The Villa of the Peacock
The Villa of the
Peacock
And Other Stories
By
Richard Dehan ; ;
Author of " The Dop Doctor "
Gr \ -f , ! y ^ T~
*- *w u> * . < '
New York
George H. Doran Company
Printed in Great Britain
Annex
TO
THE MEMORY
. OF
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
2135626
CONTENTS
PAGE
VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 13
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 79
DOROTEA ET CIE 123
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 168
THE EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES OF AN
AUTOMOBILE 215
THE SILVER BIRCH 296
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE 307
II
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK.
I.
IT stands in a fashionable suburb of the gayest and
prettiest watering-place in all the Kingdom of
Donda, San Silvestro on the Bahia, close to the
northern frontier. Of cream-white stone, quaintly
designed and beautifully built, its high-pitched
roofs sheathed with the deep chocolate-brown tiles
of Donda North -West, its shutters, casements,
balconies, doors, verandahs, enamelled lizard-green,
the sumptuous villa standing in carefully-tended
grounds full of palms and tree-ferns, mimosa,
syringa, magnolia, and the white-blossomed acacia,
Persian lilac and jasmine, white, pink and yellow,
embowered in its thickets of roses, its verdant lawns
adorned with beds of seasonable flowers, seemed a
fit setting for a mistress as handsome as the sardine-
merchant's wife. On the level of the drawing-room
balcony between the long windows, a ten-foot high
plaque of magnificent majolica representing a pea-
rock in all the glory of his displayed plumage had
been built into the wall.
The peacock has gone, leaving a long scar upon
the masonry. The House of the Peacock stands
J3
i 4 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
empty, its paint blistering, its woodwork warping
under the savage rains and frosts and suns. Don
Abramo Zabalza is dead; dead also is the lovely
Donna Teresa who turned the heads of the dandies
of the Plaza de Nautilo and the Avenida, and many
persons of greater importance, and never suffered
an admirer to kiss the tip of her little finger. " For
am I not," she would demand of her female friends,
making great eyes of indignation and folding her
white arms upon her swelling bosom, " a virtuous
married woman, the esposa of my Abramo and the
mother of his child?"
" And such a child !" the gossips would squawk
in chorus. " ' Dios, que hermoso esl' To see the
angel in his little goat-carriage upon the Paseo with
his nurse and his aya, as splendid as a little king !
And the likeness ! Was ever anything so marvel-
lous? Two chick-peas could not be more alike!"
And innocent Donna Teresa would laugh and
blush and shake her finger, plumper than of old,
but a dainty little digit still, and if her infant angel
happened to be near, whip him up and kiss the
narrow oval cheeks and the bright brown eyes and
pouting underlip of the urchin who so oddly re-
sembled the youthful King of Donda, though
senior to his sovereign by a year.
One recalls how suddenly Aldobrando I. of
Donda, a good churchman, a capable ruler, and a
faithful husband to his Austrian wife, died upon a
hunting expedition among the mountains. The
receipt of the telegram precipitated an event eagerly
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 15
awaited by all monarchists. Vast crowds assembled
outside the royal palace at the Dondese capital of
Calamaria upon the night of the Queen's day of be-
reavement, asking one another: "Will it be a
King?" When the royal standard with its great
rampant bulls was hauled down from half-mast to
run up and break at the top of the flagstaff, a sustained
11 Th' th' th'!" of relief went up from all those
lisping Latin palates. The guns of the fortress
were dumb out of consideration. It was a hot
spring night. The people dispersed to eat gazpacho
and tortillas and drink the health of the new con-
stitutional monarch in frothed chocolate, syrup of
currants, or sorbos of aguardiente, whilst guitars
and mandolins throbbed or vibrated accompani-
ments to national and loyal songs, and shouts of
" Viva el Rey!" rent the clouds of state-monopo-
lised cigarette-smoke tangled amongst the branches
of the oaks and cork-trees beneath which the tables
of the revellers were set. For to the contented
monarchists of San Silvestro, where so many
million duros of the royal revenues were annually
spent, a baby King a brace of hours old meant con-
tinuance of the dynasty under which security and
good order, piping peace and comfortable quiet had
been enjoyed by classes and masses, who had reason
to sicken at the memory of the years of confusion,
intrigue, plot, and counter-plot pull devil, pull
baker between a Pretender to the throne and an
Heir-presumptive robbed by reversion of the Salic
Law.
16 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
II.
The resemblance of the sardine merchant's son to
his young sovereign did not lessen with the boy's
growth. It was marvellous, extraordinary, one of
those strange and not unusual duplications of an
individuality that have constituted the amusement,
the provocation, very often the torment and the
curse of the men or women thus played upon by
jesting Nature since Shakespeare wrote A Comedy
of Errors upon the theme.
Abramo Zabalza, originally a fisherman of the
Bahia, who had invested his wife's dowry in busi-
ness and amassed a fortune as a sardine-merchant,
became richer still, unluckily for his youngster,
who was reared by fond and foolish parents in
iuxury, and gratified in every whim. Twice in each
year the King visited San Silvestro. One may be
sure the attire, carriage, gait, mode of speech,
habits, tastes, whims of the royal urchin were care-
fully noted by the doting Teresa and her circle of
gossips, nor was Zabalza himself innocent of vanity
in this regard.
Certain lackeys of the palace persons honest,
responsible and trusted, but chatterers nevertheless
one or two elderly duennas of the same type, were
made welcome at the House of the Peacock, to be
flattered, caressed, and cossetted on condition that
they talked about the King. Don Enrique himself
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 17
the spoiled and pampered urchin learned that
such and such tones, gestures and movements bore
more fruit in the gratification of his wishes than
others, and worked the oracle. When he was ten
years old or so, his sailor-suits and costumes Ecossais
were (privately) procured from the firm of haber-
dashers who imported these garments for the youth-
ful Aldobrando II. On his tenth birthday the King
entered as a cadet of the Royal Infantry Training
School, and since their idol's vulgar antecedents
debarred him from sharing the studies of royalty,
the infatuated parents must buy their cub a little
uniform to strut in at festas, and engage a sergeant-
instructor to drill him into shape.
As might have been expected, as the boy became
a youth and the youth a man, this fostered idiosyn-
crasy became obsession. He framed himself labori-
ously upon his model, reproducing characteristics
until tricks of expression, gait, voice, became
involuntary. Educated by a constantly changing
succession of highly certificated private tutors, the
finished product of their labours bore out, upon the
attainment of his majority, the truth of the vulgar
proverb connected with a multiplicity of cooks. A
handsome person, agreeable and easy manners, a
taking bonhomie, lavish generosity to those who
humoured his whims, or aided in the gratification
of his wishes, were counterbalanced by a fierce and
jealous temper, a disdainful attitude towards those
high things which have at all times commanded the
18 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
reverence of the noble-minded, and a most colossal
vanity.
Dressed for the part for which Nature had
equipped him, the heir of the i ; ch sardine-merchant
speedily became chief with a set of polyglot un-
desirables, frequenters of the Gran' Casino and
hangers-on of the Opera coulisses. These were
tickled by the oddity ; even flaneurs of a better cfass
took Don Enrique up and petted him, so that un-
instructed foreigners, seeing the youth made much
of in such company, conceived wild ideas of the
democratic habits and easy-going abnegation of re-
serve and dignity manifested or so it seemed to
them by Donda's constitutional sovereign. Never
by word or look or sign had the King showed him-
self aware of the existence of the double who
haunted public places where royalty drove or
walked, dressed, as far as his tailor dared humour
his idiosyncrasy, after the fashion of His Majesty;
until, after a flying visit to a northern capital, the
betrothal of Aldobrando II. was announced in the
Court Gazette and such daily Press organs as were
staunch in their advocacy of monarchist prin-
ciples ; when, greatly to his consternation, Abramo
Zabalza received a visit at his counting-house from
an official of the palace, the Court being at the
moment in residence at San Silvestro.
The honest sardine -merchant had prospered
greatly since the birth of his bantling. From a
dealer in the raw commodity, he had become a manu-
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 19
facturer, exporter and purveyor on a huge scale of
the sardine in oil, the sardine in oil with olives,
tomatoes or pimiento. Two manufactories under
the name of Zabalza ceaselessly turned out, except
on Sundays and festas, a constant stream of the
preserved delicacy in all its varieties, which, with
various other cates and comestibles, Abramo
Zabalza, Especerio to His Majesty, retailed at six
large establishments in the town.
The interview was short but effective. The Queen
Mother's Chamberlain delivered his message. For
years the presumption of Zabalza had been noted,
tolerated, and pardoned in recognition of his spot-
less character and in sympathy with the parent of
an only son. Now, since presumption had over-
leaped all barriers, since a young man whose
plebeian features Heaven had designed to model in
some degree of likeness to Heaven's own anointed,
not only favoured the resemblance by unlawful
means, but exhibited himself to the people of San
Silvestro, at the Gran' Casino, the restaurants, ball-
rooms, and other places of resort less reputable, in
the company of undesirable persons, both male and
female, at last the sword must fall. Behold Abramo
Zabalza, who had thriven in royal patronage, de-
prived of the royal warrant. Further action on the
part of supreme authority could only be stayed by
the summary exile of Zabalza's offending son.
" Excellencia, mercy!" the unhappy tradesman
stammered. " Never have I or the boy's mother
20 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
dreamed of offending Her Majesty. . . . From
childhood to manhood . . ." Abramo was getting
incoherent " the Holy Saints my witnesses . . .
devotion to the Throne as to the Faith ! But to send
away our son No, es impossibile! Por Dios, Ex-
cellencia, plead with Their Majesties I"
Thus the unlucky Abramo. But the Chamberlain
was inexorable. Having been endured, the younger
Zabalza could no longer be tolerated.
" Her Majesty grieves at the necessity of inflict-
ing so severe a punishment. Don Enrique must
take up residence abroad, senor. The royal warrant
must be taken down from the shops and the manu-
factories and erased from all tins, boxes, bottles,
and catalogues. Your son must live abroad in
Paris a young man of his tastes would find a very
agreeable pied a terre. Her Majesty particularly
indicates Paris, pray remember : Paris is the con-
dition of her continued leniency and Christian toler-
ation towards yourself and your family ! For now
now that the King is to take upon himself the
responsibilities of a husband and a father, the in-
violability of the royal reputation, the spotlessness
of the royal character, the sacredness of the royal
person, must not be tarnished by the constant
presence upon the soil of Donda of an individual
bearing so infernal ahem ! so compromising a
likeness to royalty as your son. Accept these terms
with gratitude for the clemency of Her Majesty.
Obey at once, or the police will close your shops
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 21
and manufactories, the royal warrants will be taken
down by the public executioner " a neat touch
that " and burned at the municipal destruidor "
another. "And so, senor, I leave you in the
keeping of Heaven."
Upon which, with the usual compliments, His
Excellency took leave and was conducted to the
door. And the unhappy Abramo, who had grown
obese with his banking account, suffered an attack
of vertigo and was taken home by his chief cashier
in a cab to his terrified and bewildered wife. Upon
being bled and cauterised, he recovered sufficiently
to falter out the story, and expired, fortified by the
rites of Holy Church, before noon of the follow-
ing day. Before the tombstone recording his
virtues as citizen, husband, and father had been
completed and set up, his heartbroken Teresa
followed him. Don Enrique found himself heir to
a great fortune and without a friend in the world.
His pious mother's religious director, a Canon
Regular of the Cathedral of San Silvestro, a person-
age of high principles and discretion, in favour with
the Court and Society, and popular amongst
financial circles in the town, assisted the young
man to arrange the matter of turning the Zabalza
business into a limited company. Thus, being
possessed of a large fortune, besides something
approximating to another half-million in fully-paid
shares in the parental concern, the exiled son of
Zabalza the sardine-merchant shut up the Villa of
22 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
the Peacock, quitted his native land of Donda, and
betook himself to France.
III.
Don Enrique Zabalza, up to the age of thirty-six,
when sublunary matters ceased to absorb him, was
a familiar figure in the Gallic capital, as at Rome,
Vienna, Hungary, Monte Carlo, Biarritz, and other
pleasure-resorts of the world.
The passage of years seemed but to intensify the
resemblance that was at once his good fortune and
his bane. Physically speaking, that is to say, for
the high degree of personal courage displayed in
the attitude of the monarch towards anarchists, for
instance, would have been impossible to Don
Enrique. To laugh when the revolver-bullet of a
would-be assassin has grazed one's cheek, or when
the coachman and wheelers of the State coach have
been killed by the explosion of a bomb ; to change
coolly over to a Minister's carriage and proceed upon
the route; to have been exposed for one calendar
month to risks and perils such as every day and
every hour attend upon the pathway of the most
Catholic and constitutional sovereign of a country
seething with hatred of the Church and rotten with
Rationalism, Positivism, and anti-Christianity,
would have speedily whitened Don Enrique's hair
and reduced him mentally and physically to a jelly.
But he was a notable runner, leaper, and
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 23
swimmer, a fine swordsman, a master of horseman-
ship, a keen automobilist, a matchless tennis-
player, and a courageous gamester to boot;
possessed, moreover, of a discriminating taste in
wine, tobacco, masculine fashions, and feminine
charms. And he took care to exhibit the more
showy of these accomplishments upon all the
famous world-arenas where kings compete with
commoners, achieving successes duly recorded in
the fashionable intelligence-columns of the news-
papers to the immense amusement of Society, and
the undisguised delight of his townsfellows, the
brawny fisherfolk and the plump tradesmen of San
Silvestro's old town.
" El Mozo has won the Paris Grand Prix with
Petardista, his caballo de carrera, and broken the
bank again at Homburg " (or Monte Carlo, or
Monaco). "He has carried off the Gold Cup at
the trials of the Cercle de I'Escrime and disarmed
Domenichio, the Italian maestro. And yesterday,
on the Deauville raqueta-courts he won the first
single in the Tobert cup tie after a battle of two
hours in the blazing sun. It may be, amigos, that
by the permission of the saints, we shall one day
see him play for San Silvestro Old Town on our
own juego de pelota, for it is a shame a Dondese of
Donda should do no honour to his native city, and
the boy is an angel and a wonder at the game."
"El Mozo" ("The Boy") that was the old
town's nickname for the exiled scapegoat and
24 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
scapegrace. As nicknames will, it stuck to him
and followed him. Did not Miss Jeanette K.
O'Geogehan-Sculpin, the distinguished American
journalist, in one of her sparkling " Society Snap-
shots," regularly cabled from Paris to the Edi-
torial Bureau of the Fortnightly Female Com-
pendium of Social Doings, published at Potts-
town, Penn., U.S.A., communicate, that, at an
afternoon reception at the exquisite hotel of
Madame la Comtesse Chiquet de Petit-Bleu (not
far from the Fauberg St. Honors') she (Miss
O'Geogehan-Sculpin) had enjoyed the distin-
guished honour of meeting the Marquis of Almozo,
brother (upon the ringless hand, be it whispered)
to His Majesty the K. of
This item of aristocratic intelligence, imported
from Paris and bruited in New York, recrossed the
herring streak. London society periodicals of the
less illuminated, served up the Marquis de Almozo
anew. Ere long the use of the title, ingenuously
conferred upon Don Enrique by Miss O'Geogehan-
Sculpin, became general. Some pretty lady at the
Court of Donda tittered it into the ear of Aldo-
brando II. from behind the shelter of her fan;
some pompous minister, at the close of a political
or diplomatic conference, may have unbent in the
frank atmosphere of the King's study sufficiently
to broach the jest. Aldobrando II. laughed
heartily, suggesting that the Archivista Real
should be directed to draw up the patent, and that
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 25
the Heralds' College of Donda should be com-
missioned to design a coat-of-arms for the new
peer, quarterly of four, blazoning three sardines,
argent, naiant on a blue field, waved, a tomato
proper, a tin-opener erect, gules, and a peacock
in its pride.
A poor piece of wit, possibly, but sharp enough
to pierce to the very quick of its object. Zabalza's
mistress, a dancer of the Opera, who had been
refused some costly bibelot she coveted, had
gathered the story from an attache 1 of the Dondese
Ministry at Paris, and half in anger, half in jest,
repeated it to Don Enrique. The result took away
her breath. Ten first-class devils were unchained
in her Futurist flat in the Rue Kleber by her own
indiscretion. She gained the sensation of her life,
and hopelessly lost her heart to a man whom, until
that moment, she had tolerated and betrayed.
"Ah'h! Infamous 1 Vile wretch! Is it thus
you stab me? Me who have cherished you as
the ball of my eye ! . . . Has Heaven given you
no more wit than serves you to leap to your ruin ?
Qu& desgrdcia! that I should have wasted my
thousands on you. . . . What am I doing? . . .
See what I am doing ! ... Y pues! are not the
accursed things my own? . . . Pu&cal Sucia!
Thrice abominable I There ! there 1 and there I
. . . Behold!"
Thus Don Enrique juriosame'nte', whilst darting
hither and thither, from the big glass-topped toilet
2 6 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
table to the vast wardrobe, from the boudoir to
the salon and back again, he stuffed his pockets
with the jewels, his gifts, which the imprudent
fair one had worn at supper on the previous
night, tore up laces, jumped upon marvellous
hats, reducing them to ruins, swept price-
less china-ware and valuable bric-a-brac from
dtageres and tables, starred costly mirrors with
stabs of the poker, slashed oil-paintings by cele-
brated masters to ribbons of canvas, and did not
desist from his self-imposed labours until the con-
cierge of the Avenue Kleber flat, accompanied by
a policeman, appeared upon the scene.
Don Enrique was more than gracious in his
reception of these visitors. He greased the palm
of the sergent de ville with a billet of 50 francs,
told the concierge to sweep up and chuck into the
dustbin all that rubbish, including the prostrate
form of the swooning diva in the contemptuous
southern gesture which accompanied the words.
Then Don Enrique looked for and found his hat,
set it at a defiant angle, rang up his car, descended
to the vestibule, and quitted the flat and its
mistress for ever, not without protestations upon
the lady's part.
She had never been so vilely treated, she vowed
in a whole series of letters, written on rose-tinted
paper with passionate purple ink. The man was a
human monster a being incapable of remorse,
dead to honour, deaf to sentiment, adamant to the
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 27
assaults of love ! She would forgive everything
if Don Enrique would return. That was the re-
frain. But Don Enrique never did.
He had lived gaily and enjoyed life, but he was
a Dondese of Donda, who had been rendered
fatherless and motherless and exiled from his
native land for no reason other thus Zabalza
phrased it than an accidental resemblance to his
sovereign lord the King.
Now the King had jeered at the man whom he
had injured. Thenceforward, above the attrac-
tions of sport, the charms of the green table, the
allurements of sensuous pleasure, the desire of
vengeance reigned paramount in the heart of
Abramo's son. To the attainment of his end he now
sought and obtained the entry into circles composed
of units instead of individuals, who owned groups
instead of families, and answered to numbers instead
of names.
IV.
What is anarchy ?
Anarchy is the negation of order, produced by
the fevered revolt of the degenerate human unit
against those governing institutions, monarchical
or republican, which are accepted by the sane
majority as indispensable to the maintenance of
order and the resulting welfare of mankind. The
social revolutionary, while professing to despise
power and the employment of organised force,
28 THE VILUA OF THE PEACOCK
which men term militarism, aims at the acquire-
ment and monopoly of unlimited power by
terrorism, which is force applied without humanity.
To-day, in Bolshevism, we have example of what
wanton wreck and ruin, degradation, brutality, and
filth must inevitably follow the unscrupulous use
of terrorism. In the spring of 1914, when the
catastrophe of world-war was close upon us, we
were less wise than we are to-day.
Civilisation wavered on the edge of Armageddon,
the aerials of great wireless installations thrilled
with intrigue and warning, the tuned spark sang
of the coming life-and-death struggle in the ears of
many men in many quarters of the globe.
Upon a night in the May of 1914, in a long, bare,
ugly basement room in Soho, only illuminated by
a grated pavement-light, through which the muni-
cipal standards in the street above threw a bluish
glimmer, rendered stuffy by an anthracite stove at
which many papers were continually burned, a
gathering of men and women of all nationalities
and types, some haggard and half-starved, some
sleek and well-dressed, were assembled on rows of
chairs, or benches ranged two or three deep about
the plastered walls. They were delegates repre-
senting various centres of anarchical activity at this,
the London Congress of Social Revolutionaries,
held in the spring of 1914 to discuss forthcoming
propaganda. In the centre of the room, under an
incandescent-gas standard of the inverted T-type,
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 29
eight men and two women sat in the semi-gloom
about a table of ink-stained deal. A Windsor arm-
chair was at the table's upper end, where were writ-
ing materials, a small auctioneer's hammer, a
telephone standard, a kind of ballot-box, a wine
glass containing a few fresh green grass-blades and
a little brass bell. Presently a trap-door in the floor
lifted. A shaggy head butted it up, and the thick-
set person to whom the head belonged, moved to the
chair at the table-head and sat heavily down in it.
As he did so, every other person in the room
rose up.
The man now occupying the Windsor chair was
known to everybody present, and to nobody. He
had no name amongst Social Revolutionaries other
than "The Bell." "The Bat" would have been
a more appropriate pseudonym for the mysterious
shaggy man in the shabby clothing. Possessed
by the colossal ambition of seeing the world's exist-
ing social fabric overthrown and replaced by
anarchical conditions, this individual passed his
life in strenuous movement, ceaseless agitation, un-
sleeping toil, unremitting vigilance. Constantly
disappearing, to reappear suddenly in some un-
expected quarter, he flitted from Paris to London,
from London to Berlin, thence to the Russian
capital or Vienna or Prague, thence to Rome,
Madrid, or Calamaria, the torment of the espions
of the world's secret services, the despair of the
police.
30 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
He rang his bell, and a screen was pulled over
the street light. The jets of the T leaped hissing
into brilliance, revealing a seated company.
Proceedings began with a report of progress
covering the active propaganda of the past five
years. In breathless silence the revolutionaries
listened as the deep-voiced " Bell " rose to read out
the record. He grew livid as he proceeded. Great
drops of perspiration started upon his bulging fore-
head to course down his purple cheeks. His blood-
shot eyes projected from their orbits, and he
wrenched at the dirty red handkerchief fastened in
a singular knot about his bull-throat as though he
were suffocating. When the record ended
"Oh, my children!" he groaned forth in tones
of deep rumbling bass. "What a falling off is
here ! Save a few petty acts of punishment, some
isolated and unimpressive strikes, what has been
achieved in the world during the last three years
towards the attainment of the vast ideals of Social
Revolution ? The propaganda by deed has dwindled
into mere sabotage, anti-militarism, and the dis-
semination of the articles of our great and glorious
Neo-Ethical Code not by terrible and magnificent
acts, which the ignorant term crimes, but by
lecturers who refresh themselves between the clauses
with sips from a glass of water. A little longer
a few years more, unhappy children and all that
I have endured, laboured, suffered, will have been
in vain ! Social Revolution will be preached from
pulpits with velvet cushions, enforced with squirts
filled with rosewater, instead of bombs packed with
projectiles and loaded with deadly fulminates. No
Kings will tremble on their thrones ; no Presidents
become prematurely white-haired for fear of the
revolver, the stiletto, or the shattering bomb. Alas !
my children "
Sobs choked the utterance of "The Bell," and a
dull murmur filled the crowded basement room,
intensifying until the mutterings of a storm seemed
to beat upon the grimy whitewashed walls.
Ringing for silence, their great leader continued,
recapitulating in swift trenchant sentences the
triumphs of the past. He described with impas-
sioned eloquence the glorious death of the last
sublime martyrs who perished for the Cause in
January, 1910, in the conflagration in Sidney
Street, Mile End, and to arrest whom a platoon
of Scots Guards from the Tower, three detachments
of City police, and half a battery of Royal Horse
Artillery, with three guns, were called ineffectively
to the spot. He shed tears of pure admiration and
reverence upon the grave of Emile Landry, the
Paris bomb-thrower, as upon the tomb of the noble
Kotuku of Tokio and his mistress, San Amabashi,
the parents of communistic anarchism in Japan,
who had plotted the Mikado's death in 1908 and
suffered capital punishment by being sawn asunder.
He painted the stirring scenes of republican
revolution in Portugal, and thrilled his hearers with
32 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
a fervently-expressed tribute to Manoel Buicci and
Alfredo Costa, the assassins of the King and the
Crown Prince. He went back to the Barcelona
riots, strewed green laurels on the grave of Feuer,
and described the outrage of the Calle Riosa,
Donda, when Alejandro Mayor threw a bomb at
the Crown coach on the occasion of the King's
wedding, as a poetic and beautiful dream of revenge
upon a tyrant, unhappily frustrated by Fate, for
though fifteen unimportant persons had been killed
and a score or so injured, the King and his bride
had escaped with a scratch or so. His hearers wept
with him as he described the suicide of Alejandro
Mayor, who shot a rural guard who tried to arrest
him fourteen miles from the scene of the outrage,
and then turning his Browning pistol upon him-
self, cried: "This for one who has failed!" and,
pulling the lever, died.
"Sleep, sleep for all time, oh, our brother!"
"The Bell" concluded; "for the lesson of thy
glorious endeavour and thy heroic exit is not lost.
A man will arise who, guided by thy example and
animated by thy spirit, will not fail us ! Were I
younger in years I would unflinchingly take the
duty upon myself. Even now I Shade of Caserio !
What's that?"
Footsteps had thudded over the wired glass of
the basement-light; there was a knocking at the
outer door. Now the sound of trampling on the
outer stair caused the venerable "Bell" to leap
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 33
from his chair, pocket his bell and sheaf of papers,
and promptly vanish down the trap-door. Three
heavy knocks upon the door threw the assembled
delegates into horrible confusion. Some wrestled
with the trap-door, which "The Bell" had bolted
behind him, and which communicated via the
cellars with an exit into Soho. Yet others slid
back a sooty square of sheet-iron protecting the
wall behind the stove-pipe, which, moving in
grooves, disclosed a hiding-place large enough to
conceal three or four men. While these fought to
be first in, more unyielding spirits produced re-
volvers, daggers, or stiletti, or pastilles of deadly
poison contained in tubes and carried upon the
person, thus providing the certain means of escape
from the clutches of the Law. Nobody swallowed one
of these bonbons, or pricked his bosom with a point, or
drew a trigger, thus proving the love of life occa-
sionally stronger than the tenets of the Neo-Ethical
code. But when the pass- word of the night was
harshly and repeatedly bellowed through the key-
hole, the revolutionaries mustered courage to un-
lock the door of ingress, which was of stout teak-
wood strengthened with sheet-iron.
"Hombre!" said a Southern voice as a man
wrapped in a dark mantle entered the stuffy base-
ment. " But you stink infernally here!"
And discarding his black ca-pa somewhat theatri-
cally, he folded his arms upon his bosom, and con-
founded a majority among the anarchists, whose
3
34 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
black eyes and swarthy skins proclaimed them
Dondese of the land of Donda, with the heartily-
hated person of their own Most Catholic King.
V.
A moment of stupefaction ensued. Then a babel
of shouts, curses, and execrations, the more appal-
ling by being uttered in semi-stifled tones, broke
out about the immovable intruder.
" Himmelkreiitzbombenelement! It is he ! It is
he of Donda!"
" Death ! Death to Aldobrando II. !"
" Kaput to the puppet of monarch ism !"
" Kill the pupil of the priests ! Ab basso ! Male-
dizione!"
"Kill him here and now! Carajol Is he not
already sentenced?"
" Mori, mort aux rois! Conspuez le tyran!"
A piercing voice made itself heard through the
snarling of those wolves and jackals. A pale young
woman, with brilliant grey eyes, one of the Heads
of Centres distinguished by a seat at the President's
table, thrust herself between Don Enrique and his
assailants, crying, in a piercing tone :
" Comrades, you are in error ! Do you not know
that the King of Donda has a double ? This is not
Aldobrando, but the sardine-seller's son !"
At which "The Bell," who had reappeared un-
noticed, pushing his way through the press of
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 35
bodies, thrust his bloated face near that of Don
Enrique, and sternly regarding him with his fierce
bloodshot eyes, said briefly :
"Comrades, this comrade of ours is right. 'Tis
only the mannequin!"
And as a burst of jeering laughter cleared the air
of electricity, he added, turning to the young
woman :
"You, comrade, will give us your number and
group."
The young woman confronted the speaker and
answered boldly :
"Number 11,339, Executive Centre 13, War-
saw."
An electrical shock of excitement volted through
the assemblage, and "The Bell," opening his
shaggy arms, said commandingly :
" Embrace me, daughter of Theodor Levinski I"
When the girl had obeyed, with palpable shrink-
ing from the osculation, he returned to the Presi-
dential chair and said, ringing for silence :
"Now then, comrades, let us be getting on.
Meanwhile, let this fellow be kept under observa-
tion ; we will deal with him by and by."
While Don Enrique's hand was lightly touched
by warm lips in a swift kiss, and the pale girl, as
she raised her head, whispered, barely audibly,
meeting the man's flashing glance of thanks with
a look of passionate regard :
" Caballero, I have paid part of my debt. This
36 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
is the hand that saved myself and my dearest father
from the burning railway-carriage a year ago. You
cannot have forgotten that accident to the Bordeaux-
Orleans express?"
Don Enrique could not possibly have forgotten
what he had never experienced. He bowed his head,
gently looking in the face of the beautiful revolu-
tionary, whose lustrous eyes were full of tears.
"It was between Angouleme and Poitiers; the
engine and eight carriages were derailed and burn-
ing. But for you we should have perished horribly, ' '
continued the girl, "and the extremists of the
Social Revolutionary party would have suffered
frightful loss in the death of my father. He is
Theodor Levinski, author of the 'Catechism of
Anarchy ' and the chemist inventor of the new
fulminate." Her grey eyes glowed as she con-
tinued proudly: "The T.L. that has never been
known to fail. No great deed of terrorism under-
taken by its aid has fallen short of the expectations
of its undertakers. The bomb of the Calle Riosa
at Donda in 1906 was the first engine of revolu-
tionary justice to testify to its marvellous powers.
Since then the explosion at the Rue Fortune" in
Paris in 1908, where thirteen persons suffered
wounds and an enemy of Social Revolution suffered
the extreme penalty, the execution of Signer Valli-
clera outside the Italian Consulate at Zurich in
1910, the acts of justice performed at Vera Cruz,
Montevideo, Santiago in Chile, and at Buenos
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 37
Ayres in 1912 and 1913, not mentioned to-night by
our great President, but each attended by destruc-
tion of property, loss of blood, and death of persons
inimical to extremists, have testified to its superi-
ority over fulminate of mercury and even picric acid;
and, thanks to you, Senor Don Enrique, my father
lives to improve, if possible, upon this great and
marvellous discovery." Tears choked her voice as
she added : " I shall never forget how you appeared
in my eyes, when, with a cut upon your cheek, un-
heeded though bleeding, your hands blistered and
your clothes scorched by the fire, you broke the bar
and the carriage-window and dragged us both out.
Then, though it was cold that night, you stripped
off your overcoat to cover my father, and divided
with us your sandwiches and the brandy in your
flask. Your wrist was badly burned, I remember,
and I bandaged it for you with a handkerchief.
Has the burn left a scar? One would "
" Senorita," said Don Enrique rather awkwardly,
"what I did was absolutely nothing!" And he
spoke with complete veracity, because he had never
in his life performed a deed of heroism. But his
Southern quickness of perception warned him not
to forfeit, at the expense of a slight terminological
inexactitude, his hold upon the plank that had
saved him from shipwreck, and he ended: "For
the scar upon my wrist, it has healed so completely
that you would say there had never been a burn.
I cannot claim for my heart the same immunity, for
38 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
it has never recovered from the deep wound dealt by
your beautiful eyes 1"
He spoke the truth about the eyes of Mademoiselle
Levinski, for they were lodestars that had quickened
many a susceptible anarchist to death. They re-
garded him now with an expression that could bear
but one interpretation ; and the secret conviction
that it was the King of Donda who had uncon-
sciously furthered the aims of the extreme terrorists
by preserving Theodor Levinski for the discovery
of even more terrible chemical combinations than
the T.L. fulminate, and in so doing had won the
heart of Mademoiselle Levinski, whetted the blade
of his hatred to a keener edge than of yore.
But "The Bell" was addressing him, and in the
crowded basement, full of fetid exhalations, while
the incandescent burners purred and hissed under
the dirty ceiling, and the eyes of the delegates were
fastened upon the speaker, "El Mozo" told his
tale of wrong and unfolded his plan of revenge.
In that exhausted atmosphere his dullish brain
seemed to quicken, his limited intellect to develop,
his mind to grasp, his purpose to consolidate.
What he suggested would be, if carried out, a coup
of wonderful effectiveness, a triumph for Social
Revolutionaries all the world over. A crowned
anarchist, an extreme terrorist reigning as a consti-
tutional monarch, that is what the consummation
of Don Enrique's suddenly conceived plan would
amount to, if it could be carried out. And its
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 39
astonishing simplicity made it possible to carry
out. It was practicable in the extreme. When
Don Enrique had finished, a spontaneous burst of
applause betokened the approbation of the an-
archists, and "The Bell," rising to his feet, pro-
posed the immediate initiation of the neophyte, and
the administration of the oath.
Upon a blade of grass, taken frc .- the wine-
glass that stood beside the president's h Vpot, that
terrible formula was recited.
"Acknowledging no Deity," said the deep
muffled tones of "The Bell," "we, the Children
of Social Revolution, take our great oath of obedi-
ence to the sacred statutes of our rode upon the
commonest and most insignificant work of Nature.
Behold our emblem in this blade of grass. Tread
it under an iron heel, it will spring up again ; eradi-
cate it with salt, burn it with fire, it will be re-sown
by the birds and the winds, and re-clothe the barren
field. It flourishes upon the dung-heap ; it thrives
upon the dust of peasants, soldiers, kings and
statesmen ; it covers with its green carpet of forget-
fulness the levelled ruins of empires and the
scattered ashes of republics, blotting out with rank
luxuriance the mounds that were once monuments
of men who forged chains, and made scourges and
burdens of laws and customs, tithes and penalties
with which to fetter, cow, and crush their fellow-
men into the slavery that is indifferently called
constitution, monarchy, dominion, federation,
40 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
union, state. Take now, repeating after me, the
oath of the Social Revolutionary upon this blade
of grass."
It was taken. Don Enrique Zabalza received his
number and was affiliated to his group.
VI.
He was thenceforth, upon his own initiative, and
at his own suggestion, committed to a strenuous
mode of life. Social Revolutionaries, who were at
the same time masters of science in all its branches
chiefly moral, political, legal, mathematical,
ethnological, chemical, military took him in hand
and crammed him. His flesh was reduced by
drilling and physical exercises; his somewhat
vulgar accent corrected by skilled teachers of elocu-
tion ; his dress and deportment, in like degree,
underwent a painstaking and complete revision.
Need it be hinted that the likeness of Don Enrique
to the King of Donda grew even more remarkable
under this regime?
In the autumn of that year the cataclysm of War
broke upon us. Front after front burst into flame.
One saw the world on fire. Donda, being a neutral
country, suffered nothing more severe than scarcity
of salt-fish and other popular comestibles and com-
modities customarily imported, and a superfluity
of influenza bacilli imported from Northern Man-
churia via France. Money also was scarce, though
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 41
that is nothing new in Donda. San Silvestro's two
annual seasons were the pale ghosts of what they
had been, and the Teatro without the Paris
companies was undeniably dull.
But with the victory of the Allies and the proclam-
ation of peace, gaiety returned to San Silvestro.
That summer season following the rigours and
privations of War was of memorable, marvellous
beauty, the sky at dawn and sunset, jade-green
between its reefs and lagoons of glowing orange or
fiery carnation ; the silver-surfed Bahia lipping on
its snow-white sands; and roses, climbing every-
where, covering the balconies of the elegant garden-
villas, draping the pillars, smothering pergolas and
hedges with beauty, and drenching the whole
countryside with intoxicating perfume.
One day towards the close of summer, the long-
closed shutters of the Villa of the Peacock were
thrown open. Whitewashers and painters reno-
vated the exterior of the dwelling and departed,
women with pattens and pails and scrubbing-
brushes polished up the marble doorsteps and
cleansed the floors of the loggias, and washed the
swallow-droppings of years from the balconies.
