very well knew she -did, I was going to marry her at once, and (if not precisely in the -immediate neighborhood of “The French Horn”) settle down and live -happily ever after. - -Whereupon Mr. Thatcher’s easily corrugated brow began as easily to -clear, and he steadied himself and seized and shook me by the wrong -hand. So we sat down and had a cigar and a split whiskey-and-soda, and -he was good enough to say he had known all along (from the way I had -always paid my bill, I suppose) that he could trust me implicitly, and -all would come right in the end. - -But in the meantime he had shipped off dear Lucy to her aunt’s school in -the Ladbroke Grove Road, where she had gone back—very tearfully, poor -child, at the news of my supposed treachery—to her altogether -uncongenial employment with the younger children. - -By judicious pumping I discovered it was Harold Forsyth who had blown -upon me and “queered my pitch,” as showmen say, having come over from -Colchester to play golf, and been seized upon by the watchful Thatcher, -who of course had noticed my unremitting attentions to his daughter. -Upon which Harold, either because he fancied it his duty (old friends -are often very inconsiderate) or from sheer stupidity, had let slip the -disastrous news of my engagement to another lady; though, as a matter of -fact, at the very moment of their conversation it was off and I was -free. - -Old Mrs. Thatcher took the situation in at a glance, and, either from a -natural desire to see her granddaughter properly settled or from pure -friendship for me, who had always been attentive to her, and once took a -bee out of her hair (that animal being almost the only living thing she -really feared), immediately suggested I should go off at once to the -Ladbroke Grove Road, provided with a letter to the aunt from Mr. -Thatcher, in which everything was explained, and I was given authority -to interview and settle matters with my dear sweetheart. So, next -morning early, off I drove to Nesshaven Station in the milk cart, gay as -a lark—that chorister of the poor and the cheerful well-to-do—and by -twelve o’clock was rattling in a cab down the Ladbroke Grove Road. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - ANGLESEY LODGE—MY INTERVIEW WITH LUCY IN KENSINGTON GARDENS—NOT - SO SATISFACTORY AS I COULD DESIRE - - -THERE was a piano-organ playing in front of Anglesey Lodge as I drove -up; it was playing the old “Les Roses” waltz, and quite dramatic and -affecting the music sounded as I impatiently waited in the drawing-room, -hung with Doré’s works to impress parents, and with a model of the Taj -under glass, done in soapstone, and sent by some girl-pupil, I imagine, -who had married and gone out to India. - -The aunt soon joined me, smiling, with Mr. Thatcher’s open letter in her -hand, and a very handsome woman she must have been—indeed, still -was—with traces, on a florid scale, of Lucy’s simple and yet delicate -beauty. - -She was so friendly, and made herself so fascinating, it was fully half -an hour before I could get away. She told me Lucy was out with some of -the pupils, and that, if I went to Kensington Gardens and walked down -the Broad Walk, I should be sure to see them. Further, if we made it up -(as we surely should, she graciously added), she begged me to come back -to lunch at half-past one; though she must ask me not to walk home with -the young ladies through the streets for fear of adverse neighborly -comments, and upsetting them for the afternoon studies. - -I was soon at the entrance to the gardens in the Bayswater Road, where -the keeper’s lodge is, with its glass bottles of sweets and half-penny -rock-buns; and, true enough, there was dear Lucy, sitting on one of the -seats facing the walk, reading to one of the little girls, while the -other bigger ones, perhaps half a dozen of them, were playing rounders -in French, among the trees and the dead leaves. - -“_Combien de rounders avez-vous?_” cried one of them as I came up; and -“_Courrez, Maud, courrez!_” cried another, clapping her hands, as the -tennis-ball in its torn cover whizzed close by me, whacked by a young -person with a racquet, who was soon off on her round in a short frock -but with uncommonly long legs. - -I came quite close behind Lucy, taking care not to make the leaves -rustle. She was reading Bonnechose’s _History of France_ aloud, -something about the wars of the Fronde and Cardinal Richelieu. - -“‘_The conduct of the cardinal at this juncture_—’” she was saying with -great seriousness, when the little girl beside her, who naturally wasn’t -attending, looked up and saw me. I gave her a friendly smile, and after -that moment’s careful scrutiny which females of all ages indulge in, she -smiled back. The next moment Lucy looked at her and then round up at me, -giving a soft, frightened “Hah!” and then going as white as a sheet. - -Really, it is quite impossible to say at what age a comprehension of -love, its torments and its joys, arises in the fresh girlish breast. The -pretty creature seated at Lucy’s side couldn’t have been more than -eleven, but she saw at once I loved her teacher and desired to be alone -with her; so she immediately rose, staid and composed as a woman, shook -her long hair, and, with complete unconsciousness, strolled off and -joined the other older girls; while they, not to be behindhand in -delicacy, soon stopped their somewhat noisy game, and, forming a -sympathetic group at some little distance under an elm, stood there -talking in whispers with their backs to us; pretending to be immensely -interested and absorbed in the ’buses rumbling down the Bayswater Road. - -But for her little frightened cry, Lucy received me in silence, and -didn’t even give me her hand. She sat there on the seat—cut and scarred -with other, happier lovers’ records—with her head slightly turned away -from me; perfectly composed, apparently, after the first shock and -natural agitation of seeing me again so suddenly were over. - -I asked her how she was and how long she had been in town; she said she -was quite well, and had been there since the day before yesterday. - -Then she said, calmly, “Can you tell me the time, please?” and on my -replying it was a quarter to one, murmured she must be going home to -dinner, and made as if she would rise. - -I stopped her with, “Please, Lucy, let me speak to you first.” So she -remained perfectly still, though with her pretty head still turned away -from me. - -Eloquent, or, at all events, talkative, as I generally am with the sex, -I admit I couldn’t for the life of me tell how to begin. - -At last I said I was afraid she must think badly of me, and then waited -of course for her contradiction; but as it never came, and she never -made a sign, I went on to say I shouldn’t dare approach her were it not -I was a free man; that my affair with—with the other lady was finally -at an end, and so I came to her first and at once with my whole heart. -As I spoke, I watched her closely, if only in the hope I might detect -some slight twitching of her small ungloved hands, or some involuntary -twittering of her eyes or lips, when I told her I was free; but she sat -so like an antique, or, for the matter of that, a modern statue, I began -to grow frightened, since I know very well how implacable even the -tenderest of women can sometimes be when it suits them. - -“Oh, Lucy dear!” I stammered, “d-don’t be hard on me. I loved you the -moment I saw you. I never really loved the other one. Since the day I -first set eyes on you, I have never given any other woman a serious -thought. You can’t be so unkind as to break my life in pieces, merely -because I’ve been careless, merely because I spoke to you before I was -quite sure I was free? Why, I was free of her directly I saw you, and if -she hadn’t released me of her own accord, as she has done—Oh, Lucy! -don’t leave me in this dreadful suspense! Do, my dear girl, say -something kind to me, for mercy’s sake!” - -“I don’t feel kindly towards you, Mr. Blacker,” Lucy answered, cold and -stern, “and I can’t pretend. I know quite well what’s happened. You -thought I was only an innkeeper’s daughter—” - -“Oh, Lucy!” - -“And that so long as you were staying there you might as well amuse -yourself.” - -“Love is no amusement, Lucy—it’s a most fearful trial.” - -“But did you ever, when you were daring to make love to me,” she said, -suddenly turning on me with amazing fierceness, “even cease writing love -letters to her? Tell me that, Mr. Vincent Blacker!” - -I groaned; for the truth is I had written more warmly to Mabel Harker -all that delightful month at “The French Horn” than usual; from the -simple fact that, myself feeling happier, I naturally wished Mabel to -share, in a sense, in my joy. So what could I do but groan? - -“If we hadn’t found out quite by accident you were engaged,” Lucy went -on, “should we have ever found it out from you? Were you making any -effort of any sort to free yourself? You were acting an untruth to me -all that time. How can I tell you are not acting an untruth to me now?” - -“I wasn’t in the least acting an untruth when I said I loved you. How -can you say such a thing, Lucy dear?” - -“You mustn’t call me by my Christian name,” she answered, pale, and -setting her lips tight; and then she was silent again. - -“You are very hard on me,” I cried, after a pause, “and I hope you will -never live to regret it. What could a man do differently, situate so -unfortunately as I was?” - -“You should have been perfectly honest and frank. At least, you should -have made sure you were off with the old love before you tried to be on -with the new.” - -“But you talk as if these things always lay within our power! I didn’t -purposely fall in love with you—I simply couldn’t help myself! And into -the other affair I had been more or less entrapped.” - -“Yes,” she replied, with some scorn, “and three months hence you will be -saying exactly the same thing to the next girl.” - -“I shall never speak to any one again,” I answered, solemnly and truly, -“as I am speaking now to you. You can believe me or not, as you please, -but I can never think of any one as I think of you, and I never have. If -you will only think of me kindly, and try to make excuses for me; if you -will only consult your own heart a little—” - -“I mustn’t allow myself to be turned round by a few soft speeches,” said -Lucy, looking almost frightened and rising before I could prevent her. -“You have hurt me very much, and I don’t know that my feelings will ever -alter, or that I should allow them to.” - -“But you will let me see you again?” I humbly entreated. - -“I don’t know. Certainly not for some little time.” - -“I may write to you?” - -“No, certainly not!” - -“This is all very poor comfort, Lucy,” I groaned, “after the journey I -have taken on purpose to see you and make it all right.” - -“What other comfort do you deserve, Mr. Blacker?” she asked me, -haughtily, and immediately moved away from the seat towards her young -ladies. - -“I will come down at Christmas, if I may,” I said, tenderly and humbly; -but she never replied, and the next moment was marshalling the girls for -walking home. - -They walked to the gate in the Bayswater Road in a group, and formed up -two and two as they got outside. - -Lucy never turned her head once, but nearly every young lady treated -herself to a look behind; when they might have seen me plunged down in -melancholy on the seat, digging a morose pattern into the Broad Walk -with the point of my stick. - -I drawled back unhappily across the Gardens and down the empty Row to -Hyde Park Corner, along Piccadilly, and to the club. - -Christmas! and this was only October! - -Sympathetic readers (and I desire no others) can have no conception what -I suffered during the next few days. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - EARLY DIFFICULTIES—I FAIL TO PERSUADE THE HONORABLE EDGAR - FANSHAWE, THE REVEREND PERCY BLYTH, AND MR. PARKER WHITE, M. P., - TO JOIN OUR MONTE CARLO PARTY - - -LUCY declares I have written enough about her, and now had better get on -to the Monte Carlo part—who went with me, and why they went, and so on. - -I dare say she’s right; for though we neither of us know anything -whatever about writing, she says she represents the average reader, and, -having been told (as well as I could do it) something about “The French -Horn” and my love-affair there, is, as an average reader, growing -anxious to learn how I got the party together for so apparently -hazardous, not to say hopeless, an enterprise. - -I must just mention, however, that, after my sad interview with her in -Kensington Gardens, I at once wrote to Mr. Thatcher and told him exactly -what had occurred, informing him of my intention to come down at -Christmas and try and settle matters with his daughter. At the same time -I begged him to send me up the clothes and portmanteaus I had left -behind me at “The French Horn.” They arrived, accompanied by a scrawl -from Mr. Thatcher, urging me to be a man and bear up and all would come -right, and enclosing a rather larger bill than I fancied I owed, but -which I thought it politic to pay without protest of any kind. - -Even the old lady, his mother, sent me a line, in a very upright fist, -kindly informing me “brighter days were in store.” A simple prophecy, -that long has ceased to interest me; since I have invariably had it from -the innumerable fortunetellers, by cards and tea-leaves and the crystal, -whom for years past I have rather foolishly been in the habit of -consulting, but never derived any real benefit from. - -As for my great idea to sack Monte Carlo, it came to me one morning -(quite unexpectedly, as I have said) when I was lying in bed, trying to -summon up resolution to rise for another dull and irksome day. It was -still a long time off Christmas, and life was lying on me with extreme -heaviness; for, as I think I have explained, I am in the militia, and -when once my month’s training is over have nothing to do with myself -except live on my eight hundred a year and amuse myself as best I can; -and my idleness was rendered further indigestible at this period by the -unhappy state of my relations with dear Lucy, whom I could neither see -nor write to. - -But the idea that I should get a small, resolute party together, and -raid the tables at Monte Carlo, brought a new interest into my life; and -after making a few quiet and judicious inquiries (for I had never been -there), I determined to set about the affair in earnest and see if I -could get any one to join me. - -My first efforts in that direction, as is generally the case with -anything new and startling, were not at all successful; but the more -opposition and ridicule I met with, the more obstinate and determined I -became. As for the morality of the affair, that, as I have said, has -never troubled me from first to last. Does any one think of calling the -police immoral when they go and raid a silver gambling-hell in Soho? For -the life of me I have never been able to see the difference between us, -except that _in our case_ there was needed a greater nerve and address. - -Now my sister, Mrs. Rivers, the wife of the publisher, lives in Medworth -Square, S. W., and, on considering her intimates, I made up my mind to -approach the Honorable Edgar Fanshawe first. He has a brother in the -Foreign Office, and relations scattered about everywhere in government -employ, so I decided he would be a good man to have with us in case the -affair proved a _fiasco_ and we all got into trouble, a chance that -naturally had to be provided for. - -Fanshawe, I should explain, was at one time in the Guards, but now -writes the most dreadfully dull historical novels, which my -brother-in-law publishes, and no one that I have ever met reads. Every -autumn, sure as fate, among the firm’s list of new books you see -announced, _Something or Other, a Tale of the Young Pretender_; or, -_Something or Other Else, an Episode of the Reign of Terror_; with -quotations from the _Scots Herald_, “this enthralling story”; or, from -the _Dissenters’ Times_, “no more powerful and picturesque romance has -at present issued,” etc. Or _The Leeds Commercial Gazette_ would declare -it “the best historical novel since Scott,” which I seem to have heard -before of many other dull works. - -Fanshawe is a purring, mild, genteel, rather elderly person, who listens -to everything you are good enough to say most attentively and politely, -with his head on one side, and never will be parted from his opera-hat. -When I attacked him one night after dinner in Medworth Square he was in -his usual autumnal condition of beatitude at the excellence of the -reviews of his latest historical composition (which, as usual, scarcely -sold), and beamed on me with delighted condescension, stuffing -quantities of raisins. - -“What shall you be doing in January?” I cautiously began. “Would you be -free for a little run over to Monte Carlo?” - -Unfortunately, the Honorable Edgar is the sort of person who, half an -hour after dinner, will undertake to do anything with anybody, and then -write and get out of it immediately after breakfast next morning, when -he’s cold; so I quite expected the reply that Monte Carlo in January -would suit him exactly, and what hotel did I propose to stay at? - -“Now I’ve an idea,” I went on, drawing a little closer. “You’ve been to -Monte Carlo, of course, and know what a quantity of money there is in -the place.” - -“Some of it mine,” smiled Fanshawe. “I beg your pardon for interrupting -you.” - -“Well,” I said, “how would you like to join a little party of us for the -purpose of getting it back?” - -“A syndicate to work a system?” - -“Nothing so unprofitable.” - -“I don’t know of any other way.” - -“My idea,” I went on, sinking my voice, “is shortly this: that half a -dozen of us should join and take a yacht—a fast steam-yacht—” - -“Rather an expensive way of doing it, isn’t it?” objected Fanshawe, in -alarm. He doesn’t mind what he pays to have his books published, but is -otherwise mean. - -“Not when you consider the magnitude of the stakes.” - -“Why, the most you can win, even if you break the bank, is only a -hundred thousand francs!” - -“But consider the number of the tables, to say nothing of the reserve in -the vaults, and the money lying about already staked!” - -The old boy looked puzzled, but nodded his head politely all the same. -“That’s true,” he said, vaguely. - -“The place is not in any sense guarded, as no doubt you remember.” - -“No, I don’t know that I ever saw a soldier about, except one or two, -very bored, on sentry go, up at Monaco. But what has that to do with -it?” - -“Why, half a dozen resolute men with revolvers could clear the whole -place out in five minutes,” I murmured, seductively. “The steam-yacht -lies in the harbor, we collect the money, or as much of it as half a -dozen of us can carry away, and, once on board the lugger—” - -Fanshawe pushed his chair back and stared at me. - -“—We go full-steam ahead to one of the Greek islands, divide the swag, -scuttle the steamer, make our way to the Piræus, inspect the Acropolis, -and come home, _viâ_ Corfu, as Cook’s tourists. Or go to the Holy Land, -eh, by way of completely averting suspicion?” And I winked and nudged -him, nearly falling over in my effort to get at his frail old ribs. - -“My dear friend!” gasped the startled Fanshawe; “why propose such an -elaborate pleasantry? It’s like school-boy’s talk in a dormitory.” - -“I never felt further from my school-days in my life,” I answered with -determination. “The affair is perfectly easy—easier than you think. All -it wants is a little resolution, and the money’s ours.” - -“But it’s simple robbery.” - -“Oh, don’t imagine,” I at once replied, “I propose anything so coarse as -burglary and the melting-pot. No; I say to myself, here is the most -iniquitous establishment in Europe, simply reeking with gold, of which -an enormous surplus remains at the end of the year to be divided, -principally among Semitic Parisians, who lavish it on their miserable -pleasures. Here, on the other hand, are numerous deserving -establishments in London—hospitals and so on—with boards out, closing -their wards and imploring subscriptions. The flow of gold has evidently -got into the wrong channels, as it always will if not sharply looked -after. Be ours the glorious enterprise to divert it anew—” - -“My good friend,” interrupted Fanshawe, “if I thought you serious—” - -“Never was more serious in my life!” - -“But, gracious me, suppose you’re all caught?” - -“Oh, there is a prison up at Monaco, I believe,” I answered, lightly; -“but they tell me prisoners come and go just as they please. That -doesn’t in the least alarm me. Besides, Europe would be on our side—at -all events, the respectable portion of it—and would hail our _coup_ -with rapture, even if it ended in failure. And with your brother in the -Foreign Office, they’d soon have you back. Now what do you say? Will you -make one?” - -“My dear Blacker, you really must be crazy!” - -“At a given signal, when the rooms are fullest, some of us—two would be -enough—drive the gamblers into a corner and make them hold up their -hands. The others loot the tables and the vaults. Then we turn out the -electric light—” - -“Any more wine, Fanshawe?” called out my brother-in-law. - -Fanshawe rose, and I saw at once by the limp way he pulled his waistcoat -down he was no good. - -“Well,” I said, as I followed him into the drawing-room, “if you won’t -join us, you must give me your word not to breathe a syllable of what we -are going to do. It’s an immense idea, and I don’t want any one to get -hold of it first, and find the place gutted by some one else before we -can get a look in.” - -Fanshawe’s only reply was that if I got into trouble he would thank me -not to apply to him to bail me out; so we mutually promised. - -I don’t know that, on the whole, I very much regretted him; he is, after -all, a very muddle-headed, nervous old creature; but my hopes were for a -time a good deal dashed by the refusal of the Reverend Percy Blyth to -join us (much as he approved of the scheme), though I did my best to -tempt him with the offer of new stops for his organ out of the boodle. -He is the clergyman of St. Blaise’s, Medworth Square, and intimate with -all the theatrical set, for whom he holds services at all sorts of odd -hours; the natural result of which is he is on the free list of nearly -every theatre, and has given me many a box. - -Now every school-boy knows how priceless the presence of a parson is to -all human undertakings—on a race-course, for instance, for -thimble-rigging, the three-card trick, and other devices. They call him -the _bonnet_, and if you have any trifling dispute about there being no -pea, or the corner of the card being turned down, you are likely to be -very much astonished to find the clergyman (who, of course, is only a -cove dressed up) take the proprietor’s part and, at a pinch, offer to -fight you, or any other dissatisfied bystander. - -So I naturally thought it would be a good thing for us if we had a real -parson in the party, if only as a most superior _bonnet_, to avert -suspicion; though, if I had only thought a little, I might have known -the idea wouldn’t work, since Blyth couldn’t very well have gone into -the Casino rooms in parson’s rig, and I didn’t really want him for -anything else. - -There was only one other of my sister’s friends I approached on the -subject before I had recourse to my own—Parker White, a bouncing sort -of young man who had just got into the House of Commons, and who, I -thought, might possibly be useful. But, as I cautiously felt my way with -him, he looked so frightened, and talked such balderdash about his -position and filibustering and European complications (complications -with Monaco, if you please, with an army of seventy men!) that I -pretended it was all a joke and turned the conversation. - -To tell the truth, I was not much disappointed in Parker White, since I -know very well how most of those younger men in the House are all gas -and no performance; but, all the same, he was pretty cunning; for, to -put it vulgarly, he lay low and waited, and when talk began to get about -of what we had done, and the Casino Company’s shares fell immediately in -consequence of our success, he bought them up like ripe cherries; and -then, when it was all contradicted by a subsidized press (which made me -wild and drove me to writing this work in self-defence), and the shares -jumped up again, he promptly sold and made a good thing out of it. - -But he has never had the grace to thank me for putting the opportunity -in his way; which is so like those men in the House who speculate on -their information on the sly and then blush to find it fame. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - I INTERVIEW MR. BRENTIN—HIS SYMPATHY AND INTEREST—SIR ANTHONY - HIPKINS AND THE YACHT _AMARANTH_—WE DETERMINE TO LOOK OVER IT - - -I SOON began to see that, out of so conventional an atmosphere as -Medworth Square, I was not likely to gather any great profit to my -scheme; that, if my idea were ever to bear fruit, I must set to work -among my own particular friends in my own way. - -On thinking them over, I determined to approach Mr. Julius C. Brentin -first, an American gentleman whom I knew to be above prejudice, and to -whom I could talk with perfect freedom and security. - -He is a man of about fifty-five, a Californian, of medium height (which, -like many Americans, he always pronounces _heighth_), with black hair, -black eyebrows, and a small black mustache. He carries cigars loose in -every pocket, and he will drink whiskey with you with great good-humor -till the subject of the immortality of the soul crops up, when he -suddenly becomes angry, suspicious, and, finally, totally silent. And -that subject he always introduces himself, though for what reason I -never can conceive, unless it be to quarrel and part. I had met him in -the street a day or two before, when he told me he had recently married -a New York young lady and was staying at the “Victoria”; he begged me to -come and call, and on going there I found him chewing a green cigar in -the smoking-room, his hat on the bridge of his pugnacious nose, and a -glass of Bourbon whiskey beside him. - -He reached me out a hand from the depths of his breeches pocket, as -though he had just found it there and desired to make me a present of -it, and pulled me down by his side. Then he gave me a long, black cigar -out of his waistcoat pocket, worked his own round to the farther corner -of his mouth, while with a solemn gesture he pointed to his trousers, -carefully turned up over small patent-leather boots. - -“Mr. Blacker,” he said, “observe my pants. I am endeavoring to please -Mrs. Brentin; I am striving to be English. You English invariably turn -up the bottom of your pants; it is economical and it is fashionable, -don’t yer know.” And Mr. Brentin winked at me a glittering, beady black -eye. - -I hoped Mrs. Brentin was quite well, and he replied: - -“Mrs. Brentin has gone way off to Holborn, sir; she has organized an -expedition with Mrs. William Chivers, ay socially prominent -Philadelphian, in search of the scene of the labors of your Mrs. Gamp. -From there she goes to the Marshalsea, to discover traces of Little -Dorrit. She knows your Charles Dickens by heart, sir, and she follows -him ayround. This is her first visit to the old country, and I humor her -tastes, which are literary and high-toned, by staying at home and -practising the English accent. I have studied the English accent -theoretically, and I trace it to the predominance among your people of -the waist muscles. We as a nation are deficient in waist muscles. So I -stay at home and exercise them in the refined society of any stranger -who can be indooced to talk with me. It is a labor of some difficulty, -Mr. Blacker, which is gradually driving me to drink; for the strangers -in this hotel are shy, and apt to regard me in the unflattering light of -ay bunco-steerer.” - -Mr. Brentin sighed, drank, and worked his jaw and cigar with the -solemnity of a cow masticating. - -“At other times, sir,” he drawled, “I stroll a block or two, way down -the Strand. I compose my features and endeavor to assoom the vacant -expression of ay hayseed or countryman. I have long desired to be -approached by one of your confidence-trick desperadoes, but my success -so far has been mighty small. They keep away from me, sir, as though I -had the _grippe_. I apprehend, Mr. Blacker, that in my well-meant -efforts to look imbecyle, I only look cunning. If they would only try me -with the green-goods swindle, I should feel my time was not being -altogether misspent. It is plaguy disheartening, and I might as well be -back in Noo York for all the splurge I am making over here. And how have -you been putting in your time, sir, since last year, when we went down -to the Durby—I should say, the Darby—together?” he asked, turning his -head my way. - -On any other day, I have no doubt, I should have given Mr. Brentin a -spirited and somewhat lengthy sketch of my doings during the last year -and a half; but my recent failures in Medworth Square had taught me the -value of time, and I plunged at once into the real object of my visit. - -Directly, in rapid, clear-cut outline, I began to make my scheme clear, -Mr. Brentin turned and looked at me; from the rigid lines of my speaking -countenance he saw at once I was in earnest, and transferred his gaze to -his pants and boots. Once only he gave me another rapid look, an ocular -upper-cut, apparently to satisfy himself of my sincerity, when my mask -spoke so strongly of enthusiasm and determination I felt I had -completely reassured him, and was, in fact, gradually overhauling his -will. As I went on, he began to breathe gustily through his nose and -give a series of small kicks with his varnished toe, indications of -growing ardor for the enterprise and a desire to immediately set about -it that simply enchanted me. - -When I descended to details, it was my turn to watch him. The cigar he -was chewing was a complete indicator of his frame of mind. As I spoke of -half a dozen resolute men with revolvers, it rose to the horizontal; -when I mentioned the steam-yacht and a bolt for the harbor, it drooped -like a trailed stick; while, as I sketched our rapid flight to the Greek -Archipelago and division of the spoil, it stuck up like a peacock’s -tail, a true standard of revolt against the narrowness and timidity of -our modern life. - -The American mind works so quickly I was not at all surprised when Mr. -Brentin suddenly sat up, took the cigar out of his mouth, and hurled it -to the other end of the smoking-room. - -Bravo! for I knew it signified away with prejudice, away with -conventionality, away, above all, with fear! It was a silent, triumphant -“_Jacta est alea, Rubicon transibimus!_” - -Then he turned to me. - -“Mr. Blacker,” he excitedly whispered, “by the particular disposition of -Providence there is a party now lying up-stairs, ay titled gentleman -with an enlarged liver, the fruit of some years spent in your colonial -service, who owns and desires to part with one, at all events, of the -instruments of this enterprise of ours.” - -“The yacht?” - -“The steam-yacht, sir. It is called the _Amaranth_, and lies at this -moment at Ryde.” - -“What is the owner’s name?” - -“He was good enough to introdooce himself to me one afternoon last week -in the parlor as Sir Anthony Hipkins.” - -“Hipkins? That doesn’t sound right.” - -“Sir,” replied Mr. Brentin, “I know very little of your titled -aristocracy, but I admit it did not sound right to me. However, I talked -it over with my friend, the clerk in the bureau, and he assured me that -Hipkins is his real name; that he has been for some years judge on the -Gold Coast, and, by the personal favor of your Queen Victoria, has been -lately elevated to the dignity of knighthood, as some compensation for -his complaint caught in the service. He had the next room to us, but the -midnight groaning-act in which he occasionally indulged was too much for -Mrs. Brentin, and we were forced to shift.” - -“Has he spoken to you about his yacht?” - -“He introdooced himself right here in the parlor, and offered it me for -three thousand pounds.” - -“What did you say?” - -“I presented him to Mrs. Brentin right away, as I invariably do when I -want an inconvenient request refused. She explained that ay steam-yacht -was very little use to her in the journeys she is at present taking -about this city in search of the localities of Charles Dickens. -Whereupon Judge Hipkins, who impressed me as being brainy, immediately -replied, ‘What about Yarmouth and little Em’ly’” - -“What did Mrs. Brentin say to that?” - -“Why, sir, Mrs. Brentin thought three thousand pounds too much to pay -for the privilege of approaching Yarmouth by sea; more especially as she -is a bad sailor, and commences to be sick at her stomach before leaving -the kay-side. Now, however, Mr. Blacker,” he said, rising, “we will, if -you please, go and find Sir Anthony Hipkins, and we will buy his -steam-yacht.” - -The rapidity of the American mind somewhat alarmed me; still, I felt -there was nothing for it but to follow Mr. Brentin. He went straight to -the bureau, and, on inquiring for Sir Anthony, learned he was up-stairs -ill in bed, and that his wife was with him. - -As we went up in the lift, Mr. Brentin winked at me. “It is in our -favor, sir, that the judge is sick; we will be sympathetic, but we will -not offer more than two thousand five hundred pounds.” - -We found No. 246, and Mr. Brentin knocked. A deep groaning voice called -to us to come in. - -“The judge must be real bad if he has sent for his wife,” observed Mr. -Brentin. “On reflection, we will try him with two thousand. Come right -alawng in, sir, and I will present you.” - -I followed him into the bedroom, and there we found Sir Anthony lying, -propped up in bed. He was a long, gaunt man, with a grizzling beard, a -hook-nose, like a tulwar, and a quantity of rough, brown hair turning -gray. By his side was sitting a small, dry, prim old lady, reading from -a book, with gold pince-nez, and notwithstanding our entrance she went -steadily on. - -“Stop that now, Nanny,” Sir Anthony called, fretfully, stretching his -hand out of the bed over the page, “and let us hear what these men -want.” - -“Sir Anthony and Lady Hipkins,” said Mr. Brentin, politely, with a bow -to each, his hat in his hand, “permit me to present to you my young -friend, Mr. Vincent Blacker. He is in want of a yacht, and though he has -his eye on several, would be glad to learn particulars of yours before -concluding.” - -Sir Anthony rolled his bony head on the pillow and groaned. Directly he -withdrew his hand from the page the dry old lady went on with her -reading in a curious, dull, flat voice. Mr. Brentin came to the foot of -the bed, and, leaning his arms on the brass rail, surveyed him -sympathetically. - -“Are you too sick, judge,” he asked, “to discuss business matters with -us?” - -“_And in the eleventh year of Joram, the son of Ahab_—” droned her -ladyship. - -“Go away, Nanny,” shouted Sir Anthony, pointing to the opposite door; -“go into the next room, or go out and take a walk.” - -Mr. Brentin opened the door, and, after putting the Bible on the bed -under Sir Anthony’s big nose, Lady Hipkins left the room quietly, as she -was directed. - -“You’re Mr. Brentin, ain’t you?” asked the judge. “Beg your pardon for -not recognizing you. What did you say your friend’s name was?” - -Mr. Brentin explained that I was Mr. Vincent Blacker, a gentleman of -position and the highest integrity, an officer in Queen Victoria’s -militia. - -“Oh, ah!” said the judge, sitting up in bed and scratching his legs -ruefully. “And he wants to buy a yacht?” - -“He has almost concluded for the purchase of one,” Mr. Brentin replied, -“but I have suggested he should wait—” - -The judge began most unexpectedly to laugh, bending his head between his -knees and stifling his merriment with the counterpane. - -“The judge is better,” observed Mr. Brentin, with a wave of his hand. -“The presence of gentlemen who sympathize with his complaint, and the -likelihood of completing—” - -“It’s too damn ridiculous,” laughed the judge, “to be caught shamming -Abraham like this, by George! Serves me right. You see, Mr. Blacker, -after three years of the Gold Coast I was naturally anxious to see -whether London had greatly altered in my absence, and, consequently, -neglected to go and reside at Norwood