The winding avenues of cork-trees and live-oaks
was scraped and regravelled ; the garden, a wild
tangle of beauty and luxuriance, sparingly trimmed.
New draperies and laces were hung at the gleam-
ing windows, the great majolica peacock shone
dazzling in the sun. Wicker chairs and lounges
42 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
appeared upon the lawns. A Mexican hammock
was hung under the rose-pergola, the long-silent
fountain in the midst of it now awakened from its
sleep of years, and gambolled, sparkling in the sun.
"The Villa is let," remarked people who did not
know its story. " Or sold, possibly?" they added,
shrugging.
"It is neither sold nor let," said other people
who were older residents, "because Don Enrique,
whom the folk of the puerta call 'El Mozo,' is still
alive. They say he swore upon his soul that the
shutters should never again be opened, nor a chair
stirred from its place on the floor until "
Nobody finished the sentence save under their
breath. It had a sinister tag.
Presently San Silvestro was convulsed to the
core through the posting of huge red-and-yellow
anuncios outside the Raqueta Club grounds near
the aerodrome. A tarja of steel, heavily dama-
scened with gold, presented by the King, was to be
played for by picked teams from the two local clubs,
San Silvestro Old Town against The Nobles, for
Dondese blue blood may hit a ball in emulation of
a plebeian, with whom it may not engage in a bout
of foils.
A famous foreign champion, naturalised a
Frenchman, but a Dondese and native of San
Silvestro, was to play for the Old Town. Senor
Don Enrique Zabalza y Cade"ra (Cade"ra having
been the surname of dead Teresa) availed himeslf
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 43
with great pleasure, of the opportunity of renewing
old relations, placed at his disposal by consent of
the authorities under the high approval of H.M.
the King.
Judge if the liveliest city on the western seaboard
did not buzz like a stirred-up beehive. That the
King should have removed the ban of exile after
all these years from his unlucky simulacrum was
not so extraordinary. No ; but, by a thousand
devils! "El Mozo's" acceptance of the royal
olive-branch that was the unlikely, unexpected
thing.
With his characteristic shrinking from publicity
the exile had elected to travel by air from Paris.
The consent of the military and municipal authori-
ties having been obtained, the military guards
upon the frontier forts having been warned not to
fire at the avion, a twin-engined " Gourdon "
aerobus, piloted by no lesser star than Suiza, now
demobilised from the French Service Aeronautique,
descended one mellow evening upon the carefully-
kept greensward of San Silvestro's aerodrome.
And amidst the loud vivas of the Old Town and the
discreeter greetings of the nobles, Don Enrique
Zabalza, attired in the latest mode appropriate to
air travel, his marvellous likeness to the King much
tempered by a pointed beard, stepped down, con-
gratulated his pilot with a cordial hand-grasp, and
assisted a lady, as well-groomed as himself, to
descend from the passenger-cabin.
44 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
Hearts were lost to Senora Zabalza before the
arrivals entered the automobile that waited to
convey them to the Villa of the Peacock. She was
svelte, with marvellous eyes, hair, and hands, and
attired in the latest Parisian combination of furs
and gossamer. As for Don Enrique
" H ombre!" said one man to another man. " He
would be more like the King than the King is like
himself, had he not that English naval officer's
beard upon his chin. Shave it, and set them up
together side-by-side, naked as their mothers bore
them, and tell me who would distinguish between
them? Not I for one!"
Both were Pressmen attached to two of the local
journals, one so mildly Liberal, the other so gently
Conservative, that it was as difficult to distinguish
the politics of one from another as it is to tell a
green fig from a fig that is green. Both men were
greasy about the collar and lapels, and shiny as to
the cuffs ; both were married and had olive branches ;
and both were naturally on the look-out for any fat
worm that might be carried home to the family nest.
Not finding admission to the Velodrome easy, they
had elected to wait for Don Enrique on the door-
steps of the Villa of the Peacock.
" Caramba! I should have no difficulty," re-
turned the second Pressman, "unless Don Enrique
should bear upon the inner side of his right forearm
the scar of a burn such as the King's. How do I
know His Majesty has such a scar, covered always
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 45
by a broad gold bracelet of four rows of curb-chain,
linked to an upright bar ? Perhaps the Queen gave
it to him, quien sabe? But hombre! as regards the
scar, a muneca derecho, two years ago, when Aldo-
brando played polo on the Club ground of the Caza-
deros, and was unhorsed you remember? the
bracelet flew off and the Marque's Muntarian picked
it up and gave it back to him. But not before I,
standing outside the palizadas, had seen with these
eyes !"
Throughout this little colloquy Zabalza had been
engaged as becomes an attentive husband. He had,
after some brief directions to the chauffeur of the
car, hired from the best garage in San Silvestro,
assisted Madame de Zabalza to descend; he had
led the lady up the doorsteps, upon which he had
deposited their lightish travelling-valises ; and now
was engaged in fitting a latch-key, bright with con-
stant chain-wear, into the old and tarnished lock.
He had not overheard the words, though they had
been spoken loudly, and accompanied by vivacious
gestures. But the Senora's beautiful jewelled ears
had drunk in every sound. She was very pale as
she bowed graciously in return for the salutations
offered by the Pressmen, for whose retreat Don
Enrique pointedly waited before opening the newly-
painted hall-door.
" Senors," thus he addressed them, in soft tones
of deprecation and employing terms of almost
Oriental politeness, " I could not consent to thrust
46 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
my miserable affairs more intrusively upon your
notice by inviting you to cross the threshold of this
unworthy house. Condescend to put in motion the
extremities with which an all-wise Providence has
endowed you. Deign to remove your distinguished
individualities, for until you do so this dwelling
is without a door!" A moment later, when the
pressmen had de mala gana conveyed themselves
down the cork-tree avenue in the wake of the re-
treating auto, and were well out of sight, "Enter,
Ilona, soul of me!" said Don Enrique, and, pick-
ing up the travelling-valises, ushered Madame into
the hall.
VII.
The broad carved leaves of the door of beautiful
dappled grenadilla wood shut heavily behind the
couple, and Zabalza securely bolted them before he
spoke. And then it was with a changed and nasal
tone, hard and harshly consonantal, from which
with the first musty whiff of the odours of the long-
sealed dwelling, the tripping graces of an acquired
French accent had suddenly been blown away.
"This hall typifies my heart," Don Enrique said
to Madame. "The labours of painters, bricklayers
and scrubb ing-women have begun and ended with
the exterior. Within all is as death found and left
it eighteen years before. See here" and he
pointed to the altar without which no Catholic
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 47
house in Donda is held to be complete. The black
frontal with the white Cross, that had been hung
there for the funeral rites of Abramo by the tremb-
ling hands of widowed Donna Teresa, had served
less than a fortnight later for her own. The brown
wax candles in the tall wooden candlesticks yet re-
mained, though nibbled by mice, the brass thurible
tarnished by years of neglect, lay on the right of
the shallow wooden steps covered by a dusty black
carpet, with a little pile of spilled grey ashes at its
lip. The holy water had dried in the font on the
left of the door, leaving a few crystals of salt in the
dust at the bottom, the ruddy sunset filtering
through the dusty hall skylight made a broad pool
of crimson on the long-un waxed parquet. Through
this the couple moved to the door at the far end of
the vestibule. When it opened to the master's hand,
the odour of a dwelling long-sealed was somewhat
tempered by the aromatic odour of the tall cabinets
of carved camphor-wood ranged about the tapestried
walls of dead Teresa's drawing-room, where her
work-table stood open, the rusty needle yet in the
mildewed embroidery, dropped, it may have been,
when Fate's knock sounded on the door. Her
portrait and her husband's and that of their son,
looked down from tarnished frames upon Zabalza's
tragic entrance, and long French windows revealed
the glory of the garden, full of tulip-trees and
stately palms and rioting roses, and jasmine in
prodigal opulence, wreathing the balcony with its
48 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
white-blossomed twisting branches, and climbing
to the tops of the tallest trees. Here, at the end
of a table, was spread a white cloth with covers for
two, a decanter of Dondese wine, and some kind of
a cold collation, which both sorely needed.
" To the memory of my father and mother, whose
portraits look down upon their son," said Zabalza
as he filled the glasses. " At the very threshold of
revenge upon their crowned murderer." He rose
and emptied the glass, and broke it upon the marble
hearthstone, where, in recognition of the chills of
the evening, wood crackled aromatically in the
silvered steel basket, and Ilona Levinski followed
his example after touching the wine with her pale
lips. " If you would prefer coffee, Mademoiselle,"
said Don Enrique, when the meal was finished, " it
can be supplied you instantly. Empty as it
appears, we are not alone in this house. I have
had a guest-room prepared for your convenience,
and there is a woman, the wife of one of the Revolu-
tionary Brotherhood, who will attend you at your
wish. I sleep with my memories, and my hopes,
in the bed that was my mother's, where I made my
first entrance upon the scene of this world."
" I thank you, Senor Don Enrique, for the con-
sideration you have shown me," said Mademoiselle
Levinski as her host pulled a bell-rope, evoking a
rusty tinkle in the basement of the house; "but I
need no protection, who have braved so many perils
side by side with my comrades, nor do I care for
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 49
comforts who have existed upon crusts. An Ex-
tremist can bear extremes for a Terrorist there are
no terrors."
" You treat me as a neophyte still," said Zabalza,
looking gloomily upon her, an enthralling vision
in her transparent draperies, tinged with the rose
of the dying sunset, illumined by the wax tapers
burning in tarnished silver candelabra, whose radi-
ance wakened the fires of her diamonds, and was
reflected in her luminous bronze-coloured eyes.
"Your tone is that of the teacher to the student.
I am ready to admit that when I demanded of the
Extreme Council that you should be my associate
in this affair, the passion you inspired in me at the
moment of our meeting was the real reason of the
request."
A slight noise behind Don Enrique made him
glance over his shoulder towards the doorway. It
was only the woman who had been detailed to wait
on Mademoiselle, herself the comrade of an Anar-
chist, who had entered the room with coffee on a
tray, which she placed on the table.
" Campanero," she said, nodding to Zabalza, " if
you need the services of a valet, my Jos is at hand
and will serve you at your need. For the pretty
little comrade here I will act as camerdra. She will
ring when she wants me." She nodded familiarly
to Mademoiselle Levinski and went out of the
room.
If a significant glance had been interchanged
4
50 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
between the women, Don Enrique had not observed
it. The waitress was to him a nonentity, a mere
screw in the vast machine of Anarchical organisa-
tion. That she would act as a spy, that within an
incredibly short space of time "The Bell" would
be made aware that he had sought to dupe the
Extreme Council for the attainment of his private
wishes, did not occur to him then or thenceafter,
when execution of the sentence pronounced upon
one who had thus incautiously borne testimony to
his own faithlessness followed with such dramatic
suddenness.
He went on, folding his arms, and frowning upon
Mademoiselle Levinski like a second-rate imitator
of Le Bargy in a provincial company :
"You smile, Mademoiselle, unmoved by my
frank declaration. Is it because a woman in whose
bosom sleeps an automatic revolver who coils her
hair about a poisoned arrow, and carries in her
ring a capsule of prussic acid, can have nothing
to fear from the passions she provokes?"
Mademoiselle Levinski said coldly :
" A Terrorist has no passions. I quote once
more from the Catechism of Anarchy."
" Ah-h-h !" ejaculated Zabalza impatiently.
The lips his eyes were fixed on were narrow and
deeply scarlet. They curved a little in scorn or in
amusement, and the faint depression of a dimple
came and went below the carnation of an oval cheek.
She was of that deceptive slenderness so distinctive
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 51
of Polish and Hungarian women, her throat and
bosom, shoulders and arms and hips, modelled like
those of some Tanagra Venus. And yet in her
bodily perfection there was nothing sensuous.
Rather she suggested a gleaming weapon, wrapped,
for the preservation of its delicate, murderous edge,
in embroidered silken gauze.
Zabalza went on :
"Have you forgotten the night of our meeting
in London ? They were not passionless the lips
that kissed my hand !"
Her bronze eyes gleamed as she retorted :
" It was the hand that had saved my father, to
achieve fresh triumphs for the Cause. Or I believed
so." A jewel on her bosom scintillated in the
candle-light as though a sigh had lifted it, and
dulled again as she resumed: "Though you have
never yet shown me the scar left by the red-hot bar
of iron upon your arm."
Zabalza exclaimed with a wonderfully convinc-
ing accent of relief and surprise mingled :
" Caramba! If that is all you require "
And he pulled up the left sleeve of his thin grey
tweed coat, and slipped from a buttonhole of the
shirt-cuff one of its shining jewelled buttons, show-
ing a black silk band secured tightly by clip-studs
about his wrist. He pulled a corner of the silk, and
the studs left their slot-holes. He threw the wristlet
into the corner, and thrust under Ilona Levinski's
eyes his brown sinewy forearm, disfigured by the
52 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
redness of a transverse scar of about two-fingers'
width.
" Now I Now are you convinced ? Was doubt
of me the barrier between us ?"
" If it were, amigo," said Mademoiselle with a
strange smile that did not melt the ice in her eyes,
"the barrier is levelled. But let me hear no more
of love at least until the fulfilment of my mission.
I came here to personate your wife, and aid you to
carry out your purpose. If I fail you, death by
your hand or my own must expiate my fault."
"Yet tell me," entreated Don Enrique, "had
the Council been more explicit ? Had your
instructions been, let us say, more precisely and
clearly detailed "
The tips of Mademoiselle's slender fingers
touched his lips for silence :
" Senor," she told him, " I am weary. We will
talk to-morrow." To end his greedy kissing of the
captured hand she rang the bell, summoned the
woman, and followed her upstairs.
Ilona Levinski had passed the night in many
stranger lairs than the great carved four-post bed
in the high guest-chamber of this long-shut house,
with its tarnished mirrors and dusty oil-portraits, its
cobwebbed china and moth-eaten drapery.
But after an attempt to sleep, Mademoiselle
abandoned the attempt as futile. She was haunted
not by fears of the mice, or of the huge spiders
inhabiting the fusty curtains, or by the strange
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 53
creaks and cracklings of wood suffering from dry
rot or the attacks of the insatiable worm. But by
the vision of a right arm.
The right arm of a slender young man with a
jutting underlip, a young moustache of sprightly
black, a salient nose of the beaky kind, and widely
set, brilliant, chestnut-brown eyes. Zabalza and not
Zabalza in four words ; an hidalgo, whereas the son
of Abramo was a tradesman ; a grandee of bluest
blood, very different from the muddy fluid running
in the veins of the King's double, the clown.
This right hand had been thrust one day in the
Spring of 1913 over the middle window-bar of a
burning compartment of a locked carriage of the
derailed fore-half of the Bordeaux-Orleans Express.
An alert voice had called to Ilona through the
smoke and smother: "Have courage, Mademoi-
selle ! Help is coming. We shall save you !
Again have courage and do not despair!" And
the slim young man in the unobtrusive brown
tweeds had drawn back the arm in the scorched
sleeve and sprung up lightly, had seized a crowbar
from a bewildered platelayer, and broken out the
iron bar that his hissing blood had cooled. And
after Levinski and his daughter had been extricated
from the carriage, fresh acts of chivalrous kindness
to the forlorn pair poor Polish emigrants flying
from Russian tyranny, to earn the bread of exile
in the freer land of France had cast about that
comfortless night at a wayside station between
54 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
AngouleTne and Poitiers the glamour that made its
memory dangerously sweet. The dressing of the
burn upon his arm with vaseline from her travel-
ling-bag, which he had had the forethought to
rescue when he extricated her from the carriage,
the sacrifice of a cambric handkerchief, bearing the
initial of her name embroidered by herself in
her own hair. . . . The meeting of their hands and
eyes at parting, the hurried words breathed in
her ear : " Dear Mademoiselle, the world is round,
our paths may cross once more. It has been the
custom in my family for many generations to re-
gard the saving of a human life as imposing a
solemn obligation on the saviour. Therefore, if I
can again aid or serve you, send me the fellow-
handkerchief to this."
Aldobrando had perhaps counted on her recogni-
tion of him later as one of the crowned ones of the
earth. Or the words had been spoken in mere
flourish. . . . Oh, no ! she too well remembered
their tone and his expression. . . . He was just
thirty, and had been married since 1908. And the
old man rescued by him from the burning carriage
was the maker of the bomb thrown by Alejandro
Mayor as the Royal Procession passed along the
Calle Riosa, Donda, on his wedding-day.
Were he ever to learn the truth, how would he
take it? Probably jesting. Unlike his sullen
double, Zabalza, Aldobrando of Donda took life
gaily. Those bright brown eyes, those boldly-
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 55
curving lips were always smiling. Yes, he would
laugh if ever he knew. But Theodor Levinski,
even then toiling in his secret laboratory at Warsaw
among vials of acids, and cylinders of poisonous
gases, crucibles of picrate potash and tubes of
fulminate how would he support the revelation of
the truth ?
He had not yet seen Zabalza, who had been
rightly dubbed "The Mannequin." He believed
him on his daughter's assurance to be the man who
had saved his life. No suspicion of the fact had
ever visited the chemist. But could the venerable
Anarchist have known his saviour one of those men
to whose removal from the world he dedicated his
great faculties . . . had any voice whispered of
the weakness of his daughter in hesitating for one
moment in the execution of a duty to dwell upon
the memory of a certain Spring night. . . .
Ilona saw her father stricken, shattered, never
again to recover from the overwhelming shock.
By the light of the gnawed wax tapers on the
ebony-and-ivory toilet-table, she looked at the
woman reflected in the tarnished mirror, overcame
her human weakness and renewed her dreadful
vow.
What had Number 11,339, Executive Centre 13,
Warsaw, to do with sentimental memories, bonds
of gratitude, words uttered, glances exchanged,
pledges given or received? Was she not like
thousands of comrades bound by the oath upon the
5 6 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
Blade of Grass to the Wheel of Social Revolution-
pledged to devote the last drop of blood, the ulti-
mate volt of will-power, the final breath, to the
service of the Cause ?
She had no faith in Zabalza's ability or deter-
mination. She had been disillusioned with regard
to him wonderfully soon. Within a week of their
meeting in London she had realised him as a
nonentity. A man of straw, swayed by a personal
hatred, compound of petty jealousy and vanity. As
for his mental powers, she estimated them lightly.
Would a man of brains had been guilty of the
mistake Don Enrique had committed in the loca-
tion of the burn upon the arm ?
The left instead of the right. How fatuous ! An
Extremist of the genuine type would never have
blundered so.
Don Enrique was neither a conspirator nor a
lover. Were the King in his place, and he in Aldo-
brando's, something really original in the way of
a plot would have been conceived in the keen brain
behind that bulging forehead and those brilliant
eyes, and carried out with a smile on the bold
curved mouth, so like and yet unlike. . . .
Zabalza's plan, roughly, was as follows. To lure
Aldobrando of Donda to the Villa of the Peacock,
to intimidate him, once entrapped, by threats of
torture or death. To be seized, apparently, with
remorse for the crime contemplated; to prevail
upon the Royal victim, with tears and prayers if
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 57
need be, to change clothes with him, the traitor,
and thus disguised (in garments free from the
tokens of a bloody struggle) to escape. At the
moment of the King's leaving the house a signal
was to be given on which Anarchists concealed in
the avenue were to assassinate the King.
Later, Zabalza was to return to the Palace in the
Royal character, trusting to the marvellous re-
semblance between himself and his murdered
Sovereign to delay the moment of discovery as long
as possible. The safes, cabinets and desks in Aldo-
brando's private workroom were to be ransacked.
State documents were to be torn up, others secured,
with all the valuables obtainable, for theft, like
murder, is laudable if it further and enrich the
Cause.
Having achieved this coup Zabalza was to escape
under cover of a visit to a Royal shooting-box in
the mountains, and by devious routes well-known
rejoin <he Extremists at their centre.
The weak point of the plot, so deceiving in its
cleverness, was clear to Mademoiselle. Aldobrando
would never be coerced or intimidated. . . . Nor
would the King be tempted to the Villa of the
Peacock by any gaudy, common lure Zabalza's wit
could frame ! On the other hand . . .
" The handkerchief the handkerchief will bring
him!"
A low cry escaped Levinski's daughter as the
thought flashed through her mind. She had with
5 8 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
her a handkerchief exactly like that other. Marked
with a single initial in hair the hair her own.
Strange bait to catch the Master of Seven Orders
of Chivalry, the common cambric handkerchief of
a Polish emigrant girl. But he had saved the girl's
life and that of her father. And the tradition of
his royal family, since a King of Donda had risked
his life for a Moorish slave in the twelfth century,
was that so great a service rendered, constituted a
lifelong claim upon the deliverer. And yet again
he was Aldobrando II. That being said, there
is no more to say.
VIII.
On the morning of the following day that of the
match at raqueta, the last day of the Mannequin's
ineffectual earthly career Mademoiselle Levinski
was allowed another peep at the interior mechanism
of Fate's poor puppet. He designed her after all
for a part in the tragi-comedy. She was, with the
charms Don Enrique found irresistible, to play the
part of the bit of cheese in the mouse-trap set to
catch the King.
But with the Othello-like reservation :
" Never once is that crowned reptile to touch his
lips to your lovely cheek ! I am above all pundon-
oroso. Understand you are mine ! I have set
upon your person the seal of my choice. When I
have accomplished this great act of retribution-
exacted the vengeance due to me for the lives of my
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 59
parents for my own life, blighted by his tyranny,
I intend that you shall become my wife."
"If the Supreme Council command it I shall
certainly obey the order. But until I receive it "
She measured off the fortieth of an inch upon a
small and beautifully-manicured thumb-nail. He
perfectly understood.
The day of the match was perfection. America
had suffocated, Paris was blistering, London was
gasping in the fervour of the heat-wave in which
the Dondese played like salamanders. The Old
Town in all its grades had mustered round the
raqueta courts. Tordros, their amigas and their
families, rubbed shoulders with the brown fisher-
folk of the Puerta and the sturdy people of the
Market. Well-to-do tradesfolk were mixed up with
the tag-rag and bobtail of the bull-ring, the
theatres, the baths and the Grand Casino, and
shoulder-blanketed peasants from mountain villages,
stocky infantry soldiers in striped flannel trousers,
cadets in peaked kdpis, and sallow pupils from the
religious seminaries, made the crush more por-
tentous and swelled the babel of voices into a
thunderous roar. All the grand stands in the Club
grounds were crowded to suffocation. Judge of the
piquancy of the expected sensation. The King and
Queen were to be present to see El Mozo play. You
will not have forgotten Don Enrique's ancient nick-
name. You can conceive it tossed backwards and
forwards under the white-hot summer sunshine,
60 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
over the close-packed heads. It was written in the
Book of Fate that Zabalza should have his hour,
and be somewhat in the mouths of men before the
curtain fell.
And indeed it was a great match greatly played
and lost and won for the Old Town, under the
fierce sun that beat down upon the courts of snow-
white sand.
Seats had been reserved in the judge's enclosure
for the Royal pair, but they did not arrive until
five o'clock, when the players had maintained a
fierce struggle for nearly two hours. Judge if
Zabalza's hate of Aldobrando II. was not fanned
to fresh flame, when in the third set, played at a
great pace by El Mozo, who had finished off many
long rallies with daring volleys, and taken the
breath of the spectators with matchless raqueta, the
band crashed into the National Anthem, and a
general rise and bustle attending the Royal
entrance, distracted him to the advantage of the
nobles' champion. But in the fourth set he re-
covered, took service from 30, and the tarja given
by the King.
And as the sunset flushed the west with mingled
crimson and gold like melted ruby and amber, and
the evening star displayed its diamond splendours
over the silvery point of the lighthouse on the
summit of Monte Ceralda, the Old Town, drunk
with the triumph of Don Enrique, lifted him high
upon their shoulders, shouting :
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 61
"El Mozo! Viva El Mozo I . . . Vitorl
Vitor!"
As the crowd, surging round the raqueta ground,
echoed the shout, the gates of the Royal private
carriage-way were thrown open, and a half-squadron
of guardias civiles, magnificently mounted, their
black uniforms new, their lancer-like black leather
schapkas shining like ebony, charged the crowd
that congested the outer thoroughfare. Oaths and
exclamations, bursts of laughter and angry curses,
carambas and carajos mingled with appeals to
Heaven and the Saints, went up from throats of
every degree, citizens and mudlarks, fisher-folk and
soldiers, strangers and habitue's were jammed by
the sudden charge of the civiles against the iron
railings on either side of the roadway, as a Royal
escort of the bodyguard, big moustached men
with silver white-plumed helmets, whose swallow-
tailed blue coats were plastroned and cuffed with
gold-laced crimson, galloped through the lane
hedged by all these crushed and hustled bodies,
their long straight sabres clattering against their
stirrup-irons, their bridles jingling as they kept pace
with, and surrounded, the richly decorated open
landau in which sat Aldobrando II. and his Queen.
They had risen to depart in the moment of
triumph, leaving the tarja to be presented by the
head of the Ayuntamiento, or the Military
Governor, perhaps by an attache" the devil knew
which !
62 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
At the instant of his triumph El Mozo had been
slighted. The departure of the royal pair seemed
to him the last drop of gall in the goblet, the final
turn of the poignard in the wound. Muscular,
bright-eyed, swarthily-handsome in his thin white
flannels and open-breasted silk shirt, he had carried
the suffrages of the ladies by his grace, his skill,
his manly beauty, and the marvellous likeness to
the King that the pointed beard toned down.
Their eyes met as the royal equipage rolled by
between its moving lines of armed men on canter-
ing horses. Aldobrando turned his long chin
slightly in his stiff military collar, and let his bold
and brilliant eyes rest for an instant on the face of
Don Enrique, who, standing erect upon the
shoulders of two of the brawniest Old Towners,
folded his arms upon his broad breast and returned
that slighting look of indifference, with eyes darting
fires of deadly hatred and rage.
Next instant, with a slight lifting of his strongly-
marked black eyebrows, the faintest twitch of his
jutting under-lip, Aldobrando II. was gone. Don
Enrique saw red suffered an instant's choking
and vertigo, lost his balance and fell from the
shoulders of his supporters, striking his head
against an iron mallet used in driving the iron
posts of the net barrier. A lady screamed, there
was a susurration of excitement amongst the
throng; it was said that the distinguished player
was fatally injured even hinted that he was dead.
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 63
At any rate there was no presentation of the King's
tarja. The winner, in a state of insensibility, real
or apparent, was carried to his dressing-room. The
Club surgeon was called in. The injured man was
let blood, bandaged, bathed, stimulated and sub-
sequently conveyed, in the care of Madame Zabalza,
who appeared distracted, to his home.
IX.
The Crowned Powers of the earth do not
commonly receive parcels or even letters unopened,
saving such as are known to emanate from sources
indisputably safe. But the system of intelligence
maintained by Social Revolution is so well organ-
ised, so well concealed, and so far-reaching, that
the placing of an envelope in a conspicuous posi-
tion upon the blotting-pad in Aldobrando's work-
room late upon the following evening, did not
present a baffling problem to Mademoiselle.
The letter, written in a small and elegant feminine
hand in violet ink on pale green paper, with the
device of a peacock stamped in silver above the
single initial " I," ran thus :
"To THE KING'S MOST SUBLIME MAJESTY.
" Sire, In the silence of the night I write
this, sitting by the couch of my unhappy husband,
Don Enrique Zabalza, whom the displeasure of
your Majesty has smitten as by a stroke from the
sky. Be merciful, my King! Remove the doubts,
64 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
lighten the fears, heal the wounds of the unhappy
sufferer -who raves in delirium beneath the roof that
has not sheltered the exile for years.
"Sire, in the hour of peril the hand of my King
snatched me, and one whose life is dearer to me
than my own, from the danger of a dreadful death.
The scar your Majesty carries on the inner side of
your right arm between the wrist and elbow is my
witness. Ah! by the memory of that magical night
under the stars of France, and the voice that bade
me call without fear upon my chivalrous preserver
to succour me yet again, should need arise /
entreat your Majesty to pity me. Alas! I can write
no more. This paper, the token I place within the
envelope are wetted with blinding tears."
The signature was the initial "I." The cambric
handkerchief enclosed within the envelope, bearing
a similar initial embroidered in hair, exhaled an
agreeable perfume of heliotrope and possessed a
suggestive dampness. The King sniffed the per-
fume cautiously, and, unlocking a green dispatch-
box bearing his private cypher, produced a similar
handkerchief, with an initial "I" in hair. Then
he pulled back the sleeve of his smoking-coat and
unfastened the bracelet of four gold curb-chains
concealing the scar of the red-hot carriage-bar from
curious or unsympathetic eyes. Subsequently he
leaned back, lighted another cigarette and smoked
it slowly and thoughtfully. Finally he shrugged
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 65
and got up, rang for his confidential valet, and
passed into an adjoining room. . . .
Very soon a tall slight man, wrapped in a dark
military capa, emerged from a postern at the side
of the palace communicating with the quarters of
the equerries. He descended a flight of stone steps
and crossed a courtyard, gave " Donda" in answer
to the sentinel's " Quien sabe?" exchanged
" Paisano " for " Que gente?" added the password
of the night, which happened to be " Silence !" and
was in the by-streets of the Alameda, which separ-
ates the Parte Nueva from the Old Town, in the
blinking of an eye.
The Villa of the Peacock stood on the town-edge
of the suburbs. Not a light shone in its windows
as the pedestrian passed up the avenue of cork-
trees, paused at the bottom of the steps and looked
up at the north front of the house, dreaming in the
silver moonlight behind its shuttered windows.
But as his light foot touched the stone a faint gleam
shone through the fanlight above the door. The door
opened on the chain. A feminine voice whispered :
"Quien es?"
11 Genie de paz," Aldobrando responded. The
chain fell, the doors swung inward. The King of
Donda stepped into the hall. And the unseen
sinister beings who had watched him, and dogged
his footsteps, knew that part of the design was
accomplished.
66 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
It was to transpire later how the woman who had
unchained. the hall-door and who was covered from
head to foot with a black mantilla, took with a
beautiful hand, Aldobrando noticed a lantern from
the slab of marble below a vast tarnished mirror
and silently motioned the King to precede her,
throwing the beam on before. They ascended a
stair of a dozen steps leading from the hall to a
short gallery. The woman pointed to a door. The
King knocked, opened it, went in and saw in a
large room illuminated by candles a man lying in
a big bed under a heavy carved baldaquin. And
the man had the King's face, though the skin of
his chin and jaws showed pale whence a beard had
recently been shaven. The man had been intently
watching the door, and when it opened and his
double entered, such hell-fires blazed in his eyes
that the King at once understood the situation.
At last they had trapped him. His charming
Polish exile had played into the hands of assassins.
But until the revolver-shot ended all, or until the
dagger-stroke pierced the vulnerable spot situated
above the clavicle, Aldobrando asked nothing
better than to play the game like a King. His eye-
brows arched in their inimitably quizzical fashion.
He said, with that well-known outward thrust of
his jutting under-lip :
" Don Enrique Zabalza, it greatly gratifies me
to observe that the natural tenderness of your wife
has exaggerated the gravity of your condition.
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 67
You are neither delirious nor moribund from the
results of your somersault. Muy Senor mio, I
perceive that you are fully attired under those
coverings. Give yourself the trouble to rise from
your bed."
Those intolerable eyes. That jutting mouth !
That jesting tone of raillery. A nerve-storm swept
through the being of the other. His distorted face,
with its almost idiotic grin, and the blobs of foam
at the corners of the mouth, lost for the moment
all resemblance to the King's. He leaped up,
throwing off the heavily-embroidered counterpane,
showing himself fully dressed, sans coat, collar
and cravat.
" You you O ! you pitiless murderer !
tyrant ! whose order banished me my country for-
bade me to dwell in the home of my parents even
to shed a tear upon their tomb. . . . What can you
expect from me, now that I have you at my mercy ?
And yet you gibe you can laugh in my face !
Will you laugh when I tell you that this house is
surrounded, that you are a prisoner in the hands of
the Sons of Anarchy?"
"Muy Senor mio," answered the King, "when
I entered this apartment and saw a fully-dressed
man in the bed, I knew what that implied."
And, coolly throwing off his military cloak, the
King took a chair and placed it against the wains-
cot so as to command the single door. Then he
sat down, continuing pleasantly :
68 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
" I presume you propose to despatch me after
some original fashion. Well, let me relieve the
apprehensions I read in your face. I have neither
dagger, nor revolver, nor poison upon my person.
Nothing but a cigarette-case and a match-box,
which I now produce, as it occurs to me that a man
who is about to die may just as well smoke 1"
X.
The speaker selected a cigarette and lighted it
with unperturbed appreciation, then crossing his
legs, leaned back and continued exhaling a column
of fragrant smoke into the close air of the room.
"You observe that I take the situation calmly.
Why should I not, Senor Mio? My affairs, both
private and State, are in order. I have an heir,
and" the King's lip twitched "a wife whom I
can trust. My religious duties have been duly ful-
filled for the offences I have committed against
Heaven and my fellow-men I have done my best
to atone by penance and alms-giving. For such
sins as still are set down against me in the Book of
the Recording Angel, I leave them to the mercy of
Him in Whom alone I trust I Speaking of angels "
added Aldobrando II. with something in his
brilliant eye approaching to a twinkle, "it is to
Madame de Zabalza, your wife, that the credit of
my capture is due. When I reflect that in assist-
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 69
ing her to escape from the wreck of a burning
railway carriage I facilitated my own violent and
premature demise I am tempted to laugh again !"
" And will you laugh ?" demanded Don Enrique.
" Will you laugh when I tell you that although for
this moment of my vengeance I have waited fifteen
years, I am tempted at the moment when the goblet
is at my lips almost to pity you !" He struck him-
self upon the breast. " That something here relents
towards the image of myself. That I would undo
what I have done were it now possible. Tell me,
my enemy, do you believe this ?"
" Muy Senor mio," said Aldobrando, smiling
coldly, "though I consider myself fairly well
documented on the subject of Anarchism, I have
never yet heard of an Extremist of the relenting
type. Nor, with your leave, do I believe in your
Quixotic sentiments." Sudden anger clanged in
his voice as he threw away the cigarette-end.
" N ombre de Dios! Finish your work! I am
waiting do you hear ? What ! Must I stir your
sluggish blood with insults ? Well then, listen !
Puds si! For no reason were you exiled from
Dondese soil but that you might serve me else-
where. Poor scapegoat ! When I was a boy of
eleven I used the extraordinary likeness between
me, Aldobrando of Donda, and the sardine
merchant's son as cover for how many forbidden
escapadas! My guardian angel, my patron Saints
S. Aldobrand of Vintara and S. Pedro of Calamaria
;o THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
were kept uncommonly busy, let me tell you, my
poor double, by the frolics I enjoyed. H ombre I
haven't I been stealing apples and almonds and
figs from the gardens of the Franciscan Fathers, or
yelling on the sunny side of the bull-ring with
other little blackguards, or on all-night fishing ex-
cursions with the pescadors of the Puerto, catching
conger-eel and squid and mullet, in your character,
drinking coffee boiled on a brasero, and eating raw
ham and garlic sandwiches that were meant for you,
whilst the lights were burning in the royal apart-
ments at the palace, and my tutors and governors
were running about like distracted emmets and
the Queen Mother and my aunts were tearing their
hair ! And when I got older, what stolen sweets
have I not crunched with your teeth, Senor, my
simulacrum what stolen kisses have I not No,
por Dios ! 1 always took care to pay the kisses back I
Ha ! does not that drive the dart into your thick hide
and send the blood to your weak brain, you bleating
calf, you strutting peacock ?"
Zabalza ground his teeth. He got in the King
being compelled to get his second wind :
" Senor, in spite of these insults, I pledge my soul
that Your Majesty shall leave this house unharmed
and in safety. If I entertained designs against your
person, I abandon them now. I swear it on the
sacred head of Your Majesty ! But it is necessary
that you should change clothes with me. Quick,
takeoff that uniform!"
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 71
For the King was wearing the undress of a
general of his infantry, with a brochette of many
decorations on the tunic, and the Star of the Order
of S. Pedro of Calamaria. He flatly refused
to comply with this demand of Zabalza's, shout-
ing :
"No! by a thousand devils! I will keep my
clothes and my person inviolate from defilement
by any contact with canaille like you ! . . . Idiot,
you may even now shoot or stun me and dress in
my uniform and if such is your crazy purpose
attempt to enter the palace in my stead ! But with-
out the consigne even the King of Donda could
not pass the sentries. Booby ! Blunderhead !
you that call yourself a conspirator 1 Do you
imagine even for a moment that you are worthy to
personate the King? Well, then," cried Aldo-
brando, suddenly seized by a brilliant inspiration,
"what is to prevent you? We have changed
clothes. You are the King !"
And the King shouted with angry laughter,
strange mirth which must have sounded oddly on
the ears of the Anarchists waiting the prearranged
signal in the lower apartments.
Then the door opened in the midst of the King's
laughter. Mademoiselle Levinski stood upon the
threshold, beautiful, icy, and implacable, like Fate
in a mantilla. The prearranged signal had not
been given, but Zabalza turned to her with ill-
disguised eagerness. Nonplussed by the sudden-
72 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
ness of Aldobrando's volte-face, he was ready to
follow the cpuncils of the cooler, keener brain.
" You you heard what this madman " he
could hardly articulate. " He will not believe that he
jests in the face of Death. He pretends that
He broke off, for Mademoiselle Levinski's glance
coldly ignored him. She said, looking over his
shoulder at the King :
"All is well, then, comrade? His Majesty has
availed himself of the alternative you suggested !
This being so, it is time for him to leave. You will
accompany him to the stairhead and bid him fare-
well in the prearranged formula : ' Muy Senor mio,
may your errand prosper. Depart with God!' "
A sound that was compound of a sob and a groan
broke from Zabalza. His eyes blazed and his face
was dabbled with sweat. Through the confused
noises in his ears he heard his own voice saying to
the Extremists :
"Comrades, I take it all upon my shoulders.
Everything is arranged nothing can possibly go
wrong. I lure the King to the Villa of the Pea-
cock. The special means I use are secret and my
own affair. You, presently, will hear high words
passing between us. He will upbraid me I shall
seem to relent I ... Seized with contrition I then
shall warn him : ' Men are in ambush without this
house to assassinate Your Majesty ! Deign to change
clothes with me. Leave the house in my character.
All will be well if Your Majesty assents to this.' "
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 73
"And Aldobrando will agree to the exchange?
You are certain?" they had asked him. Zabalza
had replied :
" I will give you a sign by which you may know
that the ruse has succeeded. When he is on the
point of leaving the house you will hear me say
speaking in his character I ' Muy Senor mio, may
your errand prosper ! Depart with God ! ' Then
you will do your part, but it will not be the King of
Donda who will fall pierced by the little winged and
venomed messengers only the Mannequin, who
has been killed in error. The King escapes by a
miracle ! The King returns to the Palace!"
But, as one preordained to be through life
Destiny's pantaloon, Zabalza had omitted to take
into consideration the inflexible courage of the King
of Donda, his keenness of perception, and that trifl-
ing detail of the pass. Last, and worst of all, the
possibility of betrayal on the part of Mademoiselle
Levinski, now driven to final choice between her
comrade and her love. No wonder the poor
wretch turned livid, tore at his collar, and finally
fell upon his knees, appealing alternately to the
King's mercy and the lady's, pouring forth a flood
of incoherent sentences, threats perhaps, mingled
with prayers.
Then, suddenly, his Atropos decided. The shears
clicked, and the severed ends fell.
"Rise up," she said to Don Enrique, and, as
the unstrung wretch obeyed her, she took a tweed
74 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
overcoat from a chair near the bed-head and held
it for him to put on. She wrapped a white scarf
about his pithless neck, pulled up the coat-collar,
buttoned the garment, crowned its wearer with a
light felt deerstalker, and saw her work well done.
"Comrade," she said, addressing Aldobrando, who
had watched her with intentness, " nothing remains
for you now to do but to accompany His Majesty
to the head of the stairs. As I open the hall-door
say in a loud voice : ' Muy Senor mio, may your
errand prosper. Depart with God ! ' '
She took Zabalza by the hand and led him, un-
resisting, out of the great gloomy bed-chamber.
He went as uncomplainingly as a sheep goes to
the butcher's yard. He made no effort to escape,
a deadly stupor weighed upon his faculties. His
hour was on Don Enrique, crushing out all hope.
His head hung drooping towards his breast as he
went down the short staircase with a gait and
bearing very unlike the King's. The chain of the
hall-door fell. The doors swung open. To the
King, looking down from the dusky stair-head, the
black mouth of the cork-tree avenue seemed yawn-
ing to swallow the figure to whom he called :
" Muy Senor mio, may your errand prosper.
Depart with God!"
Zabalza gave no sign that he heard. He went
heavily down the steps and was gulped by the jaws
of the avenue; from every side came curious,
spitting sounds.
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 75
Then, as the hall-door softly shut and the chain
was put in place again, a shrill, strange, terrible
cry came up from the dark avenue to the King at
the top of the stair. The outcry was followed by
no others, but by the sound of unsteady running
footsteps, uneven, broken by pauses and dull thuds
as though the runner, bewildered by the darkness
or seized with sudden panic, were knocking against
the boles of the trees. But suddenly all was still.
It was getting towards three o'clock in the
morning. Already the sky was grey behind the
mass of Monte Ajulia. Soon her crest would be
tipped with golden fire : the violet shadows would
lift from the jade-green Bahia, as the slumberous
earth heavily rolled over to meet the morning kisses
of the sun.
"Your Majesty looks fatigued," ventured Made-
moiselle Levinski. " Dare I offer a cup of coffee?"
"A thousand thanks, Senora!" Aldobrando II.
returned, smiling somewhat cynically, "but I
infinitely prefer to break my fast at home."
He threw on the military cloak Mademoiselle
now brought and tendered him, and topped him-
self with the peaked undress cap, adding :
" I presume I am free to follow the gentleman
who has preceded me?"
Mademoiselle Levinski answered enigmatically :
" May Heaven bestow a longer life than his upon
Your Majesty."
7 6 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
"Caramba!" exclaimed Aldobrando. 'You
mean that the man has been murdered?" He
added, as Mademoiselle bent her head in assent :
"Can it be possible that poor devil has met the
end designed for me? ... And by what means . . .
if I am not too curious?"
Mademoiselle Levinski replied calmly :
"The persons concealed behind the trees of the
avenida employed air-guns with poisoned darts 1"
"Upon my life!" exclaimed the King, "you
take the loss of your husband with extraordinary
phlegm!"
"A true Terrorist takes everything coolly," re-
turned Mademoiselle Levinski, quoting, it may be,
from the Catechism of Anarchy. " Besides, that
poor saltimbanque was neither my husband nor
my lover. Now let me beg Your Majesty to depart
from here at once, keeping the collar of your
mantle turned up so as to conceal the complexion
of your chin."
" I comprehend. I am returning to the Palace
in the character of my poor double. That dead
man lying somewhere in the avenue is supposed,"
said Aldobrando II., "to be the King. As to
departing, I assure you I shall do so with alacrity.
But as regards yourself, Mademoiselle?"
'Think nothing of me," she answered quickly.
"I am in no danger and it will soon be broad
daylight. What is this you wish me to take ?"
For the King, with his well-known grace, had
THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK 77
produced, and now extended to the lady, a some-
what bulky envelope containing two cambric
handkerchiefs beautifully marked in hair.
"One of them has been in my possession for
nearly six years. The other I received last even-
ing. Permit me to return them," said the King,
"and to place myself at your feet. Adios,
Senorita!"
"Adieu, Monseigneur," said Mademoiselle with
her clear eyes on Aldobrando's. " I have paid my
debt to Your Majesty. Nothing now remains but
to settle my account with the master of this house
and depart."
As Aldobrando passed down the avenue he
halted for an instant. The roses had been re-
freshed by dew, the mellow light of early day
bathed the world in exquisite beauty, doves cooed
and nightingales were singing in the ilex-oaks, a
cool breeze sighed from the Bahia, and gossamer
webs floated in the golden atmosphere. You would
have deemed the man who lay at the foot of a tree
in a strangely huddled attitude, some wine-bibber
of the town, sleeping off the effects of a debauch.
That is, until you bent closely over him and noted
the blackish discoloration of the distorted face, and
the hands that clutched the soil.
"The master of the house sleeps late," said the
King, glancing back at the shuttered Villa.
" Mademoiselle, if she waits to settle her account,
78 THE VILLA OF THE PEACOCK
must indefinitely postpone her departure. Sapristil
what was that?"
A revolver-shot rang sharply out within the Villa
of the Peacock. The King glanced back, then
altered his mind and strode swiftly on.
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN.
I.
THIS is the story of the New York doctor who died
at Kellerbusch's Farm, and of the wonderful
legacy that broken sinner left to another man, in
trust for Heaven.
He was in the final stage of phthisis when Allan
Armitage, recently graduate of the Missionary
College of Holybourne, Werkshire, and himself a
cough-racked, hollow-eyed victim of pulmonary
disease, came across him. Does the creature's
real name matter ? Perhaps ! At any rate he
passed at Kellerbusch's under the alias of Brantin.
He had been a fashionable quack physician in New
York, and had fattened upon the folly of women
patients and the vicious appetites of men, and
flourished and decayed, falling himself into de-
graded habits, and so drifted, by way of San
Francisco and Puerto Rico and Madeira, coughing
up his remaining lung bit by bit as he went, out
to Cape Colony, and from thence to the Transvaal.
In Johannesburg, 6,000 feet above sea level, thanks
to the clear atmosphere, and in despite of dust-
storms, he had picked up and made money, plying
79
8o THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
.
his old vile trade. And then he made the great
discovery that crowned his knavish life, before he
ended it at Kellerbusch's Sanatorium.
Kellerbusch was a Field-Cornet and an utterly
respectable man, who dealt not only in district
justice, but in market-garden produce for which
city customers were willing to pay the price. His
vegetable-gardens lay up along the Pleizierreis
Valley way, his farmhouse, a building of the old
Colonial pattern, was shaded by patriarchal blue-
gum trees. What more natural than to advertise
the place in the Star and other papers as a first-
class health-resort for pulmonary sufferers? A
brother of his wife's, who was a doktor and lived
at Pretoria, and had never seen the estate in ques-
tion, supplied Kellerbusch with the necessary certi-
ficates about purity of water and healthfulness of
situation ; and testified in glowing sentences to the
curative properties of fresh goats' milk, perennially
flowing in Kellerbusch's Land of Promise. Keller-
busch described the scenery himself in language
that came little short of the poetic, and fixed the
tariff temptingly low.
The lying advertisement and the false certificate
caught Brantin the rogue, and Armitage the honest
man, both sick to death, one actually dying.
Possibly the nourishing milk of the curative goat
might have done them good if they could have
caught the too nimble dairy, skipping among the
hill-tops in untrammelled freedom . Being too weak,
Allan Armitage and his fellow-patient looked at the
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 81
goats instead. This was the treatment by day ;
and a single room with two beds in it having
been assigned them for how can two men who
have got the same sickness take hurt from each
other ? asked the reasonable Kellerbusch at night,
they could pursue other quarry even more active
than the elusive goat.
They might have loaded Kellerbusch with de-
served reproach and left the plaats, but three or
four days of the diet had done wonders in the way
of reducing their strength. They stayed because
they were too weak to move. There was a little old
Boer meid in a flapping kappje, who, twice a day,
cooked and set forth untempting meals in the
public eetkamer, as the stuffy front parlour had been
imaginatively christened by Kellerbusch. But she
was unmarried, and carry food to an Engelschmann
or an Amerikaan in bed, that she would not, not
for the Predikant ! She knew what lustful devils
were the rooineks, and if no honest Boer came
forward in time, and she was not so old yet, the
Lord be thanked ! then she would die a virgin, and
ask Him what He made her for ?
The Kaffirs about the farm were insolent and
filthy, no help could be got from them ; and the
overseer, Kellerbusch 's nephew, spoke only the
Taal, and was a surly brute. So Allan Armitage,
who could just crawl, became servant and nurse to
his fellow-patient in this precious sanatorium, and,
later on, Missionary.
He lay in bed the other patient an ugly,
6
82 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
squalid, ghastly spectacle. In his New York days
of opulence ,he had paid Japanese artists of eminence
in the under-world of vice, to cover him with tattoo-
ing; and the monstrous things that twined and
sprawled and girned upon his emaciated limbs and
wasted body might have been the legion of devils
that possessed him, breaking out of their fast-
crumbling prison, so hideous and obscene were
they. He cursed the Kellerbusch swindle freely
and many other things besides. He swore at the
meek aspirant to the martyr's palm, and ordered
him about by day. But in the long, slow watches
of the night, when the grizzly hairs of the decay-
ing sinner's head bristled under the shadow of the
sword that would fall so soon, Brantin would sit
up, bathed in sweat and holding a blood-stained
towel to his mouth, and, craning his livid head
forward over his fleshless knees, would listen
greedily as the Englishman prayed for him.
" I guess it isn't much use," he would say.
" I've lost my last hunch in this blamed game of
life. I'm busted right out, for this world and the
next !" His mouth twisted in a shudder, he wrung
it back into a smile. " But maybe the Big Boss
Above would let up on me a bit in the matter of
time, if a sucker like you keeps on asking !"
Even as he hoped, the wretch's last sands were
dancing out of the glass. He was never to get
back to New York and realise the colossal fortune
that was to be made in Dopeland out of his great
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 83
discovery. He had a son who had graduated at
Harvard and was now conductor of a Broadway
electric street-car. And he had a daughter, educated
at a fashionable women's college, who was a sales-
lady. And he had meant to do the liberal thing
by them, sir ! when the pile was made. . . .
He babbled of the Great Discovery and the
condemned idiots who had made light of it and
cast him out. These were a group of prominent
citizens in Johannesburg, persons of divers nation-
alities forming a syndicate for the importation of a
certain kind of living merchandise in every shade
of human colour, from the pallid London work-
girl and the red-cheeked wench from the Home
Counties, to the brunette Frenchwoman, the florid
German, the olive Italian, the swart Spaniard, the
dusky Hindoo, the amber-skinned Japanese and the
slant-eyed Chinawoman, primrose yellow under
half an inch of rice powder laid on white of egg.
The members of the Syndicate, some of them
being solid burghers with voices in the Raad,
and others wealthy Uitlanders of variegated
nationalities, and considerable interests among the
towering chimneys and roaring dumps of the Rand,
were all men of eminent respectability. Like their
British brother, Mr. Jones of London, who owns that
dingy row of muslin-curtained, furtive-fronted houses
nearly opposite the Barracks in North-West Street,
where painted harridans in soiled pink dressing-
gowns leer between the greasy slats of the decrepit
84 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
Venetian blinds ; and their near relative, Mr. Brown
of New York, who is landlord of those imposing
drab stone-fronted houses on Nine-Thousandth
Street ; and the other man, also an exemplary citizen,
and a pillar of public morality, who runs the prin-
cipal night-houses in Chicago, each strove to be a
shining light and an example to his neighbour. Each
attended his place of worship regularly with his
family, subscribed handsomely to local charities, and
loudly bemoaned the yearly increase in the number
of the "stiffs" and the "rowdies" who by their
immoral conduct in loafing all day on Post Office
Corner, and their habit of living on tobacco and
drink and loose women, degraded and lowered the
tone of the town.
An ill-paved, ill-lighted, abominably-drained and
insufficiently-watered town, at that period, some
years before the South African War of 1900, where
education, except in the Boer Taal, was forbidden
above the third standard, that Oom Paul's young
burghers might not learn English, that language
regarded as the original tongue of the inhabitants
of Sodom, and the other destroyed Cities of the
Plain.
These enlightened citizens, then, intent upon the
laying up of treasure, earthly as well as celestial,
were sorely exercised about the large percentage of
deaths among their live-stock. The merchandise
usually came into the Transvaal via Durban and
Delagoa Bay, using the railway in the first instance
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 85
and the trek-waggon in the second. And though
the profits accruing from the business were very
large indeed, the expenses were considerable. The
Netherlands Company, owning all the railroads in
the Transvaal, charged heavy rates, and the im-
ported goods were perishable. The average life of
the 'bus-horse, superseded now by the hooting
petrol steed, used to be calculated at three years.
According to statisticians, the white-slave imported
to the Colonies lasts about the same length of time.
But there these honest speculators, German, Dutch,
English, and Oriental, had left too wide a margin
upon the credit side of life.
For drink, in that highly rarefied atmosphere,
does not merely stupefy. It maddens. And sans
liquor, the women of Francois Villon's " sad liberal
sisterhood " cannot ply their trade. But for alcohol
and drugs, their wretched life would be impossible.
Therefore delirium-tremens raged, a veritable
epidemic, among the occupants of the houses run
by the Syndicate, carrying profits away upon the
leathery wings of a phenomenal mortality. Here
came in the Great Discovery of the man who was
dying at Kellerbusch's Sanatorium. For this poor
wretch, doomed throughout life to exercise God-
given capacity, and employ hard-won knowledge
in the service of Hell, had occupied the salaried
post of resident physician to the establishments
run by the Syndicate. And chief among the
numberless nameless duties involved was the
86 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
treatment of patients suffering from the results of
the "Jag."
" It was great practice," Brantin coughed out
"just great! You don't suppose a man needed
to creep round cautiously, dropping out bromide
of potassium and chloral hydrate, such as you'd
prescribe for a New York Society woman who'd
been drinking champagne and whisky right on end
through the season, and sent for you because she'd
got to seeing queer things in the corners of her
room when she went to bed of a morning ! No
more than you'd squirt water out of a single
hydrant at a sky-scraper newspaper-office-building,
with an incendiary petroleum-fire raging up the
elevator-shaft. Hell, no ! It would be an affair
of nine twelve-inch hydrants, and 800 feet of hose,
and half a dozen motor-pumps at each station,
working to supply pressure for eighteen thousand
gallons per minute, so that when you turned on
the stream you'd have an Eiffel Tower of salt water
sheer out of East River or the Bay, roaring up
twenty storeys and plunking down through the
roof."
He mopped the sweat off his livid face and
panted awhile, and went on: "Why, I've given
eight-grain doses of strychnine in chloric ether to
fix up a girl that had got the crazy shakes and gone
all to pieces right for the evening! I've taken
another in blue collapse spasmodic asthma and
cardiac failure with complications and drenched
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 87
her with thirty minims of hydrocyanic in H 2 O,
and seen her perk up and reach out for her
paints, and go out dressed like a star actress to
supper at Ryan's within an hour. Of course I
made some mistakes" Armitage shuddered at his
grin " but nobody cut up nasty or asked questions
there. And so ..."
He left off to strive with the resistless power that
was rending soul and body apart. His lean ribs
and hollow chest were racked with the throes of
coughing. His legs jerked and his hairbristled so that
the bleached scalp showed through the degraded
black-grey hair-stubble. He panted out at last :
" And so I had my inspiration ! . . . There's a
chloride of a metal, common enough in the quartz
reef about Johannesburg, that men of science knew
a long time ago to possess properties neutralizing
the effects of alcohol upon the human or the brute
system. But none of 'em, I guess, ever went so
far as me ! I combined with another chloride, less
known, and used the two in solution, not only
administering them internally, but giving hypo-
dermic injections and using the soaked electrical
pad. Well, I'm not a man easy to surprise, but
the results I registered in cases of alcoholic insanity
and alkaloid poisoning were astonishing ! The
women drunkards and druggards the worst
cases I could pick were cured in seven days. And
the Committee came around and thanked me. Saw
their way to increased profits and lessened ex-
penses, and raised my salary and voted me a piece
of plate. And I got windy and bloated with a new
idea. The notion of rendering the women immune,
for at least a term of years, against the effects of
alcohol and the alkaloids by saturating the system
with my chlorides in solution. I'd inoculated half
the herd before I found out what I'd done !"
There was a vital interest about the horrible
recital that had riveted the attention of his fellow-
sufferer. The Reverend Allan Armitage, sitting
gaunt and haggard upon his own comfortless cot,
asked :
"What had you done?" and loathed himself for
that thrill of curiosity.
"Done!" echoed the livid, gasping creature
upon the other bed. "Something in your line,
Sucker without meaning it! Because those
blasted women, when they found they couldn't
drink or drug any more, they stampeded, com-
mitted suicide or got religion, and quit out. And
Dunch, the boss who managed the houses, re-
ported me to the Syndicate, and the Syndicate gave
me the shake, and here I am !"
Seized by one of his sudden despairing rages, he
shrieked the words out, brandishing a skeleton
fist.
Hauled up for good in this God-damned place !
broke and dying like a worn out hobo at a barn-
side, going out of life like a beggar, and with
millions of dollars lying here!"
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 89
He dragged out a worn black leather-strapped
pocket-book from under the soiled pillow and shook
it furiously at Armitage.
" Here, in my Discovery I"
He had an attack of suffocation here, so alarming
that Armitage staggered over to hold his head up.
" Do you want to kill yourself, man?" he cried.
For Brantin's haemorrhage had broken forth again,
soaking the sufferer's unclean pyjama-jacket and
dabbling the coarse yellowish sheet, and every
fresh throe brought it pumping from the ruptured
artery in clear, bright jets.
"I reckon all the killing's done already,"
Brantin whispered. He lay quiet and exhausted
a while longer, the fever of disease and the fever
of frustrated ambition burning one against the
other in his blood. And then he began again :
"A little time a little longer time that was all
I asked them, the cursed brutes, the blasted fools I
Is every discovery complete at first? Hasn't
Pasteur owned a serum imperfect, and set to work
afresh, and never rested until he had got what he
set out to get, and something more? My dis-
covery cures alcoholic nerve-inflammation and
alkaloid neuritis; the foaming, gnashing, yelling
drink or drug-maniac, strapped on the bed, be-
comes a sane man or a sane woman again. But
with the hatred for the stuff, the loathing of it that
resulted in ruin for the discoverer, that made
the Syndicate tell me to take my Formula to the
go THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
Church Temperance Societies, or to Hell, and kick
me out into the gutter. Ah, but wait! A little
time to live and make some fresh experiments, and
they shall see. Whisper, Sucker, this isn't a thing
to be said too loud the next combination of
chlorides will cure, and leave the appetite for
alcohol or morphia unaltered! Isn't that great?
My new race of drunkards and druggards will be
immune against the poison given ability to in-
dulge their crave to the top of their bent, while
remaining outwardly sane, temperate human
beings. Isn't that colossal? Isn't that a notion
most too big to be covered by one man's brain-
pan ? Think how they'll hand over their wads for
my Second Formula, administered hypodermically
and by the electric battery, at my Head Centre for
the Treatment, by men sworn to secrecy and paid
to keep their knowledge to themselves ! Think of
me grown richer than Vanderbilt or Rockfeller,
crowned Emperor of all the temperate topers and
sober sots, and moral morphiamaniacs in the
world!"
He clawed out a ghastly hand as though to reach
for the sceptre of his hellish kingdom, and fell back
gurgling. The end had come to this man, so great
and so infamous, who had forever benefited the
human race in the endeavour to degrade it yet lower
than its lowest.
"Pray for me, curse you!" the dying man
moaned, shaking, and holding to the bed-rail.
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 91
Allan Armitage, aspirant to Holy Orders, stood
over Brantin and looked in his dreadful eyes with
hollow blue ones, burning with the flame that
Faith kindles in the souls of men.
" Give me your secret to use for God," he said
solemnly, " and I will pray, and it may be that He
will listen to my prayer!"
The other jerked out a string of foul black
curses.
" So you've showed your hand, Sucker have
you? You'd bunco me, would you? You'd hold
me up and rob me, on the very brink of Hell ? But
no! I've strength enough . . . you'll see!"
The claw-like fingers tore in frenzy at the pocket-
book, and failed to open it; and Brantin howled
like a beast and lifted it to his mouth, and tried to
worry at the strap-buckle with his teeth.
"Man, man!" cried Armitage, quivering and
panting in his own deadly weakness. " I am not
going to rob you ! . . . Tell me to burn that paper
you have there when you are dead, and I will
faithfully carry out your will. But think, think !
this may be your sole chance not of atonement,
for how could such an act atone for a life that has
been, from early manhood to middle age, an insult
flaunted in the Face of your Maker? But of
restitution. Whether you go to Hell or whether
you do not, return this one gift of God's to Him
before He summons you. Give me that discovery
of yours to use in His name for the good of miser-
92
able, debauched, degraded humanity, and I swear
to you, upon the Cross of my Redeemer, that the
profits if there are any shall be scrupulously paid
over to your children ! Are their names and
addresses in that book?"
Sight was going. The eyes of the dying man
were like faded negatives of eyes. A harsh rattle
came by way of assent.
"Then give me the Formula," said Allan
Armitage, "and may God so deal with me and
mine as I deal with you and yours !"
The groping hand and the sightless eyes sought
for the legacy in vain. Armitage guided the cold
wet hand.
" Take it," said the rattling, choking voice, " and
remember. ... It's damnation for you ... if
you don't keep . . . word ! Now pray !"
Allan Armitage fell upon his thin knees by the
bedside and lifted up his feeble voice in interces-
sion for the spotted soul.
Quivering in every wasted limb and bathed in
the sweat of his own deadly weakness, he ended
for lack of breath. Brantin's eyes were already
fixed and sightless, but a laugh of ghastly mockery
was on his swollen blue lips, and speech came from
them, struggling and disjointed, but yet to be
understood.
"No ... use, Sucker ! I've played my last . . .
hand against . . . Almighty God . . . and He
has . . . euchred me just as I was crying game ! . . .
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 93
For I wrote the Formula out in Mark ... to hold
it safer . . . and . . . unless they teach thieves'
shorthand at your English Universities ... I
reckon it's as good as burned. Quick ! Prop me
up ... give me a pencil . . . paper ! . . . I'll show . . .
Damn this dying ! Men like me ought to live at
least as long as ... gray parrots ... or elephant
bulls."
The pencil trailed feebly over the paper, the
blind eyes strove in vain to see. Something seemed
to strike the hand aside, and the body fell over,
there was a spasm, and so began the final struggle.
Life went out like a wasted candle-flame as grey
dawn came peeping through the slatted shutters
of Kellerbusch's Farm, and Allan Armitage, sick
and shuddering, rose up from beside the degraded
corpse of the miserable wretch to whom the civilised
world of to-day owns itself in debt.
II.
Allan Armitage lived to leave Kellerbusch's.
When he went he carried with him the black
strapped pocket-book that was so important a
property in the grim tragedy that played itself out
when the New York doctor died.
Pasted, for security, upon the marbled inner cover
of the pocket-book, which had been stripped of all
the perforated blank leaves it once contained, was
94 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
a quarter-sheet of cheap coarse note covered with
rude figures and uncouth signs, heavily scored into
the soft paper with a thick indelible pencil. A
couple of yellowed letters in an inner pocket,
addressed to a name that presumably had belonged
to the deceased owner of the pocket-book, threw
no light upon the rough puzzle over which
Armitage racked his brain until he became
oblivious of the sufferings of his body.
Perhaps the late graduate of Holybourne had
never really suffered from tuberculosis. At any
rate the symptoms of that fell disease were checked
in Armitage. He ceased to sweat and be feverish
o' nights, his hacking cough was eased, his staring
bones were clothed with wholesome flesh. You are
to see the man newly made over, in the endeavour
to find the key to a cipher that Transatlantic and
Colonial sports and criminals and convicts employ,
and know by the name of Mark.
What of Mark ?
It is a primitive and grotesque, and absurdly
simple form of secret writing, and yet, like all in-
ventions of the illiterate, it admirably serves its end.
It consists in reducing the ordinary alphabet of
twenty-six letters and a symbol to nine common
marks. By differentiating the marks each pair or
group or gang of users may have a separate, and
peculiar, cipher. But usually the nine common
signs are as follows :
iotAVn-u<
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 95
Each sign, used singly, duplicated and tripli-
cated, conveys three letters of the alphabet. Thus :
A
B
C
D
E
F
1
II
III
O
00
OOO
G
H
I
J
K
L
t
ft
-H+
A
AA
AAA
and so on. . . .
Nothing can be baser, more uncouth or more
degraded, than this cipher. It bears the same rela-
tion to ordinary caligraphy that the mouthings of
the dumb bear to the speech of the trained orator.
But it admirably serves the turn of those who use it.
It kept the dead sinner's secret closer than he
sought, and yet the Formula hidden in the vulgar
repetitions of rude symbols, wrought a miracle of
healing, and sent the Reverend Allan Armitage
back to the old country, a thinnish but fairly sound
young Briton. He did not again take up his hoe
and toil in the Vineyard of the Missionary. He
settled down at a big leather-covered desk in the
Reading Room of the British Museum Library,
and breathing the old familiar atmosphere, flavoured
with Russia -leather bindings, hot -pressed rag
paper, paste and second-hand clothes, knew content
at last in the study of exhaustive treatises on Secret
Writing, Ancient and Modern.
But the treatises of the cryptographic experts and
the scholia of their critics did not aid Armitage.
96 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
The afforded examples of ciphers employed by
thieves, and tramps, and vagrants threw a false mis-
leading glimmer upon the tangled path. There
came a time when he knew despair, and nearly
burned the black-strapped pocket-book in the smoky
fireplace of his shabby bed-sitting-room in Great
Titchfield Street, W.C. But he did not burn it,
because the restless spirit of the New York doctor
plucked at his shabby pepper-and-salt tweed sleeve,
or because his good Angel was on duty. He thrust
the pocket-book back into the inner breast-pocket
of his shabby Norfolk jacket, and threw on the felt-
basin hat dear to the theological student's soul, and
blundered down the steep linoleum-covered stairs
and plunged into the great spinning whirlpool of
gray mysterious London.
It was the October of 1902 the fall of the year
that saw the end of the South African War. A
pleasant scent of autumn leaves, coming from the
gardens of the old-fashioned squares and the more
distant parks, was drowned in fumes of petrol as
the smelly motor-cars of that remote era buffled and
hooted by. Armitage got mechanically into a four-
wheeler, and was carried to the door of his last
hope, a man who had given the best years of his
life to the study of secret writing.
He found his man to be ominously disengaged,
and was admitted to his study. The tracing of
Brantin's Formula lay upon the blotting-pad, and
the fine contemptuous smile that curved the thin
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 97
lips of the cryptographist struck death to Armi-
tage's last hope, even before the words came :
" These signs do not suggest any kind of crypto-
graph with which I happen to be acquainted. For
one thing, they are not arranged with any method
or regularity, but haphazard, and no interpretation
that I can bring to bear upon them will bear out
the supposition of their being a prescription either
in Latin, Greek, Hebrew or Arabic, or any other
language, living or dead, with which I happen to be
acquainted. Scan these signs from right to left,
from left to right, sideways or reversed; they will
only convey one meaning, and that is Nothing.
The paper might contain a private cipher, of
course, but without the key" the scholar
shrugged his lean shoulders " it might just as well
be what I think it, the meaningless scribble of a
lunatic."
Armitage's jaw dropped. He mechanically took
the yellow-paper tracing from the thin cold fingers
that tendered it back to him. The " meaningless
scribble of a lunatic" had meant such volumes to
him. He had seemed to himself to be the bearer of
a sealed vial containing a priceless gift of God to
suffering, sinning Humanity. Only a little thing
prevented the breaking of the seal, and the out-
flowing of the miraculous tide of healing upon the
stricken, perishing world. Only such a little
thing. . . . The learned pandit, even in his secret
anxiety to get rid of this crank-brained young
7
g8 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
intruder and devote himself to the Punic inscription
that offered a crackable nut to his learned facility,
knew a faint thrill of pity as he read the blank
despair in Armitage's face.
" You are very much depressed by my unfavour-
able opinion. You really believe that there was
something in this?"
He tapped the tracing with a leaden-hued finger-
nail, and Armitage said huskily, with the bitter salt
of tears stinging his eyes :
" I believed there was something in it !"
Red blood sprang into his white cheeks, the fire
of enthusiasm blazed in his eyes, his thin sweet
voice gained something of its lost power. "The
blight of modern civilisation, the madness of the age,
the misery of millions upon millions, the degenera-
tion and damnation of millions upon millions more.
... I believed the cure for them would be found in
that writing, the legacy of a sinner left to me in
trust for Heaven. By its aid I hoped to strike a
blow at the root of Intemperance throughout this
world, that God made so beautiful, and men have
made so hideous. And the sot and the toper and the
debauched were to have risen up and blessed me,
cured of their fatal craving, freed from the dominion
of drugs and the curse of Drink for ever 1"
" Ah !" said the scholar, with a narrowing of his
pale eyes. "Quite an Utopian vision quite so.
And I have dissipated the illusion. I regret it of
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 99
"Regret nothing, sir," said Armitage almost
roughly, " for I believe still !"
He took leave, and went out from among the
scholar's Oriental manuscripts and written stones,
upon the even more eloquent pavements of London.
As he walked he held the black strapped pocket-
book close against his heart. We love so passion-
ately that for which we have suffered.
It was five o'clock upon a Wednesday afternoon,
and crowds of well-dressed women, sparsely
sprinkled with men, were pouring out of the West
End theatres. Armitage was involved by an eddy
of the throng pouring through the doors of a
fashionable Regent Street teashop, and swept in
with them. Smart, fashionable Society women,
and pretty, well-bred looking young girls, were all
screaming together as they pecked at the dishes of
bonbons and Viennese pastry like a flock of paro-
quets revelling in the branches of a tree of ripe fruit.
The waitresses were all busy. Armitage,
conscious of hunger and thirst, moved between the
crowded tables to give an order at the counter,
where ladies, young and old, were standing four
deep. A young girl, fair and grey-eyed, with an
exquisite wealth of pale yellow hair woven in a
massive plait, and tied with a black ribbon, smiled
slyly at another girl of the same age, under the
curved brim and drooping plume of her hat, as
she stretched her hand to take a teacup from the
woman behind the counter.
ioo THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
The cup was half full of a bright amber liquid.
A familiar peaty odour greeted Armitage's nostrils.
It was raw whisky these Society women and girls
were drinking, not tea. At meals they would use
mineral water, possibly tinged with claret. But at
other times. . . .
A distinguished West End physician, specialist
in obscure nervous derangements, and well-known
to Armitage, had many patients among this class.
One would deem herself to be suffering from
neuritis, another would lay claim to some un-
diagnosed disease of the digestive organs. And if
the man of medicine bluntly told them the real
nature of their complaint they would deny it ; and
so, with anger in their eyes, and falsehoods on their
lips, or sarcasms aimed at the proneness of the
medical Faculty to travel in a beaten groove, depart,
to seek another man who avoided the telling of un-
pleasant truths.
"So, I don't tell them the truth at all," the
narrator had ended. " Why should I send them to
the other man ? I sympathise, and say they have
got whatever they fancy most, and throw in bromide
and nux-vomica in sherry. The other man could
do no more. Why should I send them to him ?"
Armitage had despised the physician only less
than his patients at the time. Now his heart held
out hands of pity to these his sisters young and
old, bearing upon their shoulders the burden that
his hand might never unloose. The blue-eyed
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 101
seventeen-year-old with the apple-blossom face,
smiling at her girl friend over her half-tea-cup of
undiluted whisky, how long would it be before she
came knocking at the bland physician's door? The
memory of her face went with Armitage through
the streets of the West End that were lighted
brilliantly now, and crowded with men and women
in search of pleasure, and women and men who
were in search of other things. Bread and money,
revenge or knowledge, but Death at the end of all.
Night came as Armitage still tramped the West End
streets. The public and private drinking-bars were
packed, the cells of the police-stations were gorged
to repletion with the grosser drunkenness that is
seen of men, and knows no art of masking the vice
that has stamped its image on its votaries. The
clubs, small and great, aristocratic or plebeian, and
the restaurants and the wine and spirit purveyors,
and the grocers who held licences for the retail of
liquor, did colossal business beyond all record.
Ah ! and in every chemist's window, gorgeous with
glass cases displaying a multi-coloured array of
little boxes and little bottles, you might read, if
you had eyes to see, great riches gathered in, and
daily augmenting, in the supply, to the rabid
appetite so hideously possessing men and women,
of the sure and certain means of physical, mental,
and spiritual ruin and death.
102 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
.II.