with her ladyship. Whereupon her -ladyship wrote, demanding the reason of my lengthy stay in the -metropolis. What was I to do but say I was too ill to move, but that the -minute I was well enough—” Sir Anthony went off laughing again, and I -laughed too. - -“But that midnight groaning-act of yours, judge,” asked the shocked -Brentin, “which so much disturbed and alarmed Mrs. Brentin and myself?” - -“Oh, that was genuine enough,” chuckled Sir Anthony; “but it was more -the thought of having to go to Norwood and attend the concerts at the -Crystal Palace than any actual physical pain.” - -Mr. Brentin’s visage clouded over, and he grew sombre and grave. With -true American chivalry, he could not bear the idea of any one imposing -on a woman, especially an old and plain one. - -“However,” said the judge, “I’m rightly punished by her ladyship’s -descending on me and forcing me to go to bed—not to mention the Book of -Kings, and all my smoke cut off.” - -“This will be ay lesson to you, judge, I trust,” observed Mr. Brentin, -sternly. - -“First and second lesson, by George! And now let’s talk about the yacht. -Your friend wants to buy a yacht?” - -I must say I was a good deal alarmed at Brentin’s coolness and -precipitancy in so readily bringing me forward as purchaser of the -_Amaranth_, and, as I listened to their conversation, quite made up my -mind not to bind myself irrevocably to anything. Three, or even two, -thousand pounds! My idea was doubtless a remarkable one, but I had no -notion of backing it to that amount—at all events, with my own money. -So, with an air of sham gravity, I listened, assuming as solid an air of -wealth as I could on so short a notice, determined at the last moment to -make the necessary fatal objections, which would finally effectually -prevent my being saddled with the thing. - -The judge explained that the yacht had only just been left him by an -uncle who had died very suddenly in the “Albany”; that it was in -complete order, ready victualled and manned; that it had usually been -sent round to the Riviera, and joined there overland by his uncle, who -spent the winter months on board till the advent of spring enabled him -to return to London; that there it was lying at Ryde, awaiting his -orders, and that he had accidentally heard that Captain Evans, in -default of instructions, was actually employing it for excursions on his -own behalf, and taking the Ryde people for trips in the Solent and runs -over to Bournemouth at so much a head when the weather was favorable; -which would all have to be accounted for, added the judge, of course. It -was a large yacht, of about four hundred tons, and, rather than be -bothered with it, the judge would let it go for three thousand pounds. - -“Why don’t you go down and see it,” he asked, “before you decide? And, -if I were you, I wouldn’t let Evans know you are coming; if it’s a fine -day, you are sure to catch him at some of his little games, and that’ll -give you a hold over him.” - -“Three thousand pounds is ay large sum of money, judge,” objected Mr. -Brentin. - -“Not bad; but then it’s a large yacht. Now look here, don’t you haggle -with me,” he went on, irritably, “because I don’t like it. You can -either take it or leave it. I won’t let it go for a penny less. Rather -than that, I’ll go and live on board and spend my time crossing between -Portsmouth and the island. I should be safe from her ladyship, at any -rate, for even coming up in the lift upsets her.” - -We shook his hand and left him composing himself to receive Lady Hipkins -again. She was walking up and down the corridor as we came out, and Mr. -Brentin went up to her and bowed. - -“The judge is real bad, ma’am,” he said, with great gravity, “and should -not be left. He has been explaining to us what a comfort you and your -reading are to him, and how much he looks forward to being taken down to -Norwood and nursed back to his former robust health at your hands. If I -may venture to advise, you should procure a hotel conveyance as soon as -possible and drive him way down home by easy stages. The air in this -city, ma’am, is not good for ay man of the judge’s temperament and -physique.” - -“You have a kind face,” her ladyship answered, in her strange, flat -voice, “and mean kindly, I am sure. But I am extremely deaf, and have -not heard one word you have said. Perhaps you would kindly write it down -for me?” she added, handing him a little book. - -“It’s of no consequence,” bawled Mr. Brentin through his hands. -“Good-afternoon!” - -“Why doesn’t the old shakes carry a trumpet” he said, angrily, as we -went down-stairs. “What’s the matter with a trumpet?” - -In the hall, before leaving him, I hastened to explain I had no thought -of expending three thousand pounds in the purchase of Sir Anthony’s or -any yacht whatsoever; that my contribution to the expedition would be -the idea, and so many of the resolute men as I could lay hands on among -my friends. - -“That will be all right, Mr. Blacker,” Brentin loftily replied; “I will -see after the yacht portion of the affair. It can be made good to me, if -I run short, out of the boodle, and, if it all fails, I have no doubt I -shall have my money value in excitement. In the meantime, sir, let us -waltz in and secure the yacht, to begin with. If you will be free in the -morning, we will descend upon Ryde and Captain Evans. If we find him -going to sea, so much the better; we shall have the opportunity of -testing the sailing capacities of the _Amaranth_. Good-day to you, sir. -I have to thank you for infusing my exhossted veins with a breath of the -true spirit of the forty-niners, who made the State of California what -she is. The holding up of ay Sacramento bank will be nothing to this, -sir, if we don’t spile—that is, spoil—it.” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - WE GO TO RYDE—THE _AMARANTH_—ACCIDENTAL MEETING WITH ARTHUR - MASTERS AND HIS LADY FRIEND—I ENROLL HIM AMONG US PROVISIONALLY - —WE DECIDE TO PURCHASE THE YACHT - - -I DON’T know that it would be altogether necessary to the course of the -narrative of this work to say much about our visit to Ryde and the -_Amaranth_ were it not that, while there, we accidentally encountered -Arthur Masters, an old friend and school-fellow of mine. He was staying -at Seaview, and, being in a mazed condition of lovelornness (for nothing -short of it would have induced him to neglect the harriers of which he -is master in Hertfordshire), had come over for the day with the young -lady, and was spending it there mainly on the pier, being uncommonly -warm and fine for November. - -Mr. Brentin and I had just arrived, and were keeping our weather-eye -open for the _Amaranth_, when we came on Arthur and his young lady -sitting on the pier in the sun. She was introduced to us as Miss Rybot, -and wore a straw-hat and a shirt, just as though it were summer. - -We told them we had come down about a yacht, and, if we could only find -her, were thinking of making a small trial-trip across the Solent. - -As we were talking and persuading them to accompany us, up comes a -sailor in a blue jersey, with _Amaranth_ across it in red, and hands us -a printed bill. - - “_The_ Amaranth, _fast steam-yacht (Captain Evans, Commander), - will sail daily from Hyde pier-head (weather permitting) for a - two hours’ trip in the Solent. Fares: Saloon, half a crown; fore - cabin, one shilling_.” - -“Doing much business?” asked Mr. Brentin carelessly, cocking his eye on -the man. - -“Pretty fair, mister,” the sailor replied, “when the weather’s like -this. There’s a good few aboard already.” - -“Is there?” Mr. Brentin innocently remarked. “All right. Give Captain -Evans Sir Anthony Hipkins’s compliments and say we will come aboard -right away.” - -“Sir Anthony! Lord love you!” ejaculated the sailor, and was off pretty -fast down to the pier-head. - -“We will give the captain a few minutes to clear out his Ryde friends,” -observed Mr. Brentin with a wink, “and then we will pro-ceed.” - -And, sure enough, as we got leisurely down to the pier-head there we -found a boat just landing from the _Amaranth_, half a dozen -excursionists in her with hand-bags and bottles, talking fast among -themselves and giving frightened glances back at the yacht lying in the -tideway two or three hundred yards off. - -“Anything wrong on board, my friend?” drawled Mr. Brentin to a large, -puce-faced man with a red comforter loosely knotted round his throat, as -he clambered up the pier steps. - -“Anythin’ wrong?” echoed the terrified man. “Captain says rust ’as -suddenly got into the b’ilers and ’e’s afraid they’ll bust. That’s -all!—Mother, where’s Emma?” - -“We shall have the ship to ourselves,” remarked Mr. Brentin. “Music -provided, too. Sakes alive!” - -The music was a harp, a cornet, and a stout woman with a large accordion -slung on her back. The cornettist, a battered-looking young man with one -eye, carried a shell for collecting the money, and a camp-stool. - -“Oh, don’t go!” drawled Mr. Brentin; “we have a passion for music on the -waters.” - -“‘Ave you?” cried the sarcastic cornettist. “Well, I ’ope you’ll like -gittin’ blown up, too. Full steam a’ead, mates! Now then, missis, out of -the way!” - -Off they all trooped together as fast as they could down the length of -the pier, giving occasional frightened glances back at the yacht, which -began to blow us a sycophantish salute with her whistle. - -“The only person who will get blown up to-day,” observed Mr. Brentin as -he took his seat in the boat, “will be Captain Evans.” - -All this time Miss Rybot had scarcely said a word. She was rather a -haughty, not to say disagreeable-looking, young lady; tall, slightly -freckled, with a high nose and a quantity of beautiful auburn hair. She -appeared to take the situation with the utmost indifference, and not in -the least to care whether she stayed on shore or went to sea and never -came back. Altogether the sort of young lady who might lead an adorer -rather a dance. - -“Get under way at once, if you please, Captain Evans,” said Mr. Brentin, -sternly, as we came on board and found the captain waiting for us, -exceedingly alarmed, his cap in his hand. - -“Aye, aye, sir!” bleated the captain. “Where to?” - -“Anywhere where we can give the yacht’s speed a fair trial. What’s the -matter with our going round the island?” - -“There’s nothing the matter with it, sir, that I am aware of,” answered -the startled Evans. - -“Then make it so! And then come and give me a few moments’ conversation -in the saloon. For the use of which,” Mr. Brentin gravely added, “I do -not propose to pay half a dollar.” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” And off we bustled towards Spithead. - -“Where will you sit, Miss Rybot?” Masters asked, humbly. - -“Anywhere out of the wind,” was the indifferent answer; “and be good -enough, please, to leave me to myself for a little. I wish to collect my -thoughts, and you have, no doubt, a good deal to talk over with your -friend.” - -The unfortunate Masters found her a sheltered seat (which she soon left -and selected another), wrapped her legs in a rug (which she promptly -threw off), and then came and sat himself down by me. - -“She’s an orphan,” he whispered, biting his nails, “and has to teach. I -met her at Seaview. She has forty pounds a year of her own, and has one -little nasty pupil, whom she loathes. She’s a strict Roman Catholic, and -talks of entering a convent, but she’s a good deal in debt, and wants to -pay off her debts first. She talks of going to Monte Carlo and winning -enough at the tables to pay her debts, and then becoming a Poor Clare.” - -“A Poor Clare?” - -“They’re a strictly enclosed order,” he groaned; “they keep a perpetual -fast, have no beds, and go barefooted. They spend all their time in -prayer and meditation, and live on alms.” - -“Then they don’t marry, I suppose?” - -“Don’t I tell you they’re strictly enclosed?” - -“How long have you known her?” - -“About a month. I met her at a friend’s house at Seaview.” - -“Have you said anything to her yet?” - -“Nothing very definite. I was going to to-day. But I don’t believe it -will be any use,” he sighed; “she seems bent on the convent.” - -“Do you think she suspects your attachment?” - -“Oh, she must by this time. I’ve given up several days’ golf for her. -But she’s so confoundedly independent and thinks so badly of men. She -fancies they’re all after her because she’s poor.” - -“Extraordinary young person!” - -“Well, she says that if a man knows a girl’s poor he always believes -she’s only too ready to marry him, just to escape from teaching and -secure a comfortable home. That’s the sort of girl she is; she swears -she won’t be purchased. What am I to do? What do you advise?” - -I gave him plenty of sound advice, but could see he wasn’t attending to -me. At last he roused himself to ask about my affairs. He had heard the -Mabel Harker entanglement was over, and naturally supposed there was -some one else. So off I went about Lucy and “The French Horn,” -describing her minutely, and how unhappy I was, and how I was going down -there at Christmas to make it all up, and that in the meantime— - -“Then you would speak to her to-day and get some definite answer out of -her?” he asked, biting his nails. - -“How can I to-day, when she’s miles away in the Ladbroke Grove Road?” - -Masters stared, and I saw, of course, he hadn’t been attending and was -only thinking of himself. - -With his mind in so confused and despondent a condition, I judged the -opportunity excellent to try and get him to join us; so, after a few -cautious preliminaries, I drew closer and let him into the whole secret -of our visit to Ryde and trial of the yacht, giving him to understand -that Mr. Brentin was already one of the heads of the enterprise, and -that, if I couldn’t get the necessary half-dozen resolute Englishmen, he -would easily fill their places with the same number of ditto Americans, -from the hotels in Northumberland Avenue; which would cause me some -national shame, I said, and give me ground for fearing the ancient -spirit of the country was really gone and dribbled off into mere -stock-jobbing, as so many people assert—Drake and the Gilberts and -Raleigh having shuffled into Capel Court, touting on curb-stones like -Hamburg peddlers or ready-money pencillers, instead of taking the broad -and daring road of nerve and valor. - -Further, I seductively pointed out there would be no sort of reason why -Miss Rybot shouldn’t be of the party and try legitimately to win enough -at the tables to pay her debts, if her heart was set on it; which would -free her from all obligation towards him and bring about their marriage -in the most natural way; and that if a chaperon were needed, I would -engage to supply one, whether the young lady went to Monte Carlo by land -or by sea. - -As I had already experienced, different men take an announcement of this -high order in different ways—some are shocked, some incredulous; some -see all the difficulties at once, some never see any. As for Arthur -Masters, he was in such a state of depression that I believe if I had -said, “Arthur, we are going North to root up the Pole; will you make -one?” he’d have answered, “Delighted!” and been off to Beale & Inman’s -at once to order the necessary outfit. - -At all events, what he did say was, that if Miss Rybot could be induced -to come, he would certainly come too, and do his best, charging himself -with the duty of feeling his way with her, and promising to let me know -the result as soon as possible. He only stipulated he should not be away -longer than a fortnight in January, because of his harriers, which all -this time were being rather inefficiently hunted by his younger brother -and the dog boy. - -We got back safely to Ryde, thoroughly satisfied with our outing and the -behavior of the _Amaranth_, and caught the six-o’clock train back to -Victoria. - -Mr. Brentin had unfortunately taken a strong dislike to Miss Rybot, and -imitated her cold, haughty “Really! you don’t say so!” and other -stand-offish little speeches, most of the way up. The imitation was not -in the least like, of course, but served to show me the scornful bent of -his mind towards her. When I told him I had secured Masters on the -condition she came too, he grew quite angry, and declared that whatever -route she took he should most certainly take the other, rather than be -frozen in her society. He added, as a further ground of dislike, she was -“pop-eyed”—a somewhat unjust description of her slightly prominent, -large, cold, gray optics. - -As for Captain Evans and his little game of using the yacht for -excursions on his own account, the captain had given the, to me, rather -lame explanation that yachts left idle came to no good, and should, in -short, be taken out for exercise just like horses. Questioned why he -didn’t go out without company, he averred he must have ballast or the -yacht would throb her sides out, and that he thought he might as well -make the ballast pay. Also that he had kept a most careful record of -receipts, and was prepared to account for every farthing to the rightful -owners, whoever they should turn out to be. - -In short, as is so often the case, Captain Evans had managed to prove -quite conclusively that Mr. Brentin was entirely in the wrong in -suspecting his proceedings, and that he was a much injured and wholly -innocent British sailor. - -“That, sir,” said Mr. Brentin, chewing his cigar as we rattled along in -the train, “has happened to me more than once with your lower orders. I -go into my tailor’s with my noo coat bulging at the back, bursting with -ay sense of injury at the misfit considering the price I have paid. And -that tailor keeps cool while I stamp around; he surveys me with ay -pitying smile, he calls up his assistants to admire the fit, and he -proves to me con-clusively that the best part of that coat is precisely -the bulge in the back, and that I shall injure his reputation and ruin -the coat if I have it touched. I enter that store, sir, like ay raging -lion, and I leave it ay teething lamb, my mouth overflowing with -apologies, which the damn tailor will scarcely accept. And I know he -thinks, ‘What infernal fools these Yankees are!’ and is laafing at me in -his sleeve as the bulge and I disappear in the crowd of his other -misfits, and are lost in the night of his paid accounts.” - -That same evening the purchase of the yacht was concluded by Mr. -Brentin, as he wrote me in the morning; directing me, further, to go -right ahead and get the rest of my desperadoes together for a dash on -the tables in January. He added in a postscript that, for his part, he -was going into the city early next morning to buy three fair-sized -cannon, capable of throwing three fair-sized shells; for, in case -anything went wrong and we were captured, it would be just as well to -leave orders with Captain Evans to shell the Casino, and so continue -till we were released and replaced on board the _Amaranth_, with a -guarantee for our expenses, and an undertaking for no further -molestation. - -Bold as I am, owing in some measure to my militia training, the rapidity -of the American mind was again causing me some considerable qualms. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - MY SISTER’S SUSPICIONS—HEROES OF _THE ARGO_—MY SISTER DETERMINES - TO COME WITH US AS CHAPERON TO MISS RYBOT - - -FROM now right on to Christmas I lived in a constant hurry and ferment -of excitement; for not only was I full of every sort of preparation for -our adventure, but every day brought me nearer “The French Horn” and my -seeing dear Lucy once more. By the second week in December I had at last -got our party of six together; to which number, for the present, at any -rate, by Mr. Brentin’s advice, it was determined to limit it. If it were -to be done at all, he said, six could easily do it, and by adding more -we were only increasing the danger of the affair leaking out and the -people at the tables being forewarned and forearmed; neither of which, -though more particularly the latter, did we at all desire. - -Directly the party was complete, I informed Mr. Brentin, and by his -directions gave them all a rendezvous at “The French Horn” for -Christmas. He wished to see us all together he said, and take our -measure; not that he doubted I had chosen the right sort, but rather -that he might consider what post should be assigned to each—who should -lead the van and who should guard the rear, and who, if necessary, -should form the reserve and direct the shell-throwing on the Casino in -case of our capture. - -Meantime I had been so busy running over the country, interviewing and -persuading, and by many being point-blank refused, that I had quite -neglected my sister, Mrs Rivers, and Medworth Square; and whether it was -she suspected something from my continued absence, or something had -leaked out through Parker White, I never could quite discover; but, at -any rate, she one day sent for me to come to tea, and attacked me at -once to know what I was doing and why I never came to the house. - -From very early days my sister Muriel has been my confidante in -everything. My father I scarcely remember, beyond the fact that he -always wore a white waistcoat and smelt of sherry when he kissed me, and -my dear mother died in Jubilee year—a very sad year, notwithstanding -the universal illuminations and rejoicings, for me; so to Muriel I have -always carried all my troubles and griefs, and no better sister for that -sort of work could any man wish for. - -Particularly has she always been the sympathetic recipient of my -love-affairs, with the single exception of my affair with Lucy; for -though Muriel isn’t in the least a snob, yet I don’t suppose she would -have been best pleased to learn of her only brother’s attachment to an -innkeeper’s daughter, of however old a family. So all she knew was that -the Mabel Harker business was at an end, and was naturally wondering how -my vagrant heart was being employed meantime; questions on which -subject, however, I had always managed to shirk. - -Directly we were alone in the Medworth Square morning-room, she opened -fire on me. - -“Frank has been asking what has become of you lately, Vincent,” she -said—“what have you been doing with yourself?” - -“I’ve been seeing a good deal of some Americans at the ‘Victoria,’ and a -good deal in and out of town.” - -“Nothing else?” - -“Nothing of any importance. How’s Mollie?” - -“You can go and see Mollie afterwards. Now, look here, Vincent, you’re -up to something, and I mean to know what it is. I can’t have my only -brother drifting into a scrape, without doing my best to keep him out of -it. You’d better make a clean breast. I shall be sure to find out.” - -I’d half a mind to tell her a downright fib and stop her importunities -that way; but I’d the instinct she knew something of the fact, and was -well aware that, if she weren’t told all, would set her prig of a -husband to work; and then our enterprise would as likely as not be -nipped in the bud by being made public property. - -So, on the whole, I judged it best to tell her exactly what we were -doing and were going to do, taking care only to bind her over to the -completest secrecy, which, once she had given her word, I knew she would -die sooner than break. - -She was half amused, half frightened, and at first wholly incredulous. - -“But who on earth have you found to join you in such a cracked scheme?” -she asked. “I didn’t know you’d so many desperate lunatics among your -acquaintances.” - -“Well, there’s Arthur Masters and Bob Hines, to begin with; you know -them.” - -“I don’t think I know Mr. Hines, do I? Who is he?” - -“Oh, he was at Marlborough with me, and now keeps a boys’ school at -Folkestone.” - -“A nice instructor of youth, to go on an expedition of this kind,” -laughed my sister. - -“That’s exactly what he’s afraid of; he says if he’s caught, it’ll be -the end of his business and he’ll have to break stones.” - -“Then why does he go?” - -“Well, you see, he’s very much in want of a gymnasium for his boys, and -I’ve promised to build him one out of the swag, if he’ll join us.” - -“Tempted and fallen!” said my sister. “Really, Vincent, you’re a -Mephistopheles. And who else?” - -“Harold Forsyth, of the Devon Borderers.” - -“Is that the little man who always looks as if he was bursting out of -his clothes with overeating?” - -“I dare say.” - -“But I thought he was engaged to be married. What’s the young lady -about, to let him go?” - -“Well, the fact is,” said I, “the young lady turns out to be a wrong un, -and is now chasing him about with a writ for breach of promise in her -glove, like a cab-fare.” - -“So he’s off to escape that?” said my sister. “You’re a nice lot. Any -one else?” - -“Teddy Parsons, in my militia.” - -“He’s a poor creature,” my sister observed. “I shouldn’t take him; why, -all he can do is play the banjo and walk about Southport in breeches and -gaiters!” - -“Yes, but he’s an old friend, and I want to do him a good turn.” - -“You’ve odd notions of doing people a good turn,” Muriel laughed. - -“The fact is,” I said, “he’s rather in a hole about a bill of his that’s -coming due. He’s gone shares with one of our fellows in the regiment in -a steeple-chaser and given him a bill to meet the expenses of training -and the purchase; and as the bill’s coming due and he’s mortally afraid -of his father—” - -“You undertake to meet the bill, on the condition he joins you. I see. -And has that been the best you can do? Who’s the sixth?” - -“Mr. Brentin, who’s bought the yacht; the American at the ‘Victoria.’” - -“Well, all I can say is,” said my sister, after a pause, “you’re rather -a lame crew. Why, Teddy Parsons alone is enough to ruin anything!” - -“Yes, I know,” I groaned, “but what is one to do? I’ve been all over the -country seeing men, but they’re all much too frightened. We’re an -utterly scratch lot, I know, but Brentin and I must do the best we can -with the material and trust to luck.” - -“That you most certainly will have to do,” said my sister, with -conviction. - -“Why can’t you come with us,” I urged, “and be the mascot of the party? -We must have some one of the kind, if only to chaperon Miss Rybot.” - -“Dear me, who’s Miss Rybot?” - -“Arthur Masters’s young woman, without whom he won’t stir.” - -Now my sister Muriel is like a good many other highly respectable -Englishwomen: she is a most faithful wife and devoted mother, but she -doesn’t care in any particular degree about her husband, and is only too -glad to welcome anything in the way of honest excitement, if only to -break the monotony of home life. And here was excitement for her, -indeed, and, properly regarded, of the most irreproachably honest -description. - -It flattered, too, her love of adventure, for which she had never had -much outlet in Medworth Square. Where we Blackers get our love of -adventure from, by-the-way, I don’t quite know, unless it be from my -mother’s father, who fought at Waterloo, and died a very old gentleman, -a Knight of Windsor; but we certainly both of us have it very strongly, -as all good English people should. - -To cut a long story short, for I must really be getting on, my sister -finally agreed to come, if only as chaperon to Miss Rybot. Like the rest -of us, she had never been to Monte Carlo, having been hitherto forbidden -by her husband; but now she said she would insist, and allege as a -reason the necessity of her presence for keeping her only brother from -ruining himself at the tables. - -So I was delighted to hear of her plucky resolve, particularly as it at -once got rid of the difficulty of Miss Rybot’s chaperon—since Brentin -had made up his mind not to take his wife, but send her down to -Rochester while he was away, and keep her fully employed there, in -Charles Dickens’s country. - -I kissed my sister, promising to come back to dinner, and meantime went -up in the nursery, where I found my niece Mollie seated by the fire, -wrapped in a grimy little shawl, reading Grimm’s _Fairy Tales_. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - MR. BRENTIN’S INDISCRETION—LUCY AND I MAKE IT UP—BAILEY THOMPSON - APPEARS IN CHURCH—ON CHRISTMAS DAY WE HOLD A COUNCIL OF WAR - - -NOW it was the very day we went down to “The French Horn” together that -Mr. Brentin confessed to me how, in spite of our agreement as to keeping -the affair a profound secret, he had actually been so rash as to confide -our whole plan to a stranger—a stranger casually encountered, above all -places, in the smoking-room of the “Victoria”! - -How incomprehensible, how weak and wavering is man! Here was Julius C. -Brentin, as shrewd an American as can be met with in Low’s Exchange, -deliberately pouring into a strange ear a secret he had hitherto rigidly -guarded even from his young and attractive wife. - -Of course he had his excuses and defence; what man has not, when he does -wrong? But whatever the excuse, there still remained the unpleasant fact -that there was positively a man walking about (and from his description -one evidently not quite a gentleman) who knew all about our arrangements -and could at any moment communicate them to the authorities at Monte -Carlo. - -When I asked him, somewhat sharply, how ever he had come to commit so -gross a blunder, he had really no explanation to give. He seemed to -think he had sufficiently safeguarded himself by exchanging cards with -the man, than which I could not conceive anything more childish— - - _MR. BAILEY THOMPSON_ - -without an address or a club on it! What possible guarantee was there in -that? Brentin himself couldn’t quite say; only he seemed to fancy the -possession of his card gave him some sort of hold on the owner, and that -so long as he had it in his keeping we were safe against treachery. - -How totally wrong he was, and how nearly his absurd confidence came to -absolutely ruining us all, will clearly appear as this work goes on and -readers are taken to Monte Carlo. - -At last, as I continued to reproach him, he took refuge in saying, -“Well, it’s done, and there’s an end to it; give over talking through -your hat!” A vulgar Americanism which much offended me, and caused us to -drive up to “The French Horn” in somewhat sulky silence. - -It was the 23d of December, and we found Mr. Thatcher ready for us. I at -once left him to show Brentin over the house, the great hall decorated -with holly and cotton-wool mottoes, and to his room, while I went in -immediate search of Lucy. - -Over that tender meeting I draw the sacred veil of reticence. The dear -girl was soon in my arms, soft and palpitating, full of forgiveness and -love. We spent the afternoon together in a long walk across the links -and down to the coast-guards’ cottages, where we had tea; returning only -in time for dinner, through the dark and starry evening of that -singularly mild December. - -The result of our walk was that we made up our minds to be married -shortly before Easter—so soon, in fact, as I could get back from abroad -and settle my affairs. About Monte Carlo, I told her nothing further -than that my sister was not well, and I had undertaken to escort her -there, and see after her for a time—a fib, which, knowing Lucy’s -apprehensive nature, I judged to be necessary, and for which I trust one -day to be forgiven. - -Mr. Brentin and I dined together, partly in silence, partly snapping at -each other. On Christmas Eve our party was complete, with the exception -of Harold Forsyth, who came over next morning from Colchester. On -Christmas Day, “What’s the matter with our all going to Church?” said -Mr. Brentin. - -“Nothing particularly the matter,” Bob Hines replied, rather gruffly, -“except that some of us are probably unaccustomed to it.” - -However, Brentin insisted, and to Church, accordingly, we all went, as -meek as bleating lambs. - -Now in the Wharton Park pew was sitting Mr. Crage. The pew is so -sheltered with its high partition and curtain-rods, I didn’t see him -till he stood up; nor did I know there was any one else there till the -parson glared down straight into the pew from the clerk’s ancient seat -under the pulpit, whence he read the lessons, and said he really must -beg chance members of the congregation to observe the proper reverential -attitude, and not be continually seated. - -Whereupon a deep voice replied, amid considerable sensation, from the -bowels of the pew, “Sir, you are in error. I always rise as the rubric -directs, but having no advantage of height—” the rest of the speech -being lost in the irreverent titters of our party. - -Brentin, who was next the pew, looked over the partition and added to -the sensation by audibly observing, “Sakes alive! It’s friend Bailey -Thompson.” - -When the service was over and we all got outside, he whispered, “Wait a -minute, Blacker; send the others on, and I’ll present you to my friend.” -So the others went on back to “The French Horn,” while I remained behind -with some apprehension and curiosity to take this Mr. Bailey Thompson’s -measure. He came out alone, Mr. Crage remaining to have a few words with -the parson (with whom he was continually squabbling), and Brentin and -Bailey Thompson greeted each other with great warmth. - -He turned out to be a short, dark, determined-looking little man, with a -square chin and old-fashioned, black, mutton-chop whiskers. No, he was -clearly not quite a gentleman, in the sense that he had evidently never -been at a public school. - -“This,” said Mr. Brentin as he presented me, “is the originator of the -little scheme I was telling you of—Mr. Vincent Blacker.” - -“Oh, indeed!” Mr. Bailey Thompson replied, looking me full in the face -with his penetrating black eyes, and politely lifting his small, tall -hat. “Oh, indeed! so you really meant it?” - -“Meant it?” echoed Brentin. “Why, the band of brothers is here; they -were in the pew next you. Mr. Bailey Thompson, we are all here together -for the making of our final arrangements, and in two weeks we start.” - -“Oh, indeed!” he smiled; “it’s a bold piece of work.” - -“Sir, it is colossal, but it will succeed!” - -“Let us hope so. I am sure I wish you every success.” - -“Mr. Bailey Thompson,” said Brentin, evidently nettled at the way the -little man continued incredulously to smile, “if you care to join us -some time during the afternoon we shall be glad to lay details of our -plan before you. They will not only prove our _bona-fides_, but show how -complete and fully thought out all our preparations are.” - -“If I can leave my friend Crage towards four o’clock, I will,” Mr. -Thompson replied. “I know Monte Carlo as well as most men, and may be -able to give you some useful hints.” - -“We shall be glad to see you, for none of us have ever been there. But -not a word to your friend!” - -“Not a word to a soul!” smiled the imperturbable little man; and he left -us to join the abandoned Crage, who was still inside the sacred edifice -snarling at the parson. - -It was quite useless saying anything further to Brentin. I merely -contented myself with pointing out that if anything could make me -suspect Mr. Bailey Thompson, it was his being the guest of Mr. Crage. - -“Pawsibly!” drawled Mr. Brentin. “I don’t pretend the man is pure-bred, -nor exactly fit at this moment to take his seat at Queen Victoria’s -table; but that he’s stanch, with that square chin, I will stake my -bottom dollar. And seeing how well he knows the locality, we shall learn -something from him, sir, which, you may depend upon, will be highly -useful.” - -The attitude of the band of brothers so far had been rather of the -negative order. Whether their enthusiasm was cooling, as they had been -employing their spare time in pitifully surveying the difficulties and -danger of the scheme, instead of the glory and the profit, I know not; -but, obviously, neither on Christmas Eve nor Christmas morning were they -any longer in the hopeful condition in which they were when I first -approached and secured them. - -That they had been talking the matter over among themselves was clear, -for no sooner was the Christmas fare disposed of in the great hall than -they began to open fire. Their first shot was discharged when Mr. -Thatcher brought us in a bowl of punch, about three o’clock, and Brentin -proceeded to charge their glasses, and desire them to drink to the -affair and our successful return therefrom. - -They drank the toast so half-heartedly, much as Jacobites when called on -to pledge King George, that Brentin lost his temper. - -“Gentlemen!” he cried, thumping the table, “if you cannot drink to our -success with more _momentum_ than that, you will never do for -adventurers; you may as well stay right here and till the soil. And -that’s all there is to it!” - -“What’s the matter with eating fat bacon under a hedge?” growled Bob -Hines. He had been much nettled at the way Brentin had taken us all in -charge, and more particularly at his being ordered off to church. Hence -his not altogether apposite interruption. - -Brentin fixed him with his glittering, beady eyes. “Mr. Hines,” he said, -“if you are the spokesman of the malecontents, I am perfectly ready to -hear what you have to object.” - -“You are very good,” Hines replied, stiffly, “but I imagined the scheme -was Blacker’s, and not yours at all.” - -“The scheme is the scheme,” said Brentin, impatiently. “Neither one -man’s nor another’s. Either you go in with us or you do not; now, then, -take your choice, right here and now. You know all about it, what we are -going to do and how we are going to do it. There are no flies on the -scheme, any more than there are on us. We don’t care ay ginger-snap -whether you withdraw or not; but at least we have the right to know -which course you intend to pursue.” - -“The difficulty appears to me,” Forsyth struck in, in conciliatory -tones, “that none of us have ever been to the place, so that we can’t -really tell whether the thing is possible or not.” - -“Exactly!” murmured Teddy Parsons. - -Brentin gave a gesture of vexation. “Monte Carlo has, of course, been -thoroughly surveyed before this determination of ours has been arrived -at—from a distance, ay considerable distance, I admit. Still, it has -been surveyed, though, naturally, through other parties’ eyes. Every -authority we have consulted agrees that the thing is perfectly feasible; -every one, without exception, wonders why it has never been done before; -every one admits it is a plague-spot which should be cauterized. Shall -we do it? Yes or no? There is the whole thing in ay nutshell.” - -Teddy Parsons observed, “There is one thing I should like to know, and -that is—er—will there be any bloodshed?” - -“Not unless they shed it,” was Brentin’s somewhat grim reply. - -Teddy shuddered and went on, “But I understand we are actually to be -armed with revolvers.” - -“That is so,” said Brentin, “but they will not be loaded, or with blank -cartridge at the most. Experience tells us that gentlemen are just as -badly frightened by an unloaded as by a loaded gun.” - -Then Arthur Masters struck in, “I suppose there will be likely to be a -good deal of hustling and possibly violence before we can count on -getting clear away?” - -“I don’t apprehend,” said Brentin, “there will be much of either; -though, of course, we can’t expect the affair will pass off quite so -quietly as an ordinary social lunch-party. We may, for instance, have to -knock a few people down. Surely English gentlemen are not afraid of -having to do that?” - -“It is not a question of fear,” Masters haughtily replied. “I’m not -thinking of that.” - -“Hear! Hear!” cried that snipe Parsons. - -“I am thinking of the ladies of our party.” - -“There’s a very pretty girl here,” Parsons ventured. “I wish she could -be persuaded—” - -Forsyth nudged him, while I cried “Order!” savagely. - -“There will be ladies in our party,” Masters went on. “It would be a -terrible thing if they were to be frightened or in any way injured.” - -“I yield to no man,” declaimed Brentin, “in my chivalrous respect for -the sex. But there are certain places and times when the presence of -ladies is highly undesirable. The Casino rooms at Monte Carlo, when we -are about to raid them, is one. That’s the reason which has determined -me to leave Mrs. Brentin behind, in complete ignorance of what we are -about to do. I do not presume to dictate to other gentlemen what their -course of action should be, but I must say our chances of success will -be enormously magnified if no ladies are permitted to be of the party.” - -“Hear! Hear!” murmured Hines, who from a certain gruffness of manner is -no particular favorite with the sex. - -“Perhaps it would be enough,” urged Masters, “if, on the actual day of -our attempt, the ladies of our party undertook not to go into the -rooms?” - -“Perhaps it would,” Brentin replied, “but for myself I should prefer -they remained altogether in England, offering up a series of succinct -and heartfelt prayers for our safe return.” - -Bob Hines gave a snort of laughter, whereupon Brentin fixed him -inquiringly. - -“Englishwomen have prayed for the safe return of heroes before now, Mr. -Hines.” - -“I am aware of it.” - -“Then why gurgle at the back of your throat?” - -“I have a certain irrepressible sense of humor.” - -“That is remarkable for an Englishman!” - -Whether Mr. Brentin were deliberately bent on rubbing us all up the -wrong way, I don’t know, but he was most certainly doing it, so I -thought it judicious to interpose. It was just at that moment Mr. Bailey -Thompson stepped into the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - MR. BAILEY THOMPSON GIVES US HIS INGENIOUS ADVICE—WE ARE FOOLS - ENOUGH TO TRUST HIM—MISPLACED CONFIDENCE - - -“THE very man!” cried Brentin. “Mr. Bailey Thompson, let me present you -to my friends. You are just in time to give them assurance of the -feasibility of the great scheme you and I have already had some -discussion over.” - -Now Bailey Thompson’s name had been cursorily mentioned during dinner as -that of a gentleman who might look in in the course of the afternoon, -and, if he came, would be able to give us some useful hints; but, beyond -that, Brentin had kept him back as a final card, having already some -notion of the wavering going on, and desiring to use him to clinch the -business one way or the other. - -Mr. Thompson bowed and smiled, and Brentin went on. - -“There is some dissatisfaction in the camp, sir; there is some doubt and -there is fear. Advice is badly needed. I look to you to give it us.” - -“I shall be very glad to be of any use.” - -“Then let me present you, Mr. Thompson. This powerful young man with the -leonine head and cherry-wood pipe is Mr. Hines; next him, with the -slight frame, tawny mustache, and Richmond Gem cigarette, is Mr. -Parsons; opposite, with the clean, clear, and agreeable countenance and -the cigar, is Mr. Forsyth; next him, with the sloping brow and -thoughtful back to his head, is Mr. Masters, who doesn’t smoke. Vincent -Blacker you know. Gentlemen, Mr. Bailey Thompson. There is your glass, -sir; drink, and when you feel sufficiently stimulated and communicative, -speak!” - -Mr. Thompson darted his penetrating eyes over the company, smiled again, -and took his glass of tepid punch. - -“So you really mean it,” he said, sitting between us. - -Mr. Brentin groaned. “Don’t let us hear that from you again, sir,” he -said; “it is likely to breed bad blood. Take it from me, we really mean -it, and only need advice how it should best be done. Mr. Bailey -Thompson, we are all attention.” - -“In the first place, then,” the little man remarked, amid dead silence, -as he sipped his punch, “let me say you have, in my judgment, enormously -underestimated the amount of money in the rooms.” - -“Ah!” - -“I know the place well, and speak with some authority.” - -“Just what we want.” - -“Now, there are nine roulette and four trente-et-quarante tables. Each, -I am told, is furnished with £4000 to begin play on for the day; total, -£52,000.” - -“Mark this, gentlemen!” cried the agitated Brentin. - -“But each table wins per diem, roughly speaking, about £400; so that, if -you select, say, ten o’clock in the evening for your attempt, you may -count on £5200 more—total, say, £58,000.” - -“Make a note, gentlemen,” said Brentin, “that we select ten-thirty, to -make sure.” - -“That does not take into account the money lying there already staked by -the players, which you may calculate as fully £3000 more.” - -“Oh, go slow, Mr. Bailey Thompson, sir, go slow!” - -“But where your underestimation is most marked,” said the impressive -little man, sweeping his eyes round the attentive circle, “is in -calculating the reserve in the vaults. In short, I have no hesitation in -saying that, taking everything into consideration, there must be at -least half a million of money lying in the Casino premises, -at—the—very—least!” - -In the dead silence, broken only by the taking in of breath, I could -hear Lucy playing the piano down-stairs in the little room behind the -bar. - -Mr. Thompson sipped his punch again and looked at us calmly over the rim -of his tumbler. - -“And you think the money in the vaults is as easily got at as the rest?” -Bob Hines asked, in a constrained voice. - -“That I shouldn’t like to say,” Thompson cautiously replied. “I can tell -you, however, that I have myself twice seen the bank broken; which only -means, by-the-way, that the £4000 at that particular table had been -won.” - -“And what happened?” - -“Play at that table was merely suspended while a further supply was -being fetched from the vaults.” - -“And where are the vaults?” - -“Below the building somewhere, but precisely where I cannot tell you; -but I have no doubt, once the rooms are in your possession, and, given -the time, you would have no difficulty whatever in breaking into them.” - -Impressive silence again, broken at last by Brentin. “And now, sir, will -you be good enough to give us some idea of the amount of opposition we -are likely to meet with?” - -Bailey Thompson looked meditative, and, after a pause, proceeded. -“Outside the building, at every twenty paces or so, you will find men -stationed. They are merely firemen, whose chief duty it is to see no -bomb is thrown into the rooms or deposited outside by the anarchists, -who have frequently threatened it. They are not soldiers, and are not in -any way armed.” - -Teddy Parsons breathed heavily and murmured, “Capital!” - -“And what force is there inside?” - -“There are a great number of men about, attendants and so forth, but I -cannot conceive them capable of any resistance.” - -“You don’t imagine they are secretly armed?” asked the palpitating -Teddy. - -“Dear me, no, any more than the attendants at an ordinary club!” - -“In short,” said Mr. Brentin, “you feel pretty confident that neither -inside nor outside we are likely to encounter a single weapon of -offence?” - -“Perfectly confident. Perfectly confident, gentlemen.” - -“And what about the army?” Parsons asked. “I understand the Prince of -Monaco has an army of seventy men.” - -“Quite correct,” Bailey Thompson replied, “but it is stationed up in -Monaco, at least a mile away.” - -“Then it would be some time before they could be mustered.” - -“Besides,” Mr. Brentin dryly observed, “they are not likely to be of -much use unless they can swim. We propose to escape on board the -_Amaranth_.” - -“That’s your best chance, gentlemen,” said Mr. Thompson—“in fact, your -only practicable one.” - -“And you think six of us are enough for the business?” asked Masters. - -“You will be the best judges of that, perhaps, when you see the place. -My own feeling is that, to make it all perfectly safe, you should be at -least a dozen.” - -“If necessary,” said Mr. Brentin, “we can always impress half a dozen of -our crew. Nothing like a jolly Jack-tar for a job of this kind.” - -“If you do,” smiled Bailey Thompson, “you will have to fig them out in -what they call _tenue de ville convenable_. They won’t let them into the -rooms in their common sailor dress. Why, gentlemen, they refused me -admission once because my boots were dusty. Clean hands don’t so much -matter,” he added, in his sly fashion. - -Then he rose and remarked, “I must now be returning to Wharton; my poor -old friend Crage is in low spirits, and I have undertaken not to be more -than half an hour away from him. If there is any further information -wanted, however—” - -“Just this,” said Hines; “taking it at its worst, and supposing we are -all, or any of us, captured, what do you imagine will be our fate?” - -Mr. Thompson shrugged his shoulders. “You will be treated with every -courtesy; you will undoubtedly be tried, but—if only from the fact of -your failing—you will, I should think, be let off easily. If you -succeed, and all of you get clear away, I do not imagine there will be -any serious pursuit, for policy will close the authorities’ mouth; they -will not care to advertise to the world how easily the place can be -looted. In fact, from what I know of them, they will most likely take -particular pains to deny it has ever been done at all. You see, -gentlemen, the entire Continental press is in their pay.” - -“There is, no doubt, a criminal court and a prison at Monaco?” - -“Oh yes; and if, unfortunately, you are caught, you will all be -sentenced for life, I imagine.” - -“I don’t call that being let off easy,” grunted Teddy. - -“Perhaps not in theory, but in practice, yes; for in a year or so you -will find yourselves free to stroll about the town, and even down to -Monte Carlo.” - -“In fact, bolt?” said Masters. - -“Exactly; more especially if your relatives pay due attention to the -jailers and see they want for nothing. In conclusion, gentlemen, I drink -to your enterprise, and wish you all well through it. _Au revoir!_” And -with a courteous bow and wave of his gloved hand (he wore dogskin gloves -the whole time), Mr. Bailey Thompson, accompanied by the jubilant -Brentin, withdrew. - -“Well,” I said, “what do you say now?” - -There was a brief silence, and then Teddy Parsons observed, “It seems to -me we may as well go.” - -“Half a million of money!” murmured Forsyth, meditatively, “and most of -it for hospitals.” - -“I think, out of _that_, you might manage to stand me a swimming-bath as -well as a gymnasium, eh?” whispered Bob Hines. - -Mr. Brentin returned to us radiant. “Well, gentlemen, what do you think -of it all now?” - -“They are coming,” I ventured to say, and the band of brothers nodded. - -“But, I say!” spluttered Masters, who had for the most part kept -silent—“who is Mr. Bailey Thompson? Who knows anything about him? Who -can guarantee he won’t give us away to the Monte Carlo people, and have -us all quodded before we can even get a look in?” - -Mr. Brentin frowned. “I will answer for Mr. Thompson with my life!” he -cried. “He is a gentleman of the most royal integrity. I have studied -him in every social relation, and I never knew him fail.” - -“Oh, well, that’ll do,” interrupted Bob Hines, who had all along shown -some impatience at Brentin’s long speeches. “We only want to know -somebody is responsible for his not selling us, that’s all.” - -A responsibility Mr. Brentin undertook with the greatest cheerfulness -and readiness, and that, mind you, for a man who turned out to be -Scotland Yard personified—who, but for his inane jealousy of the French -police and his desire to effect our capture single-handed, would have -been the means of casting five highly strung English gentlemen, and one -excitable American, into lifelong chains; and who, on the very morning -after his interview with us (as he afterwards confessed to me), was -actually at Whitehall concerting plans with the authorities there how -best to catch us _in flagrante delicto_! - -How, on the contrary, we caught _him_, and had him deported to the -southernmost point of Greece, forms one of my choicest memories, and -will now soon be related at sufficient length. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - MONTE CARLO—MR. VAN GINKEL’S YACHT _SARATOGA_—WE PROSPECT— - FORTUNATE DISCOVERY OF THE POINT OF ATTACK—FIRST VISIT TO THE - ROOMS - - -IT was a brilliant January day, mild and sunny, when Mr. Brentin, -Parsons, and I were standing in the old bastion on the point of Monaco, -straining our gaze for a glimpse of the _Amaranth_. In front stretched -the flickering, shifting pavement of the Mediterranean, of a deep, -smooth sapphire, ruffled here and there, as the nap of a hat brushed the -wrong way. Nothing to be seen on it but the one loose white sail of a -yacht drifting out of harbor past the point. - -We had strolled up the long ramp from the Condamine and through the -gateway leading to the old bastions, chiefly to see whether they were -provided with guns; we were relieved to find they were not—mere -peaceable flower-walks, in fact, and already blossoming with geranium. - -From the unfinished cathedral behind us in the old town, crushed and -huddled together like a Yorkshire fishing village, came the rolling -throb of the heavy mid-day bell; up from the harbor far below, the smart -bugle-call of a French corvette. Little figures in white ran about the -deck, and the tricolor fluttered from the peak. Close alongside her lay -an American yacht, the _Saratoga_, belonging to Mr. Van Ginkel, a former -friend of Mr. Brentin’s. Both the vessels caused us a considerable -amount of uneasiness; the corvette carried guns, the _Saratoga_ was -noted for her speed. It was quite uncertain how long they might continue -to grace the harbor. One could easily blow us out of the water; the -other could just as easily give us an hour’s start, take fifty men on -board, pursue, overhaul, and bring us back, flushed though in other -respects we might be with victory. - -We had already been three days in Monte Carlo, and so far there had been -no sign of their departure. “If the worst comes,” said Mr. Brentin, “we -must take Van Ginkel into our confidence and indooce him to take a trip -over to San Remo on the night of our attempt. The mischief is, I am so -little of his acquaintance now I hesitate to ask so great a favor.” - -“What sort of man is he?” I asked. - -“Well, sir, we were classmates at Harvard in ’60. Since then, though -full of good-will, we have scarcely met. I understand, however, he has -some stomach trouble, and is ay considerable invalid.” - -“Married?” - -“Di-vorced. Mrs. Van Ginkel is now the Princess Danleno, of Rome, a -widow of large wealth. She owns the Villa Camellia at Cannes, and is -over here constantly, in the season, they tell me. She plays heavily on -a highly ingenious and complicated system of her own, which costs her -about as much as the _Saratoga_ costs her former husband.” - -We had taken up our abode at the “Hôtel Monopôle”—a hotel recommended -to us by Mr. Bailey Thompson, by-the-way, for purposes of his own. It is -a quiet little house, up the hill, and not far from the “Victoria”; -there we had safely arrived three days before—Parsons, Brentin, Bob -Hines, and I. Forsyth, Masters, my sister Mrs. Rivers, and Miss Rybot -had embarked in the _Amaranth_ from Portsmouth a few days before we left -London, and were now about due at Monte Carlo. My brother-in-law, the -publisher, had made no difficulty to my sister’s joining the expedition, -as to the true object of which he of course knew nothing; in fact, he -was delighted she could get a holiday on the Riviera so cheaply. It was -understood she was not to play, and not to spend more than £10 _en -route_. I heard afterwards that Paternoster Row simply ran with his -brag. “I’m a bachelor just at present. My wife’s yachting in the -Mediterranean with some rich Americans. Very hospitable people; they -wanted me to come, but really, just now—” etc., etc. - -We had spent our first three days, not unprofitably, in prospecting the -place. We reached Monte Carlo in the afternoon, and at once drove up to -the hotel. Almost the first thing we saw was a large board over a little -house on the hillside, close by the Crédit Lyonnais, with “_Avances sur -bijoux_” on it. - -Brentin chuckled. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “we sha’n’t play the game -quite so low down as that, eh? It will be either neck or nothing with -us.” - -It was five o’clock before we started to go down to the Casino. We set -out in solemn silence, down the steep and glaring white road, past the -“Victoria” and the chemist’s. At the head of the gaudy, painted gardens, -that look like the supreme effort of a _modiste_, we came in full view -of the rooms. There we paused, choked, the most sensitive of us, by our -emotions. - -In front there was a long strip of gay flower-beds and white pebble -paths, flanked by rows of California palms. To my excited fancy they -were the planted feather brooms of _valets-de-place_—moral -_valets-de-place_ who had set out to sweep the place clean but had never -had the courage to go further. To the right of us were the hotels—the -“St. James’s” and the “De Paris”; to the left, the Casino gardens again, -and the shallow pools where the frogs croak so dolorously at nightfall. -They are, I believe (for I am a Pythagorean), the souls of ruined -gamblers, still croaking out their _quatre premier_, their _dix-quinze_, -their _douze dernier_. - -“Peace, batrachians!” I cried to them one evening, in the exalted mood -that now became common to me. “Be still, hoarse souls! push no more -shadowy stakes upon a board of shadows with your webbed fingers. We are -here to avenge ye!” - -Then we went on down to the front of the rooms. There, unable to find a -seat, we leaned against a lamp-post and gloated on the fantastic -building that held our future possessions. On our left was the Café de -Paris, overflowing with _consommateurs_ at little tables under the -awning; from the swirling whirlpool of noise made by the Hungarian band -issued a maimed but recognizable English comic air. The sun was just -setting in a matchless sky of Eton blue; the breeze had dropped, and the -dingy Monaco flag over the Casino hung inert. - -“Soldiers!” whispered Teddy, giving me a frightened nudge. - -They were, apparently, a couple of officers of the prince’s army, -strolling round, smoking cheap cigars; they carried no side arms, and -were of no particular physique. “Besides,” I said, “they are not allowed -to enter the rooms. Don’t be so nervous, Teddy.” - -“Let us go down on to the terrace,” murmured Brentin, “and view the -place from the back. We must see how close we can get the yacht up!” - -So we went to the right, past the jingling omnibus crawling up from the -Condamine, down the steps, and on to the terrace facing the sea. We -passed the firemen Bailey Thompson told us we should find there, five or -six of them; one at every twenty paces, in uniform, with an odd sort of -gymnastic belt on. They were stationed at the back, too, and clearly -formed a complete protection against any possible bomb-throwing. - -“There are too many of those men,” observed Brentin, irritably. “We -shall have to do something to draw them off on our great night or -they’ll get in the way.” - -Then we went and looked over the balustrade of the terrace. Below us ran -the railway from Monaco; on the other side of the line, connected by an -iron bridge with the Casino terrace, was the pigeon-shooting club-house -and grounds. They formed a sort of bastion, jutting out into the sea; -the pale, wintry grass was still marked with the traps of last year. - -“_That_ won’t do!” Brentin said, decisively, after a few moments’ -survey. “The run’s too far over that bridge and down across the grass. -Besides, we should want rope ladders before we could get down the wall. -Come, gentlemen, let us try this way.” - -We went to the extreme right of the terrace, and there, miraculously -enough, we found at once the very thing we wanted. Mr. Brentin merely -pointed at it in silence, keeping his attitude till we had all grasped -the situation. It was a rickety gate at the head of an evidently unused -flight of steps, leading down on to the railway line below. Beside it -stood a weather-worn board with “_Défense d’entrée au public_” on it. It -looked singularly out of place amid all that smart newness; but there it -was, the very thing we were in search of. - -The railway below ran six or eight feet above the sea, without any -protecting parapet to speak of. Just at the angle where the -pigeon-shooting ground jutted out there was a sort of broken space, -where, for some reason (perhaps to allow the employés to descend), rocks -were piled up from the shore. A boat could be there in waiting; the -yacht could lie thirty yards off; if we had designed the place -ourselves, we couldn’t have done it better. - -Mr. Brentin slowly pointed a fateful finger down the steps, across the -line, to the corner where the shore lay so close and handy. - -“Do you observe it, gentlemen?” he whispered, awe-struck—“do you take -it all in? There is no tide in the Mediterranean; the edge of the sea -will always be there. Even if the night turns out as black as velvet we -could find the boat there blindfold.” - -It was a solemn moment, broken only by the jingle of omnibus bells. I -felt like Wolfe when he first spied the broken path that led up the -cliff face from the St. Lawrence to the Heights of Abraham. - -By accident or design, Brentin gave Teddy Parsons’s white Homburg hat a -tilt with his elbow; it tumbled off down the face of the terrace and -fell out of sight on to the line. - -“There’s your chance, Teddy,” I said. “Run down the steps and fetch your -hat. You can see if there’s another gate at the bottom where that bunch -of cactus is.” - -Teddy came back breathless. “There’s no sort of obstruction,” he gasped. -“It’s a clear run all the way. Only we shall have to be careful, if the -night’s dark; some of the steps are broken.” Poor Teddy, how prophetic! - -We entered the rooms for the first time after dinner. - -Readers who have been to Monte Carlo will remember that, before going -into the hall, there is a room on the left, where half a dozen men sit -writing cards of admission and drawing up lists of visitors. They make -no trouble about it, they simply ask you your hotel and -nationality—_Anglish, hein?_—and hand you over a pink card, good only -for one day. Then you go to the right and leave your stick. Neither -stick nor umbrella are allowed in the rooms. “Another point in our -favor,” as I whispered to Brentin. - -Facing is the large hall; up and down stroll gamblers, come out for a -breath of air or the whiff of a cigarette. Any one may use it, or the -concert-room on the right, or the reading-rooms above, without a ticket; -the ticket is needed only for the gambling. You can even cash a check or -discount a bill there; for clerks are in attendance from the different -banking-houses, within and without the principality, who will attend to -your wants as a loser or take charge of your winnings. - -On the left, heavy doors are constantly swinging. You can hear, if you -listen, as they swing, the faint, enticing clink of the five-franc -pieces within. - -“Oh, my friends,” murmured Brentin, as we moved towards them, “support -me!” - -He presented his pink card with a low bow to the two men guarding the -entrance; we followed, and the next minute were palpitating in the -stifling atmosphere of the last of the European public infernos. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - MRS. WINGHAM AND TEDDY PARSONS—HE FOOLISHLY CONFIDES IN HER—I - MAKE A SIMILAR MISTAKE - - -NOW there was staying at our hotel, among other quiet people, a quiet -old lady, whom, from her accent and the way she occasionally stumbled -over an h, I took to be the widow of a well-to-do tradesman, a suburban -_bon marché_, or stores. She played regularly every afternoon till -dinner-time, dressed in black, with a veil down just below the tip of -her nose, and worn black kid gloves, staking mostly on the _pair_ or -_impair_ at roulette; and every evening she sat in the hotel over a bit -of wood-fire, reading either _Le Petit Niçois_ or an odd volume of -_Sartor Resartus_, which, with some ancient torn _Graphics_, formed the -library of the “Monopôle.” Her name I discovered afterwards to be Mrs. -Wingham. - -It was only the third evening after our arrival that, going into the -reading-room to write my daily loving letter to Lucy, there I found Mrs. -Wingham and Teddy Parsons seated each side of the fire, talking away as -confidentially as if they had known each other all their lives. Bob -Hines, who had taken to gambling and couldn’t be kept away from the -rooms, and Brentin had gone down to the Casino. - -Few things I know more difficult than to write a letter and at the same -time listen to a conversation, and I soon found myself writing down -scraps of Teddy’s inflated talk, working it, in spite of myself, into my -letter to Lucy—talk all the more inflated as I had come into the room -quietly at his back, and he didn’t know I was there. - -He was telling the old lady all about his father, the colonel, and how -he had fought through the Crimea without a scratch. Yes, he was in the -army himself—at least, the auxiliary portion of it: the second line. He -lived most of the year at Southport, when he wasn’t out with his -regiment, or hunting and shooting with friends, and always came up to -London for the Derby and stayed in Duke Street. He was very fond of a -bit of racing, and, in fact, owned some race horses—or, rather, “a -chaser”— - -“A what, sir?” asked the old woman, who was listening to him with her -mouth open. - -“A chaser—a steeple-chaser, don’t you know—‘Tenderloin,’ which was -entered for the Grand National, and would be sure to be heavily backed.” - -No, he didn’t care much about gambling; a man didn’t get a fair run for -his money at Monte Carlo, the bank reserved too many odds in their own -favor; to say nothing, as I knew, of his being kept very short of -pocket-money by the colonel. And then he was actually fool enough to -say, with a self-satisfied laugh, that he’d a notion the right way to -treat the bank was to raid it. - -“Raid it, sir?” cried the old woman. - -“Yes, certainly, raid it; go into the rooms with a pistol and shout -‘Hands up, everybody!’ and carry off all the money on board a yacht, and -be off, full speed.” Did Mrs. Wingham know if it had ever been tried? - -From that to confiding our whole plan would have been only one step; but -just at that moment in came Mrs. Sellars and Miss Marter, the only two -other English ladies in the hotel, and Teddy and Mrs. Wingham fell to -talking in whispers. - -Mrs. Sellars, who was a stout, comfortable-looking person, with a large -nose, a high color, and an expansive figure, generally attired in a -blouse and a green velveteen skirt, was given to walking up and down the -reading-room, moaning in theatrical agony over the disquieting news from -South Africa. If she didn’t get a letter from her husband in the -morning, she didn’t know what she should do; it was weeks since she had -heard from him; something told her he was dead—and so on. Every -distressed turn she took brought her nearer the ramshackle piano; so at -last Miss Marter, mainly to stop her (for old maids don’t take much -interest in other women’s husbands, alive or dead), with some asperity -remarked, “Sing us something, dear; it will calm you.” - -Then she came to me and said, excitedly, “_Do_ you mind if I bring down -my little dog? I always ask, as people sometimes object. It is the -dearest little dog, and always sits in my lap.” - -Teddy gave a violent start when he heard me answer, and knew he was -detected. He got up, and, pretending to hum, immediately left the room. -I didn’t like to follow at once, as I felt inclined; it would look as -though Mrs. Sellars’s threatened singing drove me away. But the moment -she finished I meant to go and give the wind-bag a good blowing-up, and -meantime went on with my letter. - -Mrs. Sellars hooted “’Tis I!” and “In the Gloaming,” and was beginning -“Twickenham Ferry” when she broke down over the accompaniment, rose, and -came to the fire. Miss Marter was sitting one side of it, stroking her -torpid little terrier, and Mrs. Wingham (who was focussing _Sartor -Resartus_ through her glasses) on the other. - -“Thank you, dear,” said Miss Marter. “I hope you feel calmer.” - -“I shall never be calmer,” Mrs. Sellars moaned, “till George is home -again at my side.” - -“Well, dear,” Miss Marter maliciously replied, looking down her long -nose, “you know you insisted on his going.” - -So I left the two ladies to squabble as to who was mainly responsible -for George’s being in South Africa in such ticklish times, and went in -search of Teddy. - -He was neither in the _fumoir_ nor his bedroom, so down I went to the -rooms. - -There I found Bob Hines punting on the middle dozen and the last six at -roulette, with a pile of five-franc pieces before him. - -“Those your winnings?” I whispered; to which he gave the not over-polite -reply, “How can you be such a fool?” - -So I knew he was losing, and went off in search of Brentin. - -I found him in an excited circle watching a common-looking Englishman at -the _trente-et-quarante_ tables, who with great coolness was staking the -maximum of twelve thousand francs, two at a time, one on _couleur_ and -one on black. In front of him the notes were piled so high that, being a -little man, he had to press them down with his elbows before he could -use his rake. Sometimes he won one bundle of notes, neatly pinned -together and representing the maximum; sometimes both, as _couleur_ and -black turned out alike. Rarely he lost both. Others were staking, but -mostly only paltry louis, or the broad, shining five-louis pieces one -only sees at Monte Carlo. There was the usual church-like silence, -broken only by the dry, sharp tones of the croupier’s harsh voice, “_Le -jeu est fait!_” and then, sharper still, “_Rien ne va plus!_” - -Once the tension was broken by a titter of laughter, as a withered -little Italian with a frightened air threw a five-franc piece down on -the board and the croupier pushed it back. The poor devil apparently -didn’t know that gold only may be staked at _trente-et-quarante_. - -I plucked Brentin by the sleeve and drew him to a side seat against the -wall. “I hope that gentleman may be staking here this day week,” he -chuckled. “Notes are easy to carry, and I myself have seen him win sixty -thousand francs.” - -When he heard about Teddy he was furious. It was all I could do to -prevent him from going off at once to the hotel and insisting on his -leaving Monte Carlo by the next train. - -“I allow,” he said, “I was precipitate with Bailey Thompson, but at -least we drew something out of him in the way of information. But to -confide in a blathering old woman, who has nothing to do but eat and -talk—” - -I went back to the hotel, only to find Teddy’s bedroom door locked, and -to have my knocking greeted with a loud, sham snore. Mrs. Wingham I -found still in the reading-room, alone, still focussing _Sartor -Resartus_ with her shocked and puzzled expression. - -“Your friend has just gone up to bed,” she remarked, “if you are looking -for him.” - -I thanked her, and, sitting the other side of the fire, proceeded to -draw her out. She soon told me Teddy was so like a nephew of hers she -had recently lost she had felt obliged to speak to him. She noticed him -at once, she said, the first evening at dinner, and felt drawn to him -immediately. What a fine, manly young feller he was, and how full of -sperrit. - -Yes, I said, he was, and often had very ingenious ideas—for instance, -that notion of his to raid the tables I had overheard him discussing -with her. But, then, there was all the difference in the world between -having an idea and the carrying it out, wasn’t there? Merely as a matter -of curiosity, what did she think of the notion—she, who doubtless knew -the place so well? - -The artful old woman—Bailey Thompson’s sister, if you please, and spy, -as it afterwards turned out; hence his recommending us the “Monopôle,” -so that she might keep an eye on us and report—the artful old woman -looked puzzled, as though she were trying to remember what it was Teddy -had said on the subject. Then she began to laugh. “Oh, I didn’t think -much of that. Why, look at all the people there are about! Why, you’d -need a ridgiment!” - -Now, will it be believed that I, who had just been so righteously -indignant with Parsons for his talkative folly, did myself (feeling -uncommonly piqued at her scornful tone) immediately set out to prove to -her the thing was perfectly possible, and then and there explain in -detail how it could all be successfully done, and with how small a -force. I did, indeed, so true as I am sitting writing here now, in our -flat in Victoria Street. - -Mrs. Wingham listened to me attentively, laughing to herself and saying, -“Dear! dear! so it might!” as she rubbed her knuckled old hands between -her black silk knees. When I had done, I felt so vexed with myself I -could have bitten my tongue out. - -I rose, however, and, observing, “Of course, it is an idea and nothing -else, and never will be realized,” bade her good-night and left the -room, feeling uncommonly weak and foolish. She murmured, “Oh, of -course!” as I closed the noisy glass door behind me and went up-stairs -to bed. - -A few minutes later, remembering I had left my book on the table where I -had been writing to Lucy, I went down-stairs again to fetch it. Mrs. -Wingham was still there, sitting at the table writing a letter. The -envelope, already written, was lying close by my book, and I couldn’t -help reading it. - -It was positively addressed to “Jas. B. Thompson, Esq., 3 Aldrich Road -Villas, Brixton Rise, S. E. London.” - -I felt so faint I could scarcely get out of the room again and up the -stairs. - -But such is our insane confidence, where we ourselves and our own doings -are concerned—such, at any rate, was mine in my lucky star—that I -really felt no difficulty in persuading myself the whole thing was -merely a coincidence, and that the writing of the letter had nothing -whatever to do with either my or Teddy Parsons’s divulgations; more -especially as the Bailey, on which Thompson evidently piqued himself, -was omitted. - -And I determined to say nothing about it to Brentin, partly because I -didn’t care about being blackguarded by an American, and partly because -I felt convinced it was all an accident, and nothing would come of it. -Nor, in my generosity, did I do more to Teddy Parsons than temperately -point out the folly he had been guilty of, and beg him to be more -careful in future, which he very cheerfully promised, and for which -magnanimity of mine he was, as I meant he should be, really uncommonly -grateful. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - ARRIVAL OF THE _AMARANTH_—ALL WELL ON BOARD—THEIR FIRST - EXPERIENCE OF THE ROOMS - - -THE next afternoon, soon after four, the _Amaranth_ arrived in harbor. - -Bob Hines was gambling, as usual, but Brentin, Teddy, and I went down to -the Condamine to meet them. Teddy and Brentin had had their row out in -the morning, to which I had listened in silence—with the indulgent air -of a man who doesn’t want to add to the unpleasantness—and now were -pretty good friends again. It was clearly understood, however, that no -new acquaintances were to be made, male or female, and that henceforth -any one of us seen talking to a stranger was immediately to be sent -home. - -I fear the party from the _Amaranth_ did not have a very good impression -of Monte Carlo to begin with, for they landed in the Condamine, just -where the town drain-pipes lie, and came ashore, each of them, with a -handkerchief to the nose. - -“So this is the Riviera!” snuffled my good sister. “I understood it was -embosomed in flowers.” - -They all looked very brown and well, and seemed in high spirits. - -As for the yacht, she had behaved splendidly all through, and the -conduct and polite attentions of Captain Evans and the crew had been -above all praise. The only difficulty had been to explain away the shell -and the three cannon; for which Forsyth had found the ingenious excuse -that they were wanted for the Riff pirates, in case we determined to -voyage along the African coast, where they are said to abound and will -sometimes attack a yacht. - -We all strolled up the hill together, and, such were their spirits, -nothing would content the new arrivals but an immediate visit to the -rooms. Miss Rybot, especially, was as cheerful as a blackbird in April; -she had come there to gamble, she said, and gamble she would at once. -She and Masters were evidently on the best of terms, and even the -captious Brentin was pleased with what people who write books call her -“infectious gayety.” - -“You have your own little schemes,” she cried, “and I have mine. I am -going to win fifty pounds to pay my debts with, and then I am going -home, whether you have finished or not. And if I haven’t finished, you -will all have to leave me here.” - -They were soon provided with their pink admission-cards (ours had that -morning, after the usual pretended scrutiny and demur, been exchanged -for white monthly ones), and, after leaving their cloaks, passed through -the swing-doors into the rooms. - -It was just that impressive hour—the only one, I think, at Monte -Carlo—when the Casino footmen, in their ill-fitting liveries, zigzagged -with faded braid, bring in the yellow oil-lamps with hanging green -shades, and sling them from the long brass chains over the tables. The -rest of the rooms lie in twilight, before the electric light is turned -up. Dim figures sweep noiselessly as spectres over the dull-shining -parquet floor, and, like a spear, I have seen the last long ray of -southern sunshine strike in and touch the ghastly hollow cheek of some -old woman fingering her coins, lifeless and mechanical as Charon -fingering his passage-money for the dead; but, just over the tables, the -yellow light from the lamp falls brilliant, yet softly, brightly -illuminating the gamblers’ hands and some few of their faces, throwing -the white numbers on the rich green cloth as strongly into relief as -though newly sewn on there of tape. - -“_Faites votre jeu, messieurs!_” croaks the croupier, in his dry, -toneless voice. - -With deft fingers he spins the active, rattling little ball. - -“_Le jeu est fait!_” - -The white ball begins to tire, drops out of its circuit. - -“_Rien ne va plus!_” - -A few seconds of leaping indecision and restlessness, before the ball -falls finally into a number and remains there, while the board still -spins. - -“_Trente-six!—Rouge, pair et manque!_” - -The croupiers’ rakes are busy, pulling in the money lost; the money won -is thrown with dull, heavy thuds and clinks on to the table. In a few -moments it is begun all over again. - -“_Faites votre jeu, messieurs!_” - -“So this is Monte Carlo!” whispered my sister, in the proper, hushed -tones, as though asking me for something to put in the collection. “My -one objection is, no one looks in the least haggard or anxious. I -understood I should see such terrible faces, and they all look as bored -as people at an ordinary London dinner-party. Take me round.” - -Brentin came with us, and we visited each of the busy roulette-tables in -turn. Monte Carlo was very full, and round some of the tables the crowd -was so deep it was impossible to get near enough to look, much less to -play. But between the tables there were large vacant spaces of -dull-shining, greasy parquet; the tables looked like populous places on -the map, and the flooring like open country. Here and there stood the -footmen, straight out of an old Adelphi melodrama; some of them carried -trays and glasses of water, and some gave you cards to mark the winning -numbers and the colors. - -“It is not quite so splendid and gay as I imagined,” my sister observed. -“In fact, it’s all rather dim and dingy. Do you know it reminds me of -the Pavilion at Brighton more than anything else. And how common some of -the people are! Isn’t that your friend, Mr. Hines?” - -Bob Hines was sitting in rather a melancholy heap, with a pile of -five-franc pieces in front of him, and a card on which he was morosely -writing the numbers as they came up. - -“Let’s ask him how he’s doing?” - -“Never speak to a gambler,” I whispered; “it’s considered unlucky.” - -“Judging from his expression, he will be glad to get something back in -your raid! And why seat himself between those two terrible old women?” - -“They look,” Brentin murmured, “like representations of friend Zola’s -the fat and the lean. Sakes alive! they’d make the fortune of a dime -museum. Those women are freaks, ma’am, freaks.” - -Hines was sitting between two ladies; one, with a petulant face of old -childishness, was enormously stout. Her eyebrows were densely blackened, -her pendulous cheeks as dusty with powder as the Mentone road. She was -gorgeously overdressed; her broad bosom, fluid as of arrested molten -tallow, was hung with colored jewels, like a _bambino_. With huge gloved -hands and arms she was wielding a rake, whereof poor Bob had -occasionally the end in his face. Beside her, on the green cloth, lay a -withered bunch of roses, dead of her large, cruel grasp. At her back -stood her husband, a German Jew financier, who couldn’t keep his -pince-nez on. Continually he smoothed his thin hair and tried to get her -away, grumbling and moving from leg to leg; for hours he would stand -behind her chair, supplying her with money, for she nearly always lost. -Occasionally she grabbed other people’s stakes, or they grabbed hers. -Then she was sublime in her horrible ill-humor; half rising, with her -great arms resting on the table, she shouted at the croupiers to be -paid, in harsh, rattling, fish-fag tones. The sunken corners of her -small mouth were drawn upward; the deep-set eyes worked in dull fury; -you saw short, white teeth that once had smiled in a pretty Watteau -face. Now the body was old and torpid and swollen; but the rabbit -intelligence was still undeveloped, except in the direction of its -rapacity. - -Poor Bob Hines! He was indeed badly placed! On his other side sat a -lath-and-plaster widow in the extensive mourning of a Jay’s -advertisement. Her face was yellow and damaged as a broken old fresco at -Florence; thin, oblong, brittle, only the semi-circular, blackened -eyebrows seemed alive. The dyed, pallid hair looked dead as a Lowther -Arcade doll’s; dead were her teeth, her long, thin, griffin hands with -curved nails. Decomposition, even by an emotion, was somehow palpably -arrested; perhaps she was frozen by the bitter chill of fatal zero. -Horrible, old, crape-swathed mummy, one would have said she had lost -even her husband at play. Who could ever have been found to love her? At -whom had she ever smiled? at what had she ever laughed or wept? Bride of -Frankenstein’s monster, she worked her muck-rake with the small, dry, -galvanized gestures of an Edison invention. Poor Bob Hines! It sickened -me to think these women, and others perhaps worse, were of the same -sisterhood with Lucy. What a day when we should sweep them all out -before us, as the fresh autumn wind sweeps the withered leaves across -the walks of Kensington Gardens! - -“So this is Monte Carlo!” murmured my sister again. “It stifles me! Take -me out to the Café de Paris and give me some tea.” - -As she took my arm and we went down the steps, “Easier place, however, -to raid,” she remarked, “I never saw. As for the morality of it, I was a -little doubtful at first, but now—” - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - INFLUENCE OF CLIMATE ON ADVENTURE—UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF LUCY—HER - REVELATIONS—DANGER AHEAD - - -SO a few days passed, and, pleasantly idle though it all was, it began -to be time for us to think seriously of our purport in being at Monte -Carlo at all. Our party had very easily fallen into the ways of the -place, and appeared to be enjoying themselves, each in their own -fashion, amazingly. - -“Here’s Teddy’s got a bicycle,” as I said to Brentin, “and is always -over at Mentone with friends. Bob Hines does nothing but gamble, and is -scarcely ever with us, even at meal-times. He lives on sandwiches and -hot _grog Américaine_ at the Café de Paris. Forsyth struts about in -fancy suits, making eyes at the ladies, and Masters is all day at the -back of Miss Rybot’s chair, supplying her with fresh funds and taking -charge of her winnings.” - -“_C’est magnifique_,” yawned Brentin, “_mais ce n’est pas la guerre_.” - -“It’s worse,” I said; “it’s Capua, simply, and must be put a stop to.” - -“I know if I were here a fortnight longer,” yawned my sister, “with -nothing to do, I should desert my husband and child and be off into -Italy along the Corniche with white mice.” - -“Turn pifferari; exactly,” said Brentin. “Therefore, sir, we must move -in this business, and the sooner the better, or the golden opportunity -will slip by us, never to return. And that’s all there is to it. We will -summon a council of war this evening on board the _Amaranth_ and fix the -day finally.” - -“Well, all I ask is,” said my sister, “that in case of failure Miss -Rybot and I are afforded every opportunity of escape. I don’t want to -give those Medworth Square people the chance of coming and crowing over -me in a French prison. Besides, it wouldn’t do Frank’s business any -good, if I were caught.” - -“Why, just think what a book you could make of it,” I murmured—“_Penal -Servitude for Life; by a Lady_. Rivers would make his fortune.” - -What would have been, after all, the end of our adventure, whether the -sunshine might not have softened us into finally abandoning the -enterprise altogether—to my lasting shame and grief!—I cannot take -upon myself to say. All I know for certain is, that if our hands had not -been, in a measure, forced—if circumstances had not made it rather more -dangerous for us to go back than to go on—our party would at any rate -have needed an amount of whipping into line which would as likely as not -have driven them into restive retirement, instead of the somewhat -alarmed advance which was ultimately forced on us and turned out so -entirely successful. - -And as it is my particular pride to think I owe the undertaking, in the -first place, to my love for Lucy, so it is my joy to reflect how the -final carrying of it out was due to her affection for me, that drove her -to journey—quite unused to foreign parts as she was—right across -Europe, alone, and give me timely warning of the dastardly scheme on -foot for our capture and ruin. - -It was the very afternoon following the morning of our brief -conversation on the terrace that I went back early to the hotel, with -some natural feelings of depression and irritation at the growing -callous inertia of our party. - -I was going up to my room, when from the reading-room I heard the sound -of the piano. I stopped in some amazement, for there was being played an -air I never heard any one but Lucy play. It was an old Venetian piece of -church music (by Gordigiani, if I remember right), and I had never heard -it anywhere but at “The French Horn,” on the rather damaged old cottage -piano in the little room behind the bar. - -I stole down-stairs again, and, my heart beating, opened the glass door -noiselessly. - -It was Lucy! and the next moment, with a little scream, she was in my -arms. I took her to the sofa; for some moments she was so agitated she -couldn’t speak, nor could I, believing, indeed, it was a ghost, till I -felt the soft pressure of her arms and the warmth of her cheek as her -head lay on my shoulder, while she trembled and sobbed. - -“Don’t be frightened,” I murmured. “It’s really I. Now, don’t cry; be -calm and tell me all about it. We are both safe; we love each other. -Nothing else in the world matters.” - -At last, in broken tones and at first with many tears, she told me the -whole story. I listened as though I were in a dream, and my bones -stiffened with anger and apprehension. - -The gist of it was briefly this: that one day Mr. Crage had come down to -“The French Horn” and had an interview with her father in the -bar-parlor. He had come to put an end to Mr. Thatcher’s tenancy, a -yearly one, and turn him out of the inn, unless, as he suggested, -exactly like a villain on the stage, Lucy would, for her father’s sake, -engage to marry him, in which case he might remain, and at a reduced -rent. Thatcher, who, after all, is a gentleman, declared the idea -preposterous, more particularly as his daughter was already engaged, -with his full consent and approbation. - -“Oh, ah!” snarled Crage—“to that young cockney who was down here at -Christmas. Suppose you call her in, however, and let her speak for -herself.” - -Whereupon Lucy was sent for and told of Crage’s iniquitous proposal, of -which Thatcher very properly urged her not to think, but to refuse there -and then. - -“Oh, ah!” Crage had grinned. “The young cockney has enough for you all -and won’t grudge it, I dare say. He’s gone to Monte Carlo, ain’t he?” - -Yes, said Lucy, Mr. Blacker had, and had promised her not to gamble. - -“Gamble or not,” sneered Crage, “I know what he is up to. The police are -already on his track. Why, I shouldn’t be the least surprised to hear -he’s already in their hands, and condemned to penal servitude for life.” - -On hearing that, poor Lucy said she thought she should have dropped on -the floor, like water. But she has the courage of her race, and, telling -the old man in so many words he was mad, turned to leave the room. - -Now, it’s an odd thing that the old wretch, though he never minded being -called a liar, never could bear any reflection on his sanity—it was the -fusty remains, I suppose, of his old professional Clement’s Inn pride; -so he lost his temper at once, and with many shrieks and gesticulations -told them the whole story. - -That—as I have written—Bailey Thompson was a detective, frequently in -the “Victoria” smoking-room in the course of his duty; and that Brentin -had actually confided in him—as we know—all that we were going to do, -that he was an old friend of Crage’s, dating from the Clement’s Inn -days, and on Christmas night had divulged the whole scheme just as he -had received it from us, telling him with much glee, being a season of -jollity and good-will, how he was going to follow us to Monte Carlo and -make every disposition to catch us in the act. Crage added that Bailey -Thompson had rather doubted at first whether we weren’t humbugging him; -but having since heard from his sister, Mrs. Wingham, that she believed -we were really in earnest, was already somewhere on his way out to -superintend our capture in person. - -“I didn’t know what to do,” cried Lucy, piteously; “I could only laugh -in his face and tell him he was the victim of a practical joke.” - -“Practical joke!” Crage had screamed; “you wait till they’re all in -prison; perhaps they’ll call that a practical joke, too. Now, look here, -Thatcher, you’re a sensible man; you break off this engagement before -the scandal overtakes you all, and I’ll treat you and your daughter -handsomely. You shall stay on in the inn, or not, just as you please, -and the day we’re married I’ll settle Wharton on dear Lucy here. I -sha’n’t live so very much longer, I dare say,” he whined—“I’m -eighty-two next month—and then she can marry the young cockney, if she -wants to, when he’s done his time. Don’t decide now; send me up a note -in the course of the next few days. Hang it! I won’t be hard on you; -I’ll give you both a fortnight.” - -And with that and no more the wicked old man had stumped out of the bar -parlor. - -Lucy’s mind was soon made up. Notwithstanding her father’s -expostulations, she had determined to come after me and learn the truth -for herself; and as he couldn’t come with her, to come alone. She hadn’t -written, for fear of my telegraphing she was not to start. And here she -was, to be told the truth, to be reassured, to be made happy once more; -if possible, to take me home with her. - -“Oh, it’s not true, Vincent, dearest!” she murmured. “It’s all a fable, -isn’t it? You’re not even dreaming of doing anything so dangerous and -foolish?” - -Now, deep and true as is my affection for Lucy, I should have been quite -unworthy of her if I had allowed myself to be turned from so deeply -matured and worthy a purpose as ours merely by her tears. - -The more I had seen of Monte Carlo, the more sincerely was I convinced -of its worthlessness, and the dignity of a serious effort to put a stop -to it. For it is simply, as I have written, a _cocotte’s_ paradise and -nothing more; and if, by any effort of mine, I could close it, I felt I -should be rendering a service to humanity only second to Wilberforce and -the Slave Trade. What a glorious moment if only I could live to see a -large board stuck out of the Casino windows with _À Vendre_ on it, to -say nothing of the boards taken in from outside the London hospitals and -the closed wards in working order again, full of sufferers! - -So I calmed dear Lucy and told her how glad I was to see her; that above -all things she must trust me and believe what I was doing and going to -do was for the best and would turn out not unworthy of nor unserviceable -to her in the long-run; more especially, if only it were, as we had -every reason to believe it would be, successful. - -After some further talk, she promised to say no more and to trust me -entirely, both now and always, begging me only to assure her I was not -angry, and that what she had done in coming was really for my benefit -and welfare. I told her truly she had rendered me the greatest possible -service, and that I loved her if possible more deeply for this new proof -of her devotion than before. Then I telegraphed to her father of her -safety, got her something to eat, and sent her off early to bed after -her long journey (she had come second-class, poor child, and had stopped -once at least at every station, and twice at some), and at nine o’clock -we went down to the Condamine to go on board the _Amaranth_ for our -council of war. - -On the way down I told Brentin the reason of Lucy’s sudden visit, and -the new danger from Bailey Thompson, who by this time was clearly on his -way after us, if indeed he hadn’t already arrived. At the same time, I -candidly confessed to my indiscretion with Mrs. Wingham, and the letter -I had seen her writing to her brother. We found no difficulty in -agreeing we both had behaved like arrant fools, and might very fairly be -pictured as standing on the romantic, but uncomfortable, edge of a -precipice. - -“But we must go on, sir,” said Brentin, with decision. “It will never do -to back out now, after coming so far and spending so much money. We must -never allow this shallow detective trash to frighten us; we must meet -him in a friendly spirit, and find some means to dump him where he may -be both remote and harmless. The Balearic Isles, for choice.” - -“What about the band of brothers?” I asked. “How will they regard these -fresh revelations?” - -“That’s the difficulty,” replied Brentin, thoughtfully. “We must -exercise care, sir, or they’ll be scattering off home like Virginia -wheat-ears.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - COUNCIL OF WAR—CAPTAIN EVANS’S DECISION—I GO TO THE ROOMS AND - CONFIDE IN MY SISTER - - -WHEN the band of brothers in the saloon on board the _Amaranth_ heard -all, or rather so much as we thought fit delicately to tell them, they -turned—collectively and individually—pale. - -“Then there’s an end of it,” chattered Teddy. “It was a fool’s journey -from the beginning, and the sooner we all go home again the better.” - -“The sooner you go, sir,” retorted Brentin, “the easier we shall all -breathe. Is there any other palpitating gentleman desires to climb -down?” - -“One moment, first,” said Hines; “before we decide to break up, can’t we -consider whether there may not be a way of either stopping your friend -Bailey Thompson _en route_, or at least rendering him powerless when he -arrives? The fact is,” he diffidently continued, “I have lost a good -deal of money here, and don’t altogether care about leaving it without -an effort of some kind to get it back, to say nothing of the lark of the -thing, which I take it has been one of its chief recommendations from -the first.” - -To say nothing, too, of the fact—as I knew—that before leaving -Folkestone he had sent out a circular to the parents of his boys to -announce the addition of a swimming-bath and a gymnasium to his -establishment, the non-erection of which would surely cause him to look -more foolish than a schoolmaster cares about. And what would the boys -say who had cheered him loudly at the end of last term, when, in a neat -speech, he had announced his generous intention? - -“Spoken like ay white man!” cried Brentin. “Why, whoever supposed that -in an enterprise of this magnitude there would not arise danger and -difficulties? They are only just beginning, gentlemen; if any of you, -therefore, still desire to shirk, he has only to say the word. -Conveyance to the shore is immediately at his service; he can this -moment go and pack his grip and be way off home. We shall be well rid of -him.” - -There was a pause, and then Forsyth said: - -“Aren’t you going, Parsons?” - -Teddy lighted a cigarette nervously and replied: - -“Well, dash it all, let’s hear what’s proposed first.” - -“No, sir!” shouted Brentin, thumping the table. “You go or you stay, one -or the other; we will have no ha-alf measures. The time for them has -elapsed.” - -“Very well,” stammered the unhappy Parsons, “if you are all going to -stay, of course I must stay too. I thought the affair was all over, -that’s why I spoke. I wasn’t thinking, you know, of deserting my pals.” - -“Bravo!” cried Hines, sardonically. “You ain’t exactly a hero, Parsons, -but I dare say you’ll do very well.” - -“There is just one thing I should like to point out,” Arthur Masters -observed, “before we go any further. The affair is assuming a somewhat -grave aspect, and it is of course possible that, in spite of all -precautions, we may, after all, be captured, either on shore or, later, -on board the yacht.” - -“Hear! Hear!” Teddy murmured. - -“Now, is it fair to get Captain Evans and the crew into difficulties -without letting them know what we are going to do, and giving them the -chance of refusing to join us first?” - -“Well, sir,” objected Brentin, “we always meant to tell him, but not -until the last moment, when we should have claimed their assistance, if -only in removing the boodle. You see, gentlemen, the British sailor is a -fine fellow, but he is apt to tank-up and get full—full as ay goat, -gentlemen—and in that condition he is confiding. Now we have -unfortunately been confiding when dry, but the British sailor—” - -“We must risk that,” Masters replied. “And, after all, once they are -told and have consented, they can be refused permission to go on shore -again before we start.” - -“Well,” said Forsyth, “why not have Captain Evans in and tell him now; -then he can use his discretion as to telling the crew at all till the -last moment, or selecting the most trustworthy and sober of them for his -confidence at once.” - -So we decided to send for Captain Evans before going any further. - -When he stepped into the saloon, smart and sailor-like, peaked cap in -hand, Brentin begged him to be seated, and gave him one of his longest -and blackest cigars. - -Then, “Captain Evans,” he said, “we have sent for you so that in case of -this affair of ours going wrong you may not have any cause of complaint -against us.” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” said the captain, “and what affair may that be?” - -He listened with the deepest attention and in complete silence while our -scheme was unfolded. - -“Well, gentlemen,” he said, when Brentin had finished, “I will be -perfectly frank with you. Your scheme is your own, and you know best how -far it is likely to fail or to succeed. But if it fails and we are all -caught, I shall never be able to persuade the authorities I was an -innocent party, and there will be an end to any future employment. I -have a wife and a fine little boy to think of, gentlemen; how am I going -to support them?” - -“Your objection is perfectly fair, captain,” said Brentin. “My answer to -it is, that if you get into trouble, I will personally undertake to make -you an allowance of £150 per annum for the period dooring which you -remain out of a berth. In the case of success, and the boodle being -considerable, you must trust us to make you such a present or _solatium_ -as shall in my opinion repay you for any risks you may have run. How -will that do?” - -“That will do, gentlemen, thank you,” the captain replied. “And what -about the crew?” - -“We shall be glad if you will select six of the most elegant of your -men, whose assistance will be needed in the rooms on the night. Clothes -will be provided for them, and their duties will be explained in good -time. As for the others, if they are to be told, they must not be -allowed on shore. To-day is Wednesday; we propose to start Friday. Till -Friday they must be confined on board.” - -“With the exception of the cook, gentlemen,” urged the captain. “He has -to go on shore marketing.” - -“Then don’t tell the cook. Now, do we understand each other?” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” - -“One question, captain,” said Brentin, as he rose. “The French corvette -has left the harbor, I understand?” - -“Yes, sir, she sailed to Villefranche yesterday.” - -“And the _Saratoga_, what of her?” - -“She’s away over at San Remo, sir, and returns some time to-night or -to-morrow.” - -“Thank you, Captain Evans; that will do. Good-evening.” - -“My friends,” he said, as the captain closed the door, “this is going to -cost a lot of money; let us hope we shall all come out right side up.” - -“And now, what about Bailey Thompson?” Bob Hines asked. - -“Our plan is obvious,” Brentin replied. “I must board the _Saratoga_ -first thing in the morning, reintrodooce myself to Van Ginkel, confide -in him and beg him to take Thompson on board for us, and be off with him -kindly down the coast. East or west, he can dump him where he pleases, -so long as he does dump him somewhere and leave him there like dirt. How -does that strike you, gentlemen?” - -“If only he can be got to go!” I answered; “and Mrs. Wingham? You must -remember it was he who advised us to go to the Monopôle, no doubt giving -the old lady instructions to keep an eye on us and report.” - -“Well,” said Brentin, “Mr. Parsons here is her friend. He must manage to -let her know we don’t start operations till Saturday. That will put her -off the scent. And now, gentlemen, let us discuss details and -positions.” - -I left them to their discussion and went on shore to find my sister and -Miss Rybot, who were at the rooms. My sister knew nothing whatever about -Lucy—still less of her being at Monte Carlo. I had to make a clean -breast of it all, and get her to take Lucy on board the yacht in the -morning, so as to be out of Bailey Thompson’s way. - -I found them without much difficulty, full as the rooms were. Miss Rybot -was seated, playing roulette, rather unsuccessfully, if I might judge -from her ill-humored expression. Facing her, standing staring at her -pathetically, with a soft hat crushed under his arm, was a tall, blond, -sentimental-looking young German. - -“Tell that man to go away, please,” she said to me, crossly. “He’s been -standing there staring at me the last half-hour, and he brings me bad -luck. Tell him I hate the sight of him. Tell him to go away at once.” - -I explained that I was scarcely sufficient master of German for all -that. - -“Keep my place, please,” she said, imperiously, and went round to the -young man, who received her with a fascinating smile. - -“_Vous comprenez le Français?_” I heard her say to him, folding her arms -and looking him resolutely full in the face. - -“_Oui, mademoiselle._” - -“_Alors, allez-vous-en, sivooplay_,” she went on; “_je n’aime pas qu’un -homme me regarde comme ça. Vous me portez de la guigne. Allez-vous-en, -ou j’appelle les valets. C’est inouï! Allez-vous-en! Vous avez une de -ces figures qui porte de la guigne toujours. Entendez-vous? toujours!_” - -With that, entirely unconcerned, she resumed her seat, while the young -German, who had hitherto been under the impression he had made a -conquest, strolled off somewhat alarmed to another table. - -My sister I found in the farther rooms watching the -_trente-et-quarante_. “Hullo, Vincent!” she said. “Council over? Dear -me, I wish I hadn’t promised Frank not to play; my fingers are simply -tingling. However, I’ve been playing in imagination and lost 40,000 -francs, so perhaps it’s just as well.” - -I drew her to a side seat and soon told her all about Lucy and her -arrival, softening down the Bailey Thompson part for fear of alarming -her unduly; giving other reasons for the dear girl’s sudden descent on -us, all more or less true. - -My good sister was as sympathetic as usual, only she entreated me to be -sure I was really serious and in earnest this time. - -“You know, Vincent,” she said, “you have so often come moaning to me -about young ladies, and I have so often asked them to tea and taken them -to dances for you, and nothing whatever has come of it.” - -“But that hasn’t been my fault,” I answered. “I have simply got tired of -them, that’s all. This time I am really in earnest.” - -“So you always were!” she laughed, “up to a certain point. Why, you’re a -sort of a young lady-taster.” - -“Well,” I replied, “how are you to know what sort of cheese you like -unless you taste several?” - -“Rather hard on the cheese, isn’t it? The process of tasting is apt to -leave a mark.” - -“Oh, not in the hands of an adroit and respectable cheesemonger’s -assistant.” - -“Vincent,” said my sister, severely, “don’t be cynical, or I’ll do -nothing.” - -All the same, she knew what I said was true. Men would, I believe, -always be faithful if only they could feel there was anything really to -be faithful to. But they meet an angel at an evening party, and then, -when they go to call, they find the angel fled and the most ordinary -young person in her place; one scarcely capable of inspiring a -school-boy in the fifth form to the mediocre height of the most ordinary -verse-power. - -But with Lucy! Sympathetic readers don’t, I am sure, look for -protestations from me where she’s concerned. At least, not now. - -The end of our talk was, it was arranged between us Lucy should go on -board the _Amaranth_ in the morning and there remain. - -And the next morning there she was comfortably installed, and already -looking forward to the Friday evening, when she was told we were going -to make a move out of harbor, and probably go home by way of the Italian -coast, and possibly by rail from Venice. - -Everything else was kept from her carefully, which is, I think, the -worst of an adventure of this kind; one is driven to subterfuge even -with those one loves best. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - ENTER MR. BAILEY THOMPSON—VAN GINKEL STANDS BY US—WE SHOW - THOMPSON ROUND AND EXPLAIN DETAILS—TEDDY PARSONS’S ALARM - - -THE Bailey Thompson problem confronted us _in propriâ personâ_ that very -same afternoon, the Thursday, at about half-past four, when, as we were -some of us sitting outside the Café de Paris at tea, I saw him strolling -round the central flower-beds in front of the rooms. He wore one of the -new soft straw hats, a black frock-coat, tan shoes, and the invariable -dog-skin gloves, and over his arm he carried a plaid shawl. In short, he -looked like what he was, Scotland Yard _en voyage_. - -I pointed him out to Brentin, who immediately jumped up, crossed the -road, and greeted him with effusion. Then he brought him over and -introduced him to our party, among whom, luckily enough, was seated Mr. -Van Ginkel. - -Now I don’t want to say anything uncivil in print about a gentleman who -rendered us later a service so undeniable, and, indeed, priceless; but I -cannot help observing that Van Ginkel, on the whole, was one of the -dreariest personalities I ever came in touch with. - -He was about Brentin’s age, fifty-four or so, but he appeared years -older; his hair and beard were almost white, and his face was so lined, -the flesh appeared folded, almost like linen. He had some digestive -troubles that kept him to a milk diet, and he would sit in entire -silence looking straight ahead of him, searching, as it were, for the -point of time when he should be able to eat meat once more. - -Brentin had boarded the _Saratoga_ early that morning on its return, and -given a full account of our scheme and its difficulties. Van Ginkel had -listened in complete silence; and when Brentin had told him of Bailey -Thompson, and our earnest desire to get him out of the way, ending by -asking him to be so friendly as to take him on board and keep him there -till we had finished, Van Ginkel had just remarked, “Why, certainly!” -and relapsed into silence again. - -“He has very much altered,” Brentin had whispered, after presenting me; -when Van Ginkel shook me by the hand, said “Mr. Vincent Blacker,” in the -American manner, and was further entirely dumb. “He was the liveliest -freshman of my class and the terror of the Boston young ladies, -especially when he was full. As, of course, you know from his name, he -is one of the oldest families of Noo York State.” - -“Yes,” I replied, “and he looks it.” - -Bailey Thompson sat with us for some little time outside the “Café de -Paris,” and made himself uncommonly agreeable, according to his Scotland -Yard lights. He told us, the hypocrite, he usually came to Monte Carlo -at this time of the year, and usually stayed at the “Monte Carlo Hotel,” -just where the road begins to descend to the Condamine, once Madame -Blanc’s villa. - -Where were we? Oh! some of us were at the “Monopôle” and some on board -the yacht. Really? Why, the “Monopôle” was the hotel he had recommended -us, wasn’t it? He hoped we found it fairly quiet and comfortable, and -not too dear, did the arch-hypocrite! - -When my sister rose to go back to the rooms and look after Miss Rybot, -Van Ginkel roused himself to ask her to lunch with him the next day, -Friday, on board the _Saratoga_, and go for a sail afterwards to -Bordighera. He managed the affair like an artist, for he didn’t -immediately include Bailey Thompson in the invitation, as though he knew -too little of him just for the present. It was not till later, as we -strolled down to the Condamine—he, Thompson, Brentin, and I—that he -asked us to come on board the yacht and see over it, and not till -finally as we were leaving that (as though reminding himself he must not -be impolite) he begged the detective to be of the party, if he had no -other engagement of the kind. - -Thompson—simple soul!