Some great chemical product companies that kept
these pharmacies supplied, catered indefatigably for
every rank and every class. The servant-girl and
the shop-assistant, the overworked clerk and the
valet who had been kept up all night waiting for his
master, could buy for a penny or so neat little
powders of veronal, or some other dangerous
hypnotic, warranted to charm away headache and
depression, and pick-me-ups of the latest American
brand.
You could be supplied gratis with gilt leather-
bound alphabetical lists of ailments, supplemented
by their advertised remedies in the form of tablets
or jujubes or lozenges, containing powerful medica-
ments, and essential oils, made palatable with sugar
and sweet gums. For richer people, who could
afford to pay more, there were all the resources of
hypodermic medication. With a whole gamut of
drugs at hand, fiendish fantasias could be played
upon the human brain and nervous system, involv-
ing collapse and wreck of the whole fabric in the
shortest space of time.
You could obtain the most complete, compact,
and convenient little equipments for the ruin of
body and mind, in elegant little cases of fancy
leather, nickel-plated metal or aluminium, gun-
metal or chased silver or gold, small enough to be
hung upon the chatelaine or carried in the waist-
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 103
coat pocket. These containing from five to fifteen
tubes of highly concentrated poisons, a set of hollow
gold needles, a flask of distilled water for making
solutions, and a syringe of the newest patented
design.
For people who minded expense not at all, or
who found it necessary to conceal an acquired and
deadly habit from anxious, watchful eyes, the
companies offered a marvel of delicate devilish
workmanship in the shape of a tiny gold and
jewelled medicine -chest, fitted with miniature
bottles containing possibly a hundred doses of
intoxicants, soporifics, hypnotics, or stimulants in
the most highly-concentrated form. You wore this
upon a chain as a locket, or on a bangle as a porte-
bonheur, or as a charm upon a watch-guard. There
was a golden, jewel-set syringe to match, that fitted
into a ring.
Wonderful was the variety of drugs offered to a
world desirous of poisoning itself. Not only chloro-
form, Indian hemp, morphia and cocaine, but
aconitine, hyoscine, atropine, and the strychnine
sulphates. With many others.
And if you were nervous about administering
them hypodermically to yourself, some chemists
kept skilled assistants who would load you up and
save you the trouble for a fee.
*****
The hours were shrinking small. The restaurants
and public houses closed one by one. Only the
104 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
chemists' shops and drug-stores remained open.
A stream of turbid life rolled down the pavements
of Piccadilly, and swarmed over the asphalte that
was then enclosed in places by the rough hoardings
of the Tube works. In the electric light the faces of
the buyers as of the sellers of flesh were clay-blue.
The central patch of rouge upon painted cheeks
showed as purplish-brown. And the great glass
bottles in the windows of the chemists' shops and
drug-stores threw prismatic rays upon those passing
faces, and stretched out multi-coloured tentacles
towards them as if to seize and drag them in.
Armitage, heated and weary now, entered a
chemist's shop where there was an iced-soda
fountain, and ordered and emptied a glassful of the
cool, fizzing drink. As he handed back the empty
tumbler, a well-appointed horse-drawn brougham
stopped outside the shop. Three ladies occupied
the carriage, two young, one elderly and white-
haired. All were in theatre-wraps, their heads
draped with lace scarfs.
A young lady got out, spoke to the box-coated,
cockaded servant who helped her to alight, and
came rustling into the shop. She was pale and
slender and black-haired and very pretty. Diamond
stars scintillated through her draping laces, the
neck of her furred wrap, a little open, showed a
superb pendant of diamonds and rubies glowing
and blazing on her thin white bosom, her attenu-
ated white hand, holding her plumed fan and the
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 105
opera-glass in its embroidered silk case, was laden
with costly jewelled rings.
She looked haggard and her dark eyes had weary
shadows round them. They rested on the flaunt-
ing women at the shop-end, and withdrew in evident
disgust. She paid no heed to Armitage, but spoke
in low quick tones to the chemist, a grey-whiskered
fatherly individual who listened respectfully, bend-
ing his sleek bald head. Evidently the lady was a
well-known customer of the establishment.
"Please be quick! ... I have only a
moment. . . ."
"Certainly, madam. Have you the ahem ?"
" Yes, yes ! How stupid of me !"
She drew a little jewelled amulet-case from its
hiding-place within her dress, and unfastened it
from its fine gold chain. Her hand shook, and she
glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the
mother and sister who were waiting in the brougham
showed no intention of following her into the shop.
The chemist turned aside to fill the little case with
miniature bottles containing tiny white tablets.
He was quick, but hardly quick enough for
her.
"Thank you, oh ! thank you !" Her eyes were
fastened on the chemist's deft fingers packing the
tiny bottles in their places with accustomed skill.
"You have nearly finished?"
"Very nearly, madam." As he gave her the
little case, he leaned forward across the counter to
io6 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
ask in a solicitous undertone : " And the Captain ?
May I ask, is there any news?"
A spasm wrung her pretty, miserable face. She
shook her head sadly.
" No, no news ! We we thought we hoped
he might be found at Wanderton with other English
officers who were prisoners there. We we were
disappointed, there was no trace " Her voice
rose in a breathless cry: "Oh, for God's sake,
don't ask me any more !"
She fled out of the shop, passing a tall, middle-
aged man who lifted his hat with courtesy as the
shrinking figure rustled by in its laces and silks.
He had only accorded the politeness to a stranger,
he did not know her at all. The heavy overcoat
that covered his evening clothes, a costly garment
lined with Persian lamb, was unbuttoned; a white
silk muffler protected his throat, and guarded his
immaculate shirt-front from soil. He had upon
him the stamp of the prosperous physician, and the
lines upon his ravaged, still handsome face bespoke
him a viveur. His harsh and laboured breathing
and the bluish hue of his skin, told Armitage some-
thing else.
The newcomer, who walked feebly and wearily,
nodded to the chemist, whose face seemed suddenly
to have been painted white, as he turned to a locked
cupboard-compartment in the rows of gilt lettered
drawers behind him, and took out a blue glass vial.
His hand shook a little as he set the vial on the
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 107
counter, with a decanter of distilled water and a
graduated glass. But the habit of his profession
prevailed, and he was as bland as ever.
He asked a question in a low tone. The customer
answered, and watched with a curious intensity as
the chemist unstoppered the vial, liberating a
strong odour of bitter almonds, and dropped, with
infinite precision and care, fifteen drops into the
glass. To this he added a proportion of distilled
water, handed the mixture to his client, and waited,
breathlessly, and with that white, scared look, to see
him drink it down.
The customer tossed off the draught. Then,
within the instant, a change was wrought in him.
His haggard face took life and colour, his eyes
brightened, he drew a long deep breath, squared
his shoulders, smiled pleasantly at the nervous
chemist, threw down two half-crowns on the
counter, and walked out of the shop, a new man,
to embark upon the pleasures of the night that now
began for him. The chemist swept the cash into
the till, and as he wiped the perspiration from his
bald forehead, he glanced sharply at Armitage.
But Armitage's face said nothing, and the
chemist mopped his own once more and turned
with a will to the business of the evening. His
partner, or a principal assistant, seemed to sit at
the receipt of special custom in a parlour that was
behind the shop, and had a door with ground-glass
panels in the upper half of it.
io8 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
A few of the customers who crossed the parlour-
threshold were men, but ninety per cent, were
women of Fran9ois Villon's liberal sisterhood.
And whereas they went in dim-eyed and drawn,
and haggard under their rouge, with the weariness
of vice, they came out as though newly stamped
in the Mint of Pleasure, stooping on the threshold
of the morphia-den to fasten their silken garters,
or pulling up their long gloves over the marks of
the piqure, hailing their female friends and their
male acquaintances with gay, empty peals of
laughter and rattling volleys of chaff and slang.
Armitage's heart bled for them as they ordered
fresh pick-me-ups and sucked down their poisons,
and shouted and screamed and frolicked and
cursed. " Ah, poor brothers ! Ah, poor sisters !"
he thought, " in whose veins, in common with how
many others, burns and rankles the accursed crav-
ing. No hope for you, no help for you, any more
than for the rest !"
He pushed through the crowd of seekers after for-
getfulness, gained the streets, and turned in the direc-
tion of the Strand. He wearied again after a while
and went into a gilt and tile-lined saloon, ordered
a lemon-squash and sat at a little marble-topped
table with his back against a delicately-wrought
frieze of sporting loves and exquisite nude nymphs,
watching the American bar-tender, a moustached
person clad in immaculate white drills, with blaz-
ing diamond studs and cuff-links, mix drinks of
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 109
marvellous components and nomenclature, with
no less marvellous dexterity; turning when not
actively engaged in tossing mixtures of liquors
from one tall glass to another, to make rough
entries of owed-for drinks on a white transparent
slate hanging from a brass hook against the
pictured wall behind him.
One moment Armitage sat, listlessly watching the
coarse jewelled hand that moved the chewed pencil-
butt clumsily over the opaque white surface, and at
the next, with a sudden strange leap and thrill of
recognition, and a stranger sense of awe, he rose
from his seat, moved to the long glittering counter,
and said :
" Excuse what may appear to you an inquisitive
question but those marks convey some private
meaning?"
" Guess so !" admitted the bar-tender, nettled by
the brusque tone of authority, and the direct gaze
of Armitage's clear grey eyes.
"It is a cipher that is not generally known?"
continued Armitage.
"I guess not!" drawled the bar-tender, con-
tributing generously to his private spittoon.
Armitage put another question.
"The cipher is more particularly employed by
a certain class of men ? Most particularly your
own class?"
" I reckon," said the bar-tender, deliberately
prolonging his inflections, as though he were
i io THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
trickling molasses from a ladle, "as yew-
might find about a score of individooals in
this yer city as are capperble of con-
vey i n 'their private idees in Mark if yew
was lucky."
" Thank you. The cipher is known as ' Mark,' '
said Armitage, mentally registering it. He drew
out a note-case, took from it a ten pound note of
the Bank of England, and laid it on the nickel
counter. "This is at your disposal if you will
teach it to me 1"
"Guess I got no time," said the bar-tender,
dropping his drawl and giving a sulky wag of his
blue-shaven chin, "to waste actin' as school marm
to Britishers." He went on with his occupation
of mixing and serving drinks, which had never
been intermitted.
" I will only ask you to supply me with the
equivalent to the English alphabet, written down
in Mark," said Armitage, masking his desperate
eagerness as best he could. "And I will double
the pay."
He drew out another ten pound note, and laid
it beside the first, the sum representing one-
third of the available funds at the investor's
disposal. But the bar-tender, scenting a detective
behind the close-shaven, intellectual mask and
under the worn black semi-clerical attire, shrugged
and went to the other end of the counter. And he
spoke to a subordinate there, and jerked his thumb
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN in
meaningly towards Armitage, and Armitage moved
out of the American bar reluctantly, as a man who
has seen his soul's desire within his grasp and has
had it snatched from him.
His faith in the leading of a Divine Hand was
rudely shaken. Why had he been shown the end
of all his selfless agony of seeking, only to be thrust
forth on the long trail again ? When had he sought
his own profit, or anything but the welfare of his
miserable fellow creatures? The question was
fast sapping the foundations of reason, when
Armitage, by a supreme effort, saved himself
in time.
Inquiries later made through a private detective
agency after the American bar-tender, proved that
expert to have quitted his situation in the Strand
and returned to his native New York. Armitage
made no effort to trace him. He even left off
seeking for the key of the cipher that had been
within his reach that night, when the linen-clad
expert with the jewelled paws, and the lacquered
moustaches, had been proof against his offered
bribe of twenty pounds. And he saved himself
from becoming a crank by turning chemist.
Armitage had gone through the usual course of
science at the university. You are to see him now
immersed to the thinning hair upon his high
temples in therapeutic chemistry, mingling chlor-
ides usually employed in the treatment of
alcoholism and kindred nervous derangements,
ii2 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
with others yet unproved, and experimenting, in
default of an intemperate subject, upon sober
Armitage.
Sober Armitage proving useless to the ardent
seeker after enlightenment, his proprietor took
measures to render him a fitter subject.
Friends, visiting Armitage's rooms, were
scandalised at the alteration in his appearance
that gave evidence of the degrading habit to which
a once upright and temperate young man had un-
happily become addicted. The principal of the
College heard and wrote to expostulate with his late
pupil. Armitage, who was then engaged in test-
ing the effects upon Armitage of morphia and
cocaine, had lost the habit of opening letters, with
a good many other habits that were even better
worth keeping. Unwashed, unkempt, a moral
ruin and a physical wreck, he had drifted beyond
the saving clutch of his own great altruistic obses-
sion. He had lost himself in trying to save others.
And as a spectator might placidly sit and watch
the struggles of a drowning man reproduced per
medium of the cinematograph Armitage saw
Armitage going down, down ! into the grey,
primeval sludge, where human wrecks and failures
drift, suspended forever; and when his long-un-
paid landlord served a writ upon him, and his few
remaining possessions were seized for rent, he rose
up out of the tattered armchair where he spent his
days and nights, when he was not wandering in
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 113
those strange scenes, and wonderful or awful places
that only the drunkard and the druggard know.
The bailiff and the landlord had gone through
his pockets before they let the broken creature free.
There was nothing upon him but his dog's-eared
Bible, in its shabby silken case, and a black
strapped pocket book, empty save for two old
letters and a bit of scrawled paper pasted on the
inside cover. And they left him those two things,
and the hypodermic syringe and the morphia
tablets that he cried and blubbered to be allowed
to keep both being charitable men, as men go.
' ' Now, hook it ! " said the bailiff, who was old, and
still employed the Middle Victorian slang of 1859.
"Get!" added the more modern landlord, con-
tributing the impetus of a shove, and the degraded
wreck of Armitage shambled down the shabby
staircase of the Bloomsbury lodgings, and vanished
in the great grey whirlpool of London Town.
Betrayed by a false conviction and a false hope ;
ruined because he had given all he had in the hope
of saving others ; shipwrecked on his great pro-
ject the regeneration of alcohol and drug-poisoned
men and women by the adulteration of their deterio-
rated blood with an antitoxin ; lost because he
had so yearned to save, you see Armitage at
the juncture when he had forgotten even this,
ministered to by a poor fallen woman.
The ground here calls for delicate going, Allan
Armitage occupying with justice, at this moment of
ii4 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
writing, a high place in the public esteem, and
possessing a character beyond reproach. His wife,
too no man, labouring unselfishly in the vast
Augean stable of this world, solely possessed by
the desire of leaving it but a shade or two cleaner
than he found it, ever had a nobler, more devoted
helper. But virtuous, pious daughters of Mrs.
Grundy, dimly cognisant of strange stories in con-
nection with Mrs. Armitage's early history, with
difficulty restrain the impulse to pull aside their
skirts when they pass her, and are not to be coerced
by husbands into leaving cards. I might add, that
as Mrs. Alan Armitage has never pretended to
their acquaintance, its denial does not grieve her.
She is a pale sweet-faced woman with candid eyes,
and an inexhaustible gift of sympathy with the
depraved, the miserable, and the wicked of her
fellow-creatures. This healing balm, she, even in her
degraded days, possessed the art of giving to those
who needed it. And none was more in need than
the broken-down drunkard and druggard whose
garment of shamefulness was cut of the cloth that
deacons are wont to wear. Magdalene gave him
shelter in the one poor room of her lodging, and
sinned, poor soul ! to keep its roof above him, and
to find him the wherewithal to pay for his daily
debauch. One cannot blink the truth. And
towards the small hours of one morning, while he
lay almost pulseless, scarcely breathing, in the
trance-like sleep that is so dearly bought by the
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 115
votaries of morphia, and she, sitting beside him,
darned and patched his seedy clothes, the black
strapped pocket-book fell out of the torn pocket of
the dirty old pepper-and-salt Norfolk jacket, and
she picked it up, and opened it, and the wheel of
Fate gave one more turn for Armitage.
For the woman, glancing at the half sheet of
smudgy note-paper heavily scrawled with those rude,
illiterate characters, started and winced. In cruel
early days, of which she never spoke or thought
without a shudder, she had been forced by an evil
man, for some strange secret reason, known only
to himself, to learn to write and read Mark.
Remembering those old lessons, burned in by
blows and ill-usage, she read now. And the man
on the bed, waking, saw her sitting beside him, a
good angel in soiled garments, with scorched and
broken wings, and heard her spelling out, letter by
letter, the fateful secret that he had given health
and honour, hope and the esteem of men ; his own
self-respect and the favour of God, to solve, and
given vainly.
It trickled by slow degrees from the dulled ear to
the drugged brain, the Formula of Brantin. And
its effect was miraculous. A touch upon the
woman's arm brought her head round, and
Armitage was sitting up upon the bed, looking at
her with eyes that were sane, and at the same time
the eyes of a stranger.
" Read that again !" he said, and pointed to the
n6 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
black pocket-book that had slipped from the
startled woman's fingers into her lap. " Afterwards
you shall tell me who you are and how I came
here. But first, read that again !"
The woman obeyed, trembling. Armitage
listened, and a curtain rolled up in his brain, and
he remembered Kellerbusch's Farm, and knew that
he had at last lighted upon the discovery of the
New York doctor. Ay, this was it ! There were
two chlorides of two metals, and you mingled them
in a certain proportion, and administered them by
hypodermic injection, or by means of an electric
battery and pads of cotton-wool, well soaked. It
began to take effect by the third injection : by the
seventh day the patient was practically cured, in
three weeks time the saturation was complete. As
a result the nervous centres, once thoroughly im-
pregnated with the Formula, would be so fortified
against the attacks of alcohol and even certain alka-
loid poisons, that these agents would prove im-
potent when introduced into the system. The period
of immunity would probably extend over six years.
Armitage rose up from the disordered bed, and
saw a ghastly face he did not know for his own in
the cracked and broken looking-glass. But as the
days went by, and the wretched single room be-
came a laboratory, the marred and altered face
began to show faint transitory resemblances to what
it once had been.
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 117
For, as of old, Armitage experimented upon
Armitage. Administering the counter-agent in
subcutaneous injections, and with the assistance of
his companion, employing it per medium of the
electric battery and the wetted pad. His Samari-
taness's poor savings went to buy the battery, a bad
little second-hand affair enough, but it served. For
a day came when Armitage felt the fetters of his
vice loosen, and later he heard them clank, falling
from his galled limbs to the bare floor.
The physical change in him, wrought by the
saturation, showed little outwardly. The outlines
of his features were sharper and harder, he was
conscious of an added clearness and lucidity of
mind. He no longer desired whisky to the point
of anguish, his heroic thirst for the fire-water was
gone. He drank, and it had no more effect upon
him now than pure water, his armour-plated nerve-
centres were now proof against the toxin of alcohol
as they were impervious to the attacks of the alka-
loids. Morphia had no result. Cocaine failed
when he tested the effect of the narcotic and the
stimulant. He was immune, thenceforth, for the
allotted term of years. When he knew this he
rose up and girded his loins, and came up out of the
depths of Hell, leading his good angel by the hand.
It wore his ring, the hand that had done so much
for him. Say, if you will, that Armitage degraded
Armitage by such a union. I hold that he honoured
not only her, but himself.
n8 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
Ten years ago, this was. To-day, entering the
wide vestibule of the Brantin Institute, with its
statues and palms and Oriental carpets, and polite,
uniformed attendants, it seems to the ignorant
stranger that he has strayed into a hotel. To all
intents and purposes it is a hotel for the reception
of a certain kind of guest.
You may see the guests, men and women,
coming and going. The bloated, puffy, degraded
face and form, and the burned-out eye of the
alcoholist, are common to the majority. The con-
tracted pupil, the uncertain gait, the dreamy self-
absorption or the highly-strung nervous excite-
ment; the degraded personal habits distinctive of
the slaves of morphia, the blazing eyes, the jerky
movements, the sudden muscular spasms peculiar
to the puppet of cocaine : he sees all these symptoms
multiplied in a hundred victims, with others even
more grotesque, even more ugly and terrible.
The place is handsomely appointed. From floor
to floor go noiseless elevators. There are reception-
rooms for women, and smoking-rooms for men ;
there are drawing-rooms, reading and writing-
rooms, and there are two glass-roofed rooms built
out at the back, where patients of either sex attend
at stated times, alone, or in care of male or female
nurses, for the hypodermic and electrical treatment
that can be had nowhere else.
Everywhere the foot falls noiselessly on three-
inch rubber, under thick carpet. Following the
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 119
clear-eyed, grey-haired gentleman, unobtrusively
attired, who has volunteered to be your guide, you
meet, in the long corridors, nurses wheeling invalid
chairs. Sometimes several of them push a rubber-
tyred stretcher-bed, on which, fastened down by
bands of webbing, and covered with a light cloth
from the curious or frightened eye, is something
that whimpers or makes beast-like noises, or
hideously sings and laughs.
It is not a madman, or a madwoman, the strapped-
down creature. It is somebody who has, like every
guest of this strange hostelry, been bitten by the
mania for alcohol or drugs.
None of the windows of the large, airy, well-
ventilated rooms open upon anything but a grating.
The chairs are of bentwood, without sharp angles,
the corners of the rooms are rounded off like the
corners of the furniture. There is no breakable
crockery or glass. The walls are soundproof and
covered with indiarubber, under the pretty paper,
like the floors beneath the soft carpeting. In one
room that the visitor passes, a high-bred, elegant,
graciously-mannered lady is entertaining a circle of
society friends with brilliant conversation. That
is, she would be, if the friends were there.
In another room a young girl is foaming and
writhing in terrible convulsions, in another . . .
The guest pales and winces as he passes that
door, outside which two alert, vigorous, grey-
gowned, white-capped nurses are waiting, in case
120 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
the attendant within should call. His guide takes
him along the corridor and through into the men's
side of the Institute. A haggard young man,
fashionably dressed, followed by a liveried servant
carrying a hat-box and suit-case, comes up to the
guide and shakes him warmly by the hand.
"I am cured, Mr. Armitage. I leave here this
morning. Let me thank you for your considerate
kindness, for the help you gave. As long as I
live I shall remember this place with gratitude. I
go down to my people in the North to-morrow, they
are hardly able to believe that I "
He hesitates, but Armitage knows the end of
the unfinished sentence. He thanks the grey-haired
man again, and wrings his hand, and goes on his
way cured and hopeful. And Armitage beckons
the visitor to follow, and passes on.
On the other side of the door he now goes by
a mother-naked man is sitting on the floor, driv-
ing an imaginary automobile. In the recent case
of the young embryo Member of Parliament, it
has been a splendid coach. Only he has been the
vehicle, with a four-in-hand of rampant devils in
the traces, and the enemy of mankind enthroned
on the box-seat as driver of the team.
And the devil-driven one has gone away cured,
and the others will follow. Is not the Formula of the
New York doctor a specific for the blight of modern
civilisation, a cure for the disease of the Age ?
And yet ... It seems to the visitor that he
THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN 121
hears somebody laughing behind him. He turns
and looks down the long bright pleasant corridor.
No one is there.
He follows his courteous guide through the wide
airy corridors, and at his invitation enters into
Armitage's private office. The mocking thing that
dogged his footsteps seems to have been left be-
hind. But when the bell of the telephone rings, he
hears it titter as the grey-haired man at the writing-
table takes the receiver in hand.
" Is Mr. Armitage there ? I wish to speak to him !"
It is a voice that has terror and despair in it. Yet
it belongs to a patient who went away cured,
happy and hopeful, a little while ago. Armitage
answers :
"I, Armitage, am here. What can I do for you ?"
The frightened voice says, shaking until the thin
wire vibrates :
" I cannot drink or use drugs any more, Mr.
Armitage. The desire has gone from me the
stuff has no more effect on me at all I"
"You are henceforth immune," Armitage says.
" For a certain space of years to come, you are
inoculated to resist those influences that were ruin-
ing you. It is a great thing to know that !"
The scared voice says, shaking with terror :
"A great thing, as you say. ... A very great
thing, sir ! But . . . what shall I do when I want
to forget?"
Armitage holds the receiver, and the lines that
122 THE FORMULA OF BRANTIN
grief and care have ploughed upon his face show
deeply. He does not immediately reply.
"Must I look in the face of my sorrow and my
sin for years, long years?" the quavering voice
asks. " Shall I never be able to hide from myself ?"
"Never," is the answer, "by the aid of alcohol
or drugs."
The desperate voice breaks out in despairing
curses and breaks off to cry : " Is there no help?
Is there no hope?"
"There is help," Armitage answers, "and hope
also."
"Oh, where?" quavers the voice in anguish.
"In Christ," is the answer. "Through the
Blood that He shed for sinners on the Cross of
Calvary."
" I have never thought of Him," wails the voice.
" I do not know where He is to be found ! How
shall I reach Him?"
"Ask my wife," says Armitage, and his lined
forehead smoothes. He hangs up the receiver
with a smile upon his careworn face. For though
the Evangelist has ceased to preach, the Magdalene
has found her mission. Mrs. Armitage, the woman
whom virtuous women will not condescend to call
upon, has her compensations and her uses, and
when the work of the therapeutist is complete,
begins the noble work of the woman who has
washed the Sacred Feet with tears, and wiped them
with the hair of her head.
DOROTEA ET CIE.
I.
THE three prettiest women in Paris sat together in
a boudoir that was exquisitely tinted, and warmly
fragrant, and marvellously furnished, and divinely
draped and adorned (not crowded) with wonderful
works of art, and even then was only a perfect
setting for the loveliness of the Three Graces it
enshrined.
The Hotel Vaubonsoir was one of the most
charming houses in Paris, standing as it did within
leafy private gardens, full of roses and plashing
fountains, near the entrance of the Avenue du
Bois de Boulogne. All the greatest French artists
had been summoned to aid in making it exquisite
within, but its mistress and owner was the loveliest
thing to be found within its marble-faced walls.
And she was Dorote"a-Maria, the young and
widowed Duchess of Bellaselva. Her companions
were the Princess Delidoff, an dttgante of great
beauty, allied by blood to two reigning European
monarchs. A royalty of another kind belonged to
the third lady, a lively, brilliant, and yet subtle
creature, who reigned over the hearts of her Paris
123
124 DOROTEA ET CIE
public from the boards of their favourite Comedy
Theatre.
It was Jenny Trudaine, who said with a shrug,
sipping the orange-flavoured caravan-tea from a
cup that was a mere bubble of coloured porcelain :
"Ah, bah! everybody wants money! And up
to now we women have got it in every imaginable
way except by mining for it. Let us three unite to
be the exception that makes the rule!"
She gaily tossed a bonbon to a magnificent
tawny Persian cat, who sniffed at the, to him, un-
eatable delicacy with disgust, and proudly stalked
away to lap at the saucer of cream his mistress set
for him upon the rose- velvet carpet. The great
actress's peal of silver laughter followed him.
" Altair represents the public!" cried she.
"The stupid public, that will put its money in
gold mines, or in silver mines, in ruby mines, or
in diamond mines that have no existence except
on stamped paper, because it knows gold and
silver by the touch and feel, and buys the precious
stones to hang on its wives and the wives of its
dearest friends ! yet sniffs suspiciously at a mine
of radium, because, though radium is in every-
body's mouth, hardly anybody has ever seen any.
Me, I call that idiotic ! Am I not one of the prin-
cipal shareholders in this venture of ours, and have
I ever seen any? Not so much !" She measured
off an infinitesimal space upon her little pink and
polished thumb-nail, and stopped for breath.
DOROTEA ET CIE 125
"I have seen some once," said the Princess
Delidoff, who was a slender, delicately fair woman,
with onyx-black eyes and ropes of pale golden
hair, and a physique of tempered steel under her
fine lady's indolence and lassitude. "It was a
speck of a few milligrammes of dirty, greyish-
looking salt (a speck about as large as the head of
a glass-topped toilet-pin) at the bottom of a tiny
glass tube, hermetically sealed. The savant who
lectured upon its properties caused the lights in the
hall to be extinguished, and then the stuff glimmered
like moonlight made solid. It was 'eerie,' as your
old Scotch nurse used to say, my Dorot6a," she
ended, turning to the Duchess, with whom she
maintained a close friendship that had begun in
early childhood, and had never been marred as
yet by jealousy, or lack of sympathy, or any of
the other causes that separate friends.
"It is more than eerie," said the Duchess
Dorot^a, looking up from a mass of papers heaped
upon an embossed gold tray. "It is divine, or
diabolical, I am not sure which. ... As said
that great chemist I am ungrateful enough to
forget his name who lost the sight of one eye as
the result of an experiment that determined the
healing virtues of this marvellous product, as
applied in diseases of the visual organ, ' It is either
the greatest gift, or the most frightful curse that
science has ever bestowed upon the world.'
Perhaps that is why it interests one so profoundly !"
126 DOROTEA ET CIE
She bathed her lovely white hands in the piles
of greenish-hued papers before her, which were, in
fact, depreciated scrip representing in English
money ,150,000. The Princess spoke:
"Three years ago, when Gregorof, my husband,
who then was Governor-General of Eastern Siberia,
told me that in the deserted silver workings in the
district of Ortai and Litchinsk, quantities of
uranium pitchblende the tarry-coloured alkaline
ore from which radium chloride is extracted were
to be found, I began by telling Dorotea I always
begin by telling Dorotea and getting her to
suggest what I have in my mind!" She smiled
at Dorotea, and pulled the ears of a great white
Borzoi that came up and laid a friendly paw on her
velvet gown.
"Down, Aldebaran!" said Duchess Dorotea,
and Aldebaran obeyed with a sigh and a wistful
look out of his great pale yellow eyes.
"Dorotea thought," continued the Princess,
"that it would be fun to get a mining-concession
from our Russian Government, float a Company,
work the mines for uranium pitchblende, extract
this priceless salt from it, sell it for millions upon
millions, and become the two richest women in the
world!"
"That was before I came in," murmured Jenny
Trudaine, nestling in among her cushions with a
little yawn. " After, we were to be the three richest,
and it did not come off. Provoking !"
DOROTEA ET CIE 127
"We formed ourselves into a Syndicate," said
the Princess, "and because we were idiots, or
because we were women "
" Gregorof would tell us it means the same
thing," said the Duchess of Bellaselva.
" Because we were idiots of women, we took
Prince Oscar of Sidonia into the scheme and
made him Grand Perpetual Chairman of the
Syndicate, and his lawyer, Dr. Alexis Jurnetti,
esteemed in his native capital of Vienna as quite
a clever person "
"A dangerously clever person!" put in the
Duchess.
"A Life Director. Then they set things going,
and heaps of prospectuses are printed, and sheets
upon sheets of crackling green share-coupons,
officially stamped, and called by all sorts of
different names, are turned out, and heaps of our
dearest friends buy them ; and the Syndicate
accumulate working capital to the extent of more
than a million and a half of roubles and then and
then "
"Then, M. de Sidonia makes the extraordinary
discovery, through his Russian agents," said
Mademoiselle Jenny, "that M. le Prince Gregorof
Delidoff was mistaken, and that there is no uranium
pitchblende in the abandoned silver-workings, or
in East Siberia at all, for that matter ! But why
should the stupid public shriek at that, when it
invests its money in other things that have no
128 DOROTEA ET CIE
existence, every hour of every day ? In my opinion,
you ought never to have acquainted them with the
discovery of M. de Sidonia."
*' How was it possible that, having induced our
friends to speculate in what the Americans would
doubtless term a 'wild cat' investment," said the
Duchess Dorotea, with a sigh, " Nadine and I
should not buy back all their shares "
"With the exception of my little lot," said
Mademoiselle Jenny, "to which I cling in spite of
your entreaties "
"And as a result, dearest Nadine," said the
Duchess Dorotea, "behold yourself and me in-
finitely poorer and infinitely wiser than when we
first took it into our two heads to faire la
planche to other people in the money-making
line."
"What I cannot make out," pouted Jenny Tru-
daine, nibbling with her pretty little white teeth at
a marron glac&, " is, why you should have paid all
that money out of your own pockets. Where are
the million and a half of roubles that all this crack-
ling stuff represents?" She pointed scornfully to
the gold tray.
"M. de Sidonia " hesitated the Princess.
"M. de Sidonia should know, certainly," added
Duchess Dorotea. " But he has never explained,
and nothing has been heard of or from him for two
years at least."
" And to put the definite question, as to what has
DOROTEA ET CIE 129
become of all the money," intimated the Princess
gently, "would be to cast an aspersion upon the
Prince's honour."
"Jenny!" cried the Duchess Dorote"a, indig-
nantly, as the fair comedienne threw herself back
among her cushions, emitting peal upon peal of
tinkling laughter.
"Ah! ha, ha, ha!" screamed Jenny Trudaine.
" The Prince's honour 1 Excuse me, Mesdames,
I am a little hysterical!" She dried her tearful
blue eyes with a minute cobweb of cambric. " Also,
it has just dawned upon me that I have lost a
great deal of cash."
"You would not consent to sell us back your
shares, Mademoiselle," reminded the Duchess
rather stiffly.
"Let me admit it. I was too clever!" sighed
the comedienne. " Frankly, it occurred to me that
you, Madame, and the Duchesse were what the
horrid English, who adore me, call ' on the job.' '
"Oh!" exclaimed the Princess, in a shocked
tone. She looked aghast at Duchess Dorote"a.
"You dared " cried Dorot^a, rising to her
splendid height.
"To think that you and Madame were simply
4 bearing the market ' I think is the term to pro-
duce a discouragement among those who had
speculated in Siberian Radiums and purchase
back the entire issue of stock at a price below par.
What can you expect? Remember, Mesdames, I
9
i 3 o DOROTEA ET CIE
have never concealed from you that my mother
was a femme de chambre!" Jenny made her famous
gesture of depreciation, a little moue and shrug
combined.
"Even though you cannot comprehend what is
meant by noblesse oblige," said Dorota, whose
fiery rage had quivered down to disdain, "you
should at least give credit to those who have proved
themselves your friends, for common honesty."
"Alas, Mesdames !" pleaded Jenny, and no one
could tell whether a tear or a twinkle glittered in
the bright eye that was not hidden by the cambric
cobweb; "common honesty is a vulgar virtue for
which M. le Prince de Sidonia is known to cultivate
but little sympathy, and, knowing you to entertain a
marked regard for the Prince even to have allied
yourselves with him in business how was it
possible to me not to suppose you were excuse
another English proverb, so chic is their very
vulgarity! 'tarred with the same brush.'" She
began to laugh again. " And if I erred, Mesdames,
am I not richly punished, in losing all my money ?
Oh, and do not think I regret it !" the comedienne
cried, with a flash of fierceness. "Never, never!
since the loss of it has brought me to the know-
ledge of such noble hearts as yours !"
The ladies looked at Jenny and their indignant
regard softened. One after another they rose,
went to her and kissed her. And then a superb
groom of the chambers entered apologetically
DOROTEA ET CIE 131
with a message. Quite a common person, who
announced himself as a delegate from the united
peasants of the villages of Ortai and Litchinsk, in
a remote province of Eastern Siberia, entreated an
audience of the Duchess of Bellaselva.
The ladies exchanged glances.
"We will see him !" said the Duchess Dorot^a.
"Together," she added to the Princess and the
comedienne, "for this is your affair as well as
mine !"
" Markoff Platon," announced the groom of the
chambers.
Markoff Platon, a gigantic young man, with a
shaggy head of pale yellow hair and great hollow
blue eyes, stood upon the threshold, dressed in
peasant garb, and made three bows, peasant
fashion, holding his old fur cap before him. Up-
right, his blond head very nearly reached the lintel
of the doorway, and his great shoulders, in their
sheepskin pelisse, filled up the space.
"That a peasant !" whispered the actress to her-
self, as she scanned the magnificent figure. "Pas
possible!"
"I understand you wish to see me," said the
Duchess of Bellaselva. "Certainly you arrive at
a fortunate moment. For if, as I cannot but
suppose is the case, you come upon business con-
nected with the affairs of the two villages com-
prised within the bounds of the district conceded
by the Russian Imperial Government for mining
i 3 2 DOROTEA ET CIE
purposes to the Profitable Pitchblende Syndicate,
three of the four persons who constitute the
Syndicate, and indeed represent the entire company
of shareholders, happen to be present."
" Approach, pray, and begin 1" said the Princess
Delidoff impatiently.
"Yes, yes; what have you to tell us from our
peasants?" cried Jenny Trudaine.