—was enchanted to accept, and, as we went back on -shore in the boat, went off into raptures at the beauty of the yacht and -the politeness of the owner in asking him on so short an acquaintance. - -As we three strolled up the hill, Brentin, with the most natural air of -trust, at once launched out on the subject of our plan. - -“Well, here we are, sir, you see,” he said; “everything is in train. We -approach the hour.” - -“Here am I, too,” smiled the cool little man. “I told you I should most -likely be over.” - -“We are real glad to see you.” - -“And you really mean it, now you’re on the spot and can measure some of -the difficulties for yourselves?” - -“So much so that we have decided for Saturday night,” was Brentin’s -light and untruthful reply. “We have observed the rooms are at their -fullest then.” - -“Where are the rest of your party—the other gentlemen I saw at ‘The -French Horn?’” - -“Mr. Hines is gambling, having unfortunately developed tastes in that -direction. Mr. Masters is in attendance on a lady friend—” - -“The ladies of your party know nothing of your intentions, I presume?” -said Thompson. - -“Nothing, sir; nothing. For them it is a mere party of pleasure all the -time. Then Mr. Forsyth is playing that fool-game, tennis, with his late -colonel, behind the “Hôtel de Paris,” and Mr. Parsons is somewhere way -off on the Mentone Road, choking himself with dust on ay loaned -bicycle.” - -“That’s the six of you. But now you have seen everything, do you really -think six will be enough?” - -“Sir,” said Brentin, “six stalwarts of our crew have been confided in. -They will be furnished with linen bags to collect the boodle, directly -the tables are cleared of the croupiers and gamblers by us; in fact, -acting on your kind hint, longshore suits have been provided them in -which they have already rehearsed.” - -“Not in the rooms?” - -“Sir, they were there mid-day just before you came, and their behavior -was as scroopulous as the late Lord Nelson’s.” - -“Was there any difficulty made about their cards?” - -“Why, none whatever. They went in in pairs, and each told a different -lie: one pair were staying at the ‘Metropôle,’ another at the ‘de -Paris,’ and another at the ‘S. James.’ They were well coached and they -are brainy fellows. They were informed they must behave like ornaments -of high-toned society, and not expectorate on the floor; and they -paraded in couples, ejaculating _Haw, demmy!_” - -“Really!” murmured Bailey Thompson, “these people deserve to be raided. -And that is your yacht, I suppose, lying off there—the _Amaranth_, -isn’t it?” - -“That is the _Amaranth_, sir. At 9.30 to-morrow—I should say -Saturday!—_Saturday_ night, she will have orders to get as close up to -the shore as quickly as she can. If you will step this way, sir, down on -to the terrace here, we will have pleasure in showing you the spot -marked out by Nature and Providence for our retreat.” - -When we showed him the board with _défense d’entrée au public_ on it, -the steps leading down on to the railway line, the broken piece of -embankment, so few feet above the shore, Bailey Thompson gave a low -whistle. - -“Lord! how simple it is,” he murmured. “Now you’d think people would -take better care than that of property of such enormous value, wouldn’t -you?” - -“Sir,” said Mr. Brentin, with magisterial emphasis, “in the simplicity -of the idea lies its grandeur. It is significant of poor human nature to -make difficulties for themselves; they neglect what lies at their feet, -ready to be carted away for the trouble. Everybody has heard of the man -who stood on your London Bridge offering sovereigns for a penny apiece, -and doing no trade in them; while we all know the Boer children played -for years with large diamonds, believing them to be white pebbles. Sir, -it’s the same thing here precisely, and that’s all there is to it.” - -“I need hardly say, of course, that here there’s a good deal of risk,” -said Thompson. “You have naturally all of you thought well over that?” - -“We have thought well over everything. If you care to attend the rooms -on Saturday—_Saturday_ night—at about ten, you will see for yourself -how complete in every respect our thought has been. And you will be -amused, I fancy, at the little scene you will witness, in which I will -undertake, Mr. Bailey Thompson, you shall be neither hurt nor hustled,” -added Mr. Brentin, considerately. - -As we strolled back with Thompson to his hotel, I could, having some -sort of gift that way, see quite well what was passing in his mind. - -After all, he said to himself, he was an English detective; why should -he interfere to protect a French company who couldn’t look after -themselves? Why, too, should he spoil gentlemen’s sport? They didn’t -want the money for themselves; they wanted it (as we had always been -careful to explain) for hospitals and good works generally. It wasn’t as -if we were vulgar cracksmen, long firm swindlers, gentry he had been -brought up to struggle with and defeat all his life. Hang it all! we -were gentlemen and had treated him well, quite as one of ourselves. We -had been frank and above-board, and had told him everything from the -first. - -I could see it was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out: “Mr. Brentin -and Mr. Blacker! you have been quite frank with me, and, at any cost, I -will be quite frank with you. I am a detective from Scotland Yard, and -unless you promise me to give up this scheme of yours—which, as Heaven -shall judge me, will, I believe, be successful!—it will be my -unpleasant duty to warn the police here and have you all arrested.” - -But there lay the difficulty, eh? We could scarcely be arrested for an -idea, without overt act of any kind. Wouldn’t it be a complete answer if -we declared the whole thing a practical joke, and turned the tables by -laughing at him for being so simple as to believe it? No, if we were to -be successfully caught, we must be caught in the act, that was clear. - -And then I felt the detective was too strong in him: the desire for the -reward, the fame of such a capture; his professional pride, in short, -bulked too large before him to be ignored. - -No! he said to himself, if we would go on with it, why we must take the -consequences. For his part, he would go to the Principality police, arm -a couple of dozen of them, and have them ready in the rooms. It would be -a simple matter, for hadn’t we always told him our revolvers would not -be loaded? - -When, after a long silence, he ended by shrugging his shoulders, I was -as well aware of his resolve as though he had spoken it out loud. - -We left him at the door of his hotel, undertaking to meet him in the -rooms at nine and show him every detail of our plan, so that we might -have the benefit of his final advice on any possible weak points. - -“There is, of course, the chance,” I observed to Brentin, “of his going -off at once to the police, and getting them to be present on Friday -night as well, _ex majori cautelâ_.” - -“Oh, he won’t do that! We’ve told him no lies at present.” - -“None at any rate that he has discovered.” - -“The same thing!—and if we say Saturday, he probably believes we mean -it. He won’t go to the police till the very last moment; he wouldn’t go -then if only there were any way of managing the business by himself.” - -“And our ultimate arrest, now that he knows us all?” - -“Why, sir, that will be the affair of the authorities here; that is, of -course, the chief risk we have now to run. My own notion, however, -always has been that, if only for fear of advertising our success too -widely, and suggesting the scheme to others, the Casino Company will put -up with their loss, just as though we had legitimately won the boodle at -play.” - -“Let us hope so!” I said, and parted from him with a warm grasp of the -hand. - -Then I went down to the Condamine, and signalled for the _Amaranth_ -boat. We had left Lucy on board all day, for fear of her running up -against Bailey Thompson on shore, and so arousing his suspicions by her -presence. As for old Crage’s finding means to let him know what, in a -fit of temper, he had blurted out, that I didn’t think altogether -likely; in the first place, he would probably be afraid; and in the -second, he would believe Lucy had by this time warned us and the whole -affair was off. So I spent a very happy hour with dear Lucy on board, -finding her sewing in a very bewitching tea-gown of my sister’s, and, -going back to the hotel, discovered Teddy outside in a considerable -state of alarm and excitement. He had just seen Thompson leaving the -hotel, parting from Mrs. Wingham at the door. - -“Oh, Vincent!” he cried, “it’s not too late; we’d better hook it, we had -really!”—and other terrified absurdities—the fact being, no doubt, -that Thompson had merely come up to see the old lady and find out from -her whether she knew if Saturday really was the day, or if we were by -any chance trying to put him off the scent. - -I calmed Teddy with the assurance all was going on perfectly well, and -that he had only to keep calm to do himself and his militia training -full justice. - -“Hang it all!” I said to him, “you are as nearly as possible a British -officer; do, for goodness’ sake, try and behave like one.” - -But he never did, from first to last; and for that, painful as it is, I -feel myself obliged publicly to censure him here, in print. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - EXIT MR. BAILEY THOMPSON - - -FRIDAY dawned, blue and auspicious, and soon after twelve Brentin and I -called at his hotel to conduct the luckless Thompson on board the -_Saratoga_. We had matured our little plan, and as we went down the hill -to the Condamine we began to put it in motion. - -In this wise. Brentin suddenly pulled up short, saying: “Sakes alive! I -have forgotten to telegraph to the hotel at Venice to secure our rooms. -Mr. Blacker, will you conduct our friend to the boat, and I will join -you?” - -I went on with Thompson to the boat lying ready for us, and there we -waited. Then at the top of the hill appeared Brentin, as per -arrangement, outside the telegraph office, making weird signals with his -arms. - -“What on earth is he doing?” I innocently asked. - -“He apparently wants you,” replied the unsuspicious Thompson; “perhaps -he has forgotten the name of the hotel.” - -“Oh, Lord!” I ejaculated, “and I shall have to go all the way back up -that horrible hill. Don’t you wait for me, please. If you don’t mind -just going on board and sending the boat back, we shall be ready, and by -that time Parsons and Hines will have joined us. We are a little too -early as it is.” - -“The others come from the _Amaranth_, I presume?” - -“Yes; there’s the boat”—for we had arranged they should at any rate -start, and not turn back till they had seen the detective decoyed below -deck on board the _Saratoga_. - -“_Au revoir!_” I cried, and without turning, up the hill I hastened, -only too delighted and relieved to hear the boat put off and the soft -plash of the oars behind me. - -I never turned till I got to the telegraph office, and then Brentin and -I stood there and watched with breathless interest. Brentin had glasses -with him, and at once turned them on the _Saratoga_. - -“Van Ginkel receives him,” he chuckled, “with stately, old-fashioned -courtesy. Thompson explains how it is he is alone, and that the boat is -to go back for us. Van Ginkel insists on taking his plaid shawl, and -entreats him to come below out of the sun. He leads the way, and they go -to the head of the saloon companion-ladder, engaged in affable -conversation and friendly rivalry for the shawl. They disappear. Bravo! -The _Amaranth_ boat turns back. The _Saratoga_ men rapidly haul their -own boat on board. The anchor is apparently already weighed. Animated -figures cross and recross the deck. Orders are rapidly given—she’s off! -By Heaven, sir, she’s off!” - -A long pause, while the shapely _Saratoga_ begins to leave the harbor -and head for the open sea. She crosses the bows of the _Amaranth_, where -the rest of our company are standing, with Captain Evans and his crew, -waiting and watching. - -“Ah, ha!” roared Brentin, suddenly. “Thompson’s head reappears, without -his hat. He looks round him, scared. He hurries to the captain, who is -walking the bridge, his hands behind him, his eye watchful. He speaks to -the captain. He shouts, he beats the bridge, he foams at the mouth. The -captain pays him no heed—no heed, sir, whatever. He even casually steps -on his fingers. Ha! he rushes to the man at the wheel. He gesticulates, -he yells, he attempts to seize the wheel. Steady, Scotland Yard! You -should know better than that. Bravo! The man at the wheel kicks a long -leg out at him and shouts to the captain. The captain gives sharp, -decisive orders. Bravo! Well done! Bailey Thompson is seized by a couple -of Long Tom Coffins and hurried away. They hurry him, struggling -violently, to the head of the companion-ladder. Down with him, -gentlemen! Down with him, among the dead men! Bravo!” - -Bailey Thompson’s struggle and discomfiture were watched by our friends -on the _Amaranth_ with interest at least as keen as ours. As the -_Saratoga_ fell away across their bows, and Thompson disappeared down -the companion-ladder, Captain Evans takes off his cap and leads his -brave fellows to a cheer. They cheer vociferously and derisively, the -ladies wave their handkerchiefs. - -“Exit Mr. Bailey Thompson!” cried Brentin, and taking off his hat he -gave a loud “Hurray!” much to the astonishment of the man outside the -telegraph office, who stands there with a tray of colored pince-nez for -sale, as a protection against the Monte Carlo glare of white roads and -blue sparkling sea. - -Just then up came Parsons and Hines. - -“Well, is it all right? Has he gone? Have they got him?” - -“Look for yourselves, gentlemen!” he cried, handing them the glass. -“Search earth and sky for vestiges of Mr. Bailey Thompson, of Scotland -Yard and Brixton. You will not find him. He has passed out of our ken. -He’s on his way to Majorca, Minorca, Ivaca, and the Balearic Isles -generally. For purposes of any active mischief he is as dead and -harmless as the dodo.” - -“For the present—only for the present!” muttered Teddy, who was in his -usual pallid condition. - -“And now,” said Brentin, with satisfaction, putting away his glasses, -“rebellion being dead, let us go back to the ‘Monopôle,’ enjoy our -breakfast, and pay our bill. Then we pack up and get our things on board -the yacht. Fortune smiles on us, gentlemen,” he added, “as ever on the -bold. Nothing, so far, could be better!” - -From the terrace of the “Monopôle” we took a last look over the sea -before going in to breakfast. There was the _Saratoga_, rapidly growing -diminutive as she bustled far away out to sea to the right. Exit Mr. -Bailey Thompson, indeed! - -Mrs. Wingham’s place, between Mrs. Sellars and Miss Marter, was empty. -They told Teddy the old lady had breakfasted early, and was down at the -rooms for a long afternoon’s play. - -And Mr. Parsons was leaving? How sorry they were—how much they would -miss him! Certainly they would say good-bye to Mrs. Wingham for him. Oh, -we were all going to Bordighera in a friend’s yacht, and should most -probably not return. Well, good-bye. _Bon voyage!_ - -“Now she’ll think,” said the sagacious Teddy, as he joined us, “the -whole affair’s off, notwithstanding my telling her it was fixed for -Saturday. She’ll fancy we’ve got frightened, or been warned, and have -bolted. Good business!” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - THE GREAT NIGHT—DINNER AT THE “HÔTEL DE PARIS”—A LAST LOOK ROUND - —THE SACK AND ITS INCIDENTS—FLIGHT - - -BY five o’clock of that same afternoon—Friday, January 17th—we and our -luggage were all safe on board the _Amaranth_. - -Our luggage stowed away and our cabin arrangements made (rather a tight -fit we found it), I took Lucy on shore to show her round, or give her a -walk rather, as it was nearly dark; for now that Bailey Thompson was -well out at sea, there was no danger of her being met and recognized. -For the night, our plan of action briefly was, that at a quarter to -eight we were all to dine together at the “Hôtel de Paris,” the ladies -afterwards to return on board the yacht. At ten we gentlemen, with the -six sailors, were to be in the rooms; at half-past, precisely, the start -was to be made. - -At ten-twenty the boats, two of them, were to leave the yacht and be -ready at the spot I have indicated. They were not to start a minute -earlier, for fear of exciting suspicions among any of the firemen or -police who might be about on the terrace. For them, on Brentin’s -suggestion, we had arranged a small pyrotechnic display—what he called -“fire-crackers”—on the terrace not far from the band-stand. Parsons had -purchased a “Devil among the Tailors” over at Mentone, and Jarvis, one -of the sailors—the same, by-the-way, who had first accosted us on the -pier at Ryde—was to light it one minute before the half-hour. We -calculated it would explode and draw the firemen away, just about the -time when they would otherwise be in demand to stop us in our rush down -the terrace steps, and through the rickety gate on to the railway line. - -Our dinner at the “Hôtel de Paris” was a very expensive and merry one. -It was lucky, by-the-way, as it turned out, that I ate and drank a good -deal more than usual, for it was almost four-and-twenty hours before I -got anything approaching a proper meal again; through that idiot Teddy -Parsons’ fault, as presently will plainly enough appear. - -Soon after half-past nine we sent the ladies off in a carriage down to -the Condamine to go on board the yacht. It was a solemn moment, for it -was quite on the cards I might never see any of them again, and one was -my sweetheart and one my sister. Indeed, so affected was I, that I bent -into the carriage and kissed Miss Rybot by mistake, which made everybody -but Arthur Masters laugh. I knew I had made the mistake directly my lips -touched her cheek, for hers was hard and cold as an apple off wet grass, -whereas dear Lucy’s was ever soft and warm as a sunny peach. - -Then they drove away, laughing and kissing their hands; Lucy -particularly merry, for she still knew nothing of what we were almost -immediately going to do, and was quite gay at the thought of leaving -Monte Carlo so soon—to which unhallowed spot, as most good and -sensitive women, she had taken the supremest dislike. - -We gentlemen sat a little time smoking, in somewhat perturbed silence, -and just before ten we had a glass of old brandy each, paid our bill, -and left. The others went on into the rooms, while Brentin and I walked -down on to the terrace to have a last look at the gate, and see it was -still open; or, rather, would open to a slight push. - -The night was singularly mild, dark, and heavy; the terrace absolutely -deserted. There was not a star in the dense, low sky; they all seemed -fallen on shore, outlining the Condamine and heights of Monaco in the -many regular pin-pricks of the gas-lamps. From the “Café de Paris” came -the swirl of the Hungarian band; from the Casino concert-room, the high -notes of Madame Eames singing in the new opera; from the Condamine, the -jingle of the omnibus bells. Not another sound of life from earth or -heaven; but mainly the persistent jangle of those omnibus bells, as -though sadly shaken by some dyspeptic Folly. The Mediterranean, as ever, -was absolutely still. - -I could have stayed there a long time, but— - -“Come!” whispered Brentin, and taking my arm, walked me back up the -steps towards the rooms. As we passed the end of the concert-room, I -noticed that up against the outside balconies, at the back of the stage, -ladders were reared, so that, in case of fire, the artistes might have -some other chance of escape than the dubious one of fighting their way -through the _salle_. I found myself fitfully wondering whether those -ladders would be used. - -“Come!” whispered Brentin, again, feeling, I dare say, the alarm in my -elbow. “Courage!” - -For I do not mind confessing here in print that, as the hour approached, -I began to feel frightened at the audacity of what we were going to do, -and, if only I could—consistently with my honor—would willingly have -withdrawn; nay, to put it plainly, turned tail and bolted. My revolver, -loaded with blank cartridge only, in the pocket of my smoking-jacket -beat remindfully against my hip as I walked up the Casino steps. Even -now as I write, months after the occurrence, the tremor of that hour -seizes me and my hand shakes so I can scarcely guide the pen. - -Another moment, and we had walked through the hall, and passed the -swing-doors into the stifling gambling-rooms. - -It is extremely unlikely I ever visit Monte Carlo again; indeed, my -conduct, on this the last occasion I entered the rooms, rather precludes -me from ever even making the attempt; but if ever I do, they will never -make the same impression on me as they did that warm January evening -when Brentin and I strolled into them arm in arm. - -Every incident of that memorable evening, every face I then saw, is -photographed into my memory, still remains there distinct and indelible. -The rooms, either because of the attraction of a new opera or because -the night was so warm, were somewhat empty. The crowds were only round -the table, and the parquet flooring between looked more than usually -vacant and dull. - -Dimmer they looked, too, and more than ever badly lit; and the air -seemed even heavier charged with gamblers’ exasperation. - -Now, in some slight particulars, we had modified our original plan. We -had long given over all attempt to turn the light out, for one thing, -since we had never been able to discover where the mains were; probably -somewhere well out of sight, down below among the vaults, which also we -had decided not to attempt. Nor did we intend to do anything towards -securing the gamblers’ valuables, as at one time we had projected. It -was very like vulgar robbery, to begin with, and next, as Thompson had -pointed out, it would take too much time. - -Directly we got inside, Brentin looked up at the clock over the door and -set his watch by it; then we strolled off to find the rest, and, showing -each of them the watch, saw that each had the precise time. Our six -sailors were wandering about genteelly in pairs; to each Brentin -whispered, “Got your bag all right?” and each nodded a reply. Each had a -linen bag buttoned inside his short, respectable reefer jacket. One who, -I fear, was not quite sober, a man named Barker, took his bag out with a -stupid laugh to show us; whereupon his companion (Frank Joyce, from -Sandown, in the Isle of Wight, who had him by the arm) said, “Now then, -Barker, don’t be a fool, it ain’t time yet.” - -It was then between the ten minutes and the quarter past ten. - -When we had visited the rooms with Bailey Thompson the night before, and -explained our plan in detail on the spot, we had, by his advice, and -very wisely, reversed it. Previously, we had designed to begin at the -first, the _roulette_ tables, and drive the people gradually before us -into the last room, towards the _trente-et-quarante_; but that, as he -pointed out, would force us to work with our backs to the exit and bring -us between two fires as it were; whereas, if we began in the farthest -rooms and cleared the _trente-et-quarante_ tables first, we should have -our faces to the doors, and, by driving everybody before us, secure the -further advantage of increasing the confusion that would arise from the -people rushing in to see what was wrong and meeting the people rushing -out. And through that surging, terrified mass we ought to have no -difficulty in forcing a passage, if only we kept our unloaded revolvers -up to the mark and frowned unflinchingly. - -As for masking ourselves, which we had also at first designed, Thompson -was strongly against it; it would all take time, and might only obscure -our vision; for, as he truly pointed out, that sort of thing scarcely -ever fits properly.... I gave a nervous glance at my watch, and found it -nearly ten-twenty. - -I was standing just by the last _roulette_ table, and saw one or two -little things that, as I have said, are still distinctly photographed in -my memory. There were two young men standing behind me, and one said, -“I’ll just chuck a louis on the table and see where it will fall.” It -fell on the number eighteen, and eighteen actually turned up! He laughed -excitedly as the croupier pushed him thirty-five times his stake. -“That’s not bad for my one gentle little louis, eh?” he giggled. - -Opposite, a brown-faced English yachtsman, over from Mentone, was -steadily backing the colors with notes of five hundred francs. He was -always right; he changed from side to side, and always hit the right red -or black. He was watched by two common Englishmen, with long upper lips -and ridiculous pantaloon beards, dressed in shiny broadcloth. “That -feller’s won another twenty-pound,” said one of them, gaping. “We must -bring Louisa in to see this.” - -Now it was past the ten-twenty, and I moved off into the -_trente-et-quarante_ rooms. - -Every one who has been to Monte Carlo knows that the four -_trente-et-quarante_ tables are in the two end rooms, two in each. - -In the right-hand room were to be stationed Brentin, Parsons, and I, -with three of the sailors; in the left, Forsyth, Masters, and Hines, -with the other three. Brentin was to give the signal in our -room—“_Levez les mains!_”—and Hines in the other, while the immediate -discharge of the “Devil among the Tailors” outside on the terrace would, -we hoped, increase the confusion and alarm within. It was rather awkward -that we were forced to go to work a little out of sight of each other; -for, though there is an opening between the rooms, we meant to begin -well at the back, and the opening did not so far reach as to bring us in -sight of each other. - -It was close on the twenty-five minutes past ten, and so alarmed was I -at the difficulties which, now we were actually on the spot ready to -overcome them, loomed so desperately large, that I would willingly have -sacrificed half my income to be allowed to leave without even making the -attempt. - -On one side of me was Brentin; on the other a very pretty, smart young -Englishwoman, standing with a purse in her hand, watching the run on -black. As in a dream, I noticed all the details of her dress, the white -facings of her dark jacket on the cuffs and pockets, the piquant spots -on her veil. Quietly, as though she were paying for a pair of gloves, -she staked all the gold she had left, about twenty pounds, and lost -that. She searched her purse, found it quite empty, snapped it -leisurely, and sauntered away. Brentin whispered me he had seen her -stake roll after roll of notes, and lose them all. Beautifully dressed, -with a hanging, jewelled little watch and many neat gold bracelets, I -had often seen her strolling about the gardens, neither speaking to nor -looking at any one; now I found myself stupidly wondering who she was, -even envying her, notwithstanding her totally cleaned-out condition. - -The relentless minutes stole on. I looked piteously at Brentin, glaring -with resolution straight in front of him, his hand in his pocket -fingering his revolver; at Parsons, white as this paper, his legs -bending under him. - -Piteously I looked at the table in front of me; at the croupiers, with -their cropped black heads and emotionless faces; at the _chef_ sitting -above them, his bored, round back towards me; at the delicately pretty, -demure Italian, olive-skinned and colorless, leaning her arm, in its -long white glove, over the back of his chair; at the young Frenchman -staking his thousand-franc notes, his forehead and eyes twitching with -excitement, or some nervous complaint; at the gaunt English girl— - -_Bang!_ from the terrace outside. _Bang! bang!_ - -I gave a jump like a terrified horse. It was the “Devil among the -Tailors,” set off a minute or two too soon by our friend and accomplice, -the sailor. - -The confusion and alarm it caused was nothing compared to what followed. -I had just time to see the Italian lady’s frightened profile, as she -turned and put her white glove up to her smooth cheek, when the bold -Brentin gave a hoarse shout—“_Levez les mains!_”—and produced the -revolver. Then, indeed, a panic set in! comparable, I imagine, to -nothing but the sudden striking of a ship. - -At first a dead pause, and then immediately a rushing to and fro, as of -rats in a pit, the haggard looking in each other’s fallen, discomposed -faces. And then the noise! the overthrow of chairs and the dragging of -them along the parquet floor, caught in screaming women’s dresses as -they scudded away like sea-shore birds, bent low, with their hands up to -their ears, while the shouting, swearing, groaning men clutched at their -money, and tried to thrust it in their pockets, as they leaped and -huddled themselves away, the louis falling and tinkling on the floor. - -I saw before me a hideous, moving frieze of terror, of distorted -faces—Russian, French, German, Italian, English, American, Greek—all -reduced to the same monotony of look under the overmastering influence -of the same passion—abject fear. The English were no better than the -rest; they were a little quicker in getting away, perhaps, and that was -all. The confusion of tongues was as complete as though, on the Tower of -Babel, some one had screamed the foundations were giving way, and all -must save themselves as best they could. - -As in a battle the soldier knows only incidents, the faces he sees as -frightened or determined as his own, the eyes peering into his through -smoke he mostly himself seems to make; so, out of this action—so famous -and yet so little known—can I only report the events that met me in my -narrow section of the struggle, a section drawn almost in parallel -straight lines from the point I started at to the point of exit at the -farther end of the rooms. - -First it was the _chef_, on his high chair facing me, who fell over -backwards, ridiculous enough at such a time of tragic import. One of the -croupiers, in jumping horrified to his feet, gave him a tilt and over he -went. He was a youngish man, with round, fat, clean-shaven cheeks, and a -small, bristling, black mustache. His arms and legs waved and kicked -like an impaled insect; his mouth opened with a stupendous screaming -oath, and as he fell—strange how at all times one notices details!—I -saw he wore half-shoes and blue socks. - -In another minute we were at the vacant table, the _chef_ crawling away -under a sofa-seat against the wall, and two of our gallant sailors were -stuffing the notes and coins into their linen bags. The second table was -equally deserted, and there the not-quite-sober sailor, Barker, with -empty, delighted laughter, was already scratching the notes out of the -metal stand they are always kept in. Suddenly I saw he nearly fell; some -one under the table had him by the leg. He clutched the _chef’s_ empty -high chair, and, with a mighty oath and mighty random kick, released -himself. - -“Hurry up, men! hurry up!” chanted Brentin, as we moved forward -irresistibly over the bare floor. - -_Bang!_ suddenly went Teddy’s revolver off, in his nervousness, close to -my ear. It was a mistake, but not altogether a disastrous one; it showed -we were in earnest, and soon cleared some of the people away from the -space between the roulette rooms and the _trente-et-quarante_. Like a -wave that breaks against the shore and then returns, so these broken -people, spent against the struggling mass round the swing-doors, had -gushed back again and almost reached the point they started from. - -From the room on the left, where Hines and his party were at work, I -suddenly heard Arthur Masters shout, “Look out, Forsyth!” At what, I -know not; I just gave a look in their direction, and their room seemed -as vacant of opposition as ours. - -“Forward!” cried Brentin. “Hurry up! hurry up!” - -The sailors, with their bags, fell behind us, and forward we three -charged. As we came through the sort of ante-chamber dividing the rooms, -there, through the other door, at the same moment, came Hines, Forsyth, -and Masters, hurrying. - -“Bravo!” screamed to them the excited Brentin. “The left-hand table, -gentlemen!” - -Right and left the tables were absolutely deserted. As the sailors -pounced on and proceeded to clear them, I had an unobstructed view down -the length of the remaining rooms right to the exit. - -Such a scene of terrified, shouting, screaming confusion I never saw; -nor ever shall, unless my lurid evil star should one day carry me into -the hot heart of a theatre-panic, the uncontrollable frenzied meeting of -a fighting pit, gallery, dress circle, and stalls. They say a man will -give all he hath for his life, and here were innumerable men and women, -believing their precious lives in peril, giving all their fiery energies -play in their efforts to best their neighbor and reach the door. Often, -by-the-way, as I have heard of people wringing their hands, this was the -only occasion on which I ever really saw it done. One of the footmen, in -his absurd, ill-fitting livery, was standing on one of the side sofas, a -chap with laughable long whiskers, a discolored beak of a nose, and a -rabbit mouth; there he stood, dancing up and down, his face all puckered -with terror, actually wringing his hands in his misfitting long sleeves. -Then he suddenly fell over and crawled away, yelping like a frightened -lap-dog, and for the life of me I couldn’t help a spirit of laughter. - -“Gracious!” yelled Brentin, above the indescribable din, “I hope no one -will be injured. Loose off your gun, friend Parsons.” - -_Bang!_ went Teddy’s revolver. I looked at him; his face was still dead -white, while his mouth was working and distorted with a dreadful grin. -_Bang!