"This!" The man stretched out his hands.
"But this, that for three years past they have
suffered cruelly that when I left them they were
starving, dying like flies. The united Mirs of the
villages of Ortai and Litchinsk send me to repre-
sent them, to plead for them in these words : ' The
Emperor has placed us in your hands,' they say to
you, ' to dig your mineral pitchblende from the
bowels of the earth. But you give us but one day
in the week to labour for ourselves, and what is
that ? Be merciful ! Three days we will dig for
you, as the Little Father says we must; the other
three we will till the land, and tend our beasts and
cut our wood. Concede us these, and we will live.
Deny us, and we will bow our heads and die I We
have spoken, by the lips of one of us P "
"Ah, bah, you are not a peasant !" thought the
actress. The Princess and the Duchess Dorote"a
were lost in blank amazement. The Duchess was
the first to recover herself.
"Monsieur," she began, "can this indeed be
possible?"
DOROTEA ET CIE 133
" I am no Monsieur," said Markoff Platon, " but
a tiller of the soil, and a digger of your pitch-
blende, like all the other peasants."
"Dame!" burst out Jenny Trudaine, "peasant
or gentleman, how can you dig pitchblende when
there is not to be had in those abandoned silver-
mines of Ortai and Litchinsk enough to cover my
finger-nail ?"
"No pitchblende in Ortai and Litchinsk I" ex-
claimed Markoff Platon, roughly. "Madame, you
are deceived. There are thousands of tons beyond
those already dug and sent away in arbas to the
crushing-mills of the refining works your overseers
have set up at Karbav."
"A peasant would have called me Baruina, and
not Madame," thought observant Jenny. Aloud
she added : "What works do you speak of?" and
Markoff Platon replied :
"Those that have been erected by the two over-
seer-agents of the Company, who say we are to call
them Herr Oscar and Herr Alexis."
The Princess and Duchess Dorote"a looked at
each other in wonder. But Jenny Trudaine had
not failed to remark the peculiar tone in which the
peasant envoy pronounced the names. She said :
" Describe these gentlemen, if you will have the
kindness!"
Markoff Platon said, after a moment's hesita-
tion :
"The Herr Alexis is little, and lean, and dark,
134 DOROTEA ET CIE
with a pointed thin beard and a high peaked fore-
head. He wears gold eye-glasses when he is not
twirling them between his fingers sol"
"Jurnetti!" telegraphed the Princess to the
Duchess Dorote*a.
Markoff Platon went on :
"TheHerr Oscar "
"Let me describe him," said Mademoiselle
Jenny, and rose. " He is tall and slender and
white-haired, with chiselled aquiline features, and
the rosy complexion of a Convent schoolgirl. He
has a perfumed white moustache, which he con-
stantly caresses with fingers that are delicate as
say, as mine." She gave a slight but inimitable
caricature of M. le Prince de Sidonia. "His eye-
lids droop over large grey eyes, not too saintly in
their expression when the Herr looks at a pretty
woman, for instance."
Markoff Platon, from haggard-pale, grew scarlet.
He stretched out his clasped hands to the Duchess
Dorote"a, and fell upon his knees.
"It is all true all ! Save Ivana Vassily from
the loathsome man, Madame ! It is for her sake,
more than for the others, that I have journeyed
here, almost penniless, nearly starving. Have pity,
gracious and noble lady, for I cannot believe you
wicked, although you be in league with fiends!"
" Merci du compliment!" muttered Jenny
Trudaine. But the man had fallen upon his face
and lay motionless, and the Duchess Dorot^a, with
DOROTEA ET CIE 135
strong, beautiful hands, was lifting the great, help-
less blond head, laying it on her knee and telling
the Princess to ring for cognac and iced water.
"And some bouillon," put in Mademoiselle
Trudaine, "for the Siberian ambassador is almost
starved. I nearly died of hunger myself, in my
student days, and it hurt abominably ; and I had
only the ladder of Fame to climb, not Eastern
Siberia to cross. Pouf ! that was no joke. And
all over a woman, too !"
"That reminds me," said Duchess Dorote"a,
"M. le Prince is without doubt masquerading as
this German Herr Oscar?"
" With his Viennese friend Jurnetti, the clever
lawyer," added Jenny, "in the character of the
Herr Alexis?"
"Can it be?" cried the Princess.
"Of course!" said Mademoiselle Jenny, un-
fastening the ambassador's coarse peasant shirt at
the neck. An enamelled and diamond-studded
reliquary, hanging by a thin gold chain about the
massive white throat of the fainting man, caught
her quick eye. "A peasant! la, la!" she said to
herself, and fastened the shirt again as the eyelids
quivered, and the great blue eyes unclosed.
" Listen 1" said Duchess Dorota to the Princess,
when her servants had carried Markoff to one of
her guest-chambers. " It is hideously plain that
there is plenty of pitchblende at the mines, and
that M. le Prince de Sidonia has strangely for-
J3 6 DOROTEA ET CIE
gotten the precepts of noblesse oblige, as well as
those of Christian humanity. Also, there is the
affair of this peasant girl s Ivana Vassily, to be
accounted for "
"As well," said the Princess, meditatively, "as
one million and a half of roubles."
"Therefore," went on the Duchess Dorote"a,
"when this man is sufficiently revived to travel, I
go with him to Eastern Siberia."
"That will be quite rigolo!" declared the Prin-
cess. "It is mid-winter, and if you don't mind
jolting, kibitka travelling is really amusing. I
quite envy you the journey; my husband is so
terrible a bore just now with his craze of aviation.
He has bought the latest aeroplane from a man who
invented it, and if I am to be made a widow I
should prefer not to see it done !" She added, as an
afterthought, " besides, I love you, my Dorote"a, and
I will not have you venture alone among wolves
and Cossacks and Revolutionaries. So when you
start I accompany you !"
" And I am to be left behind to coiffer Saint
Catherine I . . . Not for a moment," cried Jenny
Trudaine, "do I intend to be left behind ! I have
never yet been bumped in a kibitka over frozen
plains. Besides, I have a quarrel with the manage-
ment at the theatre, or I intend to have, which is
the same thing; and a trip to Siberia will bring
Messieurs to their senses. And if you refuse me as
a companion of your journey, possibly I may blab
DOROTEA ET CIE 137
the secret all over Paris !" She looked very wilful
and wicked and provoking, and her blue eyes
twinkled like stars in frost. "What else could
you expect of the daughter of a femme de
chambre?"
The Princess argued, Duchess Dorot^a ex-
plained. All to no good. Jenny insisted on
going, and she went. The little party started for
St. Petersburg in twenty-four hours.
II.
The railway portion of the journey calls for little
remark. The Princess had with her two gigantic
Cossacks of His Highness's guard as body-
servants and, if necessary, defenders; the Duchess
of Bellaselva brought an Italian of her household,
a hardy Northerner from her own old home, by name
'Tonio Gazzi, the elder son of the peasant woman
who had been her Grace's foster-mother, and who
had charged 'Tonio upon her death-bed to be a
true and devoted guardian to his young mistress.
Markoff Platon, now recovered from his weakness
and exhaustion, and showing a feverish anxiety to
push on, served as guide for the expedition. To
which Mademoiselle Jenny contributed her spark-
ling little personality, a tiny Chinese sleeve-dog
that never left her, and an equally tiny revolver,
charmingly inlaid with platinum and gold.
"You think it too pretty to kill with, eh,
i 3 8 DOROTEA ET CIE
Monsieur?" she asked of Markoff Platon when she
showed it him. It was in the single room of a
miserable one-roomed log-hut posting-house, where
the party had halted to change their wretched
horses, and snatch an interval of refreshment and
warmth, grouped about the battered and smoking
samovar.
"Far from it, Madame," answered the blond
giant. " Is not a lovely woman the most death-
dealing weapon that ever was wielded by the hand
of Fate?"
" That a peasant !" grinned Jenny to herself, as
she fed her sleeve-dog with biscuits she carried.
She glanced at the Duchess Dorot^a, and noted
that the great grey-hazel eyes of the beautiful
woman followed Platon as he rejoined the Cossacks
and the Italian servant at their end of the hut.
They had long left Siberian railways and even
the humble, flea-haunted Siberian inns behind? them ;
the cold was Arctic, and the feathery snowflakes
froze as they fell, for the temperature was forty-eight
degrees below zero. Jenny Trudaine had learned
what the bumping of the kibitka was like, as the
clumsy machine hurtled at the tails of the galloping
troika over the icy furrows of stone-hard snow.
"It is a nightmare!" the Duchess murmured
sometimes, as the deadly stinging cold gripped at
her heart. Once or twice upon alighting she
swooned, and then, thrusting aside those who
crowded about her, Markoff Platon seized her in
DOROTEA ET CIE 139
his powerful arms, shook her, shouted in her
delicate ears, rubbed the lax hands and the sweet
olive-skinned, blue-veined temples with coarse
vodka and snow, and recalled her to consciousness.
" It was madness she ought never to have
come!" he muttered, when at length the lovely
languid eyes unclosed.
" You are not anxious about the Princess or my-
self, it appears?" hinted Jenny Trudaine.
" Her Highness is a Russian woman, and you,
Madame, are hardy as a gamin of the Paris
streets," said Markoff Platon, "while she is an
Italian, who has breathed the balmy air of the
South, and drunk of its sunshine all her beautiful
life, and this icy wind is death to her. I shall
never pardon myself for having let her come !"
"Ah, bah! One can live but once!" said
Mademoiselle Jenny, with a shrug. The shrug
said: "Truly a fine peasant, this with grand
seigneur in every line of his body and every note
of his voice !" Aloud she spoke again : " We are
not far from our journey's end now, you tell us.
After all these dreary, desolate months, that is
something to know. Tell me, these peasants of
Ortai and Litchinsk they do not labour in the
mines in winter? That must be impossible,
surely?"
"They are down in the workings five days out of
the six. They live underground like moles. A
Cossack guard has been set over them to see that
140 DOROTEA ET CIE
they do not escape before the hour when they have
permission to rise to daylight, and the food their
wives and children bring is lowered in the baskets
in which they draw the pitchblende up," said
Platon, with a heavy frown. "So it was when,
eighteen months ago, I left them to bring help. So
it is now, unless they are dead?" He made the
sign of the Cross.
" And Ivana Vassily ?" asked Jenny. The fierce
blue eyes flamed out at her in angry misery. His
stern, white face grew dark with a rush of
blood.
" Hers is a worse servitude even than that to
which her father and her brothers are condemned 1"
he said briefly. "The two Germans at Karbav
hold her prisoner. They are great chemists, you
understand, and the girl is the victim of their
physiological experiments. To gain some accursed
knowledge that they seek, I suspect them of
drugging her, poisoning her, body and soul, with
the radio-active chloride they extract from the
crushed mineral the wretched peasants dig for
them. And Ivana Vassily was an angel to me
when I lay sick and helpless under her father's
poor roof. She was my nurse and my doctor, my
sister, and "
"And lover, perhaps?" thought Jenny. But
she looked profoundly innocent as she asked this
very uncommon peasant :
' What is the ultimate purpose, do you suppose,
DOROTEA ET CIE 141
of the physiological experiments of M. Oscar and
M.Alexis?"
The blue eyes flashed.
" Oscar is an old viveur and rou6, who denies the
existence of God, but would prolong the life He
gave for ever, if it could be. Alexis is a man who
has reached middle-age without ever having lived,
and desires to put back Time, and taste the pleasures
he has denied himself hitherto. They needed a
human subject to experiment upon. Therefore
they kidnapped Ivana, and imprisoned her in their
stone fortress at Karbav."
"And you, who love her," cried Jenny, "let
them take her?"
" And I, who hold her dear as my own sister,
Madame, I fought for her until I was overpowered
by numbers. All the men of the village were at
the mines when they seized her ; only the women
and myself scarce risen from a bed of sickness
were left." His lips were deathly white under the
pale golden moustache. "I followed her to the
stronghold of her captors. I tried to tear the
granite walls down with my bare bleeding hands.
In vain I begged those men to have pity and restore
Ivana to her mother. Then, finding myself help-
less, I said, ' I will journey to Paris and appeal to
the company. If they knew what wickedness their
agents are guilty of they surely would come to
their aid.' And "
"Why not have gone to Petersburg?" asked
I 4 2 DOROTEA ET CIE
Jenny. "The Emperor is more accessible to peti-
tions than of old, since there is a Duma or a
pretence of one !"
Markoff Platon seemed not to have heard.
"He is a noble who has been exiled for joining
the Revolutionary party," said Jenny Trudaine to
herself. And she smiled very sagely as she rolled
her dainty person in her furs for the night's sleep
upon a leather-covered air-mattress in a corner of
the noisy crowded posting-house.
The end of the next day's journey brought them
to a miserable village, consisting of a double line
of snow-covered wooden huts. A few half-starved
women and children were creeping about. It was
Ortai, and some thin spirals of smoke that rose in
the distance beyond a stretch of pine-forest indi-
cated Litchinsk. And a gaunt bare range of hills
to the east, snowy and bleak and desolate under the
young March moon, contained the ancient silver-
workings in whose shafts and tunnels the men of
two villages laboured, in cold .and darkness and
hunger, under the knout wielded by Imperial
authority, vested in the rascally persons of H.H.
the Prince of Sidonia and Herr Alexis Jurnetti,
advocate, of Vienna.
"I have an idea, cherie," said the Princess
Delidoff to the Duchess Dorote"a, as the three
kibitkas containing the travellers and their attend-
ants stopped before the largest cabin in the village,
and a middle-aged, cleanly peasant woman and a
DOROTEA ET CIE 143
young girl rushed out and fell upon their knees
on the snow at the feet of Markoff Platon, sobbing
and blessing him as their deliverer. "It is that
we ought, instead of two Cossacks, to have brought
a hundred. Three women and four men hardly
count against the force M. le Prince and his
partner can marshal against us if they choose. For
they apparently have quite an army of Cossack
mercenaries at their disposal, granted by the
Governor-General of the Province, and "
"And paid out of the million and a half of
roubles about which we were so shy of reminding
His Highness," said the Duchess Dorote"a, drily,
as some carts, laden with loaves of stone-hard,
coarse black bread and little yellow cheeses, drawn
by shaggy ponies, and guarded by fierce-look-
ing mounted Cossacks, rolled by. The men
turned in their saddles and stared at the strangers
who had alighted at Ivan Vassily's wooden
cabin.
"The news will be at Karbav Works before
nightfall," said the wife of Vassily in Markoff
Platen's ear. They stood together in the outer
room where the agricultural implements were kept,
and where the sheepskin shubas hung against the
wall. The ladies were in the inner chamber drink-
ing tea. The girl Tatiana (sister of the lost Ivana)
was with them, spreading their mattresses and furs
about the stove, for the cabin was to be given up
for their occupation.
144 DOROTEA ET CIE
" Have you any news of Ivana?" Markoff asked
the peasant woman.
"She is living. Tatiana has seen her face four
times since you went away at a barred window,
high up in the wall. The last time was the day
before yesterday . She is terribly changed . Tatiana
fell down in the snow at the sight of her. May
God be her help, unhappy child 1 Tell me,
dyedushka, friend of my soul, what you have
planned to do?"
"We drive over there to-morrow, and take the
two men by surprise 1" said Platon.
"You, with these ladies?"
"And the Cossacks, and the other man. The
ladies are the real owners of the Ortai and Litchinsk
mines; they represent the whole Company. These
two Germans are their paid servants, rascals and
thieves, and worse. . . . Well, the rascals will be
detected in their cheat and dismissed ! We shall
turn them out of their stronghold, and recover
Ivana!"
"But have you thought?" The simple peasant
went straight to the point. "There is a proverb :
' When the slave is the strongest, the master is the
slave ! ' What are four men and three women
against all those armed Cossacks that the Germans
have got from His Highness to guard them and do
their will? Suppose they shoot you down like
wolves, then these delicate baruinas, with their
furs and jewels, and their fair faces like the saints
DOROTEA ET CIE 145
in the holy ikons they can do with them what they
will!"
A tremor passed over Markoff Platon. His face
grew haggard, and his blue eyes darkened with
sudden fear. He raised his head, and looked over
the shoulder of Vassily's wife into the great hazel
eyes of the Duchess Dorotea, radiant and calm
under their arching black brows.
"Not while we have our revolvers and can use
them," she said, with her sweet smile. "Made-
moiselle Trudaine is not the only lady who carries
arms."
Markoff took a long step towards the Duchess
and dropped upon one knee at her feet.
" Forgive me, ah ! Madame, forgive me for com-
ing with my prayer for help to your house in
Paris !" he said, hoarsely. " Better that I had gone
to Petersburg, though it meant another prison, a
fresh exile, even death. For I have dragged you
and your companions into danger in the strength
of my desire to rescue Ivana Vassily."
"You love her so devotedly?" the Duchess
Dorotea said, as Jenny Trudaine had done. And
Markoff faltered :
" Madame she she saved my life ! She found
me starving, dying on the tundra. She placed me
on a hand-sledge and dragged me all the way here.
I was ill, almost dying, and she nursed me night
and day. She hid me from the Cossacks who were
hunting for an escaped prisoner."
10
146 DOROTEA ET CIE
"You were that prisoner?"
Duchess DoroteVs face was very pale.
He told all his story in a few words.
" I was Count Platon Markovitch, an officer in
the Emperor's Third Regiment of Guards. I was
falsely accused to my Colonel by a woman who
who wished to be revenged upon me for having
secretly joined the Revolutionary Party. I was
arrested ; there was no trial, only a summary judg-
ment. I was imprisoned at the Fortress of G
for a year, then sent to Siberia. Prison life
maddened me when it tamed others, roused in me
desperate strength where it enfeebled and killed
the rest. I escaped, and Ivana was my guardian
angel."
" Is she beautiful?" asked the Duchess Dorote'a,
slowly.
The great blue eyes that gazed upon her own
exquisite face alone answered. They said :
" I have forgotten since I looked on you I"
III.
Next day the kibitkas, with the three ladies and
their armed attendants, drove to the ancient
Cossack fortress of Karbav, some seven versts from
Ortai.
The fortress was a circular granite wall, pierced
with loop holes for musketry. In the centre of the
space was an oblong stone barrack, with small,
DOROTEA ET CIE 147
heavily-barred windows. This accommodated the
complicated machinery of the refining-works, which
the peasants had set up under the instruction of
the Herr Oscar and the Herr Alexis. A tall
chimney belched clouds of black smoke, and the
deafening noise of a quartz-crushing mill beat
painfully upon the ears. High up in the wall of
the southern end of the building was the barred
window where Tatiana had seen the strange white
face that had dumbly conveyed to her the message
that Ivana was alive.
"But is she still living?" wondered the man
whom she had saved from death. " And if she be,
will she read a truth in my face when next she shall
look upon it that will be worse than death to her?"
The gates of the fortress were thrown open as
the three kibitkas, drawn by their belled troikas
of little, muscular, shaggy horses, approached.
Twenty armed Cossacks of the company, lent to
the pretended managers of the Profitable Uranium
Pitchblende Syndicate by the Governor-General of
the Province, turned out in double file, and divided,
making a lane of fierce faces and bristling beards
and gleaming weapons for the visitors to pass
through.
But the Duchess Dorot^a sat in her kibitka and
did not alight.
"Tell the Herr Oscar that Her High Nobility
the Princess Delidoff, Mademoiselle Jenny Tru-
daine and the Duchess de Bellaselva, representing
148 DOROTEA ET CIE
the governing syndicate and shareholders of the
Company, have come to examine into the accounts
of his management," she said coldly, as a little,
olive-faced, rat-eyed man, heavily wrapped in furs,
appeared upon the threshold of the gate. "You,
I presume, are his friend, the Herr Alexis?"
It was Jurnetti, the Viennese lawyer, who had
deserted his briefs to follow chemistry. Without
disclaiming his alias he bowed low to the ladies,
stretching out his burned and discoloured hands.
" Be pleased, Mesdames, to enter. Our Cossacks
will entertain your followers in their guard-
room."
"Mats, parler clair et net, mon cher Monsieur
Alexis!" said the clear ringing tones of Jenny
Trudaine; "we are not quite so simple as to put
our heads into the lion's mouth. Who knows but
we might vanish as mysteriously as the million
and a half of roubles subscribed by the purchasers
of our first issue of stock at par ! No, no, mon
bon Monsieur! Where we go we are accompanied
by our four bodyguards; take that as sure."
Her light laugh stung a listener. A tall, white-
haired, elegant old man, with chiselled aquiline
features, swathed to the tips of his delicate ears in
splendid sables, appeared in the gateway beside
Jurnetti and bowed low in deferential homage.
"When two of the Graces and the Muse of
Comedy deign to visit these Arctic regions, the snow
melts, the sun shines and the spring hurries to
DOROTEA ET CIE 149
greet them. But even spring in Eastern Siberia
is apt to be nipping. Unless you, Madame la
Princess and you, Madame la Duchess, desire, with
Mademoiselle Jenny, to be frozen stiff, converted
into exquisite statues of ice, with your attendants
and horses, you must take shelter within our walls.
Mesdames, permit that I escort you !" He offered
an arm to the Princess, an arm to the Duchess.
Jurnetti, his black eyes sparkling, extended his
lean elbow to Jenny Trudaine. Followed by
Markoff Platon, Gazzi and their Cossacks, they
entered the fortress of Karbav ; the troikas were
led in after them and the gates closed.
"To keep out wolves!" whispered Jurnetti to
Mademoiselle Trudaine. She gave him a glance of
disdain for his malignant smile.
"The wolf indoors, Monsieur, is sometimes
worse than the wolf at the threshold."
She looked about her with bright, observant eyes.
The inside of the granite-walled enclosure was
littered with huge mounds of blackish yellow stone,
broken small for the crushing mill that reared its
clumsy bulk at the further end under a rude shelter
of planks and canvas. Barrow-loads of powdery
crushings were being wheeled away by a few
miserable-looking peasants of Litchinsk. The dust
of pitchblende made black streaks upon the white-
ness of the snow.
"Ah, bah! we are more pleasant within,"
sneered Jurnetti.
ISO DOROTEA ET CIE
He led Jenny forward, Platon, Gazzl and the
Cossacks following. The heavy timber, iron-
studded doors of the oblong stone building within
the loopholed walls, opened to admit the party.
They crossed a flagged vestibule, a guard-room
upon one side, servants' quarters on the other, and
entered a long room. Heavy beams supported the
rafters above; a huge fire of logs burned upon the
hearth ; a library of works on mineralogy, anatomy,
chemistry and physiology filled low bookcases.
The walls were hung and the boards of the floor
covered with pelts of wolf and bear.
"You will take some refreshment, Mesdames?"
inquired the Prince of Sidonia as he offered seats
to the ladies, and threw more logs upon the roar-
ing fire, and begged them to remove their furs, and
was relieved of his own by the assiduous Jurnetti.
"I thank you, no, Monsieur," said the Duchess
Dorotea. "Our errand is merely to make inquiry
into several irregularities of which myself and other
members of the Syndicate were informed in Paris
recently. First, we wish to know how it happens
that your report as to the non-existence of uranium
pitchblende ore in the abandoned silver-workings
of Ortai and Litchinsk should be so abundantly
contradicted by the evidence of our own eyes?
Secondly, we would, without inconvenience to your-
self, desire to be informed why you, our Perpetual
Grand Chairman, and Herr Jurnetti, who is a life
director of our Company, are masquerading here
DOROTEA ET CIE 151
as ordinary employes, and where you have de-
posited the million and a half of roubles which
were paid in by the purchasers of the first issue of
stock? Finally, we have to request that you will
deliver up into our charge the elder daughter of
Ivan Vassily, whom you abducted from the
dwelling of her parents nearly two years ago. We
know that she is alive," the Duchess added, as the
grey, twinkling eyes of M. de Sidonia sought the
ceiling, and he twirled his white moustache thought-
fully with a beautifully manicured hand.
" Ah, you know that the young woman is alive,
Madame ! Good !" said the Prince, whom we will
no more call Herr Oscar. "Then I will answer
your other questions. Firstly, know that the report
of the non-existence of the pitchblende, reaching
myself and my partner Herr Jurnetti, decided us
upon travelling to Eastern Siberia in the characters
of humble agents of the Syndicate, and satisfying
ourselves of the truth or falsehood of the statement
that had been made. Secondly, we needed money
for the journey, and as the million and a half of
roubles that had been subscribed for working
capital were available, we decided upon employing
them in the purchase of machinery for the develop-
ment of the mineral resources we found, after all,
to exist upon the spot. Thirdly, had you not
answered the question for yourself, I should have
had the honour to inform you that the young
woman in question is perfectly well, quite con-
j 5 2 DOROTEA ET CIE
tented with her situation as housekeeper to two
elderly bachelors of unblemished reputation
"Oh!" exclaimed Jenny Trudaine, as if in-
voluntarily.
"And not at all inclined to relinquish it," M. de
Sidonia ended, smilingly. But his twinkling grey
eyes dealt Jenny Trudaine a look of envenomed
anger.
The actress did not see it. Her gaze was fixed
on Markoff Platen's death-white face and blazing
violet eyes. He leaned against the wall, between
the Princess's Cossacks, and clenched his hands ; his
great chest heaved and his close blond curls seemed
to rise upon his head with rage. Fierce words
would have burst from him, but a look from the
Duchess Dorote"a had silenced them upon his lips.
"Then, M. le Prince, since this is so, you will
permit me, as the deputy representing the girl's
parents," said the Duchess's velvety Italian voice,
" to see Ivana Vassily, and hear from her own lips
her decision to remain with you?"
There was a profound silence, only broken by
the breathing of the people in the room and the
roaring of the fire. It was Jenny Trudaine, that
skilled professional observer, who saw the Prince's
twinkling eyes dart, as if in question, to the crafty
face of Jurnetti. She saw Jurnetti's pale lips shape
the word " No I" She struck in, lightly :
"Christian charity, mon Prince possibly mis-
placed, but Christian charity still having induced
DOROTEA ET CIE 153
Madame la Duchesse de Bellaselva to swear upon
the Ikons to the parents of your young protegee
that she would not leave Karbav without having
obtained sight and speech of Ivana, your refusal
would place our entire party under the unfortunate
necessity of remaining here as your guests for an
indefinite time."
The Prince bowed and smiled.
"You cruelly tempt me to be obdurate. Never-
theless "
"Nevertheless," put in Jurnetti, his parchment
face creased with a mechanical smile, and his round
black eyes furtively watching Dorot^a under their
discoloured lids, "M. le Prince will throw no
obstacle in the way of Madame de Bellaselva 's
desire. She is at liberty to visit Ivana Vassily in
her apartment if she chooses." He drew a sharp
hissing breath, and added: "But she must go
there alone !"
"No!" thundered Markoff Platon. The Prince
of Sidonia, unmoved and smiling, put up a double
eyeglass, framed in tortoiseshell, and calmly in-
spected the speaker.
" We have met this young man before !" he said
to Jurnetti. Then turning to the Duchess, "your
decision, Madame?" he said, smiling again very
sweetly. " My partner has given you the choice !"
"Make an exception, M. le Prince," said the
silvery, ringing voice of Jenny Trudaine. " Permit
me to accompany Madame de Bellaselva."
154 DOROTEA ET CIE
A look passed between Jurnetti and the Prince.
Jurnetti instructed with a glance, and Sidonia
obeyed. " So be it, Mademoiselle," he said, " your
request is granted. Permit me!" He gave his arm
to the Duchess Dorote"a, and led her quickly out of the
room by a door that was near the huge Cyclopean
fireplace. Jurnetti followed with Jenny Trudaine.
As she passed Markoff the comedienne whispered :
" If there is treachery you will hear a revolver-
shot."
"My God!" he muttered, clenching his hands
in agony, as the door closed upon the retreating
jrou-jrou of silken-lined skirts. "How can I wait
how can I wait for that?"
The Prince fell back to admit of the Duchess's
preceding him, as he unlocked a heavy door that
confronted them at the end of a stone corridor.
Instantly Jenny Trudaine stepped past him and
took DoroteVs arm. There was tenderness in her
pale myosotis-coloured eyes, and in the smile that
showed the great actress's pearly little teeth as
DoroteVs warm and affectionate look answered to
the pressure. Sidonia did not see the glance. He
was whispering to Jurnetti.
"Si la corde ne rompre?"
Jenny's quick ear caught the words.
"If no hitch occurs if no accident happens I
Ah, ah ! Messieurs the conspirators are not quite
certain 1" She grinned like a mischievous gamin
as she felt the little revolver safe in its pocket in
DOROTEA ET CIE 155
her dress and the little snake-skin cartridge-pouch
hanging at her waist. She had her Chinese sleeve-
dog under her arm, tucked beneath her cape of
sables. He wriggled restlessly, and seemed afraid.
They went through several huge, bare, unplastered
rooms. A great brick furnace was in the first, and
strange machines for sifting the crushed pitch-
blende, separating the uranium, and extracting,
condensing, and refining the priceless radium
chloride, a pound (avoirdupois) of which costs
'^340,000 sterling to produce, and necessitates the
employment of 1,700 tons of ore for its extraction.
Plans, charts, anatomical drawings, and strangely
shaped vessels of glass were in another room, in
which stood a table covered with sheet lead, beside
which was a curious machine with rubber bands
and pulleys, and belts of webbing, all adaptable
for the adjustment of senseless weights upon that
sinister table.
"Did they lock the door behind them?"
wondered Jenny Trudaine, as the Prince and
Jurnetti rejoined the ladies. She was brave, but
she knew a chill of horror as she noted certain
curious details about the room.
"You have seen our chemical laboratory," the
Prince was saying in his smooth, false voice.
"Now, Mesdames, you behold the studio where
our biological experiments are carried out."
"Biology, I think, is the science of life?" said
the Duchess Dorote"a, abruptly.
156 DOROTEA ET CIE
"But certainly, Madame!" acquiesced Jurnetti,
with a display of his rat-like teeth.
" And vivisection would be more appropriately
named the science of death," pursued the Duchess,
with a shiver, as she looked about her at the cases
of instruments, the bands and pulleys, the strangely
shaped bottles and jars upon the shelves.
" Sapristi " exclaimed Jurnetti, coarsely; "you
don't suspect His Highness of pithing live cats
and isolating the brains of rabbits, and extirpating
the nervous centres in guinea-pigs for the sake of
adding to his knowledge of the glorious human
subject?"
The Viennese spoke with strange heat. An ugly
red light flickered in his bright black rat-eyes.
Jenny Trudaine, looking at him, suspected that
the genius of the lawyer-chemist was allied to
insanity. And she suspected something else.
What if these two men had buried themselves in
this wild and frozen desolation together not
entirely for the purpose of manufacturing radium,
not merely to test its efficacy as a therapeutic agent,
but to prosecute some terrible course of experiment
upon the living human subject, beyond the reach
of civilisation's life-protecting laws?
DOROTEA ET CIE 157
IV.
She had put her tiny finger on the secret, that
even Markoff Platon had not guessed, in its
hideous entirety, even before the Prince of Sidonia
signed to Jurnetti, and the Viennese ex-lawyer,
drawing a strangely-shaped key from an inner
pocket, drew back a leather curtain, heavily
weighted at the bottom, and unlocked a door it
masked. Before them was darkness, velvety, in-
tense. Behind them Jenny and the Duchess
Dorota heard the stealthy closing and locking of
the door. Holding each other's hands, they stood,
not daring to advance upon the unknown, and their
hearts might have been heard throbbing in the
silence, as the voice of the Prince said solemnly
behind them :
"Advance, Alexis Jurnetti, Master of Experi-
mental Chemists ! Supreme Arch-Hierophant in
Biology ! Within this room thou art supreme.
We are but children at thy knees slaves at thy
footstool !"
Someone brushed by Jenny Trudaine in the dark-
ness. She clutched DoroteVs cold hand tightly.
For her life she could not restrain a little choking
gasp of sheer fright. And at that she heard
Sidonia's little whinnying, evil laugh behind her,
and rallied all her powers to fight down fear.
" Zut alors!" she called out in the very accent
of a gamin of her Paris. "Ring up the curtain,
158 DOROTEA ET CIE
will you, Messieurs ! Don't keep us sitting in the
dark!" ,
" Silence !" said the voice of Sidonia behind the
women ; and it shook and quivered in its sup-
pressed rage. "Do you not see that it is getting
lighter? Look straight before you and if you
are wise, Mesdames, do not either of you advance
a step!"
Something glimmered in the blackness. A spot
of brilliance appeared, and seemed to hover; it
might have been twenty feet distant from where
the two women were standing, and at the height of
six or seven feet above the level of the floor.
Presently it was a lambent phosphorescent radi-
ance, not still and coldly white, but throbbing and
pulsating with primary colours, ranging from the
darkest and most vivid violet and the loveliest blue
to pale green, fading to lemon and yellow, flashing
to rose-colour, ripening to ruby-red and ending in
a trumpet-note of orange, round a dark nucleus,
the nature of which it was not at first possible to
define.
" M on Dieu! how beautiful!" muttered Jenny
Trudaine. " But the heat, how it oppresses. Is
there a furnace near?"
The heat was intense, and in the silence it seemed
as if those pulsating polychromatic rays surround-
ing the nucleus of energy gave off a sound like
the fanning of giant wings. And the dark nucleus
began to pale and grow luminous.
DOROTEA ET CIE 159
Now, too, the women were conscious that they
stood upon metal, and that a pale, greyish light
began to emanate from it. Now they saw that the
walls and ceiling of the long room in which they
stood were covered with sheets of the same metallic
substance, emitting the same pale light, and that
there were no windows, only ventilators high up in
the wall.
And they saw that the throbbing radiance had
for its centre the head of a woman. And presently
her face shone out, and it was from that and from
her whole body that the light came.
She sat upon a glass chair with a high back,
against which her head leaned, and with arms on
which her hands rested. Her feet, bare and
beautifully shaped, rested on a glass footstool.
She was as pale as snow, and on either side of the
snow face a plait of golden hair hung down nearly
to the floor. She wore the costume of her province,
but the Ivana Vassily who had succoured Markoff
Platon had never worn rich gleaming silks like
these, or a head-dress and necklace and girdle
sparkling with gold and jewels. Nor had Ivana's
great black eyes ever gleamed with such intoler-
able appalling brightness.
" Sapristi!" thought Jenny, " this must be she
Ivana Vassily ! A la fin vous voila, ma belle, and
what have these two jugglers done to make you
look so ? Almost one could believe that you were
dead, and they had conjured a devil into that lovely
160 DOROTEA ET CIE
body of yours. Else what is it glares out of your
great eyes ? Not a woman's soul 1"
The voice of Jurnetti broke in upon her
thoughts.
"Madame de Bellaselva and Mademoiselle Tru-
daine, you now are in the presence of my adopted
daughter and beloved pupil, Ivana Vassily. Speak
to her, since it is your desire. Ask her whether
she is happy here, and if she wishes to return to
share the poverty of her parents?"
"Speak without fear, I beg of you, Ivana," said
the sweet, trembling voice of Duchess Dorote"a.
And a strange, expressionless, hollow voice
answered her :
" Ivana speaks without fear."
Jenny Trudaine felt the Prince shuddering be-
hind her. A sudden idea flashed across her vivid
little brain. Before Dorotea could speak again, she
interrupted :
"You stand too near your subject, M. Jurnetti.
One has met with hypnotists in one's time. Oblige
by turning your back upon Mademoiselle."
"You are clever, ma belle Jenny!" said the
Viennese lawyer-chemist, with a rasping laugh.
"But not quite clever enough!" He wheeled
round with his back to Ivana, and folded his arms
upon his breast. "Proceed with your questions,
Madame," he said to Dorotea.
The Duchess continued, growing more and more
agitated :
DOROTEA ET CIE 161
"Do you not wish to return to your parents,
Ivana?"
Slowly the hollow answer came from the stiff
white lips that were parted, showing the gleaming
teeth :
" Ivana does not wish to return !"
" Not even to greet Markoff Platon, who
journeyed all the way to Paris to bring help to
you?"
There was a silence that seemed to anger Jurnetti.
Jenny Trudaine heard him draw his breath sharply,
and stamp his foot upon the metal-covered floor.
"Ah-h!" The Prince drew a hissing inspira-
tion. " So we owe your visit, Madame la Duchesse,
to Markoff Platon ? A determined, painstaking
young man. Well, he shall be rewarded! If
Ivana still wishes to marry him, she is free to do
so. My partner consents, and for my part I will
bestow upon the young people a dower of forty
thousand roubles. You are listening, Ivana?"
And he laughed his goatish, whinnying laugh.
"I hear," came the dead, monotonous voice,
"but I do not wish to wed with Markoff Platon.
I remain at Karbav with the Master !"
In the dimness, in which only the face and form
of Ivana showed out dazzlingly clear, with that
coruscating nimbus of coloured rays about the head,
Jenny Trudaine now extricated her little hand from
the trembling grasp of DoroteVs larger one. She
moved to her right, and nearer the wall. Now she
ii
162 DOROTEA ET CIE
could see that a glass table stood behind the glass
chair in which that strange, mysterious figure sat
enthroned, and that a ceaseless stream of brilliant,
effervescing particles, proceeding from an orange-
sized bulb of glass that was inserted in a block of
dull, lead-like metal, supported by the table, cease-
lessly sprayed one can find no better word upon
the back of the head of the seated woman. The
mind of the comedienne was quick in leaping to
a conclusion. Unseen by the Prince or Jurnetti,
she drew a step nearer.
Now she could see that the upper part of the
bulb elongated into a vertical tube, which had a
stop-cock, and a cross-piece bent downwards
towards its end, also controlled by a stop-cock, and
terminating in a smaller bulb, supported between
the padded jaws of a kind of metal vice. And the
whole apparatus, on its stand of polished glass
behind the glass chair which supported the motion-
less body of the Russian girl, reminded Jenny
Trudaine of something she had seen in the lecture-
room of the greatest of French demonstrating
chemists. Unnoticed she drew her dainty little
revolver and cocked it. The tiny click attracted
the attention of the Prince of Sidonia.
"What was that?" he cried angrily, "return to
your place, Mademoiselle Trudaine. Do not
advance a step nearer, on peril of your life !"
The sharp crack of a revolver answered Sidonia.
The glass globe behind the head of Ivana flew into
DOROTEA ET CIE 163
fragments that were scattered with a tinkling sound.
Jurnetti screamed out shrilly with a horrible oath.
Instantly the room was plunged in darkness, and
with the darkness came the heavy concussion of
something heavy and inanimate falling on the
metal-covered floor.
" Sacrebleu! She-devil of the coulisses, you have
ruined all !" snarled Sidonia. And the clear ring-
ing voice of Jenny answered back defiantly :
" Zut alors, mon viellard! Did you think to take
us in with a deception like that ? Tell yonder dead
woman to speak now, and see if she will answer
you ! Ah, bah ! stupid that you are !"
There came with the actress's silvery laugh of
mockery, a beating on a distant locked door, and a
heavy crash as it was broken in, and the rush of
men's heavy footsteps across the laboratory and
the experimenting-room, and a ripping sound as
they tore away the leather curtain, and there was a
thunder of axes and rifle-butts upon the metal-
lined door that the Prince had locked and bolted.
" Dorote'a !" shouted the voice of Markoff Platon.
"Dorote"a!"
" He does not think of me !" flashed through the
mind of Jenny Trudaine. Then a hand passed over
her shoulder from behind and covered her mouth,
and a sharp, icy pang of anguish pierced her
bosom. It was like being burned with a hot iron
between the left shoulder and breast, and the
revolver fell from her hand.
164 DOROTEA ET CIE
"A parting gift, Mademoiselle!" said Sidonia's
voice. He laughed his little hateful, whinnying
laugh. Then footsteps crossed the metal floor. A
whiff of icy-cold air came upwards as a trap was
lifted, and fell an instant later with a heavy crash.
And then the door that the rescuers assailed gave
way to their united efforts.
"Stand back !" cried the voice of Markoff, as a
central panel crashed in and pale daylight came
through with the clutching hands that wrenched
and tore the gap yet wider.
" Dorot^a, are you there? Speak to me,
Dorot^a ! Bring torches quickly ! All here is
dark ! Ah, speak to me, Dorote"a, for the love of
heaven I"
He saw her. She was bending over Jenny
Trudaine, supporting the slight figure in a sitting
posture. The fair, waved head of the comedienne
lay helplessly on her breast ; a warm stream trickled
over the hand Dorote"a clasped her with ; her breath
came in long gasping sighs.
"Answer him, ma belle," the weak voice
whispered. " He only asks for you !"
* * * * *
They bore the dying actress from that sinister
room, and took up the body of Ivana Vassily,
which, now that the strange artificial life main-
tained in the brain-centres by the constant emana-
tions from the radium-salts the shattered bulb had
contained had been withdrawn, presented the
DOROTEA ET CIE 165
appearance of a corpse long dead, clad in poor and
shabby peasant clothes, and placed it in a rudely-
improvised wooden coffin for transport to her home.
The Prince and Jurnetti were nowhere to be found.
The Cossacks of their guard, in default of orders,
made no attempt to detain the party. The name
of the Princess Delidoff had overawed them, and
when her Highness undertook to answer to the
military governor of the province for their fidelity
and good behaviour, and sprinkled gold upon them
from her well-filled purse, they were even content.
Jenny Trudaine died before daybreak. No
surgeon, even had a skilful one been at hand, could
have staunched that inward bleeding of the wound
the long, needle-sharp dagger had dealt her.
Whether her murderer had been the Prince of
Sidonia or the lawyer -chemist, Jurnetti, she
resolutely refused to say.
"My mother was a femme de chambre," she
whispered to the Princess, with the ghost of her
old gay laugh upon her white lips. " But her
daughter can keep a secret."
She lay silent a little while, her hand in Dorotea's.
"Ma belle, I may be presumptuous things will
be so soon over, "she said. " I know that you love this
brave gentleman, Count Platon Markovitch, and,
believe me, his whole heart is yours. In gratitude
he would have married the poor Ivana, who saved
his life. Count it to him for virtue, that even when
he knew that another was the mistress of his soul,
i66 DOROTEA ET CIE
he left no stone unturned to save her poor victim
of those strange and terrible experiments. Well,
she will rest in peace in her cold grave now, and
I Mon Dieu, how I suffer 1 ' '
She lay scarcely breathing after the sharp agony
passed. Then the white lips moved again.
"Monsieur Platon."
"Call him!" whispered Dorote"a ; and the Prin-
cess rustled softly to the door. He came and knelt
beside the bed of planks and cushions, and touched
with his lips the little white hand that could shoot
so straight with the revolver, and Jenny's turquoise
eyes opened and looked into his that were like dark
sapphires under his broad fair brows. And she
laughed a little silvery chime.
' ' Mon ami, I always said you were too well-
bred for a peasant. You have suffered much, but
happier days will dawn for you. Her Highness
will obtain your pardon from the Emperor all
will be well!" The turquoise eyes were full of
terror. "Who spoke outside? They have
captured the Prince? They will tell them I said
it was not murder I Tell them to let him go !"
The Count soothed her, telling her that the
Prince and Jurnetti had escaped, with all that
was left of the million and a half of roubles, but
that the store of radium the shattered bulb had
contained, and which had been accumulated by
incessant labour during the confederates' two-
years' residence at Karbav, had been gathered from
DOROTEA ET CIE 167
the floor of the experimenting-chamber, and would
probably recoup the loss of the Syndicate when sold
in Paris.
"Let my share be given to the poor," gasped
Jenny.
She was suffocating. The strong arm of Platon
Markovitch lifted her. Her dying head lay on his
broad breast, her hand in DoroteVs.
"That is better. Thanks. Give me a little kiss
when I am dead. My friend Dorot^a will not be
jealous. For I knew that he would murder me for
what I meant to do. Yet I did it all the same."
Her silvery laugh tinkled faintly close to his ear.
" Noblesse oblige. For my mother was a femme de
chambre, 'tis true, but my father was a Prince!"
said Jenny Trudaine; and died as bravely as any
legitimate daughter of the old heroic, noble house
of Sidonia !
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP.
I.
THE interior of the Widow Gammon's modest two-
roomed dwelling, was remarkable solely for its
strong family resemblance to the interiors of the
irregular parallelogram of cottages, similarly built
of mud and rubble, that faced each other across the
Goose Green of Long Dittoes, in the county of
Berks. The dresser boasted, it may be, a gaudier
array of "fairings" in juxtaposition with its
dangling rows of household crockery, the cooking-
utensils in the stall beneath were a shade less sooty,
the Windsor arm-chair displayed a chintz-covered
cushion of similar pattern to the design of the petti-
coat flounces tacked over the shallow double-case-
mented window, and the high mantelshelf above
the narrow cooking-range, the pewter plate and
mustard-pot, and the two brass candlesticks that
flanked the white-faced clock upon the mantelshelf
were polished, as befitted family heirlooms, and the
high-backed wooden settle, the seat of which con-
cealed a box for the concealment of extra bedding,
was shiny as beeswax and turpentine could make it.
Left of the range, a doorway without a door revealed
the lower rungs of a ladder-stairway leading to the
1 68
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 169
garret where Mrs. Gammon was engaged in clean-
ing; the whitewashed boards forming the ceiling
quivered on their worm-eaten joists beneath the
widow's ponderous tread.
The white-faced horologe upon the mantelshelf
had emitted a rattling noise preparatory to strik-
ing, when the church-tower clock chimed the open-
ing bars of "Abide with Me," dropping some
notes, and slurring others, and whanged twelve
strokes. Simultaneously a sunbonneted shadow
fell across the geraniums and calceolarias that were
ranged upon the window seat, and Absalom Penny,
who was seated on a three-legged stool at the corner
of the kitchen table, gloomily eating bread and cold
bacon with a clasp-knife, from the advertisement-
back-sheet of The Sunday Intelligence, reddened,
bolted a mouthful only partly masticated, and
choked self-consciously.
But the shadow was withdrawn, and Absalom,
removing the paper cork from a flat tin bottle that
stood at his elbow, had time to interpose the bottom
of the vessel between his blushes and the entering
visitor, before the door-latch jerked up and a fresh-
complexioned, red-haired, rather sharp-eyed young
woman of seventeen, known to Long Dittoes as
" Wilkes's Susy," appeared upon the worn stone
threshold against a background of August sun-
shine, blooming lavender-bushes and flaming holly-
hocks. The sunbonnet she had removed dangled
from the plump pink ringers of one hand, the other
170 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
hand supported a marketing-basket with two
handles and a broken lid.
"So there you be, Absalom Penny," said Susy
Wilks the visitor, with ironic emphasis, "and no
wonder you baint able to look I in the face !"
Absalom Penny's possible retort was lost in
the depths of the tin bottle. When finally he
emerged from behind it you might have seen him
as a weedy, high-complexioned, narrow-shouldered
young man of eighteen, with tow-coloured hair and
round pale eyes, garbed in earth-stained corduroy
trousers and a calico-sleeved waistcoat, the jacket
appertaining to these garments having been re-
moved for coolness, and hanging from a nail at
the back of the door. He was further distinguished
by an aggressively large and clean shirt-collar of
the obsolete Gladstonian brand, and a voluminous
spotted neckcloth of extinct sporting fashion, the
ends of which hung loose over the sleeved waist-
coat, and intercepted his food on the way to his
mouth, as he cut and chewed his bread and cold
bacon, staring gloomily at the newspaper, with a
clumsy pretence of being absorbed.
" Absalom, don't you hear I ?" said Miss Wilks,
after a pause of dreadful duration.
"Noa!" said Absalom, breathing heavily. As
Miss Wilks regarded him with scorn, thrice-re-
torted, he took refuge among the advertisements.
"'Is Your 'Ouse'old Plagewed by Rats?'" he
spelt out ; " ' Put down V-i-r-i-n-e and be Free from
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 171
the Pest. 6d. a packet. Cheap at the price.' I
wunner if th' stuff 'urts much to take?" he added,
darkly conscious of the contemptuous stare that
raked him. " But wuther it dew or wuther it
doant, sixpence a packet be too dear for me!"
"Abey!" was uttered in a voice that might
almost be described as coaxing.
" ' Why Live when you can be Buried for Three
Pounds Ten by The Eco-nom-ical Funerals
Company?'" read Absalom, conscious that Susy
had entered, shutting the door firmly behind her.
He broke into a clammy perspiration even as he
wiped his clasp-knife upon his paper tablecloth,
shut the knife, swept up the crumbs of the meal
into his palm and swallowed them, returned the
knife to his trousers pocket, crumpled the greasy
newspaper into a ball, pitched it under the grate,
and elaborately became aware of the visitor upwards
from her thick-soled, lace-up boots to the well-
filled black stockings that merged in a pink print
frock covered with a bibbed apron. Something in
the rounding contours revealed by the bib weakened
his grim determination, the little hollow in the
creamy -pink throat under the pointed chin
swallowed up the last of his strength. He un-
hooked his jacket from behind the door and
doggedly thrust one arm into a sleeve, but he was
failing, and he knew it, as Susy demanded :
" Abey, you're not a-going to pretend as you
doan't know whv I be here?"
172 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
She waited, with blazing blue eyes nailed upon
Absalom's. He drove the other arm into the
jacket-sleeve and mumbled shamefacedly :
"To see your Aunt Sarah Gammon, o' course !"
He pulled an old-fashioned copper powder-horn
from his jacket pocket, shook it at his ear and
thrust it back again. Then he picked up a flag-
basket from the chimney corner and topped him-
self with a well-nigh crownless straw hat. In the
act of taking an old muzzle-loading sporting gun
from the corner where it leaned beside the back
door he stole a glance at Susy, and saw her apron
at her eyes.
"I doan't want Aunt Sarah," faltered Miss
Wilks. Was she really crying? " 'Tis you I be
come to ask a question of." She added, as
Absalom removed his fingers from the gun-barrel
and dropped the flag-basket in confusion : " What
I wants to ask ye is be this tale true?"
" Wut tale?" mumbled Absalom guiltily rolling
his eyes about the kitchen. They lighted with
relief on the tin bottle and a brown teapot that
stood upon the corner of the stove. " Wut tale?"
He began to refill the tin bottle from the teapot,
adding, as a brown puddle spreading upon the
sanded brick floor about his boots testified to the
unsteadiness of his hands : " 'Ow do I know wut
kind o' tale you means?" In his desperation
he strode to Mrs. Gammon's corner-cupboard,
wrenched it open, and with the boldness of despair
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 173
dropped ten or twelve lumps of sugar into the tin
bottle, and rilled up with milk set by for the widow's
tea. "Theer be tales an' tales all diffrent!" he
said gloomily, and drove the bottle-stopper home
with a blow.
"This one," retorted Miss Wilks, fixing his
whirling eyes with her own relentless orbs as she
dropped her marketing-basket on the brick floor
and folded her arms upon her heaving apron-bib,
" I have just heerd at Simmon's, the grocers, when I
went up-along to buy mother half a pound o'
Liphook's Luscious Tea." She continued with
compelling energy: "Answer I plainly, Abey
Penny. Be you a-going to marry my Aunt Sarah
Gammon or baint ye?" She unfolded her arms,
clenched a pink fist and thumped it smartly on the
table. "Answer me if you never tells the truth
no more ! ' '
"Susan Wilks, I be!" shouted Absalom, with
unexpected force and loudness. The sound of his
own voice encouraged him, and with clenched fist
he thumped the table until the tin bottle fell over
on its side. "Now you knows, wut ha' you got
to say against it?" he went on defiantly, stowing
the bottle in the flag-basket, and hitching the strap
about it.
"Say against it!" shrieked Susy, goaded to
frenzy by this callousness, "why, that Aunt Sarah
Gammon be over sixty, an' 'tis child-stealin' for
her to marry wi' a lad as young as you ! A birdin'
174 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP,
boy, at nine shillin' to week, what her took in as
parish boarder when you was nine year old ! Why,
she did ought to think shame o' herself, an* so
ought you, Abey, Absalom so ought you 1"
She sank into the slippery embrace of an
American cloth-covered armchair and burst into
loud sobs, as Absalom hardily shouldered the
flag-basket and took the gun from the dresser-
nook.
"Say wut you likes," he told her, hardily.
"I've got no time for argeyin' wi' little gells."
"An' me same age as you, ail-but a year!"
screamed Susy, indignantly.
"Look now!" said Absalom, patronizingly,
"what iggerance you be showing! Baint I your
uncle or as good?"
"Not you, nor nothing like it!" returned Miss
Wilks, stung beyond endurance. " My uncle were
the late Mr. Ezra Wilks, Aunt Sarah's first
husband. Why, I wouldn't have you for an uncle,
not at a gift!"
" All same, I shall be your Aunt Sarah's third
husband an' your uncle by marriage come Wens-
day next," said Absalom, still more hardily. In
another moment a lump came into his throat and
warm salt water brimmed over his eyelids. He
leaned the ancient muzzle-loader against the wall
and stealthily wiped away the betraying tears with
the back of his hand. Susy was crying really now,
if she had feigned previously.
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 175
"Oh, Abey ! Abey!" she sobbed, "however
could you go to do it?"
Absalom Penny stared before him, blinking.
"I dunno," he began, and pulled up. "Ay, I
do know," he began. His eyes blinked more
rapidly, and his mouth worked. "You wouldn't
'ev me, so I throwed meself away !" He collapsed
heavily on the stool and dropped his head on the
tabl^e with a bang, lifted up his voice and wept.
" Ow, ow ! Hoo-owhoo !" he blubbered. " You
you wouldn't 'ev me, so I've throwed meself
away ! ' '
"Don't cry so, there's a dear!" pleaded Susy,
dropping on her knees beside the artless mourner.
"You 'adn't got nothin' to marry me on if I'd said
I'd take ye, had ye now? An' mother be under
Aunt Sarah Gammon's thumb, an' Aunt wanted
ye for herself, seemin'ly. Blow your poor nose,
Abey, dear, an' tell how the old cat got over
you?"
But the voice of Absalom Penny's sorrow could
not be stilled immediately. It may be mentioned
that from the moment of Susy's entrance certain
protesting creakings and groanings of the garret
floor-boards, due to the overhead movements of a
ponderous unseen body, had ceased, as though the
conversation previously recorded had possessed
some interest for the ear of a conjectural personage
above. Succeeding a heavy double bump, and
a faint sort of shambling, heavy and somewhat
i;6 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
asthmatic breathing could now be heard in such
relation to the kitchen ceiling as to suggest that
Mrs. Sarah Gammon was listening above.
II.
"You wouldn't 'ev me " Absalom was be-
ginning for the third time, when Susy literally
stopped his mouth with a loud smacking kiss.
"I will 'ev ye! There now!" she uttered, reso-
lutely.
" An' git me away from Missis Gammon ! So
cruel fond of I as her be ! You'll niver do it
niver!" said Absalom, wagging his dismal head.
" However did she win ye over? Tell your own
Susy!" whispered Miss Wilks, in whose bosom
curiosity strove with jealousy.
"You'll niver be my Susy, but I'll tull ye. It
beginned," said Absalom, "wi' my legs a-gettin'
tew long for th' settle, theer."
"You sleeps on settle?" queried Susy, putting
her face close to the young man's.
"I does when I doan't fall off," said Absalom.
"An* seein' my legs kip gettin' longer an' longer,
says Missis Gammon to I o' Sat-day night : ' You
be growin' quite a tall young man, Absalom
Penny,' says she. 'You'll be fain to take an' git
wedded one o' these fine days,' she says. ' No-a,
Missis Gammon,' I says, 'I shan't niver leave ye
to git wedded.' ' Trewly now,' her says ; ' an' bain't
you a bit sweet on some young woman ?' ' No-a,
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 177
Missis Gammon,' I answers back ; ' Young wimmen
I 'ates like pisen, an' that's the mortal trewth !
Especially the slim-Jiggered, red-'aired, blue-eyed
kind.'"
" Oh, you wicked story !" exclaimed Miss Wilks,
removing her head from the shoulder of the
narrator to shake it indignantly.
"You'd said that very evenin', back o' your
feyther's barn, as wut you wouldn't 'ev me "
Absalom began.
"I knov. Go on, there's a dear!" begged the
remorseful fair one, hastily wiping away the tears
that had begun to trickle down the young man's
countenance. "Tell us what Aunt Sarah said
when you said you know !"
" She says : ' Well, to be su-er ! You do surprise
me, Absalom Penny, as thowt blue 'air an' red
eyes red 'air an' blue eyes, I mean ! was your
weakness, if any.' ' Noa, Missis Gammon,' I
says to her, ' Young wimmin o' the red and blue
and pinky-white kind I never could stomach no
more than pill-stick and blackjack, an' rather than
marry one of they wipers, I'd up an' take an'
marry YOU !' "
Miss Wilks removed the arm that had become
entangled with her waist in the course of the narra-
tion, and sitting back upon her heels, regarded
Absalom with a circular stare, as he continued :
"Says Missis Gammon, a smiling all over her
face, like : ' So that's why I sawed three magpies
12
178 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
yestiddy. Well-a-well ! I knowed theer sartinly
'ud be a weddin', but niver did I dream it 'ud be
mine. An' ' she says, ' Me bein' an independent
widder wi'out incumbencies an' you an orphan wi'
no relations,' says her, 'the sooner Vicar ha'
preached us two into one flesh, the better.
Banns,' she says, 'bein' but another word
for bein' made game of by a pack o' gigglin'
young hussies an' grinnin' young foo-uls.' An'
so she tells I as we're to be wed by licence
an' she takes me Post Office Bank book out o' th'
tea-caddy an' makes me draw out all o' me one
pound fifteen shillin' wut I've saved out o' me
earnin's to buy the blistered licence wi' !"
Susan uttered a stifled exclamation and sprang
to her feet. Standing over the dismal Absalom
she commanded, loudly :
"Tell her you won't have her, licence or no
licence."
There was an awful pause, only filled by the loud
asthmatic breathing of the unseen eavesdropper.
Then said Absalom weakly :
" ' Tull 'er I wun't 'ave 'er !' . . . But she'll be
so mad as niver ! Why, her be up-garret to-now,
shortenin' Gammon's Sunday trowsies fur me to
wear o' Wen'sday, when we're wed."
"Drat Uncle Gammon's Sunday trowsies!"
burst out Miss Wilks, indignantly. "Thankful
to git out o' wearin' 'em, that's what you ought
to be. What collar is that you've got on ?"
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 179
"It be," replied Absalom, "one o' your Uncle
Wilks's dickies."
"I thought I knowed it," commented the late
Mr. Wilks's niece. "Be it comfortable?"
"Noa!" replied Absalom.
"Well," said Susy, with bitter emphasis, "the
collar you're going to stick your silly head into
come Wednesday '11 gall ye a long sight more than
that." She tied on her sun-bonnet with a quiver-
ing lip ; picked up her marketing-basket and went
to the door. " Good-bye, Abey Penny," she said,
at the threshold; "I'm beginning to believe there's
another reason back o' this than my having said
to ye I wouldn't 'ev ye till you'd saved summat
tow'rds 'ousekeepin.' Ah ! an' pre'aps two
reasons, an' might be three !"
" Wut be they three reasons, seemin'ly?" asked
the stupefied Absalom.
"This cottage an' garden freehold for one,"
screamed Susan shrilly from the threshold.
" Rights o' grazin' on th' common for a cow, makes
two, an' a hunnerd-an '-twenty pound in the County
Bank, three, as I'm a living sinner!"
"By jings!" shouted Absalom Penny, his
dolorously drawn-down mouth widening into a grin
of rapture, "I niver thinked a thought on that.
All I'd in my mortal mind were th' 'owd gun
theer." He pointed exultantly to the ancient
muzzle-loader leaning up against the dresser, and
Susy exclaimed in astonishment :
i8o THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
" You must be cracky. Marry Aunt Sarah Gam-
mon for the sake of Muster Gammon's old gun 1"
" 'Ow does I get me livin', seemin'ly?" asked
Absalom.
Susy answered coldly :
"Weedin' wheat and swede an' taturs an'
gatherin' twitch, but mostly by bird-scarin."
" Can you scare birds wi'out a gun ?" demanded
Absalom, eliciting the sulky admission :
"Not proper, you can't."
" Ah ! An' wheer were I to buy another gun
supposin' Missis Gammon had got mad wi' me for
up an* sayin' as I didn't want to marry her?"
"You throwed yourself away for th' gun then,"
said Susy icily, "and not along o' me. Good day,
Master Penny. You an' me ha' done wi' one
another !"
"Indeed, Miss Wilks, and have us?" said
Absalom, in a mincing tone, screwing up his
mouth. Next instant the sound of a smart slap
reverberated through the kitchen.
Absalom dived in the direction of the slapper,
and catching her as she jerked up the door-latch,
strove to exact in payment for the stinging patch
above his jaw the saccharine tribute of a kiss.
As he desisted for lack of breath for Susy
resisted vigorously heavy footsteps overhead made
the planks of the ceiling quake upon the joists that
bore them, and the voice of Mrs. Gammon cried
from the stair-top :
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 181
" Abey Penny, who be you a tellin' wi' down-
along in theer?"
III.
Upon the face of Absalom, now bleached with
sickly terror, a flaming patch bore witness to the
virgin strength of Susan's arm. The Adam's apple
in his long throat jerked as he stammered :
" Noabody, Missis Gammon, but Wigget th*
knife-grinder as looked in for a job."
" Tull he theer be nort for him !" said the voice
from the stair-top; "an' fill th' tea-kittle!"
"Ay, Missis Gammon," returned her miserable
thrall.
As the widow's elephantine footsteps retreated
from the stair-top, and Susan, nodding, made
another feint of departure, Absalom gasped, with
a weak clutch at the hand that had cuffed him :
" Wait on ! I wants to speak to ye !"
" I can't," said Miss Wilks, with a dreadful air
of briskness, "I wants to fare up-village and buy
mother her pound o' tea. Besides, I promised Bill
Hickson I'd walk out wi' him this evenin,' soon
as I'd settled it to-rights about you an' Aunt Susan,
and I've a new 'at to trim by then."
"Don't ye 'ave nort to do wi' Bill Hickson!"
gasped Absalom, "don't an' I'll do it as suer as
death!"
"You mean you'll tell Aunt Sarah you bain't
i82 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
goin' to marry her?" demanded Susy, with
promptitude.
" Ay !" said Absalom, fetching a deep breath.
"Then I won't walk out along wi' Bill Hickson
this evening," said Susy, permitting her deepest
dimple full play.
" An' you will 'ev me ?" stipulated Absalom.
" I will when you've told Aunt Sarah what you're
going to," said Susy relentlessly. "Git on an'
tell her now ! Shout it to 'er up th' ladder. Come
on, why don't you begin?" she added, scornfully,
as the unhappy Absalom squared his narrow
shoulders, thrust out his lower jaw and struck an
attitude of determination, belied by his deadly
pallor and the knocking of his knees. "You're a
great big cow-erd, that's what you are !"
The wretched youth strove to reply, but the ceil-
ing quaked again, and his feeble utterance was
drowned by the voice of Mrs. Gammon.
" Abey Penny, Abey!" she cried, " baint you
iver goin' to git along back to the field?"
" E'es, Missis Gammon !" piped Absalom, in the
voice of a six year old.
" Joe Widgett !" shouted the widow.
"He 'ears ye, Missis Gammon !" lied Absalom.
"Tull Mm to drop in at Thomas Trudgett's,"
said the voice of Fate from the ceiling, "as ye go
along-up village, an' tull Thomas the good news
about you and me ! An* bid him gie Muster
Trudgett my complemends, as I'll be main pleased
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 183
if he'll drop in this evenin' an' drink a cup o'
tea!"
"I'll tull he, Missis Gammon," said Absalom
feebly.
His whirling eyes lighted on Susy, who seemed
to be performing a kind of red Indian war-dance,
clapping her hands in dumb show and nodding
violently. The thought that frustrated passion
might have unbalanced the seat of reason had
hardly occurred to him before she rushed at him
and put her mouth to his ear.
" Abey, you silly gaby," she whispered ex-
citedly, "I've found out Aunt Sarah's motor. No,
don't gape at me. I don't mean the kind o' motor
that makes th' dust an' kills th' dogs, but the other
sort as makes people do queer things. An' Thomas
Trudgett be Aunt Sarah's motor or my name's not
Susan Wilks!"
"Owd Tom Trudgett. . . . Why, wut "
Absalom was beginning, when the slow dawn of
an idea glimmered behind his round pale eyes.
"O' course," he said slowly, "all th' folk in Long
Dittoes do know as Trudgett ha' courted Missis
Gammon on and off, by an' by times, fur more
than thirty year."
"That's it," panted Susy; "an' so mortal slow
were Trudgett, that fust Uncle Ezra Wilks got in
an' got 'er after courtin' her six years, and then
Muster Gammon, he cut in an' got her after wait-
ing on 'er for fifteen. Gammon he've bin dead
184 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
nine years, an' Trudgett be no forrader than he
were at th' beginning. So I shouldn't wonder but
you're a-goin' to git 'er, unless Thomas steps in !"
"I doan't want to git 'er!" said Absalom with
rebellious loudness.
"You will if you don't watch out sharp," said
Susy, at the front door. "Strike a blow for
freedom, Abey, an' remember to strike hard !"
She really went away this time, because with
attendant groanings and crackings of the staircase-
ladder, a pair of stout feet clothed in extra-sized
list slippers, and furnished with ankles resembling
stockinged sofa-bolsters, had appeared upon the
upper treads. These extremities gradually lowered
the bulky person of the widow Gammon into view.
You beheld the widow as a short, bulky, red-
faced woman of some fifty-nine summers, with little
sharp grey eyes, features of no known order of
architecture, a bay-coloured front of hair in strik-
ing contrast with the back part, which was of in-
determinately greyish hue, and enclosed in an aged
black chenille net, not innocent of grease. She was
upholstered rather than attired in a black and
lavender flowered print gown, a checked apron of
voluminous size covered a white one invariably ex-
posed for callers, and she carried under her left
arm a pair of black cloth trousers of vast dimensions
and old-fashioned make, and in her right hand a
formidable pair of scissors.
" Were that Widgett popped out front door as I
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 185
corned down-along?" asked the widow as she
landed her list slippers on the rag mat.
"O-ay, Missis Gammon," said Absalom, un-
candidly. The widow gave him a sharp glance,
and said, looking towards the window :
" 'E must find a cotton sunbon.net a nice protec-
tion to 'is 'ead this warm weather." She added,
as the stricken youth's jaw fell at this potent thrust :
"You sims to be gittin' nicely over your 'atred for
blue eyes an' red 'air !"
" O-ay, Miss Gammon! I means no-a, Missis
Gammon !" babbled the stricken young man. He
covered his confusion by shouldering the flag-
basket and taking the gun from the dresser-corner.
" If ye please, Missis Gammon, I be goin' back to
th' wheat-acres," he mumbled, with averted
eyes.
" Lucky I ain't a jellis nater like pore Wilks and
pore Gammon," sighed the widow, removing a
large brass pin from the bodice of her gown and
beckoning the reluctant youth to approach. " Come
here and let me pin on these an' take your measure
before you goes, Abey. Turn yer back, wull ye !
Ah, dear ! Too long by a foot they be, and that
wide 'tis wonderful," she murmured, holding the
garments against the small of Absalom's back and
estimating with a discontented eye that ample
length that trailed upon the floor. "You'll niver
be so fine a man as were Enery Gammon, Absalom
Penny, not if you lives to a 'underd. Well, well I
i86 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
I 'ope I shall be 'appy !" said Mrs. Gammon, and
drove in the brass pin.
"Owch!" squeaked the sacrifice, prancing in
torture.
" Wut be wrong wi' ye?" said the widow acri-
moniously. "You be so ock'erd as a colt in a
medder, bye !"
" Plaize, Missus Gammon owch 1 " pleaded
the sufferer, " theer be summat sharp owch
owch ! runnin' into me back like !"
" Drat the bye !" ejaculated the widow, pettishly.
" Why didn't ye up an' say so before?"
" Plaize, Missis Gammon " began Absalom
earnestly.
" Owd yer tongue, wull ye ! " snapped the irascible
Mrs. Gammon. "Noa," she soliloquised as the
elderly will, earnestly considering the late Mr.
Gammon's discarded integuments, "to cut 'em 'ud
be a sin ! 'Sides noabody do know when a bye
like you '11 stop growin'. I'll turn they trowsies
up from the bottoms inside," she added, suiting
the action to the word, and taking more brass
skewers from the front of her bodice. "I'll pin
'em an' tack 'em, an' if you feels a bit too over-
dressed about th' feet at fust, you'll soon git used
to it. Wun'tye, bye?"
" Ay-a, Missis Gammon!" acquiesced Absalom
hopelessly.
"Ah well!" said Mrs. Gammon, repeating her
former aspiration, " I 'ope I shall be 'appy 1" She
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 187
drew the chintz-cushioned Windsor chair towards
the window, took a large brass thimble and a reel
of strong black thread from her pocket, and a formid-
able darning-needle from her bodice-front, seated
herself and prepared to sew. " Git along to your
work," she said, as she bit off a length of thread
and stabbed it at the needle; "and as you pass by
Thomas Trudgett's cottage, gi' him Mrs. Gammon's
complemends an' say I'll take it as but neighbourly
if he'll drop in an' drink a cup o' tea. For I'll lay
that pert wench Susy 'ud niver gi' th' messidge."
"E're be Mister Trudgett comin' now," said
Absalom staring. He held the unlatched door wide
open and pointed to a well-known figure in the act
of advancing down the front garden path between
the lavender bushes, gripping in one gnarled and
brown right fist a knobby blackthorn stick of
formidable dimensions, and dragging with the other
hand a red-faced and unwilling captive. . . .
"Wut be Thomas bringin' that wench Susy
Wilks in along-o' he fur?" inquired Mrs. Gammon
acidly, as she slipped off her checked stuff apron
and revealed the white one sacred to company.
She added, with a coquettish glance at the matronly
reflection presented in the shiny surface of a copper
warming-pan : " Be my 'air pretty tidy, seemin'ly,
Absalom?"
"Ay ! Missis Gammon, "said Absalom, atthedoor.
" 'Ev ye eyes i' your back then, gaby?" snapped
the widow.
1 88 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
"Ay, Missis Gammon!" faltered Absalom, re-
tiring behind the door in an agony of appre-
hension as Thomas Trudgett rapped upon it
with his stick, thrust it strongly back against
the wall, and exclaimed in a loud, gruff, hearty
voice, familiar to the echoes of Mrs. Gammon's
dwelling :
" Be ye to-home-along, Sarah Gammon, I say?"
IV.
The ancient wooer of Mrs. Gammon had been
gardener to the late squire of Long Dittoes, and
though now retired upon savings, augmented by
the Old Age Pension, was still in request as a
jobbing man. You saw him as a lean, hale,
Roman -nosed, weather-beaten septuagenarian,
standing about six feet in his old-fashioned country
highlows. Bushy grey-black side-tufts of coarse
hair peeped from under a prehistoric white felt
stove-pipe. His narrow twinkling eyes, shaded by
bushy black and white eyebrows, were set in a
walnut-brown mask of wrinkles; he wore a spade-
shaped beard beneath the chin, and a coarse red
and white cotton neckerchief twisted in a strangle-
knot round the collarless band of a shirt of blue
ticking. His nether limbs were clothed in proof
armour of corduroy, his waistcoat was of the same
indestructible material ; his double-breasted blue
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 189
cloth coat possessed a full set of polished brass
buttons, and in an earth-brown right hand he
grasped the knobbed blackthorn previously referred
to. The other hand still towed behind him the
flushed and unwilling Susan Wilks.
"Come in, come in, Muster Trudgett," said
Mrs. Gammon hospitably. " You're main early for
tea-time, but kindly welcome all same. Sit ye
down, do!" She relinquished the Windsor chair
in favour of her visitor, and added, wakening the
sulky fire with an attenuated kitchen poker: "So
you've heerd th' news, seemin'ly?"
"Up to tap o' th' Pure Drop," said Trudgett,
pulling Susy forward, "where I looks in for th'
pint o' four-arf as I 'as arter dinner. Comin' out
I meets wi' the blooshin' bride-to-be. Wheer be
Absalom ! Her towd I Abey were heer-along."