_ it went again, while Teddy gave a silly laugh. Like a shot in a -mine that clears the air, or like the blowing out of a candle at ten -paces, the blank discharge had its due effect. The tortured mass heaved -and groaned, yielding irresistibly to the pressure of their terrors; -irresistibly they began to pour and gush out through the swing-doors at -the end. Every second, so fast they went, our road to safety was notably -being cleared for us. - -“Forward! Forward!” Brentin sang. - -To the right we went again into the next room, in the same -irreproachable order, with the same sublime results. Arthur Masters, in -all the energetic glory of battle, was waving his revolver, trying to -crack it, beating it against his thigh, as though it were a whip, -cheering on his men like hounds. He is master, as I have mentioned, of a -pack of harriers in Hertfordshire, and all the time he was at work in -the last two rooms he was musically crying, “Melody! Harmony! Trixie! -Hie over, lass, hie over!” And once, as one of his sailors bent on the -floor over a few scattered louis, he roared at him, “’Ware trash!” When -safe in England, I told him of it afterwards. He laughed and declared he -hadn’t the slightest recollection of doing anything of the sort. - -Now will it be believed that, so universal was the panic, at one of the -tables only, at the bottom one in the room before the last, was there -anybody found to receive us! And that not so much, I fancy, in the -spirit of opposition as of curiosity, or perhaps inability to move. - -For there we found an English lady tranquilly seated—elderly, perhaps -sixty, with a shrewd, not unpleasant face. To this day I don’t know her -name, but I know her quite well by sight, having often seen her driving -in Piccadilly and Bond Street. At the back of her chair her husband was -standing, eye-glass in eye; a tall man with a large head, rather of the -empty House of Commons air of importance, coolly watching us. - -“You will be good enough not to touch this lady’s money,” he said, as -our men pounced on the table. Then, as a sort of after-thought, he -added, “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” - -“Write to the _Times_,” chuckled Brentin, impudently. - -The old lady looked hard at me, as much as to say, “I’ve seen _you_ -somewhere before, more respectably engaged than this.” - -And, before I forget, it is an odd thing that, only a week or so ago, I -again met her driving in Piccadilly; I was in a cab with Lucy, and we -met her victoria face to face. We stood side by side for quite three -minutes in a block, and she recognized and stared at me in astonishment. -I returned her stare, not rudely, I hope, and then positively couldn’t -help beginning to laugh; she didn’t laugh back, but I could see quite -well she was very near it. - -There still remained the end room of all and our exit through the doors. -Now was the time for all our nerve, all our resource. - -Breathlessly, I glanced up at the clock, and saw it was just over the -twenty-five minutes to eleven. We had taken only some six or seven -minutes to clear eleven tables; there still remained the two last and -our rush for the yacht. - -Our friends on the left hurried up to us, we having been slightly -quicker on the right; and then, strangely enough, there was a moment’s -dead silence, at any rate, in the rooms. In the pause we could hear the -dull, frightened roar from the hall outside, and then, suddenly and -faintly, the short, sharp, defiant call of a bugle. - -The gamblers and croupiers, still massed struggling round the exit, -turned, many of them as though by an understanding, and faced us, some -of them even crying “_Silence!_” “_Silence!_” The valets, clambering on -the side seats, leaned towards us expectantly. It seemed as though they -were looking for us to make them a speech, some kind of an apology for -our inexplicable and outrageous conduct. It was a sort of “Gentlemen of -the French Guard, fire first!” and though I don’t suppose it lasted more -than a second, it seemed an age. - -Then Brentin stepped forward, and sweeping his revolver along the line -of their expectant faces, said in his ordinary voice—and all the more -authoritative and effective it sounded—“_Retirez-vous!_” - -My gaze was fixed on a tall croupier, a man I had often seen walking -about in a straw-hat with his little daughter; indeed, once I had -stopped and kissed the child, she was so pretty. Then he had been -delighted; now he was staring at me with hard, frightened eyes, grinding -his teeth. - -As Brentin stepped forward, we stepped forward too. - -“Close up behind us, you men!” Masters called to the sailors. “Use your -fists if they try to stop you!” - -Instantly the screaming and shouting began again. As we moved briskly -and irresistibly forward, the seething crowd at the swing-doors melted -away before us like wax before the fire. Men and women began to steal -behind us and run back frantically into the vacant rooms we had just -stripped and left. - -“_Retirez-vous!_” cried Brentin, in a higher key. - -I kept my eye on the tall croupier, clearly meditating mischief, and -then suddenly covered him with my unloaded revolver. His face fell like -a shutter; all at once he seemed to be struck imbecile. Death was -staring at him, he fancied, down the stubborn, steel tube—death! and he -had never made his _salut_—would die in the gambling-rooms! He fell -back with the rest, using his elbows viciously, and out we went with a -rush, like uncorked soda-water opened by an unskilful hand at a picnic. - -An arm reached out at me from behind the door as I darted through, and -caught my coat. I gave myself a vigorous wrench and swore (the first and -only time that night), while my pocket came tearing off in the villain’s -grasp. He was very welcome to it, if only as a souvenir. - -The hall was pretty empty, for most people who had escaped from the -rooms had rushed wildly out into the night, in their terror. When the -“Devil among the Tailors” first went off on the terrace, there had been -shouts and cries of “_Les Anarchistes!_” and all who heard it thought -the building was about to be blown to atoms with a bomb, and flew, like -sand before the wind. - -Still, numbers were beginning to pour into the far end of the hall out -from the concert-room, where the alarm was just spreading and playing -the deuce with the new opera. As we ran through and down the steps to -the right, I could hear the band still playing and some one singing. -Then, evidently, the alarm reached the instrumentalists, for they -stopped suddenly with a wheeze, like a musical box run down. - -Down the steps we rushed, knocking some few of both sexes, I am ashamed -to say, over and aside in our stride. Out of the watchful corner of my -right eye I saw the waiters come running out of the “Café de Paris,” in -their white aprons. - -Outside, as we turned the corner of the building, to the left down on to -the terrace, one or two firemen came bounding up the steps to meet us. -One of them faced us, holding out his arms and saying something in -French I didn’t catch. - -It was addressed to Barker, whose only reply was to grunt and knock the -man head over heels into a heap of cactus. Hating violence as I do, I am -pleased to report it was absolutely the only blow struck the whole time, -and was a singularly efficient one. - -At the bottom of the steps to the right we darted, so close together we -might have been almost covered with a pocket-handkerchief, of the larger -Derby-winner type. - -“Get in front, you men!” panted Brentin, in a sibilant whisper. “Take -the first boat, this way!” - -The sailors plunged in front as Brentin pulled the gate open. Down the -steps they clattered. One of them, as he passed me, I saw was trying to -tie the tape round the neck of his linen bag with his teeth. - -And now furious steps were rushing after us over the gravel of the -terrace; menacing dark figures, many of them, were making for our gate. - -“Give ’em a fusillade!” hissed Hines, and turning we fired, each of us, -pretty nearly the whole of our six blank barrels. - -From that moment our retreat, which had hitherto been conducted in such -beautiful order, became as loose and streaming as the tail of a comet. -As for me, I fired most of my six barrels as I ran down the steps, -straight over my head, anywhere. I can feel now the soft kick of my -revolver as I held it loosely in my left hand. - -Now I don’t know it is exactly to my credit, but it certainly says -something for my physical condition, that I was first down. I plunged -panting across the railway lines, and simply hurled myself down the -embankment, on to the shore. - -The first boat with the sailors already in it, the boodle in its linen -bags gleaming ghostily in a tumbled heap at the bottom, was just pushing -off. I tore through the water up to my waist, and they soon had me on -board, pulling me in excitedly by the arms. The night was so dark that, -a dozen strokes from the shore, there was nothing to be seen but the -yacht’s lights, fifty yards ahead. We flew over the water, the men -talking, swearing, panting, and helping one another push at the oars. We -were alongside almost immediately, and I was the first up on deck. - -“All safe, sir?” cried the captain, as I swung myself up. - -“Get her ready,” I panted, “the others will be here in a minute.” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” - -My sister ran up and kissed me. Miss Rybot was standing at the taffrail, -glaring like a young eagle over the black water, and drumming her -fingers on the rail. A few heavy raindrops were beginning to fall. - -“Where’s Lucy?” - -“We sent her below; she’s reading a book.” - -I paused to listen for the other boat, and could hear the tearing of the -oars, the thud of the rowlocks. Away down from Monaco came the stern and -menacing beat of a drum. Through the open lighted windows of the Casino -concert-room I could see dark figures preparing to descend the ladders I -had noticed considerately placed there against the balconies. - -And then, suddenly, for the first time since we had been aboard, just as -the other boat came tearing alongside and I stumbled off breathlessly -below, it began to rain in earnest, a seething, hissing downpour; what -my old Derbyshire nurse used picturesquely to call, _whole water_. - -By the time I reached Lucy’s cabin door we were well under weigh, -shouldering our way swiftly and sturdily through the still, wet night. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - WE DISCOVER TEDDY PARSONS IS LEFT BEHIND—I MAKE UP MY MIND—TO - THE RESCUE!—UNMANLY CONDUCT OF THE OTHERS—I GO ALONE—DISGUISE - —THE GARDE CHAMPÊTRE - - -“IT’S all over!” I cried to Lucy, as I stumbled in; “we’ve done it -beautifully! We’re all safe, without a scratch!” - -And then, so overwrought was I with the long tension, I became quite -hysterical. - -I went off into a fit of laughter, and at last, with the silly, happy -tears chasing one another like sheep down my face, I managed to tell her -she was free now to go back to Wharton Park with her father and -grandmother, that Bob Hines would have his swimming-bath and gymnasium, -that the ho-ho-hospitals would all open their closed wards again, and -Teddy Parsons breathe freely once more before his fierce old governor, -the colonel, at Southport. - -“It was my idea!” I cried, “and we’ve done it with the greatest ease—I -knew we should!—and we’re all safe; and oh, Lucy! do just come into the -saloon and see how much we’ve got. It was my own idea, and the fools all -said it was impossible, and just look how simple it’s been, after all! -Why, we must have carried off sixty thousand pounds, at least!” - -Lucy seemed scarcely to understand what I was talking about; but she saw -I was safe, and, feeling the yacht well under weigh, cared for very -little else; so she held my hand and soothed and calmed me, and then -followed with obedient laughter as I almost dragged her into the saloon. - -There, neatly piled under the electric light on the table, lay the linen -bags, for all the world like the letter-bags in a mail-train; and there -was Brentin, with wet hair and tie all on one side, beginning to empty -them and arrange notes and gold in separate heaps. The silver was a -little deficient, for we had given the sailors orders more or less to -ignore the five-franc pieces. - -Of the gallant band, Hines and Forsyth were lying on the sofas with -closed eyes, still slightly panting; my sister was looking on, leaning -up against one of the pillars, where Miss Rybot, seated at the table, -was unfolding the notes with her long, slim fingers, and arranging them -in bundles according to their respective values. She was doing it with -the greatest coolness, and, for some reason, a rather more haughty air -of displeasure than usual. - -“Well, Master Vincent,” said Brentin, looking up at me with grim joy, -“here we all are, and here is the boodle. Come and help count.” - -At that moment in came Masters. It appears he had fallen, getting down -off the railway line, and muddied his trousers; he had been changing -them, not caring to appear before his young lady with dirty knees. - -Hines and Forsyth roused themselves, and, almost in silence, we sat down -to count; not a sound but a step or two on deck overhead and the throb -of the engines, the luxurious rustle of notes, the pleasing chink of -gold. - -Suddenly my sister said, “Where’s Mr. Parsons?” - -Miss Rybot murmured, “Two hundred and forty-seven thousand-franc notes.” - -I looked round the saloon. “Yes, by-the-way, where’s Teddy?” - -There was no answer, and Brentin stopped emptying the last bag. “In his -cabin, probably,” he said, carelessly. - -“No, he’s not,” replied Masters, who shared it with him. - -“He came in your boat,” said Brentin, looking across at me, startled. - -“Indeed, he didn’t!” - -There was dead silence while for a moment we looked in each other’s -frightened faces. - -Then I got up and left the saloon. Outside I shouted for him; no answer. - -I hurried on deck to find the captain; it was still raining hard, and -the captain was in his shelter up on the bridge. The light from the -binnacle struck up on the resolute face of Joyce at the wheel. - -“Captain Evans!” - -“Sir!” - -“Did you see Mr. Parsons come on board?” - -“Can’t say I particularly noticed him, sir.” - -“Joyce, did you?” - -“No, sir.” - -“He wasn’t in our boat, was he?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Who rowed the second boat?” - -“Bramber and Meikle, sir.” - -I hurried away and at last found them in the galley with the cook, -eating a surreptitious supper, with tin plates on their knees. - -“Who came in the boat with you men?” I asked. - -“Mr. Brentin, Mr. Masters, Mr. Hines, and Mr. Forsyth,” said Bramber, -with his mouth full. - -“That’s right!” said Meikle. - -“You saw nothing of Mr. Parsons?” - -“No, sir; we thought he was with you.” - -I stumbled down the companion and almost fell into the saloon. They had -stopped counting and looked up at me anxiously. “Well?” - -“He’s not on board!” - -“Sakes alive!” murmured Brentin. “That’s awkward!—for Mr. Parsons,” he -considerately added. - -My sister said “Good gracious, Vincent!” while with her silver pencil -Miss Rybot began to draw poor Teddy’s insignificant profile on the back -of one of the thousand-franc notes. - -I took a perturbed turn or two up and down the saloon. - -“He can’t have fallen overboard?” ventured Masters. - -“How could he, if he didn’t even come off in either of the boats?” some -one replied. - -There was another pause, and then I asked: - -“How closely were you followed?” - -“Why, not at all,” said Brentin. “After we loosed off the guns they all -ran back.” - -“Did anybody see Teddy after we got down the steps?” - -Nobody answered. The fact was, I fear, we were all too busy looking -after ourselves to look after any one else. - -“He may have fallen crossing the line. Did anybody notice whether any -one fell?” - -Silence again. Then, with vague emphasis, Brentin said: - -“Depend upon it, Mr. Parsons is ay gentleman of so much resource that, -wherever he is, he may safely be left to extricate himself from -embarrassment. Let us resoom the counting.” - -I looked at him reproachfully. - -“Mr. Brentin, it was agreed we stood by each other, I believe?” - -“You were the first to get ahead, sir,” he replied, with what was meant -for withering sarcasm, “and be off in the wrong boat.” - -“Because I understood we were all safe.” - -“So we were. So, no doubt, is Mr. Parsons.” - -“And if at this moment he is in the hands of the police?” - -The base Brentin shrugged his shoulders. - -“_Tong pee pour louee_,” he said, in New York French. “Gentlemen, let us -resoom the counting.” - -“No!” I cried, banging the table, “not till we have decided what is to -be done.” - -Brentin frowned and looked across at me sourly. I couldn’t have believed -success would so utterly change a man; but so it often is. - -“Good chap, Teddy Parsons,” murmured Forsyth. “I’m sorry.” - -“I do not know, sir,” scowled Brentin, “whether you propose to imperil -the safety of five gentlemen, three elegant and refined ladies, and—” - -“Was it, or was it not, understood we stood by each other?” I cried, -impatiently. “See here, you fellows, you can’t be seriously thinking of -leaving that poor little snipe in the lurch like this?” - -“Parsons never was any particular friend of mine,” growled Hines. - -“Besides, I expect he’s all right,” said Masters, evasively. “He knows -people over at Mentone; he’ll be off over there, you bet.” - -“Don’t you excite yourself, old boy,” murmured Forsyth. “Parsons is one -of the cleverest chaps I know. He’ll get out of it all right, you take -your oath. Besides, we can scarcely turn back now.” - -“Turn back!” snarled Brentin. “This vessel is mine and under my orders. -There will be no turning back, except over my dead body; and that’s all -there is to it! Come, gentlemen,” he cried, impatiently, “resoom the -counting.” - -And such was their incredible baseness that they actually began counting -again, just as though poor Teddy Parsons had never been born. Only the -ladies looked shocked, while Lucy kept her frightened eyes fixed on my -face. As for me, my mind was soon made up. - -“Well,” I said, resolutely, “if you won’t any of you come, I shall go -back alone.” - -“What’s the matter with walking on the waters?” sneered Brentin. - -“In a few moments,” I continued, “we shall be off Cap Martin. Mr. -Brentin, you will be good enough to give orders to have me put ashore -there.” - -“Aye, aye, sir!” he jeered. - -“I shall make my way back to Monte Carlo alone—_alone!_” I cried, with -pathetic emphasis, “and not rest till I have discovered what has become -of our poor lost friend.” - -“As you please,” said Brentin, sharply; “only if _you_ are caught you -mustn’t expect any one of us to come to your rescue. It’s simply sending -good money after bad.” - -Poor Lucy began to cry as, before leaving the saloon, I turned to them -and fired my parting shot. I forget now precisely what it was, but I -know it was both dignified and touching; feeling, as I did, rather more -sorry for myself than even for poor Teddy. But it had no effect whatever -in rousing any of them to accompany me on my perilous journey. - -Then I went back to my cabin to change my clothes, for I was still in my -smoking-suit with the torn pocket, and, so attired, could scarcely -venture ashore. Disguise of some sort was clearly imperative before -trusting myself again on the scene of our so recent successful labors. - -Now, most providentially, before we left London, Brentin and I had gone -off one morning to Clarkson’s, the wig-maker. It was quite possible, we -had argued, we might have to fly, more or less closely pursued, and for -that unpleasing eventuality had hired half a dozen wigs, among them two -gray ones, for what are known, I believe, as “character old men.” I had -at the same time bought a pair of gray whiskers, and, with my old -regimental theatricals make-up box, packed them away, along with a -quiet, elderly suit. I was always intrusted with the old men’s parts in -our regimental theatricals, and invariably played them in a dress-coat, -frilled shirt, and a bunch of seals with moiré antique ribbon, bending -myself almost double and rapping with a crook stick in a manner so -natural as to deceive even the men of my own company at the back of the -hall. So that, unless I overacted, or a whisker came off, I felt pretty -sure of not being recognized by comparative strangers. - -The quiet elderly suit I rapidly dressed myself in, and with my -mackintosh cape, an umbrella, and the make-up box under my arm, went -back to the saloon. - -I was so offended at their pusillanimity I would look at no one but -Brentin, who, with glittering eye and long cigar, was jotting down the -amounts of our capture on a piece of paper. - -“You have given the necessary orders?” I asked him, coldly. - -“Aye, aye, sir!” he sneered. “The yacht is now slowing down.” - -Lucy had gone to her cabin with my sister, in great distress, and Miss -Rybot was sitting there with arms folded, rubbing her silver pencil -between her lips. - -“Good-bye, Mr. Blacker,” she said, “and good luck to you. I admire your -sense of loyalty. You are the only _man_ among the party!” she was good -enough to add. - -“Pop, pop!” jeered the irrepressible Brentin. - -Arthur Masters turned pale, and from a generous fear of making him feel -his inferiority by my presence, I bowed to them all in silence, and went -up on deck. - -By this time the yacht had stopped, and off the port-beam I could just -distinguish the dark woods of Cap Martin looming. It was about half-past -eleven, and still slightly raining, though, fortunately, quite warm. - -Lucy came running up, and, sobbing, threw her arms round my neck. My -sister kissed me affectionately, and said: - -“We shall see you at Venice, Vincent dear; take care of yourself!” - -And the next minute I was over the side and in the boat. I said never a -word the whole time, being, I confess, deeply offended at the light way -they all took my heroic resolution, and the assurance they showed in so -readily believing (however flattering to my courage and address) it was -all bound to be successful. - -The men rowed me ashore in silence, bade me a respectful good-night, and -I was soon clambering over the stones and up the rough bank. Soon I was -in the comparative shelter of the woods, and there, finding the base of -a fir-tree tolerably dry, I sat me down to think and wait for morning. - -Faintly I heard midnight strike from Monte Carlo, and then, so absorbed -in thought and conjecture I grew, I fell asleep. When I woke, it was -just getting gray; so I rose, stretched my stiff self, and had a good -look about me. I knew tolerably well whereabouts I was; for my sister, -Miss Rybot, Masters, and I had one day been over Cap Martin to tea at -the hotel, and walked back through the woods, past the Empress Eugenie’s -villa, on to the Mentone road, and so home. - -We had then noticed, not far from the villa, in the woods, a small sort -of ancient decaying gamekeeper’s lodge, painted outside with arabesque -in the Italian manner, and faint vanishing mottoes of conviviality and -sport; and that I determined to make for, and see if I could there -secure facilities for shaving off my mustache, at any rate. Then I -proposed to retire into the woods again, and assume my character old man -wig and whiskers, and so disguised make my way leisurely back into Monte -Carlo, to try and find news of the luckless Teddy. Beyond that, I could -devise no plan of any sort, determining to leave all to the hazard of -the hour. - -I wandered about a good time in the dawn, and at last struck the lodge, -soon after seven, when it was growing tolerably light. It was a fine -morning, fortunately, though very raw and cold. The lodge door was open, -and I peeped in. Probably, in the last century, it had been a -luncheon-house for the Grimaldis on their shooting or pleasure -expeditions; now it was rapidly decaying, and looked like a neglected -summerhouse. No one was to be seen, and so, the foot of a ladder showing -to the upper room, I entered and climbed it. - -It was a bedroom, and evidently only just left; the bed was tumbled, and -there was the faint, fragrant odor of a pipe. - -No time was to be lost, so I poured water into the basin (the owner had -evidently not washed that morning) and got out my razors. I found a pair -of scissors, and clipping myself as close as possible first and then -screwing up my courage, for shaving in cold water is horribly painful, -and lathering myself well, I set to work. - -I hadn’t more than half done when I heard steps outside on the wet -gravel; they came into the house, to the foot of the ladder; then they -began slowly to climb. There was no help for it, I must go on and trust -to luck; so on I went with my shaving, keeping an eye meantime in the -glass on the door behind me, so that I might gain some impression of the -owner before tackling and conciliating him. - -Fortunately, when I was trying for the army, before I failed and went -into the militia, I had been for six months with a coach at Dinan, in -Brittany, and spoke French well enough for all vulgar purposes; so when -the ordinary type of an old soldier, _garde champêtre_, head appeared at -the head of the ladder, bristling with astonishment, I felt more at home -with it than perhaps the ordinary British officer, who has only learned -his French at Wren’s or Scoone’s, would have done. - -“_Dîtes donc!_” said the amazed man; “_je ne vous gêne pas?_” - -“_Du tout!_” I replied, “_entrez_.” - -“_Mais, nom d’un chien!_” he cried, coming into the room. “_Qu’est ce -que vous faites là?_” - -“_Vous voyez, n’est ce pas? Je me rase._” - -“_Je le vois bien! et après?_” - -“_Après? Je m’en vais._” - -There was a pause while the _garde champêtre_ came alongside, and -surveyed me with folded arms. - -Tears were in my eyes, for the process was a torture; but I went on with -it heroically and in silence. - -At last, “_Vous êtes Américain?_” he asked. - -“_Mais oui. Toute ma vie!_” - -“_C’est bien. J’aime les Américains._” - -“_Merci! moi aussi!_” - -The man laughed, and then he went on: “_Mais, dîtes donc! Pourquoi vous -rasez-vous ici comme ça, dans ma chambre, ma propre chambre?_” - -“_C’est que_—” I hesitatingly began, and then, with an inspired -rush—“_voyez vous! Je suis marié, et je crois que ma femme me trompe._” - -“_Oh, la! la! Et après?_” - -“_Après? Je vais me déguiser et la pincer. C’est dur, n’est ce pas?_” - -“_Très dur!_” said the man, looking amused; “_mais les femmes sont -toujours comme ça. Elle est Américaine?_” - -“_Anglaise._” - -“_Je déteste les Anglais! Continuez, mon bon monsieur. Je vous laisse._” - -“_Merci! Dans cinq minutes je descendrai._” - -“_Ne vous pressez pas, et déguisez-vous bien_,” he said, and, leaving -the room, went half-way down the ladder. Then he turned and put his head -into the room again, resting his elbows on the floor. - -“_Dîtes donc, mon bon monsieur_,” he said, evidently at some pains to -check his mirth; “_avec qui croyez-vous que votre femme vous trompe?_” - -“_Je ne sais pas au juste. Avec un de mes amis, je crois._” - -“_Le misérable!_” he cried, theatrically. “_Un Français, sans doute?_” - -“_Oui, malheureusement._” - -“_Oh, la, la! Mais les amis sont comme ça. C’est très dur, tout de même. -Courage! Je vais préparer le café. Au revoir._” - -With so sympathetic a _garde champêtre_ I felt I was in luck, and might -as well seize the opportunity for assuming my complete disguise, instead -of taking to the woods; so I put on my wig and, with some spirit-gum, -stuck on my gray whiskers, lined my face lightly, and, in five minutes, -presented myself to the more than ever astonished _garde champêtre_ as a -respectable, well preserved, elderly gentleman of sixty. - -“_Mais nom d’un chien!_” he cried; “_c’est parfait! Elle ne vous -reconnaîtra pas; jamais de la vie!_” - -We sat down and drank the coffee, the best friends in the world; and -then, giving him a louis and the box of make-up and razors as a -souvenir, I left him with a warm shake of the hand, and went off through -the wood to strike the Mentone road back into Monte Carlo. - -I hadn’t gone twenty paces before he came running after me to say that -if ever I wanted to disguise myself again I was to come to him and use -his rooms, and that he would always keep the razors in order for the -purpose. - -“_Mais c’est dur, tout de même_,” he added, sympathetically, as I -promised. - -The last I saw of him, he turned and waved his hand. “_Adieu, mon -vieux!_” he cried. “_Bonne chance!_” - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - IN MY DISGUISE I AM MISTAKEN FOR LORD B.—A CLUB ACQUAINTANCE— - TEDDY AT THE LAW COURTS—MRS. WINGHAM—THE DEFENCE AND THE - ACQUITTAL—WE BOLT - - -BEHOLD me, then, in sexagenarian disguise, trudging back into Monte -Carlo, with my mackintosh and umbrella. It was barely nine o’clock in -the morning when I started; and, soon after ten, there I was standing -once more in front of the Casino buildings, out of which, but a few -hours before, I had so triumphantly rushed. - -Strange to say, there was no sign of anything extraordinary having -occurred; there were the usual people sitting about reading the papers -on the seats round the flower-beds, the usual attendants loafing on the -steps, guarding the entrance. Over the building flapped, as ever, the -dingy Monaco flag. - -My first feeling was of intense annoyance and disgust that, -notwithstanding our complete success, the nefarious business was -apparently being carried on as usual. What on earth did it all mean? -Were sixty thousand pounds as naught to them? Were they placidly going -to put up with their loss, rather than advertise their misfortune? or, -under this apparent calm, were there really depths of trouble and -vengeance stirring—already rising—to ingulf poor Teddy, whom I never -doubted from the first was captured, and now shortly about to appear -before the Prince’s judges away up at Monaco, bent in painful submission -at the criminal bar! - -I sat down for a few moments to consider what should be done, and look -about me for some one to whom I could apply for trustworthy information: -what was thought of us, and what steps the authorities proposed to take. - -There was an old gentlemen, an Englishman, evidently, sitting on my -seat; and, as one garrulous old person to another might, I proceeded to -try him cautiously with a few questions. Did he know, could he tell me, -at what hour the rooms opened? - -He looked at me over his pince-nez, and said at twelve. Then he flipped -his pince-nez off, smiled, and, giving me a friendly look, politely -observed he believed he and I were members of the same distinguished -club, the Mausolœum. He dared say I hadn’t forgotten dining next him -there in the autumn, and the interesting talk we had then had. - -“Aye, aye, aye,” I mumbled, in my fright, a mixture of Punch and -Pantaloon. - -He had seen me walking about before, he went on (what on earth did he -mean by that, I wondered), and had meant to take the liberty of speaking -to me. What I had said in the autumn had interested and impressed him -very much, and he had often thought over it. Then he folded up his -paper, and evidently began to lay himself out for a renewal of our -supposed conversation, a prospect which much alarmed and disconcerted -me. - -I scarcely liked to exercise the complete vigor of my youth and make an -immediate bolt; for I had doddered up to the seat and, like an aged -pensioner, sat me down with a loud sigh of relief—rather overacting, in -fact; so, if I were to keep up the character, I must at least dodder -away again when I left. Yet, however complimentary to my make-up, it -was, just at present, a distinct nuisance to find myself mistaken for -somebody else, and likely to be detained over a conversation which, -under no circumstances, could ever have had the faintest interest for -me. - -To prevent that, I cautiously began: - -“My servant tells me there was a robbery, or something of that sort, in -the rooms last night.” - -“Oh!” said my club comrade. - -“Have you heard anything about it?” - -“No, indeed.” - -“The Casino authorities keep a thing of that sort pretty close, I -imagine,” I cautiously ventured. - -“They’re quite right,” the old gentleman replied. “Quite right!” Then, -after a pause, he went on, “I suppose you never spoke to Markham on the -subject, after all?” - -“No, indeed, I didn’t,” I mumbled, making the best reply I could under -the circumstances. “Fact is, I never saw him.” - -“Why, didn’t he turn up?” - -“I forget.” And then I uneasily added, “You know what a feather-headed -feller he is.” - -The old gentleman laughed and said, “Somebody ought to speak to him, -though.” - -“Well, what’s the matter with his wife?” I said, unconsciously, dropping -into one of Brentin’s phrases. - -“That’s more than I can tell you,” the old gentleman replied. “She’s -looked like that for a long time now.” - -I was so rapidly getting tired of this footling talk, not to mention the -fibs it entailed and the precious time being wasted, that, at any cost, -I determined to put a stop to it; so I rose with an effort, and saying, -vaguely, “Well, I’ve got to meet my wife; good-day to you! I dare say I -shall see you again somewhere about,” strolled off towards the Casino -steps. - -The old gentleman, who had evidently looked forward to a long -conversation, answered me rather gruffly, “Good-day!”—while straight up -to one of the attendants at the head of the steps I walked. - -“Yes, _monsieur_,” the man politely said, “the rooms are open for play -at twelve.” - -“As usual?” I pointedly observed. - -“Altogether as usual.” - -“Notwithstanding the robbery?” - -“Oh, as for that,” the man replied, shrugging his shoulders, “it was a -very small affair. The miserable was caught and would be punished.” - -An Englishman, I understood. - -Yes, an Englishman. No doubt at this moment he was being tried, and -already safe in prison. “_Au revoir, monsieur! à votre service, -monsieur!_” - -My legs felt fully their assumed age as I turned and faltered down the -steps. So all hope was over; poor Teddy was really caught, and the -regiment would know him no more. Unless!—why, what could I do?—good -gracious!— - -I was so deep in my own troubled thoughts and plans, I scarcely noticed -my supposed old club friend on the seat; should not have noticed him at -all, in fact, had I not just at this moment, when I was calling a -carriage to drive up to the “Monopôle,” come plump on the other highly -respectable elderly gentleman I evidently so closely resembled. - -Face to face we met, and naturally stared at each other. Will it be -believed we were absolutely exactly alike, down even to the cut and -color of our clothes? For the first and only time in my life I saw -myself at full length, myself as I should be at sixty (if I only took -care of myself), sedate, healthy, a county magistrate, member of -Brooke’s, with my youngest boy just leaving Eton. I hurried into the -carriage and told the man to drive up to the “Monopôle” as fast as he -could go, just giving a look round at my friend on the seat as I got in. -He had turned, and, with his hands on his knees, was staring after me, -dumbfounded. My double had turned and was staring after me too. - -To both those gentlemen, if they should ever chance to read this work, I -offer my sincere apology; they will understand now the reason of my -accidental resemblance, and, as between men of the world, will no doubt -forgive it. I can assure them both it will not occur again; how can it, -seeing that wig and whiskers are buried under an olive-tree on the -Mentone road? - -At the “Monopôle”—having, of course, no notion who I really was—they -were very polite. No, Madame Wingham was not in; they couldn’t say where -she was; a letter had come for her early and she had gone out. -Instinctively, I felt the letter was from Teddy, imploring succor. - -I left the hotel at once and drove straight up to Monaco. At the -cathedral I dismissed the carriage and walked on to the law courts. What -to do I had no idea; watch the proceedings, at any rate, _incognito_ -from the back, and, at the worst, hear with my own sad ears how much -poor Teddy got. Any thought of rescue was, of course, out of the -question. What could a poor old person of sixty do against soldiers and -gendarmes? - -The criminal court of Monaco sits in a bare upper room, close to the -cathedral. Outside, steep steps of the usual _Palais de Justice_ -inverted V-shape lead up to it, with, at their head, a bare flag-pole, -like a barber’s sign. Up the steps I walked, and with beating heart (for -my own sake, I confess, as much as for poor Teddy’s) entered the fatal, -the lethal chamber. It was very full and stuffy. News of our victory and -the capture of one of the band no doubt had spread, for the public part -was crammed, tightly as sardines and garlic. Facing, under a crucifix, -from over which the dingy green curtain was drawn, sat three judges; -three real judges, in their bands and toques and ermine! Common white -bedroom blinds scarcely kept the sun out, streaming in mistily on the -members of the bar in beards and gowns, on the _greffier_ busily -writing, and the usher waiting to summon the luckless Parsons to the -dock. Just at present the judges were bending the weight of their -intellects on a couple of market-women charged with fighting; and there, -tightly wedged against the partition, stood the forlorn Mrs. Wingham, a -handkerchief in her black kid grasp, bending and talking tearfully to -the barrister seated below, whom she apparently had engaged for the -defence. - -I made my way to her and pulled her sleeve. - -“Come outside,” I whispered; “it’s I—hush!—Vincent Blacker.” - -She stared at me, and then at last followed obediently to the door. We -stood outside at the head of the steps. - -“They’ve got him, I suppose?” I asked. - -“Oh, you cowards!” she gasped, “to run away and leave him.” - -“Never mind that now,” I answered; “_I_ have come back, at any rate. Let -us consider what can be done. You’ve got some one to defend him?” - -“But the man talks such horrible French, I can’t understand a word he -says,” she moaned, “and he reeks of garlic. And where’s my brother, -James Thompson?” - -“He’s all right,” I evasively replied. “Never mind him just now. We must -really concentrate ourselves on doing something for poor Teddy.” - -“Oh, I dare say! Now you mind this, young man!” cried Mrs. Wingham, with -sudden vindictiveness. “If he goes to prison you go, too! I won’t ’ear -of his going alone. I’ll shout to the police! I’ll ’ave you arrested! He -sha’n’t be the only one to suffer, poor young lamb!” - -The hair under my wig stood up on end, and even my false whiskers -stiffened. The old woman was quite capable of executing her threat, and -for a moment I felt, not sixty, but a hundred. - -Outwardly, however, I was calm. - -“Desperate cases require desperate remedies,” I judicially observed. -“Take my arm and let us return to court. We’ll adopt our own line of -defence. Come along, ma’am, and for the present kindly remember I am -your husband and my name is Wingham.” - -The vicious old woman held me so tightly, I knew that if Teddy went -under and were condemned she meant me to go under, too. Together we -wedged our way to the partition, just above our odoriferous barrister. I -was bending to speak to him when suddenly a bell was rung and Teddy was -immediately ushered, nay, thrust, in, between a couple of gendarmes. - -Poor chap, he was almost unrecognizable, he had been so roughly handled. -His smoking-suit was torn, and round his neck, in place of collar and -tie, he had knotted a handkerchief, coster fashion; but what mostly -disguised and disfigured him was his gashed and puffed face; for in -falling down the steps he had fallen plump on a bunch of cactus, scoring -him as though he had been mauled by an angry tigress. He never had been -pretty, but now he looked exactly like the malefactor that, in the eye -of the law, at any rate, I suppose he really was. - -“Oh, just look at his face!” gasped Mrs. Wingham. “Oh, the poor -creature!” - -“Hush!” I whispered; “for goodness’ sake keep calm. And kindly remember -he’s our nephew.” - -I judged it wisest to hear the evidence against him before considering -the line we should take in his defence. I contented myself for the -present with whispering to our counsel that the prisoner was our nephew, -his arrest a complete mistake, and he himself as innocent of any attempt -at robbery as the newly born. - -Meantime, in French fashion, the President of the Court—a robust old -man with a white beard and a red face, like a neatly trimmed Father -Christmas—after reading the act of accusation, was the first to tackle -and brow-beat our unfortunate friend. To do him justice, Teddy kept -beautifully cool (he says now he recognized me and my wink through the -disguise, and knew he was safe) and answered nothing through his puffed -mouth but _Nong!_ and _Jammy!_ Every now and then the President, in the -politest manner in the world, observed, “_Vous mentez, jeune homme!_” or -“_C’est faux!_” while the judge on his right, a battered little man with -blue glasses and his mouth all fallen in, ejaculated “_Quelle -effronterie!_” or “_C’est abominable!_” at intervals. - -As a matter of fact, the evidence against him (according to our English -notions, at any rate) was far from strong. There were croupiers present -ready to swear to having seen him in the rooms, charging down on the -tables with a revolver; there were the men from the door to swear they -had noticed him rush past; and there were the firemen who had found him -crawling away behind the signal-box, down on the line, after we had got -clear away. Very good. But the cactus had, for the present, so -disfigured him, that an adroit cross-examination could not fail very -much to shake them, and that, no doubt, the President felt; for, after -wrangling with Teddy for some time, and receiving nothing but an -eruption of _Nongs_ and _Jammys_ for his pains, he ill-temperedly cried -identification would be useless and unfair with the accused’s face in -its present condition, and that, until the swelling disappeared, he -should remand him; by which time, he sardonically added, he had no doubt -the other malefactors would be before him in a row. - -Teddy gave me a piteous glance, and, nerving myself, I nudged our -barrister, whom all along I had been coaching, and up he got. - -Now, most fortunately, when poor Teddy was caught, neither revolver nor -spoil were found on him; spoil he had never had, and the revolver, after -the final discharge, he had hurled over the embankment into the sea. And -he had always told the same story: that he had truly enough been in the -rooms, but had nothing whatever to do with the robbery, having been -forced out in the disturbance, and run as the others had; running, in -his alarm, he knew not where, until he fell down the steps, lost his -senses, and, coming to, found himself in the hands of the police. He was -a quiet, respectable young Englishman, he declared, come to Monte Carlo -for his health, and staying with his aunt at the hotel “Monopôle,” to -whom (as I thought) he had early despatched a note, announcing himself -as her nephew and in trouble, and imploring help. - -And here we were to claim him, after so unpleasant an experience, Milor -and Madame Ving-ham—so the barrister announced us!—persons of the -highest consideration and wealth, constant visitors on the shores of the -hospitable Riviera; in short, this, that, and the other, all couched in -the finest language, and none of it in the least true. And then, in a -final peroration, amid murmurs of sympathy, culminating in a burst of -applause, the barrister threw up his fat hands, and invoked justice, -mercy, and international law (not to mention the hospitality of old -Greece and Rome), and, sitting down, wiped his forehead with the sleeve -of his gown; while Madame Ving-ham judiciously lifted up her troubled -voice, and wept louder than ever. - -When the emotion had subsided, the President called me forward, and for -the second time that morning my unlucky resemblance to another gentleman -(a nobleman, by-the-way, as it turned out) was likely to get me into -further trouble; for in me, Vincent Blacker, disguised as an old boy of -sixty, the President imagined he recognized, just as my club friend had -done an hour before, a distinguished guest he had met the previous -evening at the Prince’s table; with whom he had held an improving -discussion as to the present unsatisfactory condition of the British -House of Lords, and the best method of amending, without destroying it. - -“_Comment, Milor!_” he cried, in astonishment, looking at me over his -glasses; “_c’est votre Seigneurie?_” - -Good Lord, I said to myself, here we are again—giving the old man a -polite but alarmed bow and smile. - -But the President knew me as Milor B., he ventured to observe (I really -don’t quite like to give the illustrious name), and here was our -advocate announcing me as some one else! - -I hastened to explain, with perspiration on my brow, that Ving-ham was -my second title, and in an unfortunate affair of this kind—_Cour -d’Assises_, in short—I did not care for my first to be publicly mixed -up. - -The President bowed and said that was well understood, and then he -proceeded to put me a few exceedingly polite and fatuous questions about -Teddy, who, as a contrite nephew cut to the heart at so unfortunately -dragging an old and honored name through the purlieus of the criminal -law, was acting his part to perfection. - -Yes, monsieur was my nephew, of a character gentle and affectionate; of -retiring habits and delicate health, a little _poitrinaire_, in fact (at -which Teddy, comprehending, coughed with unnecessary violence), but all -that was of obedient, tractable, and good. He had gone down to the -Casino, while we, my wife and I—Madame Ving-ham still weeping—had gone -to bed, believing he was in his room; and the next we had heard was -early that morning, when we received a note from him announcing the -unfortunate capture and mistake. _Monsieur le Président_ would readily -understand what of grief and desolation?—my affectionate uncle’s voice, -with a touch of an only nephew in it, trembled, and madame shook -convulsively as, still grasping my arm tight, she moaned and sobbed. - -That was more than enough. In a very few minutes, after a brief -consultation among the judges, Teddy was released and dramatically -embracing us in the body of the court—thereby nearly bringing off my -left whisker—and I was paying our eloquent counsel. Before I left the -yacht I had providentially provided myself with a bundle of notes from -the heap of spoil on the table, and one of them—for a thousand -francs—I presented to the astonished and gratified barrister. I -trembled to think how much more than ever for the next few days he would -reek of his favorite _ail_. - -Out went Mrs. Wingham, arm in arm with Teddy, and I followed, after -declining the President’s kind invitation to breakfast with him, on the -score of my overwrought feelings. - -Just as I was going down the steps a man I recognized as a croupier -touched me respectfully on the arm, with a crafty, meridional smile. I -stopped in some alarm, thinking it possible I was discovered. What did -he want? Why, Milor no doubt remembered that lady whom Milor had -commissioned the croupier to find out all about and let him know? -Perfectly, I replied, with stiff and aristocratic upper lip. What had he -discovered? - -She was an Italian, one Madame Vagliano, and she lived at the Villa des -Genets, above the Condamine. He was proceeding with more information, -when I haughtily cut him short with “_C’est bien! assez! voici madame -qui nous observe_,” and handing him a note, which I afterwards -discovered was unfortunately one of a thousand francs instead of, as I -meant, a hundred, I hurried to the foot of the steps, where madame and -Teddy were awaiting me. _Ce scélèrat de Lord B.!_ I have really a good -mind to give his illustrious name, after all. - -We walked on a little way in silence, and then Mrs. Wingham said, with -traces of tearfulness: - -“What are you two villains going to do now?” - -“Bolt!” I replied, laconically. - -“And where’s my poor brother James all this time?” - -“He’s all right, enjoying himself first-rate, sailing about somewhere in -the _Saratoga_.” - -“What’s the _Saratoga_?” - -“A well-appointed steam-yacht, belonging to a friend of ours.” - -“You thieving wretches! You’ve been and decoyed him on board, you know -you ’ave.” - -“Well, he’s perfectly safe, wherever he is. Come along, Teddy, there’s -no time to be lost.” - -“But I can’t go like this,” cried Teddy. “I haven’t even got a hat, and -all my clothes are on the yacht.” - -We bought him a dreadful French straw-hat up in Monaco, and then we -jumped into a carriage and drove down to the tailor’s, next the “Grand -Hotel.” As we drove, I questioned Mrs. Wingham as to what was known and -said in the town about our escapade. - -“Why,” said Mrs. Wingham, “people have been terribly frightened, and are -beginning to leave the place.” - -“Good! And what line are the authorities taking?” - -“They are denying it all, right and left, but they are determined to -catch you, all the same.” - -“They can’t do both!” I coldly replied. “They’d much better put up with -their loss; we shall put the money to much better use than they could -ever have done. If they are going to make themselves unpleasant over it, -you may tell them from me we’ll come back and do precisely the same -thing next year.” - -“You impudent young feller!” cried the angry old woman, “you forget that -one of the sharpest detectives in England is after you.” - -“He’s taking a mighty circuitous route!” - -“But he’ll catch you, all the same, at last.” - -“Will he?” I answered, eying her with cold amusement. “Now look here, -missus, if you say much more I’ll communicate with Van Ginkel, and -direct him to take the yacht across to Cuba and have James landed and -shot there as a filibuster.” - -Whereupon the poor old soul fell to whimpering again, though at the same -time she couldn’t help laughing a little at my readiness. - -Teddy was soon fitted out at the tailor’s, and a sight he looked in what -they called the _dernier cri_ of a French travelling costume; more like -a young man out of the _Petit Journal pour rire_ than anything. - -“Adieu, Madame Ving-ham!” I laughed, as we got outside. “Your nephew and -I are going to get bicycles and be off down the Corniche, over the -Italian frontier. Say good-bye to him, and be off home to Brixton -yourself as soon as possible, or you may get into trouble with the -police here for using a false title of nobility. Now, you did, you know! -it’s no use your denying it. Take my advice; the quieter you keep for -the next few months the better.” - -She was so angry she wouldn’t say good-bye to me, but she overwhelmed -poor Parsons. And she implored him as soon as possible to give up my -desperate bad company, which, sooner or later, could only bring him to -ruin—I, if you please, who at so much risk had just rescued him!—and -to write to her soon to Brixton, and come and see her directly he got -back. - -She stood watching us as we went off to the bicycle man’s in the Arcade, -near Ciro’s, and kept on waving her handkerchief till we got into the -gardens across the road and were lost to view. - -“Now let this be a lesson to you, my son,” I sagely observed, as we -hurried along, “always to make yourself pleasant and polite to old -ladies. But for Mrs. Wingham, you might have been dragging a cannon-ball -at your ankle for years.” - -Teddy shuddered, and said: - -“What a blessing I resembled her nephew!” - -“And mine!” I added. “Don’t forget me.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - OUR FLIGHT TO VENICE—THENCE TO ATHENS—WE ALL MEET ON THE - ACROPOLIS—REAPPEARANCE OF MR. BAILEY THOMPSON!—AGAIN WE MANAGE - TO PUT HIM OFF THE SCENT - - -OF our flight down the Corniche and across the Italian frontier I do not -propose to say much. Suffice it that, at a quiet spot before we reached -Mentone, I found the opportunity to strip off my disguise and, for -precaution’s sake, bury both wig and whiskers at the root of an -olive-tree; where no doubt they still remain, if any one cares to go and -look for them. In well under the hour, so fast we travelled, we were -over the Italian border, just beyond Mentone, and, after the usual -difficulties with the _dogana_ about our bicycles, were before very long -safely seated in the Ventimiglia train for Turin. To avoid being further -troubled with the machines, we presented them to a couple of porters, -and, while waiting for the train, passed a highly amusing half-hour -watching them trying to learn to ride. - -Our point was Venice, and, travelling all night, on the afternoon of the -next day (Sunday, January 19th) Teddy and I were glad to find ourselves -in a gondola, flapping along to the “Grand Hotel,” where we were all to -meet. - -But at the “Grand” there was a telegram awaiting me: “_Come -Athens—Brentin._” It had been sent from Messina the previous afternoon, -and, disagreeable though it was, there was nothing for it but to obey. - -We went off at once to Cook’s offices in the Piazza to inquire about a -steamer; but, being Sunday, of course found them closed. Very awkward! -Surely, nowadays, when they open the museums, Mr. Cook might stretch a -point and do the same with his offices? - -What on earth were we to do? It was evident they didn’t care about -receiving us at the hotel; I was exceedingly dirty, with the remains of -the spirit-gum on my cheeks and the lines of the old-age pencil -alongside my nose; and poor Teddy’s puffs and scars were all the more -noticeable now they were just beginning to heal. We looked, in short, -like a couple of broken-down sea-side entertainers, who had had a row at -the last hall about returning the money. We had no luggage, not even a -sponge-bag, and I had talked grandly about the yacht until I found the -telegram, when I had to admit it wasn’t coming; at which the manager had -merely bowed with sour and silent politeness. “Then you don’t stay -here!” I read as plainly as possible in his watchful eye. - -We went on down to the Piazzetta, to the harbor side, to see if we could -by chance hear of a vessel sailing for Athens. - -“Yes,” grumbled Teddy, “and when we get to Athens we shall find another -wire, with ‘_Come Timbuctoo!_’ Let’s cut it short and go home by rail. I -don’t feel safe in these foreign parts. Oh, how glad I shall be to get -back to Southport again!” - -“Strolling up and down Lord Street, eh? in those eternal breeches and -gaiters.” - -“Well, why not? Come, let’s be off. I don’t know why we need follow them -half over Europe.” - -“Certainly, let’s be off,” said I, “if you don’t mind paying for the -tickets.” - -“Why, you don’t mean to say you haven’t got enough money?” - -It was true, I hadn’t. What with the thousand francs for the defence, -the thousand for the croupier who told me about Madame Vagliano (what -the deuce did I care about Madame Vagliano!), the buying of the -bicycles, the clothes for Teddy, the tickets, and one thing and another, -I had only two or three hundred francs left; and Teddy had merely a -couple of louis, having spent the rest in bribing the Monte Carlo police -to carry his letter to Mrs. Wingham and put him in a better cell. - -Nothing, I think, tries a man’s nature more truly than travelling and -the contretemps arising therefrom; nothing more surely discovers his -selfishness, his meanness, his want of even temper. We were certainly -rather in a fix, but scarcely to warrant Teddy’s outburst of anger and -ill-humor. If I was amused at it all and kept my equanimity, why -couldn’t he? But no! he kept on fuming and fretting to such a degree -that I was within an ace of decoying him up a piccolo canal and beating -him soundly about the head and ears, so much did he grate upon my -nerves. - -At last we did manage to secure passages in a dirty Italian boat, _Il -Principe Umberto_, sailing that night down the coast to Ancona and -Brindisi, and thence across the Adriatic, _viâ_ Corfu, to Patras. It was -rather a tight fit, financially speaking, for after paying for our -berths and allowing something for food on board, we had only just about -enough left for the tickets from Patras to Athens. If the yacht didn’t -turn up there, then we should be in a fix indeed. - -We went back to the hotel, and, ordering dinner, spent the time till it -was ready in the reading-room. There were no London papers, of course, -of Saturday’s date, but there were plenty of French and Italian. Most of -them had a paragraph about us and our doings, very guardedly expressed. -None of them went further than merely saying there had been an audacious -attempt at robbery in the rooms at Monte Carlo on Friday night, and much -excitement in consequence; but without exception they hastened to add -that all connected with it were in the hands of the police, tranquillity -reigned, and play was going on as usual. Teddy and I pointed each other -out the paragraphs as we found them, and chuckled over them amazingly. - -Over the voyage I draw a veil; enough that it was exceedingly rough and -uncomfortable, and we were both very unwell, as somehow one always is if -one has to go second class. My only consolation lay in occasionally -seeing an extremely good-looking Italian stewardess, who looked in on us -every now and then, and sympathetically said “_Male?_” I never answered -her; I don’t know a word of Italian, and I couldn’t have said it if I -had; but it was something occasionally to see her fine, serious, -handsome face, shining in over our deathliness like a star. - -At Corfu we managed to drag ourselves ashore for a couple of hours, and -mooned about arm-in-arm, in unsteady rapture at the warmth and sunshine. -At the hotel where we lunched we found the English papers. One of them -(that hebetated old ——, I think it was) had “Extraordinary Story from -Monte Carlo” among its foreign intelligence—just a few lines, to say an -attempt had been made by some Americans to raid the rooms, that it had -been completely frustrated, so far as plunder was concerned, but the -desperadoes had got clear away in a yacht known as the _Saratoga_. And -that, so far as I could ever afterwards learn, was the only reference to -our affair in the whole of the English press. - -As for the _New York Guardian_, they declared the thieves were all -English, many of them well-known in New York, where the season before -they had masqueraded as peers and peers’ sons, and some of them nearly -succeeded in marrying prominent and wealthy society young ladies. -Really, when one happens to be a little behind the scenes, one is amazed -at the pompous inaccuracy of much of the information in the newspapers. -But, on the whole, I thought it wisest not to write and attempt to put -them straight. - -On the Wednesday morning, early, we reached Patras, and were in Athens -soon after six. We drove up to the best hotel, but there was no news -whatever of the yacht. We had been so unwell, for after leaving Corfu it -again became fearfully rough, we looked more disreputable than ever. It -was no time, however, to be scrupulous, and I carried matters with such -a high hand, and was so dissatisfied and overbearing, we soon got rooms, -dined, and went to bed. I have always noticed, by-the-way, that if you -are rude and give yourself airs of importance, even without luggage, you -can generally get what you want in the way of accommodation. Most people -think you wouldn’t swagger or be insolent unless you were really -somebody, and either get out of the way and let you take what you want, -or give it you, bent double with obsequiousness. But, then, most people -are fools. So Teddy and I got two of the best bedrooms, after totally -refusing others, and slept in them with great comfort and soundness; -though all the money we had between us was seven francs fifty. - -Next morning, soon after breakfast, we went up to the Acropolis. From my -school-days I knew it commanded a fine view, and hoped from thence soon -to descry the _Amaranth_. - -’Οιμοι! there wasn’t a sign of her. We could look right down into the -harbor of the Piræus, three or four miles away, and the only occupants -were a Greek man-of-war and a couple of trading brigs. To comfort Teddy, -I pointed him out various famous islands—Salamis and Aegina, and so -forth—telling him such stories from Greek history as I could remember, -or partially invent. In the Acropolis itself, wandering among the -splendid and touching ruins, there wasn’t a soul but a dirty man, with -large patches on his knees, gathering snails. - -“He follows the footsteps of Pericles, of Alcibiades, and of Solon,” I -said, “and from their dim traces he gathers snails for soup. Such, my -dear Teddy,” I added, tranquilly, “is all the history he knows. To him -the Acropolis is nothing but a hunting-ground for snails.” - -“You’re talking exactly like Mr. Barlow!” replied Teddy, with a -dissatisfied snort. - -In the afternoon we again set out for the Acropolis. At the bottom of -the sacred ascent a couple of carriages were waiting. - -“It can scarcely be they,” I said. “They would come round and try all -the hotels first, surely.” - -“Oh, a man like Brentin would do anything!” Teddy cried. - -I looked into the first carriage, and soon recognized a little, rather -old, cloak Lucy used to wear, with a high Medici collar. She never had -much money for her clothes, poor child, and was apt to be a little -behind the fashions. - -“It’s really they, Teddy,” I said. “Come along and we’ll give them a -fright. They deserve it.” - -“They do, indeed!” shouted Teddy, scarlet with rage. - -We peeped in cautiously at the entrance, and there they were. We could -see them all crossing from the Parthenon towards the Erechtheum, headed -by that toad Brentin. We let them get well inside the walls of the -beautiful little temple, and then we went quickly across to the left -towards them. - -Just as we got up to the white marble walls, I pushed Teddy and said, -“Hide.” Then I went on in alone. Brentin was just saying, “This is -apparently the Erechtheum. There’s mighty little of it left; why don’t -they put it straight, anyway?” - -You should just have seen their faces when they turned and saw me. Lucy, -who was looking very pale, ran tottering towards me with a little cry, -and nearly fainted in my arms. My sister followed, and was soon on my -other shoulder. Miss Rybot waved her parasol, Forsyth and Hines cheered, -and Arthur Masters gave a loud _gone away_! All Brentin said was, with -rather a forced smile, “Well, all right, eh? Here you are. You got my -telegram?” - -We sat down on the fallen blocks of marble, and everybody began talking -at once. Where was Teddy, they asked, and why wasn’t he with me? Had he -really been caught, or had he, after all, run straight away home in his -fright? - -As if trying to avoid a painful subject, “Why didn’t you come to Venice, -as we arranged?” I asked. - -“We heard the French corvette was somewhere up in those waters,” Brentin -replied, “and thought it safer not. We should have come to look for you -here _at_ once, only we calculated you couldn’t possibly arrive till -to-morrow. But what about Parsons? What’s the matter with your telling -us all about Parsons?” - -“Poor Teddy!” I sighed, and everybody looked shocked. I had scarcely -made up my mind whether to say he was dead, or in prison for life, when -Teddy himself suddenly fell in among us on his hands and knees. He -looked so ghastly, with his white face and red cactus scars—to say -nothing of his extraordinary way of entering—that the ladies began to -scream, and Bob Hines fell over backward. - -“Teddy!” - -“Hush! Hush! Hush!” hissed Teddy. “Bailey Thompson!” - -“Im-pawsible,” snarled Brentin. “He’s in Minorca.” - -“I say it’s Bailey Thompson. I saw him from outside, just coming in.” - -“Alone?” - -“Yes. Keep quiet!” - -We all huddled close together and kept as still as death. - -“I couldn’t be mistaken,” Teddy whispered. “He’s got on the same clothes -and carrying the shawl, and he was looking about him, just as he used at -Monte Carlo.” - -“You don’t say!” said Brentin, looking scared. “What the plague is he -doing in Athens? We shall have all our trouble over again.” And then, -thinking he was not very polite, he added, “And how are you? All right?” - -“No thanks to you!” grunted Teddy, at which the unfeeling Brentin began -to chuckle. - -“Somebody’s scratched your face well for you,” he laughed. “Looks like -marriage lines!” - -We lay very still, hoping against hope Thompson wouldn’t think the -Erechtheum worth a visit; but the fact was he had looked in the -carriages outside and questioned the driver, and, from the cloaks and -what the man had said, made up his mind it was our party. So, after -peeping in at the Parthenon, he came straight across; we heard his -footsteps, the divisional tread, closer and closer. Then he tumbled over -a column, swore, and the next moment was inside surveying us, huddled -together like a covey of partridges, with an expression I don’t find it -at all easy to describe—it was such a mixture of everything. - -Poor creature, he had evidently suffered! His face was drawn, his beard -unshaved, and his forlorn eyes looked defiantly out from under a heavily -lined brow. His mouth was tight and grim, and yet about the compressed -lips there was an air of satisfaction, almost of unholy mirth. When he -saw us, ran his glance over us and noted we were all there, netted for -the fowler, flame leaped to his sombre eyes. There was dead silence -while he stepped majestically, solemnly forward, threw his plaid shawl -on a column, and unbuttoned his dusty frock-coat. - -“And how are you?” said Brentin, coolly. “Come to see over the -Acropolis?” - -Thompson glared at him, and without replying sat down on his shawl. - -“How did you get here? Had a good voyage? Sakes alive, man, what a hole -in your boot!” - -“Poor man!” whispered Lucy, “how fearfully tired and ill he looks.” - -At so unexpected an expression of sympathy, the detective’s expression -suddenly changed. Poor wretch, he was worn out, hungry, and depressed; -humiliated and miserable, I suppose, at being so egregiously outwitted; -for his lip trembled, and, putting his face in his dog-skin hands, he -actually began to cry. I never felt so ashamed of myself, so sorry for a -man, in my life. - -“Cry, baby, cry!” taunted Brentin. “Serve you thundering well right—” - -“Be quiet!” I sternly cried. Brentin scowled at me, while poor Thompson -began to search with blinking eyes for his handkerchief. - -Then I went on, with real feeling in my voice: - -“We are sorry, Mr. Thompson, for the way we have treated you, but you -must see there was no other course open to us. We were entirely frank -with you, but you were never frank with us. We discovered your identity -quite by accident, and took the advantage we thought our due of the -discovery.” - -“Oh, all right, sir, thank you!” - -“At any rate,” struck in the irrepressible Brentin, with a wink at me, -“you have the satisfaction of knowing you spoiled a fine piece of work, -which will now, I guess, be consummated by other more imperfect hands -than ours.” - -“What!” said the detective, brightening. “You never even made the -attempt?” - -“What do you take us for?” cried the ingenious and evasive Brentin. -“Make an attempt of that nature, with the sharpest detective in old -England on our heels? No, sir!” - -Thompson looked pleased, and then, with sly malice, observed: - -“But, after all, gentlemen, you might have done it with perfect safety.” - -“What!” - -“With the most perfect safety, I assure you. I had not yet communicated -with the Monte Carlo police.” - -“That so? But afterwards?” - -“Oh, afterwards, I should have pinched you all, of course!” - -“There you are!” cried Brentin; “we knew that, mighty well. No, sir! -There are no flies on us. You gave us a fright, Mr. Bailey Thompson, and -we, I guess, have given you one. But no real damage has been done to -either party. Let us cry quits. Your hand, sir!” - -The simple fellow shook his hand obediently, and, polite as ever, bowed -to the ladies. My sister he already knew. She smiled at him and said: - -“But how on earth have you got here, Mr. Bailey Thompson? We all -understood you were going to the Balearic Isles.” - -“I know nothing of my original destination, madam,” the detective -replied. “I only know that after steaming for some few hours in one -direction, Mr. Van Ginkel suddenly bouted ship and went full speed in -the other.” - -“But why, I wonder?” - -“Some matter, I understood from the captain, connected with his divorced -wife.” - -“The Princess Danleno,” said Brentin. - -“Some such name. She had left Cannes and gone to San Remo, and Mr. Van -Ginkel was anxious to see her and effect a reconciliation, so the -captain told me. He is full of caprice, like all invalids, and on the -caprice seizing him he simply bouted ship without a word. But first he -had to get rid of me; so he carried me, full speed ahead, to the -southernmost point of Greece—somewhere near Cape Colonna, I -believe—and there he carted me ashore, gentlemen, like a sack of -coals.” - -The poor man’s lip began to tremble again, and he looked round our -circle piteously for sympathy. - -“Dear! dear!” murmured Brentin; “how like him! And never said a word the -whole time, I dare say?” - -“Not one! That was early on Monday morning. Since then I have been -slowly making my way up the Morea with great difficulty and discomfort, -mainly on foot, and sometimes getting a lift in a country wagon. At -Nauplia I managed to secure a passage in a coasting steamer, which, -after a tempestuous voyage, has just landed me at the Piræus. There I -saw your yacht, gentlemen, and knew, of course, you were in the -neighborhood.” - -“How did you manage about the language in the Peloponnese?” asked Hines, -curiously. - -“Why, fortunately, I can draw a little,” replied the detective, who was -every moment recovering his spirits, “and anything I wanted I drew. But, -often as I drew a beefsteak or a chop, gentlemen,” he said, plaintively, -“I never got it. Nothing but eggs and a sort of polenta, and once—only -once—goat’s flesh, when I drew a bedstead, in token that I wanted to -sleep there. And the fleas, gentlemen, the fleas!” he cried. “There is a -large Greek flea—” - -“Never mind that just now,” said Brentin, gravely. “There are elegant -and refined ladies present. The essential is you are safe, and bear us -all no malice. That is so, eh?” - -“None in the world!” cried the good fellow. “But I shall be much obliged -if you will give me directions how to get home from the Acropolis in -Athens to Brixton. I have no money to speak of, and a large hole in my -right boot.” - -“That will be all right, sir,” said Brentin, rising, with his grand air. -“Henceforth you are our guest. By-gones are by-gones, and we will look -after you till you are safely landed at Charing Cross.” - -“Thence, by tram or ’bus, over Westminster Bridge,” murmured Hines, as -we all rose, shook ourselves, and prepared to descend. - -“Well, all’s well that ends well,” cried Thompson. “But, all the same, I -rather regret, for all our sakes, the Monte Carlo business was left -untried.” - -“Some other day, sir,” said Brentin; “some other day, when you are -enjoying your well-earned retirement, and an officer not quite so plaguy -sharp is in your place.” - -The pleased detective walked jauntily on in front with the rest, while -Brentin, my sister, and I followed, Lucy clinging fondly to my arm. - -“But what are you going to do with him?” I whispered. “It is ingenious -to let him suppose the thing has not been done; but once he gets on -board the yacht he’s bound to discover all, and that he’s been fooled -again. Then it will be all up, indeed!” - -“Some of you must take him home overland, on the pretence there isn’t -room for every one on the _Amaranth_.” - -“But he must find it all out directly he gets to England, mustn’t he?” -said Lucy, softly. - -“I hope to goodness he won’t come trooping over to Medworth Square,” my -sister observed. “I shall never hear the last of it from Frank. And, -after all, I’ve done nothing, have I?” - -“True, O queen!” muttered Brentin, knitting his brows. “But by the time -he gets back the scent will be fairly cold. And the Casino authorities -are taking the sensible course of ignoring the whole affair. That is so, -isn’t it? No doubt, you’ve seen the papers.” - -Yes, I said, I had, and that was their line. - -“There you are, then! For the rest, we must simply trust our luck. It -has stood by us pretty well so far. Oh, and, by-the-way, what about Mr. -Parsons? How did you manage to get him out?” - -I rapidly sketched my part in the affair, and made them all laugh -amazingly as I told them of my disguise and its accidental resemblance -to Lord B. - -“Whether we are drunken men or fools,” laughed Brentin, “I know not; but -Providence has certainly looked after us so far in a way that I may -fairly call the most favored nation clause.” - -“_Quoti moris minus est, eo minus est periculi!_” I quoted, somehow -happening to remember the sentence from my old Latin grammar. “Which is -the Latin, ladies, for ‘Where there is the less fear, there is the less -danger.’” - -Lucy pressed my arm and smiled happily. - -Just as we neared the carriages: - -“By-the-way,” I asked, “what did it all tote up to?” - -“The boodle?” - -“Yes.” - -“Just over one million four hundred and fifty thousand francs; roughly -speaking, fifty-eight thousand pounds of your money.” - -“You’ll be back in Wharton Park, dearest,” I whispered, “before the -swallow dares!” - -She pressed my arm again and smiled more happily than ever. - -“The only thing that troubles me,” said my sister, “is how on earth I am -to establish an _alibi_ to Frank’s satisfaction, in case there’s a -rumpus when we get back.” - -“_Alibis_ are old-fashioned nowadays,” I answered. “We shall have to -think of something else for you than an _alibi_.” - -The unsuspicious Bailey Thompson was standing at one of the carriage -doors in a dandified attitude, making himself agreeable to Miss Rybot. - -As we drove away he again said—for after all he was human and meant to -be malicious—“But I do really wonder you didn’t do it, gentlemen, after -all!” - -“Don’t torture us with remorse, Mr. Bailey Thompson, sir,” Brentin -cried; “the sense of neglected opportunity is hard to bear.” - -“Well, all I can say is, I never saw an easier bit of work in my life, -and in my absence you were really perfectly safe. Those French police -are such utter fools, and as likely as not the Casino people would have -let you off. Come, now, confess! Don’t you regret it?” - -“Sir,” said Brentin, loftily, “I regret nothing, and never did. All is -for the best in the best of all possible worlds.” - -And the good detective couldn’t understand why, a few moments later, -Brentin was seized with a great roar of laughter. He explained it was -from seeing “Κοῦκ” in Greek letters over Cook’s offices; it looked so -droll! We all laughed heartily, too, and so drove up in immense mirth -and spirits to our hotel. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - WE ARRIVE SAFE IN LONDON AND GO TO MEDWORTH SQUARE—BACK AT “THE - FRENCH HORN”—NEWS AT LAST OF THE _AMARANTH_—I INTERVIEW MR. - CRAGE AND FIND HIM ILL - - -VERY little remains to tell; but that little is of importance. Of our -journey home together (my sister, Lucy, Bailey Thompson, Parsons, and I, -the others sailing on board the yacht) I need say nothing, for it was -entirely pleasant and uneventful. Our luggage wasn’t even robbed on the -Italian lines; we felt the cold somewhat as we neared home, and that was -all. - -At Charing Cross Thompson was evidently well-known to the officials; he -proclaimed us all his friends and above suspicion, so our portmanteaus -were barely looked at; everybody touched their hats to him, and we felt -quite royal in our immunities. - -There we parted. Teddy jumped into a cab for Euston, to catch the night -express for his dear Southport; my sister, Lucy, and I went off in a -four-wheeler to Medworth Square; while the still unsuspicious Thompson -remained on the platform, bowing and smiling. Once safely landed at -Charing Cross, our duty to him was plainly at an end. No doubt he would -immediately go off to Brixton, find his sister, Mrs. Wingham, and learn -the truth; but what that might mean to us I really neither knew nor -cared. We had so far so brilliantly succeeded that readers must not -blame me if I continued obstinately optimistic, and believed, whatever -trouble might still be in store for us, we should certainly somehow -emerge from it scathless and joyous. - -“I hope,” my sister said, as we drove away, “he won’t think it rude of -me not asking him to come and call. After all, he’s not quite of our -world, and he would need such a deal of explaining, for Frank always -insists on knowing exactly who everybody is.” - -“He won’t think of coming of his own accord, I suppose?” whispered Lucy. -“And, oh! I do so wish he wasn’t a friend of Mr. Crage’s.” - -“Lor’ bless you!” I philosophically remarked, “it’s even money we none -of us ever see or hear of him again.” - -But we did, that day week exactly, when he turned up at “The French -Horn,” purple with ineffective rage, accompanied by his dazed French -_confrère_, Monsieur Cochefort. - -In Medworth Square all was as usual. The Thursday evening German band -was playing the usual selection from that tiresome old “Mikado,” and my -sweet niece Mollie was soon tearing down the stairs to welcome us. - -“She watch for you every night, ma’am,” her Welsh nurse said; “and last -night she go down-stairs her best, and blow up Mr. Blyth like anything -for doing a door-bell ring exactly like yours, ma’am.” - -My brother-in-law was very glad to get his wife back, and, having been -warned by letter, welcomed my dear Lucy with sufficient warmth. How -could he help it? Everywhere she went she won all hearts. Brentin and -Parsons both admired her desperately, and Bob Hines, my sister told me, -paid her more attention on the yacht coming from Monte Carlo than he had -ever been known to pay any one before. - -Even Forsyth, who is one of the most _difficile_ men I know (unless the -young lady makes a dead set at him, when he thinks her lovely), even he -said to me, “That’s a real pretty girl, Vincent, and you’re a very lucky -man to get her;” while Miss Rybot once quite surprised me by the warmth -of her congratulation. “She’s so fresh and unaffected, Mr. Blacker,” she -said. “She’s like a breeze that meets you at the end of a country lane -when you come suddenly upon the sea.” Which I thought both poetical and -perfectly true—rather a rare combination nowadays. - -The next morning Lucy and I were off to Liverpool Street for Nesshaven -and “The French Horn.” As we drove up, and I saw the familiar place once -more, blinking in the soft February sunshine, just as we had left it, I -could scarcely believe all I had gone through in the way of peril and -adventure. Somehow, if one leaves a place for a time, and has -experiences of moment in the interval, one expects those experiences to -have had their effect elsewhere, too, even on inanimate objects. - -I felt older, wiser, more developed, more of a man, and I was astonished -to find the place quite unaltered and Mr. Thatcher looking just the same -as he came running out in his dirty old blazer. His mother was at the -window, gazing through the panes with the naïve curiosity of a child at -new arrivals. She kissed Lucy, and said to me: “Well, here you are back -safe, you bad young man. You’ve given us a rare fright, I can tell -you”—and that was all. - -That same evening, when the ladies were safely abed, I had a long talk -with Mr. Thatcher in the bar parlor. After dear Lucy’s escapade, we -decided we might as well be married at once, without waiting for Easter; -and that, with the help of a license, the following Thursday, February -6th, would be none too soon. For myself, apart from other -considerations, I thought it clearly wisest to get married and clear out -of the country, on a lengthy wedding-tour, as quick as we could; so -that, in case of search being made for me, as the head and guiding -spirit of the raid, I might, for some few months at any rate, be _non -inventus_. - -Next, I delicately approached the subject of the repurchase of Wharton -Park. I told Mr. Thatcher we had been extraordinarily lucky at Monte -Carlo, and that, by a combination of rare circumstances, I was the -richer by £30,000 than when I started. He was shrewd enough to listen in -silence and ask no sort of question as to what particular system I had -pursued to enable me to return with so large a sum. In fact, I scarcely -gave him time to ask questions, I was so rapid, hurrying forward only to -the main point, whether Crage’s offer were still open and we should -still be able to get the old wretch out. - -He told me that since Crage’s last visit and offer to marry Lucy he had -seen nothing of him, and, so far as he knew, the place was still to be -had. We could, if I liked, go up to the house in a day or two and make -inquiries cautiously, or write Crage a letter making him a formal -proposal. - -To which I replied that, knowing something of human nature, I judged it -best, when we made our offer, to be prepared with the actual sum in -notes and gold to make it good; for, with a man like Crage, combined of -malice and craft, he would most likely try to bluff and raise us unless -he saw the very gold and notes before him, beyond which, not having any -more to offer, we were not prepared to go. - -“Very true,” said Thatcher. “There’s nothing like the ready to tempt a -man, as I know very well. Why, when I was in business—” - -“Then all we can do,” I continued, cutting him short, “is to wait in -patience till the boodle—” - -“The what?” said Thatcher, taking the pipe out of his mouth. - -“It’s an American term—the money we have won, arrives. It’s coming in -the yacht, and should be here in a day or two now. Then we’ll go up with -it to the house, in a bag, and spread it out on the table—” - -“And I shall be back in Wharton Park again!” cried Thatcher. “Gracious -powers! Who would have thought it possible? And, of course, it will be -settled on Lucy. Me for life, and then Lucy. How delighted my poor old -mother will be!” - -“Yes,” I said, “and that your name may be perpetuated, I will add it to -my own. Father-in-law, here’s health and prosperity to those two fine -old English families, the Thatcher-Blackers!” - -So there was nothing we could do but wait in patience for the arrival of -the _Amaranth_. It was tedious, anxious work, for though I never doubted -all would be well, yet Bailey Thompson’s portentous silence somewhat -alarmed me; and as the days passed, and neither he nor the yacht gave -any sign of their existence, my nerves began to get unstrung, and I grew -worn and irritable. - -Fortunately, as often happens in the early days of February, the weather -was beautifully fine; so fine that the more flatulent class of -newspapers were full of letters from country correspondents, who were -finding hedge-sparrows’ eggs and raspberries in their gardens, and the -usual Lincolnshire parson broke into jubilant twitterings over his dish -of green pease. Otherwise, I don’t think I really could have borne it. - -At last, late on the Tuesday evening, came a telegram from Brentin at -Southampton—“_Safe, will arrive to-morrow_”—and I began to breathe a -little easier. But not a word of any sort from Bailey Thompson, neither -a reproach nor a threat; till I felt like that Damocles of Syracuse who, -though seated on a throne, was yet immediately under a faintly suspended -sword. For here was I, on a throne, indeed—the throne of dear Lucy’s -pure and constant affection—and yet!—at any moment!— - -Dramatically enough, the sword fell on my very wedding morning—on its -flat side, happily—giving me a shock, but no cut of any sort, as I am -now briefly going to tell. - -The next morning came another telegram from Brentin in London, to say he -would arrive at six and beg he might be met. All was well, he wired, -adding “_Any news Thompson?_” - -I wired back to the “Victoria” there was none: “_bring boodle with -you_;” and then I went off and found Thatcher. - -For always I had had the fancy to pay old Crage out of the place and be -married on the same day, and here was now my chance. We were to be -married in Nesshaven Church, in the grounds of Wharton Park, at twelve; -what was to prevent us, I said to Thatcher, from walking on up to the -house first with £30,000, completing the purchase, and hasting to the -wedding afterwards? Thence back to “The French Horn” for a light lunch, -afterwards catch the half-past-two train for Liverpool Street, and so to -Folkestone in the evening. - -There was nothing to prevent it, said Thatcher, who for the last two -days had gone about in a triumphant, bulging white waistcoat; only it -would require rather delicate handling, all to be done successfully. -Crage should be prepared, for instance, he thought; for, notwithstanding -the sight of the money, the sight of dear Lucy in her happy wedding -radiance might turn him sour, and he might after all refuse to complete. -What was to prevent one of us, he said—meaning, of course, me—going up -to the house and sounding the old man first? Then we should know exactly -how we stood, and what chance there was of our money being accepted. - -Now, for the last week nothing had been seen of the old man, and rumors -had reached us, chiefly through the gardener, he was very ill. He hadn’t -been to church for more than a month, and at church he had always been a -very regular attendant; not so much because he had any real religion in -him as that he might aggravate the parson by catching him up loudly in -the responses, and barking his way harshly through the hymns a good -half-line behind the rest of the congregation. Indeed, the chief -attraction, I fear, at Nesshaven Church was old Crage and his nauseous -eccentricities, and people who had heard how he had once lighted up his -pipe during the sermon and sat there sucking at it in the Wharton pew, -came from miles round in the hope he would enliven the discourse by -doing it again. - -Nor had he been seen about the grounds, nor stumping down to the inn, as -he mostly did once a week to insult the inmates; in short, the end that -comes to us all—good, bad, and indifferent—was clearly coming now to -him, and if business were ever to be done, it must be done speedily and -at once. - -So, before Brentin came, early on the Wednesday afternoon, I trudged -alone up to the house. There wasn’t a sign of life in it, and when I -rang at the hall door I heard the heavy bell clanging away down the -empty passages and cold servants’ quarters as in the depths of an -Egyptian tomb. I rang and rang, until at last I heard shuffling -footsteps approach. From the other side of the door came stertorous -breathing and wheezing, and the undoing of a chain; then a burglar’s -bell was taken off and fell with a jangle on the stone floor inside, and -at last the door was pulled ajar. - -Poor old Crage! He looked out at me with his wicked, frightened old -face, pinched, haggard, unshaven, dirty; terror-struck, as though he -feared, I were Death himself who had been knocking at the door. He was -in his shirt and trousers and a frowzy old dressing-gown, and his bare, -bony feet were thrust in worn leather slippers. As he breathed his -throat rattled dismally, and his long hand, with the thick, muddy veins, -shook so he couldn’t fold the dressing-gown round his gaunt, corded, -bare throat. - -“Hullo, young cockney!” he croaked; “what’s to do?” - -“How are you, Mr. Crage?” I asked, shocked at the old man’s fallen, -forlorn look. - -“Very bad!” he whispered, his rheumy eyes blinking with watery -self-pity. - -“Is there anybody looking after you?” - -“No—no—thieves! all thieves!—don’t want ’em.” - -Then he made as if he would shut the door. - -“I came up to see you on business,” I said; “about selling the house.” - -“No business to-day,” he croaked. “Too ill. Come to-morrow—any time. -Come to-morrow.” And with that he shut the door in my face. - -I heard him shuffling away across the hall, kicking the fallen bell with -a tinkle along the floor, and then, as I turned to go, I heard him fall -and groan. I ran in hastily, and with great difficulty managed to get -him on his feet again. He stood there for some few minutes, clutching me -and rattling his throat; then, hanging on my arm, dragging me along with -him, he paddled off down a short dark passage towards a half-open door, -pushed it wide, and pulled me after him into the great empty -drawing-room. - -The blinds were down, and the fading February sun gleamed in on the bare -worn carpet. In front of the fine fireplace, with a little dying -wood-fire in it, stood an arm-chair, with a small table beside it. A -candle and snuffers were on it, and a plate of stale bread-and-butter. -On the high mantel-piece was a medicine bottle, full and corked. - -He sank back into his chair, and lay there, breathing heavily, with his -eyes closed. - -“But is there nobody looking after you?” I asked, and he made some -twitching movement with his fingers. - -Just at that moment in flounced the gardener’s wife, drying her hands on -her apron. She was a big, handsome, shameless-looking creature, with a -naming eye and a hard, high color on her stiff cheeks. - -“Now you’ve been moving yourself about again!” she cried, bending over -him. - -Crage opened his eyes and looked up at her maliciously. - -“He came up on business,” he whispered. - -“You’re a pretty man to do business, ain’t you?” she sneered. - -“No, not to-day,” he mocked. “Too ill. All right to-morrow. Tell the -genelman to come to-morrow, early. Quite well to-morrow.” - -I turned to go, and Crage, raising himself in his chair, rasped out: - -“Bring the money with you, young cockney, or no business. Mind that!” - -The woman followed me to the door. - -“Has he got a doctor?” I asked. - -“Doctor Hall came once,” she said, “but he won’t do anything he tells -him. He won’t take his medicine and he won’t go to bed. He says he’ll -die if he goes to bed. He sleeps all night in that arm-chair in the -drawing-room. If he don’t die soon, I shall; I know that very well. If -you’ve got any business to do with him, you’d better come early in the -morning. He can’t last much longer.” - -And with that she closed the door on me, and I heard her putting up the -chain again and the burglar’s bell as I went away down the weedy gravel -path. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - ARRIVAL OF BRENTIN—MY WEDDING-DAY—WE GO TO WHARTON—BAILEY - THOMPSON AND COCHEFORT FOLLOW US—WE FINALLY DEFEAT THEM BOTH - - -BRENTIN was in “The French Horn” by a quarter to seven, and, rather to -my surprise, he came alone. I thought Hines or Masters would surely have -come with him; but no, he said, except for Forsyth, they had all parted -company at Southampton. Masters and Miss Rybot had gone to Sea View, -where they were to be married almost immediately, and Hines had gone off -to stay with a married sister at Bournemouth. Forsyth alone had -travelled up to town with him, and then gone on straight to Colchester -to take up his neglected regimental duties. So I wrote out a telegram to -be sent first thing in the morning, begging him to come over and be my -best man. - -And the boodle? Brentin winked and, with his hands on his knees, began -to laugh, like the priest in the _Bonne Histoire_. - -“Some of it has melted, sir,” he joyously cried. “Your friend Hines has -got his, and Mr. Parsons, by this time, is toying with ay registered -letter way up in Southport. I have handsomely recompensed Captain Evans -and the crew; they have, no doubt, been tanking-up and painting -Portsmouth red all the time. I have reimbursed myself for the yacht and -other trifles, and there now remains the £30,000 for your young lady’s -ancestral home, and some £20,000 for the hospitals and so on. To-morrow, -sir, we will draw up a list of the most deserving of them.” - -“You have the money with you?” - -“Yes,” he said; it was all safe in what he called his grip, or hand-bag, -and quite at my service. I told him of my desire to complete the -purchase immediately before the marriage was solemnized, and then we -fell to talking of Bailey Thompson and his strange silence. - -“Why, the man is piqued, sir,” said Brentin; “that’s what he is, piqued. -Beyond saying that, I do not propose to give him ay second thought. He -is mad piqued, and that’s all there is to it!” - -So I tried to feel completely at my ease, and managed to spend a very -happy evening in the bar parlor, Lucy playing to us and Brentin -occasionally bursting into raucous song. Now, when I think of him, I -like best to remember him as he was that evening, forgetting his harder, -commoner side, when he so outrageously proposed to desert poor Teddy; -even refusing (as I forgot at the time to mention) to allow the cannon -to be brought into play for his rescue by shelling the rooms. He was -infinitely gay and amusing, only finishing up the evening, after dear -Lucy’s retirement, with a long and violent dispute with Mr. Thatcher on -the vague subject of the immortality of the soul. Thatcher believed he -had a soul and would live forever, in another, happier sphere; Brentin -denied it, could see no sign of Thatcher’s soul anywhere; so I left them -trying to shout each other down, both speaking at once. - -I retired to rest with many solemn, touching thoughts. The last night of -bachelorhood gives rise to at least as much deep reflection as that of -the young maiden’s; more, in fact, so far as the bachelor himself is -concerned. I thought over it all so long and deeply I at last got -confused, and when I woke, the bright February sun was streaming in on -my best clothes and the bells from Nesshaven Church were ringing. - -All the morning those bells rang out their happy, irregular peal. - - “The village church beneath the trees, - Where first our marriage vows were given, - With merry peal shall swell the breeze, - And point with slender spire to heaven!” - -Only, to be exact, Nesshaven Church has no spire, but a sunk, old, -bird-haunted, ivy-clad tower. - -It was Thatcher’s idea to set the bells going early and keep them at it -all day; you see, they rang not only for the marriage of his only child, -but for his return to their ancestral home; and, when they showed any -sign of flagging, Thatcher listened with a pained expression, and cried, -“Why, surely they’re not going to stop yet! Run, Bobby, or Harriet, or -George, my man!”—or whoever happened to be handy—“and tell ’em to keep -’em going, and give ’em this from me. Here, Vincent, my boy, have you -got half-a-crown?” - -By ten o’clock we were all dressed and ready, waiting only for Forsyth. -Soon after ten he came, and the procession started. It was a lovely day -again, mild and sunny, and, in true country-wedding fashion, we all set -out to walk. Lucy, looking perfectly sweet in gray, was on her father’s -arm, and the old lady, in black silk, on mine; while Brentin, carrying -his grip, with the boodle in it, and that good little chap, Forsyth, -brought up the rear. - -The old lady, who within the last three months seemed to me to have -failed a good deal, mentally, at any rate, stepped out right well, -hanging lightly on my arm. At first she thought we were going straight -to the church, and couldn’t understand why we left it on our right and -went on up to the big house. Then she seemed to think it quite natural, -and that the place was hers again, and began talking of her early days, -when first she was married and came to Wharton as a bride. Once or -twice, indeed, she called me “Francis,” her husband’s name, who died in -1850, and drew my attention to the scandalous, weedy state of the walks. - -“And this is what we pay good wages for!” she cried. “These men must be -spoken to about it, my dear, immediately.” - -The gardener’s wife, who opened for us the hall door, was astonished at -our numbers. - -“Why, what a crowd of you!” she said. - -The old lady passed her haughtily. - -“Come, Tom!” she cried to Mr. Thatcher. “We’ll go up-stairs and have tea -in _my_ room. Come, Lucy!” - -And up-stairs, up the bare stone staircase, they went, for, as I -whispered to Thatcher, it was just as well the ladies should be out of -the way while we did our business. - -In the great empty drawing-room we found old Crage ready waiting for us. -He had dressed himself up in rusty attorney black for the occasion, and -the plain kitchen-table was neatly spread with bundles of documents, -title-deeds, and so forth. - -As the woman showed us in, she told me he had been up all night -rummaging in his old tin boxes, talking and mumbling to himself. Now he -seemed quite spry and well again. I could scarcely believe, as he sat -there alert and attentive, he was the same stricken, shambling old hunks -I had seen the previous afternoon, dragging himself about, senile and -dying. Such is the power of the will and the business instinct, -prolonged even to the verge of the grave! - -Brentin, who, as usual, took everything into his own hands, adopted the -simplest method of dealing with him. Crage received us in complete -silence, and no one spoke a word, while Brentin opened his grip and took -out the notes and two or three little bags of gold. The gold he emptied -into heaps and piled them round the notes. - -Then, “Thirty thousand pounds,” he said, with a smile—“thirty thousand -pounds! Is it a deal?” - -Crage sat bolt upright, with his hand curved over his ear. - -“For the entire property?” he asked. - -“For the entire property. Is it a deal? Thirty thousand pounds, neither -less nor more.” And he emptied the grip and shook it, to show that not a -penny more remained. - -“It’s worth more in the open market,” said Crage, cautiously. - -“Then take it to the open market. We have no time to haggle. My client -is on his way to be married. Good-day.” And with that he began to scrape -the notes and gold together again. - -“Hold hard!” cried Crage. “Don’t hurry an old man.” - -“We’ll give the old man three minutes,” said Brentin, coolly pulling out -his watch. - -We were all three of us grouped round the table, watching Crage, with -our backs to the door. The woman stood at his elbow, and we could, in -the complete silence, hear the heavy, swinging tick-tick of Brentin’s -large old-fashioned watch. - -“Half time!” cried Brentin, when suddenly we heard steps outside in the -hall. I had just time to recognize Bailey Thompson’s even, divisional -tread, when he pushed the door open and stepped in. He was dressed as -usual, and behind him came a gentleman in a tight black frock-coat, an -evident Frenchman, thin, dark, and wiry, with a withered face, like a -preserved Bordeaux plum. - -“One moment, if—you—please, gentlemen!” cried Bailey Thompson, as he -stepped up to the table. - -My heart gave a bound, and Forsyth started and said, “Ho!” but the -unabashed Brentin merely politely replied, “One moment to _you_, sir. We -will attend to you directly.—Time’s up, Mr. Crage! is it or is it not a -deal?” - -Bailey Thompson laughed. “Cool as ever, Mr. Brentin, I see,” he said. -“But don’t you think this amusing farce of yours has gone on long -enough? It has been successful so far, as I always thought it would be!” - -“You’re mighty good!” - -“We have no desire to be unduly hard on you.” - -“You are mighty particular good!” - -“The Casino authorities are, on the whole, willing to regard you as -eccentric English gentlemen of position, who have played a very cruel -practical joke on them.” - -“That so?” - -“That is so. This is their representative, Mossieu Cochefort.” - -“_Enchantay!_” cried Brentin, with a bow. - -“He is charged to say that, on the due return of the money you have -sto—ahem!—carried off, and an undertaking from you in writing that you -none of you ever visit the place again, on any pretence, they are -willing to forego criminal proceedings, and no further questions will be -asked.” - -“Oh, come off it!” cried Brentin, laughing. - -“Otherwise,” continued Bailey Thompson, with great gravity, “I must ask -you, Mr. Blacker, and Mr. Forsyth here, to follow me to the cab in -waiting at the door, and return with us to London as our prisoners.” - -“In short, sir,” said Brentin, swelling with indignant importance, “you -invite _us_, eccentric gentlemen of recognized position, to compound a -felony!” - -Thompson shrugged his shoulders, and Mossieu Cochefort looked puzzled. - -“Be ashamed of yourself, sir!” Brentin cried, his voice ringing -scornfully through the empty room. “Be ashamed of yourselves, you and -Mossieu Cochefort, and give over talking through your hat! Mr. Crage, if -you will write out a formal receipt we will look upon the affair as -settled. The formal transfer can be effected later.” - -“Aye, aye!” mumbled Crage, and, with his eyes on the money, began -fumbling in the inside pocket of his rusty black coat for the receipt. - -“Gentlemen!” cried Thompson, with affected earnestness, “I warn you! I -very solemnly warn you—” - -“Oh, come off it, Mr. Bailey Thompson, sir!” was Brentin’s emphatic and -withering reply; “come off it, and shut your head. We have long had -enough of you and your gas. For my part, my earnest advice to you and -Mossieu Cochefort is that you kiss yourselves good-bye and go your -several ways. And tell your amazing Casino Company from us that the only -undertaking we will give them is not to come and do it again in the -fall. To repeat a success is always dangerous; and next time, no doubt, -you will all be better prepared.—Now, Mr. Crage, the receipt!” - -“_Qu’est ce qu’il a dit?_” asked the puzzled Frenchman, as Thompson, -fuming and fretting, dragged him off to the window to explain. - -Meantime old Crage had produced his receipt, already written and signed, -and, handing it over, with trembling, eager fingers was beginning to -count the notes. - -“Ten fifties—ten thousands—ten twenties,” he was mumbling, “nice clean -notes—beautiful crisp notes—he won’t get ’em back from me, if that’s -what he’s after! No, no, not from Crage. Crage wasn’t in Clement’s Inn -for forty years for nothing. Ten more fifties!—” So he went on mumbling -to himself, and stuffing the notes away in a broken old pocket-book, -while Brentin handed me over the receipt, and snapped his grip with a -click. - -“It’s all right,” he whispered. “We’ve bluffed ’em. Keep cool.” - -“Hadn’t you better let me keep ’em for you!” whined the woman, bending -over Crage’s chair. “You’ll only lose ’em. Give ’em me to take care of -for you, there’s a dearie!” - -To which pathetic appeal the old man paid no sort of heed, but pushed -the pocket-book into his inside breast-pocket, with many senile signs of -satisfaction and joy. - -“And now!” cried Brentin, in imperturbable high spirits, “the -wedding-procession will reform, and proceed to the church for the tying -of the sacred knot. Mr. Bailey Thompson—Mossieu Cochefort—we shall be -glad if you will join us, and afterwards, at ‘The French Horn,’ to a -slight but high-toned repast. Good-day, Mr. Crage; take care of yourself -and your money. Let us hope that when the robins nest they will find you -in your usual robust health. Mossieu Cochefort—Mr. Bailey Thompson—if -you will kindly follow us—” - -But a sudden access of fury seemed to have seized the usually calm -little detective; he was stamping his feet, waving his arms, almost -foaming at the mouth. - -In execrable French, Stratford-atte-Bow-Street French, he began to swear -aloud he would have nothing more to do with it, that he had done his -best, that he had never yet had dealings with the French police but they -hadn’t muddled it; for his part, his work was finished, and he was going -home. - -“Here they are!” he cried, “three of them, all ready for you. Will you -have them, or won’t you? _Les voilar! Nong? Vous ne les voulay pas?_ -Then if you don’t want them, why the ——” (dreadful bad word!) “did you -bring me off down here?” he yelled, breaking into profane English. - -“_Mais, voyons! voyons!_” murmured the startled and conciliatory -Cochefort. - -“Damn your _voyons_!” Bailey Thompson screamed. “If you don’t want them, -and won’t take them, do the rest of it yourself, the best way you can. I -wash my hands of it. Good-day, gentlemen, and thank your lucky stars for -the imbecility of the French police!” and with that he rushed to the -door, through the hall, and out into his cab. As he pulled the hall door -open I heard the wedding-bells come surging in with a new burst of joy. - -“_Mais, mon ami!_” cried Cochefort, as Thompson tore himself away, “_ne -me laissez pas comme ça!_” and with much gesticulation prepared to -follow. - -But Brentin sagely stopped him. “_Restay, Mossieu Cochefort!_” he said, -graciously; “_Restay avec nous. Tout va biang. Restay!_” - -“_Mais, quel cochon!_” cried the angry Cochefort, stretching out his -black kid hands, and shaking them in Bailey Thompson’s direction. “_Ma -parole d’honneur! a t’on jamais vu un pareil sacré cochon!_” - -“_C’est vrai!_” said Brentin. “_Mais il est toujours comme ça. Vous -savvy, il n’est pas gentilhomme. Nous sommes tous gentilhommes. Nous -vous garderong et vous traiterong tray biang. Restay!_” - -So Mossieu Cochefort allowed himself to be comforted, and restay’d. We -took him with us to the church, and did him right well at lunch, and -then, so forlorn and downcast the poor creature seemed, Lucy and I -carried him off with us up to town, if only out of kindness, to put him -on his way back to Monaco. - -On the way up in the train he confessed to me his only instructions had -been to try and get the money back, and that if he couldn’t manage that, -or part of it, he was directed not to think of embarrassing the -authorities by taking us all in charge. I could conceive, he said, that -the authorities didn’t want to be made the laughing-stock of Europe by -having to try us, nor to add to their already heavy expenses by keeping -us in prison—nearly all quite young men—for the term of our natural -lives. He hadn’t been able fully to explain all this to Bailey Thompson: -the man was such a lunatic, he said, and so obstinate: and besides, from -the moment of his arrival Bailey Thompson had ridden the high horse over -him, and proudly declaring he didn’t require to be taught his duties by -a foreigner, had immediately carried him off down to Nesshaven, scarcely -allowing him once to open his mouth all the way. - -At Liverpool Street he seemed more lost, poor wretch, than ever. He knew -no single word of English, and looked at us so pathetically, as we stood -on the platform together, our soft hearts were touched. So we made up -our minds to carry him along with us to Folkestone, dine him at the -“Pavilion,” and afterwards see him safe on board the night-boat for -Boulogne. - -It was droll, all the same, this carrying a French detective about with -us on our wedding-day; but the man was so truly grateful I have never -regretted it. We gave him a good dinner at the hotel, and at ten o’clock -walked him out on to the pier for his boat. He made me a little speech -at parting, declaring I had treated him “_en vrai camarade_,” and that -if ever I wanted to come to Monte Carlo again I was to let him know and -he would see I came to no harm. To Lucy he presented all his compliments -and felicitations on securing the affection of “_un si galant homme!_” -and then, with a twenty-pound note I slipped into his hand at parting, -bowed himself away, and was soon lost to sight in the purlieus of the -second cabin, whither he went prepared to be dreadfully sick, smooth and -calm as the night was. - -As Lucy and I strolled back to the hotel, arm-in-arm, we both were -silent. - -At last, just as we got back and heard the steamer’s final clanging bell -and despairing whistle, “I can’t make out, really, whether you’ve all -done right or wrong,” she whispered, softly; “but this I know, dearest, -you have been most extraordinarily lucky.” - -To which simple little speech I merely pressed her arm, by way of -showing how thoroughly I agreed with her. - - - - - CONCLUSION - - -THIS is the true account of our raiding the tables at Monte Carlo, done -the best way I could. - -For the rest, I may just mention poor old Crage died before the end of -the month, and by Easter Mr. Thatcher and his mother were safely -installed in Wharton Park. Arthur Masters was married to Miss Rybot in -April, Forsyth is to do the same to a widow (so he says) in September, -Bob Hines is very flourishing with his new gymnasium and -swimming-bath—just about finished now, as I write, at the end of -June—and Parsons is, I believe, at Southport, parading Lord Street as -usual in breeches and gaiters. - -As for Brentin, I never saw him again, for by the time Lucy and I had -returned from our honeymoon he was back in New York. But I heard from -him the other day—a long, rambling letter, in which he told me he had -sold the _Amaranth_ to Van Ginkel, for his wife the Princess Danleno, -whom he had remarried, and with whom, on separate vessels, he was -sailing about the Greek Archipelago—probably in belated search for -Bailey Thompson. He concluded by begging me to think of something -“snappy” we could do together in the fall, ending finally by writing: -“What’s the matter with our going to Egypt and turning the Nile into the -Red Sea? A communicative stranger, an Englishman, by his accent, assures -me there is just one place where it can be done. Think it over, sonny, -and if you decide to do it, count on me. Sincerely, =Julius C. -Brentin=.” - -I would write more, only Lucy is calling to me from the hay-field, the -other side of the ha-ha of Wharton, where I have come to finish this -work in retirement. - - “Around my ivied porch shall cling - Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew, - And Lucy at her wheel shall sing - In russet gown with ’kerchief blue.” - -As my dear Lucy says, I really am, and always have been, a most -extraordinarily lucky man. - - THE END - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Some words are -hyphenated by the author for emphasis. - -Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained. - -Italicized words are surrounded by underline -characters, _like this_. Words in bold characters are surrounded by -equal signs, =like this=. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sack of Monte Carlo, by Walter Frith - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SACK OF MONTE CARLO *** - -***** This file should be named 50515-0.txt or 50515-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/5/1/50515/ - -Produced by Cindy Beyer, Shaun Pinder and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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