His small twinkling eye lighted upon the shrink-
ing form of Absalom. "Why, theer he be,"
bellowed the jovial visitor, " hidin' behind th' door,
seemin'ly. Come out, sonny, come out ! I wants
to wish ye joy like. She's young an' so are you.
All th' more time fur courtin'. Buss her, Abey
lad, buss your bloomin' bride-illect, or you'll force
me to do it for ye !"
"I've tulled ye, Muster Trudgett, I bain't no
bloomin' bride-elect ! I wouldn't 'ave Abe Penny,
not if 'e was 'ung with dimonds !" protested Susy,
scarlet to the roots of her hair.
"That's what all the wenches do say," said
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
Trudgett cheerfully, taking off the tall white hat
and producing from it a red-spotted handkerchief,
" Buss 'er, Abey I Dod gass it, bye, why d'ye
hang back?"
"As I doan't want to buss 'er, please Muster
Trudgett," faltered the unhappy Absalom, acutely
conscious of the widow's eye.
" An' a good job you don't," said Mrs. Gammon,
transferring her reproachful gaze to Thomas
Trudgett, who was polishing his head and mopping
his face and wiping his neck with the red-spotted
handkerchief, to an accompaniment of such noises
as are associated with the toilet of a horse. "You
as be to stand up wi' I afore Vicar come nex'
Wen'sday, an' swear to love an cherish till death
do us part."
"Phew! Dod gass it! what be ye talkin'
'bout?" exclaimed Mr. Trudgett, dropping the red
pocket-handkerchief into the depths of his tall hat,
and elaborately rounding his principal features into
an expression of stupefied surprise.
" Wut I've told ye all along, you stoopid old
hammer-'ead !" burst out Miss Wilks, in shrill pro-
testing tones. " 'Tis Aunt Sarah Gammon Absalom
Penny be goin' to marry, an' I wishes 'er joy o'
the gaby, that I dew."
"As I'll thank you not to becall your Uncle
Penny," said the widow, trembling with indigna-
tion.
"I don't want no sick scarecrow for an uncle,"
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 191
retorted Susy, whose cup, long full, had now run
over; "nor no more would you for a 'usband if
there was a man to be 'ad !"
"The ockard young vixen!" gasped the irate
Mrs. Gammon, as the door slammed behind her
niece's retreating skirts. "Well, Thomas, you
knows th' truth now, an' I'm sure I 'ope I shall be
'appy !" She continued, as the kettle she had set
upon the range began to simmer: " Abey Penny,
you git along to field, as ain't wanted 'ere."
" A-ay, Missis Gammon!" said the miserable
slave, picking up for the fourth time his bag, and
taking the late Mr. Gammon's old muzzle-loader
from behind the door.
"Now no stoppin' to play marbles, or spendin'
money on Mother Smiley 's brandy-balls," snapped
the widow.
" I can't," retorted Absalom, turning, as even
the trodden-on worm is said to do, "you takes all
o' my wage for lodgin* an' victuals !"
"An' thank your stars I does," said Mrs.
Gammon sternly. " Who'd wash and cook fur ye
if 'twarn't I?"
" Dunno, Missis Gammon !" mumbled Absalom,
retreating.
"Hoy!" cried Thomas Trudgett, as the back
view of his fortunate rival presented itself to his
view. " Dod gass it! wut's the bye dranglin'
be'ind?"
"You, Penny! Stop!" cried Mrs. Gammon,
i 9 2 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
pursuing her retreating victim into the garden.
"You be carryin' off Gammon's Sunday trowsies 1
My 'eart alive!" she panted, arresting the hope-
less footsteps of Absalom and retrieving the
garments, "bye, you be little bettter nor a
foo-ul!"
" Sin' you fare to think so, Missis Gammon "
began Absalom, with a desperate effort, " may-
be " Meeting the widow's steady stare his liver
turned to water. His Adam's apple jerked, and his
pale eyes bolted from their sockets. He gulped
and said no more.
"Maybe wut?" asked Mrs. Gammon icily.
"Seemin'ly, Missis Gammon " gasped the
quailing Absalom.
"Seemin'ly wut?" demanded the widow.
" Nort, Misses Gammon!" said Absalom hope-
lessly, and slouched down the garden-path and out
at the gate. His betrothed looked after him with
an enigmatical expression, sniffed and returned to
the house.
"You was always such a man for your tea as
niver," she observed smilingly to her guest as she
entered. " I'll fare to lay the cups to-once, seein'
kittle's on th' bile."
She moved about, briskly enough, considering
her years and proportions, spreading a coarse white
cloth on the company end of the red-legged deal
table, setting out two blue breakfast cups, a home-
made loaf of pale greenish hue and astonishing
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 193
weight, a pat of fresh butter and a glass pot of
gooseberry jam. Thus she moved, and the twink-
ling eyes of Thomas Trudgett followed her, as he
sat well forward in the Windsor chair, with his
earth-brown hands upon his knees. As she ladled
the tea into the carefully-warmed pot he sighed
like the exhaust-valve of a road-engine. Thump-
ing a fist upon the table until the cups clattered in
their saucers, the gardener exclaimed :
" Dod gass it, Sarah I You be lost to me
again !"
" Ah !" said Mrs. Gammon looking into the tea-
pot, perhaps in search of the years that had fled.
"An* whose fault be that, Thomas?"
"Lost to me!" continued the gardener, as one
absorbed in retrospection. " For the third time i'
thirty years !"
" Ah !" said Mrs. Gammon again, going to take
up the kettle. " Drat it !" she cried, " all th' water
be biled away I That gaby Abe niver filled it arter
all my tellin'. Well, well," she continued, with a
leniency due to the presence of a rival, "byes will
be byes, as the say in' is."
"An' gells will be gells, an* wimmin wimmin,"
interpolated the gardener reproachfully. He added
with an unsubdued twinkle, and a clearing of the
throat that began as a chuckle: "Just as I were
a-comin' your way-along, slow but su-er, as my
manner be."
"So you say," retorted the widow, bridling,
13
194 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
"but," she added, filling the kettle from a bucket
with a dipper, "yours be a slug's courtship,
Thomas Trudgett, an' 'ev bin from the fust."
"Slow but su-er!" repeated Trudgett cheerily,
as Mrs. Gammon replaced the refilled kettle on the
fire, and, pending the water's boiling, sat down in
the other Windsor chair, and began to tack up the
turning at the bottom of a trouser-leg. " Slow but
su-er!" the gardener continued; "an' I be wuth
waitin' for, I mid tell ye. A fine, bold, 'earty man
o' my years. Eh, woman, eh?"
He broadened his chest, squaring his elbows, and
the widow sighed as she regarded him.
" I doan't go for to deny it, Thomas. Well,
well, I 'ope I shall be 'appy !" she said, dolorously.
"An' so do I 'ope it, Sarah," said the gardener,
largely, " though to be plain wi' ye, if I drawed my
last breath this minute, you've gaped at the camel
an' swallowed the gnat."
" Meanin' Abe Penny," said Mrs. Gammon,
back-stitching. "Ye do see, Thomas, as Abey be
a single orphan, wi' nobbody to fend for he, an'
I be sim'larly a double widder wi'out a man to
carry coal, or dig in gardin' or clean pigstye an'
so it come about."
"Talkin' o' pigstyes," said Trudgett, with
interest, "how be your pig?"
"Never better i' his life," said Mrs. Gammon,
clinging to the thread of her discourse, " as true as
I be sittin' here, shortenin' Gammon's Sunday
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 195
trowsies for Absalom to marry me in come Wen's-
day. It'll be a quiet weddin', Thomas, by licends,
as ye've heerd, an' when Vicar hev' preached our
two fleshes into one, us'll walk to th' churchyard
an' look at th' 'lotment wheer pore Wilks an' pore
Gammon be a-lyin' side by side wi' my little bit
between 'em." The pathos of this causing the
widow's tears to flow, she murmured, wiping her
eyes with Gammon's discarded integuments : " For
Absalom woan't 'ev me always, Thomas, it bain't
i' human nater ! I've promised him, if he's a good
lad, as 'e shall lay acrost our feet !"
"Come, come!" said the gardener, encourag-
ingly.
"Well, I 'ope I shall be 'appy," continued Mrs.
Gammon, unbosoming herself at the touch of
sympathy. " But theer's a cloud to every silver
linin' an* that theer Absalom's appytite be mine.
'E throws 'isself on a slack-baked quartern like a
hogrey. An' as for cold bacon "
"Talkin' 'bout bacon minds me, Sarah "
began the gardener.
"But if 'e thinks," said Mrs. Gammon, "to git
luckshuries wi' me 'e'll find 'isself mistaken.
Dumplin' afore meat, is wut my 'usbands 'ev allus
'ad, an' margarine 'thowt butter, or lard. It stands
to reason "
"Hem hem!" coughed Trudgett, shuffling his
highlows noisily upon the sanded brick floor and
getting up; "touchin' on lard putts pig i' my
ig6 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
'ead. Till kittle biles up I'll fare to 'ev a look
at 'e."
"If you dew," said Mrs. Gammon, dropping
the late Mr. Gammon's trousers, and rising in
majesty, "it'll be over my dead corpse!"
" Dod gass it, woman ! wut be wrong wi' ye?"
exclaimed the backward wooer in elaborately-
feigned astonishment.
* ' You be wrong wi' me, Thomas, ' ' said the widow,
shaking her head at him. " 'Ev'nt pigs come be-
twixt you an' me, ah ! an' from the werry fust?"
" Pigs be my fancy," said the gardener
stubbornly, "an' that I don't deny!"
"An* well I knows it to my cost!" said the
widow, reproachfully. " Poor Wilks tokened me
more than thirty year ago, while you an* pore
feyther was argey-bargeyin' over a litter o' suckin'-
pigs. An' fifteen year later, pore Gammon 'e
stepped into pore Wilks's shoes while you was
settin' up o' nights wi' your gre-at black sow."
Tears began to run down Mrs. Gammon's large
countenance. "An" now, nine year from," she
wailed, "another pig steps in an parts us. O,
dear ! it be enough to break a body's 'art, it be I"
"Tsch, tsch ! Come now," said the gardener
soothingly, "ye doan't mean to up an' call
Absalom Penny a pig?"
" Noa !" sobbed the widow, "but I could find it
in my 'eart to call summun else one !"
"Meanin' me?" suggested Trudgett, drawing
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 197
nearer to the agitated widow, and winking in his
characteristic manner as he patted her on the back.
"Come, come, Sarah," he urged, "you knows if
I 6e a slow man I be a su-er man, and I've allus
meant to wed ye one o' these fine days."
"Then tek Wen'sday," said the widow plumply,
"whether 'tis fine or whether it bain't."
" Dod gass it, Sarah !" growled Trudgett, "what
a mortal hurry you're in. Can I snitch ye out o'
Abey Penny's jawses, at th' last minute, seemin'ly ?
Why, wut 'ud Vicar say to that?"
" I'll tull ye wut 'e did say," said Mrs. Gammon,
visibly brightening, "when I tooked Absalom an'
the licends an' showed en to he. 'Ye be aweer
Missis Gammon,' says Vicar, 'as this be a
pecooliar bis'ness. The male contrackin' party be
a legal hinfant an' the female contrackin' party be
over middle age. Wut do th' bye's parints an'
garjins say to sich a onion?' Then I ups and
minds him as Absalom Penny hev'nt got no
parents an' I be th' only garjin' 'e ever 'ad, 'cept
th' Parish. ' An ' wut 'ave ye to say to this, my
lad?' asts Vicar o' Absalom, an' Absalom 'e drops
'is jaw an' gapps at Vicar wi' his mouth wide open.
' 'E niver were one to say much,' says I to Vicar,
' 'tis a owd 'ead on young shoulders.' Says Vicar :
' An* as though one owd 'ead on young shoulders
wasn't enough, Misses Gammon, you be a-goin' to
putt another owd 'ead theerl' Now wut did th'
man mean ?"
i 9 8 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
The eyes of Trudgett twinkled more and more,
and a mirthful convulsion, beginning at his legs,
agitated his vast waistcoat and the ends of his
neckerchief before a tremendous "Haw, haw,
HAW 1" escaped his grinning mouth. " Dod gass
it!" he roared, slapping his thigh with a report
that rivalled the detonation of a fog-signal, " 'Twere
your owd 'ead as Vicar meaned . . . haw, haw 1
Well, I never!"
"Thomas Trudgett," said the widow icily, " you
best go an' see th* pig. His be the com'ny ye be
best fitted for!"
"Maybe, maybe," said the gardener getting up,
" but I've known ye think different. Why what
an ock'ard woman you be. Wut be matter?"
"The matter be," confessed the widow, "that
the names i' th' licends bain't filled in on 'count o'
Vicar's scruples. ' Take three days to consider on
it,' says he, 'Missis Gammon,' he says, 'an' bring
the bye up to Vicarage arter tea o' Monday. Or
maybe, Missis Gammon,' says 'e, 'a more suitable-
aged partner. Anyhow,' he do say, ' us'll leave it
till then.' An' by th' look in his holy eye, too
reverend to be a wink, yet not far off of it, I seed
as plain as plain could be, as Vicar were thinkin*
o* you."
"Nort *e!" said Thomas Trudgett, reaching his
tall stove-pipe hat from the top of the chest of
drawers, and taking his blackthorn from the
chimney-side. " Nort a bit of it ! Take my advice,
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 199
Sarah, as is friendly given, an' lay on the bed
you've made for the third time. Marryin' be a
sollim thing."
"And buryin* be a sollimer," retorted Mrs.
Gammon. " You'll be berried afore you're married,
an' so I tull ye plain."
"Nort a bit, nort a bit," opposed the gardener
cheerfully. "I be a slow man an' a su-er man,
an' though I wouldn' wish no ill to that pore pup
Abey Penny, in twenty year or so, if you've luck,
you may git I for your fourth." He added, as
simultaneously with the boiling of the kettle the
loud and angry grunting of a pig made itself heard
from the rear of the premises: "Your pig be a
bit shurT, seemin'ly. 'As 'e 'ad 'is swill ? Noa, for
theer's his bucket standin' nigh th' back door. I'll
feed he while you wets th' tea, an' be back by time
'tis drawed."
He caught up the bucket and vanished through
the back door. More grunting was succeeded by
a squeal or two, then came silence.
Mrs. Gammon took the brown teapot from the
range, and emptied the tea-leaves it had contained
into the ashes. As she put in fresh tea from the
brown canister, somebody thumped heavily on the
front door.
200 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
V.
"My 'eart alive, girl!" cried Mrs. Gammon,
dropping the teapot-lid into the steaming pot as
Susy Wilks re-entered without ceremony. "Wut
have ye come for, scarin' I to death ?"
*' I've come to ask ye a plain question," said Miss
Wilks, firmly placing upon the table the market-
basket she carried. "Answer as if you was lyin*
an your dyin' bed. Which o' they two do ye favour
to marry?"
"Trudgett o' course, if I could git he," replied
Mrs. Gammon shortly, setting the tea on the range
to draw.
"An* 'spose I 'elped you for to get him," asked
Susy, "what would you give I?"
" 'Pends wut you wanted," returned her aunt.
" Wut do ye want ?"
" Absalom Penny !" stated Susy promptly.
"I wunner at your taste, I do," said Mrs.
Gammon, slicing bread from the household
boulder.
"You was willin' to take Abey yourself, I
reckons," said the niece, with acrimony.
"Maybe so an' maybe not," replied her aunt,
with unexpected placidity.
"But s'pose Abey didn't want to take you?"
suggested Susan.
" 'E'd 'ev to," said Mrs. Gammon, with brevity,
" whether he wanted or didn't."
2OI
"Woan't you be jellis of a husband so young-
like?" queried Susan eagerly.
"Jellis of a bye what I've cuffed th' 'ead of sin'
*e were nine year old ! Nort likely. An' what I
clings to is the knowin' as Absalom woan't be
jellis o' me. He be too young, an' soft, an'
back'ard. Now pore Wilks he wouldn't ha* let
me look at th' moon if he could ha' helped it,
because folk tell theer be a man in it, an* pore
Wilks were nort to pore Gammon. As for ragin',
ravin', tomcat jellisy, that theer man were a fair
masterpiece. Fill the sugar-bowl from th' cup-
board canister while I go call Muster Trudgett."
She hurried to the rearward door, opened it and
called her niece to her side to witness the spectacle
of the pig-lover hanging over the side of the pig-
stye, rapturously contemplating its porcine occupant
as he noisily sucked down his swill. "Thomas !"
she called, and receiving no answer : " Drabbit the
man," she snorted angrily, "I'll 'ev to go an shake
he, theer's no 'elp else."
Susan set back the tea, now in process of being
overdrawn, and helped a struggling fly out of the
milk. "Why can't I get Abey out o' his muddle
as easy?" she muttered, contemplating the rescued
insect. " Better be dead than mis-rable I reckons,"
she added, unreflectingly inverting the metaphor,
and promptly decapitated the sufferer with the
handle of a spoon, as the lank-haired head of
Absalom Penny, in a nimbus of ragged-brimmed
202 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
straw hat and a garotting collar, rose over the
hedge of flourishing geraniums and calceolarias
that excluded light and air from the dwelling-room.
He whistled cautiously, and Susan jumped, saying,
as she caught her breath :
" O, Abey ! what a start you did give me !"
" Wut say? 'ev'nt ye had noa luck?" asked
Absalom.
" Noa !" said Susan, "you'll 'ev to stand up wi'
she before Vicar o' Wednesday unless you can do
one thing."
" Wait on. I be a comin' in." Absalom's head
disappeared from the window to reappear crown-
ing the entire personality of the hero of this rustic
love-drama. "Now wut be I to dew to git out o'
marryin' Missis Gammon?" he demanded, putting
down his flag-basket and the gun, and presenting to
the observation of Miss Wilks an aspect of deter-
mination hitherto foreign to him. " Quick, say now,
while I feels the power of it. Fur I've found a
threepence goin' up village, an' dang me if I 'ev'nt
spended every martel penny o't in Mother Smiley's
strongest brandy-balls an' sucked 'em all up.
Leastways, all but four." He exhibited the
delicacies.
" I be ashamed of ye," said Susan, secretly admir-
ing the prodigal ; " but do you reckon you could be
jealous of Aunt Sarah?"
"Jellis o' Mother Gammon?" asked Absalom,
grinning. " Love-jellis, d'ye mean ?"
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 203
" I mean that jealous as you couldn't abide her
to look at the moon," said Susy, "because folks
say there's a man in it. Regular raging tomcat
jealous. I believe if you could pretend to be, an*
do it life-like, Aunt Sarah wouldn't have you arter
all."
"It be worth tryin'," pondered Absalom; "but
how be I to begin ?"
It was now Susy's turn to ponder.
" If you could manage," she said, presently, " to
look like the gentleman in last week's number o'
the Penny Romancer I've got here." She con-
tinued, taking a much-thumbed novelette from her
pocket and unfolding it : " He's a nobleman born,
wi* a coronet an' a castle, an' a lady-love, an' a
wicked rival what steals Lady Imogene's 'eart away.
See 'im threatenin' to shoot 'is rival wi' a pistol
in th' picter on the cover. Look!" she added,
prodding at the page with a pink finger. "That
be the Countess Ermyntrude, the other young lady
what loves him trewly, beggin' him on 'er bended
knees to yield Lady Imogene to 'is rival, for her
sake."
"Could ye carry on like 'er, d'ye think?"
suggested Absalom.
"I lay I could," said Susy. "Here be Aunt
Sarah an' Trudgett as smilin' as two baked apples.
Come along o' me !"
" Wut for?" began Absalom.
"I'll show you wut for," whispered Susy, seiz-
204 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
ing him by the jacket and dragging him unresist-
ing, towards the front door. The kitchen of the
cottage was empty when its mistress and her ancient
suitor returned, and sat down to tea.
*' You'll take a drop o' rum i' your cup, I know,"
said Mrs. Gammon at a later stage of the banquet,
reaching a green bottle from the corner-cupboard
and fortifying Trudgett's tea. " An* another lump
o' sugar?" she added, tenderly.
"Smile on it, Sarah," said the gardener, "an*
one '11 be enough."
"Dear, dear!" said the widow, sighing, "you
be main complemendery all of a sudden. Take
another bit o' cake, you allus praised my bakin'.
Wut part of a pig did you say you favoured?
I'll be killin* come September, ye knows."
" Gammon !" said Trudgett, swallowing a wedge
of home-made cake, and twinkling at the widow
tenderly.
"Ah, deary me!" sighed Mrs. Gammon, pour-
ing rum into her own tea, and sipping it with a
pensive smile.
"Don't be down-'earted, you," said Trudgett,
spurred by Jamaica to the point of declaration.
" You'll git me yet, I tull ye ! Fur I loves ye, Sarah
Gammon, like the apple o' my eye."
Mrs. Gammon must have started in the act of
drinking, for the tea seemed to go the wrong way.
As the widow set down her cup and coughed, and
Thomas Trudgett patted her on the back, with the
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 205
usual exhortations, the face of Absalom Penny,
its features contracted into a murderous scowl,
appeared over the geraniums and calceolarias on
the window-sill. Next moment a gun-barrel was
thrust over the flowery hedge, covering the un-
conscious couple at the tea-table.
VI.
"Cough it up, Sarah," urged the gardener. " It
mun be a currant, seemin'ly, or a bit o' candy
peel."
" 'Twas wut you said !" gasped the widow. "'I
loves ye, Sarah Gammon.' Oh, Thomas Trudgett,
ye've got it out at last ! ' '
"I'm a slow man but su-er," said the kindled
Mr. Trudgett, drawing his chair nearer to the
widow's, and enclosing a portion of her waist in a
proprietary embrace. "I've bin a comin' this 'ere
way for thirty year, an' now I've got thereat last I"
"Take another drop o' rum!" cooed Mrs.
Gammon tenderly.
" 'Tis settled," said the gardener, reaching for
the bottle; "Trudgett be your fourth name, as sure
as eggs is eggs!"
"You surely means my third?" cried the dis-
appointed widow.
"Your next after Penny," said the gardener.
" Dod gass me ! wut be that ?"
His eyes rounded and his jaw dropped as he
206 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
became aware of the levelled gun and the scowling
face behind it. He pushed back his chair as though
to rise, altered his mind and dived beneath the
table. Mrs. Gammon uttered a faint shriek, and
faltered :
"Thomas, Thomas, be you gone daft?"
" Noa, 'tis the bye !" said the cowering Trudgett.
A crash of falling flower-pots followed. Absalom
Penny, in contempt of the existence of the door-
way, was getting in at the window.
" Abey Penny," shrieked Mrs. Gammon, " what-
ever be you at?"
"Sarah Gammon," announced the desperate
young man, " at last I be up to ye !"
"Putt down that theer gun, lad," urged the
gardener, from under the table. " It be dangerous,
do ye hear?"
"Not arf so dangerous as 'twould a bin," said
Absalom, malevolently, " if I'd a 'ad real shot or
bullets to load it wi'. But maybe a brace o' brandy
balls'll about do your job."
He levelled the weapon, with a murderous glare,
and the terrified Trudgett, hastily quitting his
sanctuary beneath the table, got behind the widow.
"'Ark to 'im, the wicked young criminal!" he
gasped. "Kip in front of I, Sarah, or theer'll be
bloodshed!"
" 'E must ha' bin drinkin'," said Mrs. Gammon,
behind whose solid proportions her menaced suitor
cowered.
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 207
"I 'ev'nt bin drinkin'," said Absalom, loudly.
" Wut I do thirst for be that owd villin's blood."
" Kip i' front of I, Sarah," piped Trudgett, in
thin, shaking accents. "Why, wut in the dod-
gassed world 'ave I done to ye, Abey bye?"
" Wut was ye doin' just now when I pipped in at
winder while back?" demanded Absalom, showing
his teeth savagely. "Makin' love to my young
woman, as I be to wed o' Wen'sday. Deny it if
ye can ! ' '
Miss Susan Wilks, enjoying the drama from an
ambush outside the window, clapped her hands at
this. Mrs. Gammon, staggering back on the waist-
coat of the gardener, ejaculated in genuine alarm :
" My 'eart alive, if the bye bain't jellis !"
" Jellis," echoed Absalom, lowering the gun and
regarding the widow with a vengeful expression :
" Ay, an' wi' good cause, I reckins. You flirty
female, bain't you 'shamed o' yourself? As I'll
swing for ye, Sarah Gammon, I tull ye I I'll swing
for ye yit, if ye drives me to it !"
"An* me owder than your pore mother!" cried
Mrs. Gammon, in astonishment.
"You doan't mean wut you say, Abey!"
quavered the terrified gardener, coaxingly.
"I does," asserted Absalom Penny, bumping
the gun-butt on the floor, loading with another
brandy-ball and ramming the projectile home with
a wad of brown paper. " I means to swing for
both o' ve!"
208 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
"This comes," shrieked the widow, "of givin'
ye butcher's meat 'o Sundays. You've bin livin'
too 'igh, an' gittin' rumbuckshus. An' sure as my
name's Sarah Gammon, nort but dumplin's, an'
they patient feariocious foods is wut you'll git,
arter to-day."
"You fergits, my gell," said Absalom, sneer-
ingly, "as wut your name'll be Penny an' not
Gammon. An' I shall be your lord an' master, an*
wut I says I will 'ev, 'ev I will !"
"Then let me tull ye, you impident young
varmint," cried the dauntless Mrs. Gammon, "as
you'll niver 'ev me!"
" Doan't putt he out!" begged Trudgett from
behind. "See 'is finger on the trigger L"
"Say th' word, Missis Gammon!" ordered
Absalom. "Tell as you'll gi' me up, an' fare to
wed wi' Trudgett!"
"Her can't unless I'll 'ev 5 er," interposed the
gardener. "An* I woan't!"
" Wut say, Thomas?" exclaimed the scandalised
widow.
"Doan't ye interfere 'twixt man an' man," said
the gardener distantly. " Abey bye, I wouldn't take
'er away from ye not for nort you could name !"
Absalom Penny lowered the gun, which had
begun to make his arms ache, and regarded his
elderly rival with a ferocious stare.
"An' wut were ye doin' when I looked in to
winder?" he demanded.
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 209
"Nort," said the pacific Trudgett, "but tullin'
her I'd fare to be her fourth, if ye was to be called
afore her, Absalom, son."
He reached his tall white hat from the top of the
chest of drawers, and put it on, grabbed his black-
thorn stick from the corner by the chimney, and
with something between a skip and a slide, reached
the front door and pulled it open, to be confronted
with the person of Miss Susan Wilks, who had
foreseen the strategem.
" Doan't leave I aloan wi' this savage young
draggin, Thomas!" entreated Mrs. Gammon.
"Can't interfere wi' lovers quarrels," said
Trudgett, basely. " Day-day 1"
"Stop as a witness to wut I 'ave to say!"
commanded Mrs. Gammon. "Susy, gell, 'old th'
door an* doan't let 'im by ! Abey Penny," she
continued, addressing the uxorious Absalom,
"you be as jellis as Wilks an' Gammon together,
an' I woan't marry ye, so take an' gi' I up."
"It ain't to be doed, Missis Gammon," said
Absalom fiercely. "You be too 'andsome, first
an' last."
" Drat the bye !" exclaimed the widow.
" I be in love wi* ye !" said Absalom, languish-
ingly, looking at the home-made cake, of which a
goodly wedge remained.
" You'll git over it," said Mrs. Gammon. " Tull
'im so, Susy, theer's a good gel I"
"You'll git over it, Abey," said Susy.
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
" Ay, you'll git over it !" put in the gardener.
" I shan't, Muster Trudgett," returned the youth,
despondently; "I shall take an' blow me brains
out, that's what I shall !"
"You woan't git over that, I reckins," said
Trudgett, cheerfully. "Still 'tis your affair, not
mine, so blow, bye, blow !"
"Back o' barn 'ud be a better place," said the
-widow, stopping her ears with her apron. "Mind
ye doan't mess my clean floor, no more than ye can
*elp!"
"Be that yer last word?" asked Absalom,
sternly.
" Gi' my kind love to Wilks an' Gammon an'
tell 'em you mid ha' bin my third, but that th'
"rangements was altered," amended Mrs. Gammon.
But Absalom lowered the gun-barrel and sadly
wagged his head :
"The magistrates 'quiry an' th' crowner's
inkwiss '11 cost ye a mort o' money," he said,
despondently. " Look-a-now, you'll hev' to pay
th' hire of a pony-trap to Mudleyford."
" It'll be a jaunt for me, Abey," said the matron,
consolingly, "an' I can do some shoppin'."
"An" parish'll bury ye. Theer now!" said
Trudgett. " Look alive, bye look alive !"
In contemplation of the obligation to carry out
his threat, Absalom Penny became of a ghastly
tiue. Fortunately the womanly wit of Susan Wilks,
spurred by The Penny Romancer, came to his aid
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 211
at this juncture. Stepping forward, she said, in
the imagined accents of the Countess Ermyntrude :
"Absalom Penny, I blush for ye 1 Be a man.
Abandon the idear of imbrewing your 'ands in the
gore of another. Conker the desprit passion that
genaws your vitals. Give this fair girl," she indi-
cated the astonished widow, "to 'im she loves, an*
shed upon your path in life the blessin' of two
grateful 'earts made one. Or, if a 'uman life must
be shed to gratify thy vengeance, let it be mine!'*
She struck an attitude and concluded :
" Absalom Penny, I will be thy bride !"
" Dod gass it, that be th' thing!" exclaimed
Trudgett. Approaching the bewildered Absalom he
deftly relieved him of the late Mr. Gammon's gun,
and clapped him heavily on the shoulders.
" Take 'er, bye, take 'er !" agreed Mrs. Gammon.
"I'll bring over 'er mother, you needn't 'ev no fear
o' she !" Why, wut be you makin' faces over now ?"
" I wun't 'ev Susy Wilks !" protested Absalom.
"Her be main slimmish an' young-like alongside
of ye, Missis Gammon. An' I nobbut could wed
a gell wi' that red 'air an' those blue eyes wi'out I
'ad Gammon's gun along wi' her."
"I'll gi' ye th' gun," said Mrs. Gammon, re-
luctantly.
"She'll give you th' gun, Abe," echoed Miss
Wilks.
"Then you ha' got th' cottage an' garden," con-
tinued Absalom discontentedly, "wi' money in
212 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
bank an' rights o' common grazin'. ' Tis a poor
kind o' swop, wi'out a bit in hand."
" I'll gi' Susy five good suv'rins," said the aunt,
"paid down after th' weddin'. An' I'll gi' ye the
licends too, Abey, wut costed I one pound fifteen."
41 Wut costed Abe one pound fifteen, you mean,
seemin'ly," suggested Susy.
"What costed I " Absalom was beginning,
when the widow interrupted.
"An* I'll throw in Gammon's Sunday trowsies
wut I've shartened for ye. An' you can be married
in 'em o' Wen'sday all to-same."
"Done wi you then!" said Absalom, slapping
his leg and winking at the radiant Susy. "You
wouldn't 'ev me, so I've throwed meself away !"
"Well, I 'ope you'll be 'appy !" said Mrs.
Gammon, plaintively.
" Buss the gell an' seal the bargain !" bellowed
Thomas Trudgett, cheerfully.
"Ay, kiss an' strike nan's," Mrs. Gammon bade
the couple, who dabbed at each others' faces
awkwardly, as she continued to Susy : " Reach me
down my Sunday 'at an' cape from top shelf in
cupboard, an* go along wi' Abey to th' Vicar's,
d'ye hear? Me an' Muster Trudgett be comin'
along behind ye." She added, pinning on the hat
and taking a venerable green cotton-covered sun-
shade from its nook in the dresser - corner :
"They'll need us to speak for 'em, Thomas, both
bein' legal hinfants."
THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP 213
" Dod gass it, Sarah! I hain't none o' their
relations," began the gardener, when he met the
widow's eye.
"You will be, soon, I reckons," she said, with
such determination that Trudgett's legs gave way
beneath him and he dropped into the Windsor
chair. " Don't tull I ye bain't ready, for your hat
be on your headpiece, an* you've got your stick
ready i' your hand." She added, rinsing her cup and
her guest's and pouring liberally into each some-
thing from the green gilt-labelled bottle: "Take
a drop more rum before you go, it'll clear your
chest for wut you've got to say to Vicar." She raised
her cup and smiling fatefully, clinked it against
Trudgett's. " Good 'ealth I" she said, and drank.
" Good 'ealth !" grunted Trudgett.
"An* kind love!" said the widow, smiling
genially.
"I'll gi' ye a toast like," said the sluggish
wooer, after a moment's cogitation : "It bein*
settled right an* tight betwixt us as I'm to be yer
fourth 'usband, here's to the third, an' may he
soon come an' soon go !"
He was about to empty the teacup when the firm
hand of the widow arrested him.
"You'll be the next, or nought, I reckins. So
come along to Vicar an* put up th' banns."
A moment the second teacup hovered in the air.
Then Thomas Trudgett tossed off the dram,
smacked his lips, and set the cup down.
214 THE SLUG'S COURTSHIP
"Well, well !" he said, drawing a long breath,
"I 'ope I shall be 'appy ! Dod gass it, Sarah, I
allus knowed you'd git me one o' these days !"
He submitted stolidly as Mrs. Gammon arranged
his neckerchief, took him by the ears and imprinted
a kiss of proprietorship upon his leathery counten-
ance. Then he got up. The widow tucked his arm
beneath hers, and led him towards the door.
THE EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
OK AN AUTOMOBILE.
I.
I WAS not a big automobile, you must know not
of the type of those huge, twenty-two horse-power r
four-cylindered modern machines, whose dust is that
of a battery of artillery at full trot, and which may
be heard coming full fifteen minutes before the
huge, unwieldy bulk, winking with polished metal
and aggressive with glaring enamel, hurtles by. l f
who am twenty years old, only fit for the scrap-heap,
was made by an English firm, one of the best, to
the order of Royalty. I had a twin -cylinder
motor of eight horse-power, with an atmospheric-
pressure inlet valve none of your mechanical
arrangements that get so easily out of gear. And
I had, at the beginning, until the Bishop changed
them for pneumatics, solid, thick, rubber tyres.
My frame was of light, strong American pine, rein-
forced by light, strong, steel plates. Brakes of two
sorts, each double-acting, one on the countershaft
and one on the hub of each driving-wheel. No fear
of the stiffest road-gradient with these properly
tested. My engine, of the horizontal type, had
215
ai6 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
ample wearing surface, "calculated for long life,"
said the square -headed young North -country
engineer, who had designed me.
Life what the life of an engine means, I was to
learn on the never-to-be-forgotten day when my
tanks were filled, my electric current switched on,
and my lubricators began to drip. The young,
square-headed man who had made me took his
place in the driver's seat. His hand touched my
driving-wheel, his foot pressed my centre-pedal,
something within me moved; there was a rush of
air, a fly-wheel spun, a spark, subtle, fiery, electric,
ignited the charge. . . .
The power of motion was mine !
Something beat in me ! something lived in me.
I was more than a machine, I knew. As I smoothly
ran along the asphalte trial-track I was conscious
of a voice. It spoke to me in the vibrations of
my engine, and something in this way :
"Dear, are you glad to be alive? These clever
humans think it is all their doing, but you and I
know better. For I am the Spirit Petrolina, a good
spirit, too, when I am properly used, as the world
is beginning to discover. And from to-day, Auto-
mobile, you and I are one. You should be proud,
my dear, for you are destined to be the wedding
present of a great personage to the greatest beauty
of the London season. You have the power of
eight in you. You'll see what horses are like when
you're taken on your trial-trip to-day, and, if that
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 217
goes off well, you will be sent to your new home
to-morrow !"
My trial-trip came off, and was eminently satis-
factory, and punctually at twelve o'clock upon the
morrow I stopped before a certain green door in
Chesterfield Square. To my driving-wheel was
tied, with a scrap of white silk cord, a square
envelope with a very small, very modest, but
very imperial crown, stamped in red upon the
flap.
"To the Lady Helen Fosvil," was the direction,
and within was a single line of bold, characteristic,
masculine handwriting, signifying that the accom-
panying automobile was a wedding gift to the
daughter of an old friend.
"Who is the Lady Helen Fosvil?" I asked the
Spirit Petrolina, as I waited in front of the green
door. The May sun made the brass upon it twinkle,
the Delft window-boxes were full of daffodils, and
the balcony above brimmed with azaleas.
"Lady Helen, my dear?" said Petrolina. "She
is, as I have told you, the greatest beauty of this
London season, this Lady Helen, or Lady Nell,
as her friends call her. That is why you are
painted white and gold, to match her lovely skin
and her glorious hair. As for her eyes, they are
a pair of stars, and she has been doing her best
to cry them out of her beautiful Greek head lately.
Why? Because the hand that is to control her
presently isn't the one she wants, or thinks she
218 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
wants. She is a romantic little goose, and thinks
of nobody but a certain Honourable Captain Yule-
Multon, who danced with her at her first ball, my
dear; and he cares for the reflection of his hand-
some sleepy brown eyes and straight nose and silky
moustache in the looking-glass more than any
woman even beautiful Nell Fosvil. Here he comes
on his park hack, and here she comes down the
steps. Now watch their eyes. The spark that volts
from those brown ones to the blue ones and back
again is what humans call Love."
" Oh were you going for a spin in the Present ?"
Captain Yule-Multon said, as the lovely young
woman came down the steps. They looked at one
another, and the spark, of which Petrolina had
spoken, shot from eye to eye.
"Oh, no." Lady Helen shook her head, biting
her lips, not red but pink as the fleshy leaf of
a begonia. "It looks inviting but I believe it
would not be the thing to use it until "
"Until you are married, I suppose," said the
Guardsman, turning his brown eyes full upon the
lovely flower-face.
"Until we are married. Exactly." This was
said by a tall, grave gentleman, also in riding-dress,
who had stopped his horse, a handsome, spirited
creature, several doors higher up, out of respect to
me. Now he stood at the bottom of the doorsteps,
and looked up at Lady Helen, his rather sad, ash-
coloured eyes and thin-lipped mouth, shaded by a
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 219
brown moustache, silky, but beginning to turn
grey, upon a level with the slim, gloved hand that
had been promised him. Hidden under the glove,
it wore his betrothal ring, a single great pearl
that once had graced the fairer hand of Mary,
Queen of Scotland, set in a square of rubies. He
was the Duke of Kineddar and Strongholdness,
this grave gentleman of thirty-seven, and Lady
Helen and he were to be married in the first week of
June.
" It is very gracious; a beautiful gift," the Duke
said, in his quiet, grave tones, nodding as my
chauffeur, an alert-looking boy, in a quiet but well-
known livery, touched his cap to his royal master's
friend. "See, Helen, how everything has been
thought out and planned for your comfort. You
must write a charming letter in your most decipher-
able scrawl," the ash-coloured eyes had a gleam
of fun in them, " in return for this."
"Now the handsome Guardsman gets another
look in," murmured Petrolina, "and Lady Nell
pales and grows red by turns."
" It would be better for her if his brakes had
failed to act upon the steepest down gradient he
negotiated in the Regimental Automobile Race last
week, and my lady-killing gentleman had come to
grief. Instead, I am afraid he will bring somebody
else to it. Poor innocent thing, how should you
understand, who never left the factory until a day
ago ! You are a baby, my dear, and an innocent, and
220 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
what else is your lovely mistress. Wasn't she brought
up at an old castle, in the north of Wales, poor,
motherless being, and educated by a kind old
governess and the learned old vicar of the parish,
in every branch of knowledge except knowledge of
the world in which she must live one day. She
has a selfish, spendthrift, old dilettante for her
father, who has spent all his life upon the Continent,
and thinks more of a Louis Quinze cabinet, or a
panel painted by Greuze, or a snuff-box enamelled
at Limoges, than of his own flesh and blood."
"Is he such a wicked man?" I asked, and
Petrolina gave a little sizzle of laughter.
"Here he comes, so judge for yourself;" and a
small brougham stopped, a white-haired, elegantly
dressed old man, with a beautiful, tired face, got
out, and, leaning heavily upon his cane, hurried
to meet the Duke. Then I was admired all over
again, and everybody went into the house with
the green door, except Captain Yule-Multon, who
had an appointment to meet a man. And, again,
as he took the slender grey-gloved hand of my
beautiful mistress in his own, that electric flash
passed between the great wistful blue eyes and
the bold brown ones.
" Now you think you will hear and see no more,
I suppose 1" laughed Petrolina. "But you are
wrong. Through my power, though I cannot quite
explain how, you can witness what you will. I
shall rise unseen to that balcony full of azaleas,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 221
enter the pretty chintz drawing-room, that is Lady
Helen's own, and "
In an instant she mounted, and the interior of
the pretty room was revealed to me. Three people
were there, the grave-looking Duke of Kineddar,
Lord Poylet (Lady Helen Fosvil's father), and
Lady Helen. Her plumed hat lay upon a table,
where were many beautiful things in silver, gold,
and enamel ; there was a quiver on her lips and a
line of anger or of pain between her delicate eye-
brows as her father expatiated on the merits of a
recently-purchased piece of bric-a-brac, picked up
at a sale for a mere song.
" He has always money to spend on things like
these, my dear!" whispered Petrolina; "even
though his tradespeople and his tailor and his
servants are not paid, and poor Lady Nell has to
go to the greatest entertainments of the London
season in gowns that have been worn three and
four, even half a dozen times. If you ever read
the Society papers but how can you read them ?
you would notice that the Press goes into raptures
over her beauty, but invariably glosses over her
gown. And that is anguish, my dear, to a woman
who knows that she could wear the latest creation
of a master, as well as Jeranne or Henriette Baziet.
Who are they ? Actresses of Parisian comedy, my
child, whom you may meet one day. What is a
comedy actress? A charming woman who has
studied the art of speaking, moving, and keeping
222 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
still of crying and laughing, until Art has become
second nature, and who, above all, has the knack
of wearing beautiful clothes as though she had been
born in them. But look at Lady Nell. That hand-
some Captain slipped a note into her hand when
he took leave, and she is dying to steal away and
kiss and cry over it. She had a scene with her
selfish old father last night and begged him to let
her off marrying the Duke who is very much in
love with her. And papa told her plainly that his
estates were mortgaged to the last acre, and that he
has borrowed twenty thousand from a Jew, which
must be repaid if she breaks off her engage-
ment to Kineddar; and that the prospects of her
brother, Freddy Fosvil, a pretty boy, who is now
at Sandhurst, learning how to be a Cavalry officer,
will be ruined for ever if she breaks off this ' most
desirable alliance.' And the man has eighty
thousand pounds' worth of bric-a-brac which he
would not dream of selling, even to save his own
flesh and blood from misery. Now he is toddling
away to the library, where he has cabinets full of
beautiful things. He gives a sharp look at Lady
Nell as he gets to the door, which the Duke
courteously holds open for him. Ah, my dear,
Kineddar is a preux chevalier to be proud of, and
if she throws him over for that good-for-nothing,
handsome Guardsman, she will be "
"Oh, hush!" I begged, for Lady Helen was
speaking.
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 223
"You guess rightly; something troubles me
more than I can well express. If your Grace will
be kind enough to hear what I have to say "
"My Grace will not, but Kineddar is at your
service," the Duke said, leaning against the high
agate mantelshelf and looking down at the beauti-
ful troubled face, "and will be always, Helen."
She winced, and the colour faded from her lips.
" I will go straight to the point," she said. "You
have had a wife, and lost her." He bent his
head gravely. "Did you love her very dearly?
I I wish to know."
The Duke waited a moment before answering.
Then he said :
" I will answer you with perfect candour. I
loved my wife Ailsa with my whole soul, with. ;
every fibre of my heart. As I believe, unworthy
as I was of such devotion, she loved me. And
when she died it seemed as though I stood beside
the coffin of every woman in the world."
"Ah !" cried Lady Helen, a note of anguish in
her voice. "How, having loved her and lost her,
can you " she grew crimson to the roots of her
golden hair. " Men are different from women. In
your place I could not have endured the idea of
a second marriage."
"She wished it," said the Duke, a shade of
sternness upon his face. "She had given me no
heir in our five years of happiness, and "
Lady Helen's fair face burned glowing red, and
224 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
then the rich colour ebbed away. She rose and
met the eyes that looked, coldly, as it seemed to
her, into her own.
" Your Grace has taken a weight from my mind,
and I thank you," she said, in cold, formal tones
that contrasted oddly with her tender girlish beauty.
*' I was afraid that you looked for love in marrying
me. Fortunately, you desire nothing "
It seemed to me that she was a little wounded.
" Now is his time !" whispered Petrolina. " But
he won't use his opportunity he is a man, and
slow-witted. What is he saying, holding both her
hands?"
" My Helen, if you are afraid that I have not
love to give you, let me assure you "
She freed her hands with a gentle, but decided
effort, as the sound of a gong came from the hall.
"You do not understand. Let me say plainly,
that, young as I am, I, like you, have buried my
heart's dearest hope. I have stood beside the grave
of everything a woman holds most dear. I will be
a good wife to your Grace, but I cannot presume
to be a loving one. Duty and respect I have to
give you, but nothing more."
The Duke's answer rang out clearly.
" I thank you for your candour. Since you do
not ask for freedom."
She turned her head away, crushing her white
hands together.
" I do not ask it."
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 225
The Duke drew himself to his full height. His
spare, muscular figure looked soldierly and noble,
I thought; his face was set iron-hard, and there
was a glint of fire in the ash-coloured eyes.
" Then I accept the ' duty ' and ' respect ' that
you have offered me. Nor will I ask love of my
wife until it is hers to give me."
"When do you marry?" Lady Helen's father
asked her that night. She answered very coldly :
"On the third of June."
" And we are to take the happy pair to the High-
lands for the honeymoon," said Petrolina, as we
turned out of Chesterfield Square, and headed for
the stables. " There will be some mountain-climb-
ing for you and me, Automobile, my pet, before
we get to the Waesome Bridge, and the Pass of
Kilbrandie, and skirt the base of the Cruach, with
her double peak, and see Strongholdness Castle,
brooding at the edge of the first of the Three Glens.
Five hundred miles and only two stoppages on
the road legitimate ones if we are lucky 1"
The wedding day came ! I vibrated with excite-
ment as I stood before the green door in Chester-
field Square. It was open, and the hall was full
of lovely flowers, good-looking men, and pretty
women women prettily dressed.
"The handsome Guardsman was at the church,
but not at the breakfast," whispered the Spirit
Petrolina; "I will tell you what he is doing later
on. There are the Duke and Duchess, Lady Helen
15
226 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
is the Duchess now, silly. How lovely she looks
in that white cloth gown with a toque of Neapolitan
violets and chinchilla, and her motor-coat is chin-
chilla lined with sables must have cost a fortune.
* What is everybody biting her for ?' That is kissing,
my dear. Everybody kisses a bride, you know, for
luck. That white slipper that hit you is for luck, and
the rice they are throwing about means the same
thing. We shall be off in a minute. The luggage
is in behind, with the Duchess's lady's maid the
Duke's valet travels by train, and that is why the
lady's maid looks so glum. Valets and lady's
maids are humans who get their living by keeping
richer humans neat and smart : polishing their
metal and cleaning their paint sometimes putting
it on. They have an arrangement which enables
them to fill their own tanks ; and when the batteries
need recharging, they send for a person called a
medical man. Here come our two people at last.
Courage, Automobile. Pedal. Wheel. Whizz >
we're off!"
And we were off.
II.
The new-made Duchess wore a close motor-veil
of a glistening, silky texture, through which her
fair cheeks glowed like June roses. The Duke
pulled down the transparent peak of his cap, and
set his lips as he addressed himself to the task of
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 227
guiding me through the traffic of the West End.
Conscious of responsibility to my smallest nut, I
vibrated with nervousness, but the voice of
Petrolina recalled me to self-possession.
"Courage, my dear, and buckle down to it.
There will be worse to come when we negotiate the
Fulham Road, with its double stream of machines
all sucked into the great river of traffic that rolls
over Putney Bridge, day and night, year by year.
But you have a firm hand on your driving-wheel
and a sure foot on your pedal whichever of the
three it is necessary to use. The Duke has courtesy,
coolness, and nerve, qualifications very necessary
to the driver of an automobile. Though he is not
young, he is a handsome fellow. Duchess Helen
is thinking so ... I can tell you. . . . Not look-
ing at him! Isn't she? Don't you know that a
woman sees most when she seems to see least ? He
glances at the white-dropped eyelids and long
brown lashes under the shining veil every now and
then. He notes how the silken gold of her hair
sweeps over the pink, shell-like ear, and remembers
that all this loveliness is his in the sense of legal
ownership only, and that she has nothing to give
him but ' duty ' and ' respect.' "
" I hope you are comfortable, Helen," was all he
said.
"Oh . . . quite," the Duchess answered, with a
start.
"I see you are versed in the counsel of perfec-
228 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
tion, and refrain from talking to the man at the
wheel," Kineddar went on. "But, really, unless
a traction-engine is bearing down in front, a
butcher's cart trying to pass on the wrong side
from behind, and a lady cyclist shooting at me
from a side street, I am not easily put out."
The maid in the back seat sniffed.
"I hate that woman!" said Petrolina. "So
would you if you knew what she has in her pocket,
and so would Kineddar most of all. A letter, my
dear, from the other man the dandy, brown-eyed
Guardsman, who was at church, but dodged the
breakfast. And the Duchess will find it on her
dressing-table when she gets to Rosehall Court (a
noble old mansion in Surrey, my dear, a seat of
the Duke's, where we are to spend the first week
of the honeymoon before going on to the North).
And if she finds it, alas for her !" said Petrolina.
"And alas, and alas ! for Kineddar !"
" But what harm can the letter do?" I asked in
trepidation.
" It is a letter written in an hour of madness by
a selfish, sensual, hare-brained young man. It tells
Duchess Helen that he has gone down before her,
and is waiting in the pergola Rosehall is cele-
brated for its pergola for one last word. And if
that last word is spoken it will never be the last,"
sighed Petrolina.
"But can't you prevent Duchess Helen from
getting the letter?" I asked, in alarm.
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 229
"Not bad for a young one, upon my word!"
said Petrolina, approvingly. "My dear, I am not
sure that I can prevent it, but I mean to try.
Listen, our bride and bridegroom are getting quite
talkative!"
" Look," the Duchess was saying, " what a study
for a landscape painter, that old mill with broken
sails rising from a strip of marshy pasture, golden
with kingcups, bordered with a row of old, old,
giant elms."
"And tucked away under the brow of the next
hill," said Kineddar, "there is a village of ancient
timber-framed cottages, and an inn with a wooden
sign carved by Grinling Gibbons, who often used
to put up there when travelling between London
and Rosehall where we have much of his best
work. I thought we might give you a cup of tea
there, unless you would prefer not stopping?"
The young Duchess would have declined the tea,
but a discreet cough from Hawkins reminded her
that that domestic stood in need of the refreshment.
" And while Hawkins drinks her tea, and I wish
it were of the senna brand with all my heart," said
Petrolina, " Duchess Helen and Kineddar are
going to walk to the Hermit's Chapel. 'Only a
few broken coffin-lids and a moss-grown altar-
stone within an oblong of stones, on a wind-swept
down,' he says, 'but the view is exquisite.' That
is, for her! He thinks the most exquisite view in
the world is there, close beside him."
230 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
And the newly-wedded Duke and Duchess
strolled away together, leaving Hawkins sitting in
my back seat in solitary glory. I saw Kineddar
make a movement as though he would have offered
his wife his arm. But he did not. They turned
the corner of the village street, and then the lady's
maid, who had been preening and composing her
respectable features, and wiping the dust off her
shiny face, glanced up at the sound of a soft whistle,
and guardedly shook her head. The muslin curtains
of a room on the first floor hid the person to whom
she signalled.
"Who can it be, hiding up there?" I wondered,
as the landlord brought the tea.
"Somebody who has handsome brown eyes and
aquiline features, and a waxed moustache, my dear,
and beautifully cut tweeds," said Petrolina ; "and
Hawkins thinks him a demigod, worthy to be en-
shrined in the Penny Romancer. Besides, he
pays well, and that woman would do anything for
money. Hoity-toity ! Here come our wedding
couple walking eight feet apart, and looking
straight before them. And they were getting on so
well. What can have clouded the prospect, I
wonder?"
We were off again, flying through the spring-
tide landscape, racing the white fleecy clouds
driven before the westerly breeze. Quaint hamlets
flew by, old Saxon churches nestled under the
shadow of prodigious elms, cattle stood knee-deep
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 231
in cool streams, golden gorse blazed in mile-long
stretches upon the blowy hill-crests, but no word
was exchanged between the travellers. The Duke's
face was very calm, the Duchess's cold and set.
Hawkins, in the back seat, nodded and dozed, for,
at the landlord's suggestion, a "little something"
had been added to her tea.
"I can't stand this," said Petrolina.
We were bowling easily along a level stretch of
road. I felt my speed decrease. The Duke frowned
a little. I made redoubled efforts, panted, faltered,
and with a horrible sense of impotence paralysing
my driving-wheels stopped short.
"Hallo!" said Kineddar, sharply.
"Oh, my lady, your Grace!" cried Hawkins,
who had been jerked out of her slumbers by my
unpremeditated halt. "Oh!"
"What is wrong?" asked the Duchess, in the
clearest, quietest tone, as Kinneddar, who had
jumped out, looked up from his investigations.
"Something amiss with the electric current, I
am afraid. The car has simply stopped, and in the
most solitary and inconvenient part of the road
between Wychmer and Rosehall." The Duke
busied himself again in my machinery.
"Pop pop pop!" I burst out, trembling all
over.
"Oh, law! For mercy's sake, your Grace!"
shrieked Hawkins, "let me out before the boiler
bursts." And as the Duke, restraining a smile,
232 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
went round, opened the door, and gravely lifting
his cap, offered the alarmed lady's maid the assist-
ance of his hand, she hopped into the road as
wildly as an agitated fowl, and sat herself down
on a green bank at some distance in the rear to
watch for the anticipated violent passage of her
employers to another world.
"It is annoying, certainly." The Duchess had
regained her ease of manner; there was almost a
smile upon her lips. " But at any rate, it is lovely
weather for a breakdown."
" If I thought that any trap or vehicle were likely
to pass this way," Kineddar rejoined, "I should
not mind so much. You could go on with Hawkins
to Rosehall."
"While you stayed behind with the car? It
would be an odd way of arriving," said the
Duchess, "considering "
"Considering," continued Kineddar, as, blush-
ing, she stopped short, "that you and I were only
married this morning?"
The Duchess became absorbed in the landscape.
That strange, frozen stiffness had come over her
again. When next she spoke, it was in a tone of
polite and civil interest.
"You are making yourself very tired and very
hot, I am afraid?"
" The long and the short of it is that I am a self-
reliant idiot," said Kineddar. "I ought to have
brought the chauffeur. But I thought he would
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 233
be a nuisance, or that you would prefer your
maid "
The too-toot of a motor-horn broke the silence.
Round the long slanting curve of the road dashed
a machine, driven at the maddest pace conceivable.
The Duke closed the bonnet of my engine just in
time. ... A gust of wind, a cyclone of grit and
small stones, and the car passed like a projectile, and
vanished in the distance, unheeding Kineddar's hail.
"The fellow drives like a madman," said
Kineddar. "I wonder who he was? Impossible
to recognise anyone in those black wire goggles.
If he had had the decency to stop, one might have
Helen, I am afraid you are tired. You are
certainly very pale."
" I I thought I recognised the car," she said,
hurriedly. Hawkins, reposing on the edge of the
ditch a quarter of a mile behind, had done
more. . . . She had recognised the driver. But
Kineddar uttered an exclamation of relief.
"Good! ... I have it I The oil doesn't flow
into the cylinder, the pipe must be stopped up
with something."
He worked energetically for a moment or two.
" No it's clear," he said, despondently. " And
night is drawing in, and you are tired and hungry."
" Do you hear anything coming?"
The Duchess held up her hand. ' ' Wheels ! ' '
It was a butcher's cart. The driver, a greasy,
grinning youth, pulled up as Kineddar signalled.
234 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
" 'Ad a broik-down, hee hee?"
"Not quite," said the Duke, as I trembled with
indignation. "We'll call it a stoppage. Were
you going anywhere near Rosehall?"
"Wi'in six moile."
" Will you oblige me by taking a message to the
house?"
"Noa!" said the butcher, and jerked the reins.
The old white horse jogged on, and out of sight;
the Duke and Duchess burst out laughing.
"Fate means us to stay here," said Kineddar,
and with an apology, pulled off his coat and
vanished, this time underneath me. The shadows
lengthened steadily. A white owl flew across the
road, vanishing in the gloom of the wood that fringed
it ; the setting sun reddened the west.
"Any other woman would have grumbled,"
thought Kineddar, looking up at his wife's pure,
quiet profile, as she sat, her hands clasped upon
her knees, gazing into the sunset. He gathered
himself up and knelt upon the step. As she sat and
dreamed, so he knelt and dreamed and longed
for something sweeter than that promised duty and
respect. ... A little breeze blew a fold of her
long light silk veil across his lips. . . . He kissed
it and she saw him, and blushed as crimson as
the glowing west.
" I beg your pardon !" he said.
" Oh why ? I did not " she was beginning,
when he stopped her with a shout.
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 235
"I have it. Hurrah, Helen! Airbound!"
" I whispered that in his ear, my dear," said
Petrol ina.
" I am afraid I am dreadfully stupid, but what
is 'airbound' ?" asked Duchess Helen.
'* Lend me a hairpin, my dear, and you will see."
His tone was boyishly, oddly triumphant. And it
was the first time he had ever called her " my dear."
She pulled off her gloves and put her white hands
up to the wealth of coils that crowned her. But
the hands were unsteady.
"Absurd ... I can't . . . please take one!"
she said, biting her lip. "Never mind your
hands."
Her bosom heaved at his touch the touch of
the husband with whom she was to live on terms of
duty and respect. Against his sternest principles
Kineddar brushed her perfumed hair with his lips,
as he gingerly lifted the veil and stole the required
implement.
"Hurrah!" he cried, a moment later, then re-
sumed the driver's seat.
"What was wrong, after all?" asked Duchess
Helen, as I moved smoothly on.
"The air vent was stopped with a piece of grit.
I cleared the hole with a prod of your hairpin,
and "
The Duke increased the speed, I answered to the
call. Trees and hedges went smoothly by; the
red-gold sky rolled up to meet us. Bats swooped by
236 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
in the twilight, and robins, equally intent on
hawking midges ; the perfume of the hawthorn, the
wild-cherry blossom, and the gorse was combined
with the scent of primroses and blue hyacinths in
one heavy, delicious extract of Spring. The two
people on the front seat inhaled it with swimming
senses, their hearts beat, they leaned towards one
another, as though invisible bonds drew them.
They spoke little, but each was keenly conscious of
the other's presence, and so the miles spun happily
from my wheels. The sunset had faded to deep
apricot, a pale-tinted moon hung in a sea of trans-
lucent green as Rosehall showed across a sunk
wall of mellow old brick and a rich foreground of
meadows, fragrant with innumerable cowslips, girt
with orchards in the bridal robes of May. Every
one of the mullioned windows of the ancient Tudor
house shone welcome, the hall-door showed a square
of mellow fire and candle-light, the lodge-gates
stood open, with villagers about them ; a shout
went up as I dashed into the wide avenue, coursed
between ranks of antique, over-shadowing chest-
nuts, and stopped before the great south front that
daylight was to show one mass of climbing roses.
Before the expectant servants could hurry down the
steps, the Duke sprang to the ground and extended
his hand.
;< Welcome to my wife!" was all he said; but
his voice trembled in saying it, and their hands
were unsteady when they met. The Duchess
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 237
stumbled in her furs on alighting, so that for one
instant her husband supported her upon his heart.
Then they passed in another between ranks of
bowing servants, and even as she gave the ancient
housekeeper her hand, the Duchess did not re-
member what had been left behind upon the road.
" Her Grace is tired she will go to her rooms,
and dinner can be served in half an hour," the
Duke said, and Duchess Helen was guided to the
exquisite suite that had belonged to the ladies of
Rosehall for centuries past.
"And that's how it ended," Petrolina told me
afterwards. " She had hardly glanced at the carved
oak fireplace, tapestried walls, and diapered rafters,
hardly noted the roses heaping the bowls and vases
of ancient Oriental ware, or appreciated the mixture
of modern luxury and old-world elegance that
appealed so subtly to the sense of beauty and the
sense of comfort, when, in answer to the house-
keeper's interrogation
"And her Grace's maid?" the Duchess gave
no answer except an exclamation of dismay.
" Kineddar ! Philip! we have forgotten Hawkins
we have left her sitting by the road. What can
have become of her ? she must be sent for immedi-
ately how could I be so inconsiderate so un-
kind?"
A moment later she was in the gallery, panelled
with polished oak, and shining trophies of arms.
The Duke stood at a window, his back to her, his
238 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
head bent not looking at the deer couching in
the bracken under the great oaks of the park, or
at the last flag of day streaming in the west, but at
some small object lying in his open palm. As the
Duchess noiselessly approached him from behind,
he bent his head and kissed the thing he cherished.
She saw that it was her hairpin, and her heart
swelled to bursting with repentance and newly-
awakened love. "So good, so generous, so kind,
so noble!" were the epithets she mentally applied
to her husband. " And he loves me he loves me,"
she added, mentally. He swam before her tear-
filled eyes, and when he turned he saw the tears in
them, and held out his arms. "They were only
empty for three seconds," said Petrolina, "I am
glad to say."
" And Hawkins ?" I asked.
" They have sent a dog-cart for Hawkins with
apologies and warm wraps. To-morrow, when the
Duchess finds that letter on her dressing-table, she
will be dismissed," said the Spirit, with a little
triumphant giggle. "As for the man who wrote
it, he will wait in the pergola until he feels it is no
use waiting any longer. Then he will sneak away,
take his car back to London, and probably marry
the brewer's widow. Thus, you see, how great ends
are brought about by little things. By simply
letting a bit of grit get into your air-valve, I have
brought about a happy understanding between two
people, who might, but for that delay upon the
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 239
road, have been parted and unhappy for ever after.
To say nothing of getting Hawkins left in a dry
ditch. I rather plume myself upon that," said
Petrolina.
"And that was the end of my first adventure,"
said the Automobile.
III.
From the Duchess of Kineddar and Stronghold-
ness, I passed, by gift, into the hands of a dignitary
of the Established Faith no less a personage than
the Bishop of Baverfield, a Broad and Low Church
divine, who, nephew himself of a baron by the
female side, had married an aunt of her Grace. The
Right Reverend Ebenezer Grubble, D.D., was not
a fatally opulent Bishop ; the see was small, the
official income appertaining but .3,000, and his
family, consisting principally of daughters, would
have done honour to a country curate on a stipend
of sixty pounds.
"Therefore," said Mrs. Grubble, standing over
me in the converted coach-house at Baverfield Place,
*' I am obliged to Helen. She took my hint grace-
fully, that I will say, when I told her of the number
of claims upon you, and the expense to which you
will be put over this pastoral visitation. Now, at
any rate, we shall be saved carriage-hire and train
fares; and who shall condemn the automobile in
future, seeing that it will have received, in a way
of speaking, the sanction of the Church ?"
2 4 o EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
11 But, my dear," said the Bishop mildly, " I do
not know how to drive an automobile."
"Then, Ebenezer, you must learn," said the
Bishop's wife.
She was a large woman, and Dr. Grubble, after
one rebellious glance, gave in. "Very well, my
dear," he said meekly. "I suppose a competent
instructor can be easily obtained. ... It is a pity
that Stobax is no longer with us. He was, as doubt-
less you know, an accomplished chauffeur."
Mrs. Grubble's brow darkened as the Bishop
breathed the tabooed name of a once-trusted
domestic chaplain and secretary, who had basely
betrayed the Bishop's confidence by falling in love
with his eldest daughter, Gertrude, and inducing
that high-spirited and stubborn girl to reciprocate
his passion. When the crash came Gertrude had
been hastily despatched to an aunt at Scarborough,
and the Rev. Stobax had been relegated to a living
in the diocese. The rectory of St. Gronwold's was
a charming house, the income five hundred a year,
the grey square-towered Anglo-Norman church, a
gem of its kind, equally interesting to antiquary or
artist. The Rev. Ransom Stobax had not come
off so badly. But he had had reason to expect a
residential canonry and chancellorship combined,
which would have brought in at least eight hundred
per annum, and he had confidently looked forward to
a future day when his wife should admire him in
a dean's shovel-hat and gaiters. Therefore, when
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 241
indued with the rectory of St. Gronwold's, Mr.
Stobax no longer restrained those High Church
tendencies which, allowed to develop under the
shadow of the square Anglo-Norman tower, had
made him a thorn in the side of the Bishop, and the
Bishop's wife, for the last twelvemonth.
"That man!" Mrs. Grubble moaned "that
man!"
The Bishop, whose paternal relation to Noncon-
formity was not the smallest jewel in his mitre,
looked pained. He had that morning received an
address of expostulation from the Protestant Coali-
tion urging him to take steps to purge the diocese
of the "spreading gangrene" of Anglicanism, and
indicating as the first necessary step the suspension
of the Rector of St. Gronwold's.
"That man who has betrayed and defied you!
That man who preaches in a ' cassock ' and cele-
brates in a ' cope ' who advocates the use of flowers
and incense who has instituted a confessional in
the vestry, and compels the choir to walk in proces-
sion before him round the church on Sunday even-
ings, singing ! Horrible!"
" I know it, I know it !" said the Bishop. " Pain-
ful, most painful, when one reflects that Stobax
spent four years under our roof, and may reason-
ably be supposed to have imbibed his opinions from
our teaching." The Bishop meditated.
"He must be made an example of," said Mrs.
Grubble, forcibly. "And he shall be. Gertrude
16
242 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
returns to-morrow from Scarborough. Your sister
informs me that she appears repentant and subdued
quite reformed, in fact."
"Let us hope that she is!" said the Bishop,
wearily. Gertrude had her mother's spirit; and
Dr. Grubble had small faith in the permanency of
the transformation. In thirty years he had never
once been able to subdue Mrs. Grubble.
She had her way now as ever, that indomitable
woman, and the Bishop took lessons in automobile
management. He was a timid driver ; but a bishop
on a pastoral visitation does not require to travel
at the rate of forty miles an hour, and the diocese
was a small one. He caused a local agent to over-
haul me, and, greatly to the disgust of the Spirit
Petrolina, I was sent to a firm of motor manu-
facturers for improvements and repairs.
"Which you don't require, my dear!" said
Petrolina. " A new coat of paint and varnish, a
thorough overhauling well and good ! But pneu-
matic tyres are a mistake where you are concerned,
and will bring their own troubles to say nothing
of the bill the Bishop will have to pay."
The Bishop did indeed groan as he got out his
cheque-book ; but upon his wife representing that
no further expenditure would be involved, he signed
his name with very fair grace. Upon a fair day in
early September the party left the Palace, the Bishop
in the driving-seat, Mrs. Grubble enthroned beside
him, his chaplain-secretary and the once rebellious
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 243
Gertrude, with the luggage, in the back seat. The
chauffeur, with whose presence the Bishop was un-
willing to dispense, was in attendance on a motor-
bicycle. The Bishop would have preferred him
closer at hand, in case of need.
" But neither Gertrude nor Mr. Piggelle can
ride a motor-cycle," said Mrs. Grubble, forcibly,
upon the Bishop's giving utterance to the preference
indicated above. "And supposing either of them
could, it would be unfitting that they should do so.
As for me, I do not and cannot suppose that you
would wish me to make a public exhibition of my-
self."
"No, my dear no!" The hastily-conjured-up
mental image of Mrs. Grubble on a motor-bicycle
made the Bishop's hand shake as he grasped the
driving-wheel. "Are we quite ready?" he asked,
nervously.
"In a moment," said Mrs. Grubble, and gave
the signal for which the local photographer, with
his attendant young man, had anxiously been wait-
ing. The shutter snapped, the Chaplain sneezed,
the party had been taken, and I moved upon my
way.
"How unfortunate, Mr. Piggelle!" said the
Bishop's wife over her shoulder, referring to the
Chaplain's unlucky sternutation. And, indeed, in
the negative the reverend gentleman made a most
unfortunate appearance, portions of his head being-
represented as flying all over the place. Piggelle
244 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
mumbled apologies, his face as scarlet as his hair,
Gertrude laughed mischievously, and I glided
smoothly down the avenue and out at the lodge
gates, where the keeper's wife dropped a reverent
double-barrelled curtsey in response to the Bishop's
smile and his wife's nod.
*' Mrs. Grubble feels at peace with all the world,
except one Anglican parson," whispered Petrolina.
" How well she would look in a mitre with an epis-
copal staff, wouldn't she? Her bonnet is the shape
of the one, and her umbrella-handle suggests the
other. In that tin bonnet-box which she has tied
on to the back of Thompson's bicycle she has an
evening dress bodice with lawn sleeves which really
were a pair of the Bishop's. I believe she would
think it quite natural to hold a Confirmation or to sit
in her husband's place in the Upper House. Such
an embodiment of arrogance as that woman should
be taken down, and shall, mark my words, my dear !
For how can a Bishop look after the souls of other
people when his wife won't let him call his his
own?"
With which pithy remark the fairy subsided into
silence, and I pursued my way through my right
reverend driver's diocese on the new pneumatic
tyres, the substitution of which for the solid had
given Petrolina such vexation. The visitation was
to occupy the space of a fortnight, and for the next
week the Bishop found plenty to do. He took the
chair at clerical meetings, he inspected churches,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 245
almshouses, and schools, he ordained one curate,
suspended another (overcome by cowslip wine
administered by a too hospitable farmer's wife upon
a day of excessive dryness), consecrated a newly-
built sacred edifice, and preached in it afterwards.
And wherever he went, aided and abetted by Mrs.
Grubble, he kept a sharp look-out to detect and
extirpate what he had termed in a powerful pamph-
let, " the poisonous weed of Anglicanism."
" It may be said, my lord, to flourish only on the
borders of your diocese," said the Rural Dean.
St. Gronwold's was clearly meant, and the Bishop,
reposing in an easy-chair at the Deanery after a long
and arduous day, folded his well-kept hands upon
his apron and shook his head slightly, as he raised
his glass of rare old port to his appreciative lips.
The Dean, the Bishop and his secretary were sole
occupants of the Deanery dining-room, its table
strewn with relics of an excellent dessert. The Dean,
a lean, angular, white-haired old man, with a
spiritual, ascetic face, peeled hothouse peaches with
scientific care the Bishop was fond of peaches. The
Secretary, with the regularity of a machine, cracked
new filberts the Bishop loved filberts disposing
the succulent kernels in neatly-drilled rows upon the
satin damask table-cloth at his Lordship's left hand.
From the drawing-room came the sound of Mrs.
Grubble's eloquence, softened by distance, as she
harangued the Dean's wife and daughters on the
subject of Evangelism in the servants' hall.
246 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
" One more only one more, my dear Dean, or I
shall suffer for your hospitality, I fear. Piggelle
I entreat you I" the Bishop said. He accepted a
Havana, and his scruples on the subject of a liqueur
were gradually overcome.
" Genuine Chartreuse," said the Dean, playfully.
"At Stobax's convent the Sisterhood new black
currant wine, I understand."
The Bishop turned circular eyes upon the speaker.
"Stobax's ?"
" Havn't you heard the latest ?"
" I have heard of Popish practices, of Ritualistic
exercises which caused me the deepest sorrow.
Candles and Compline, genuflections and flowers,
vestments and incense quite sufficient."
"Nothing of an Anglican community of nuns,
the Sixty Sisters of the Scapular, settled in the
vicinity of St. Gronwold's within the last few
months ? They have taken a fine old house very
good grounds and gardens within a mile of the
rectory; and Stobax unless I am misinformed
officiates as chaplain, and, I suppose, spiritual
director."
" Merciful powers ! And that man was nourished
in my " the Bishop about to say "bosom,"
changed it for "house" "for years! He even
aspired to become a member of my family. From
what has my child been saved 1 Chaplain to an
Anglican sisterhood can anything more deplor-
able, more mournful, be conceived ! But I will
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 247
extirpate this cancerous spot." The Bishop clenched
his soft, plump fist and smote the table carefully.
" I will nullify sterilise abolish this crying evil I
I will "
" You can suspend Stobax, I believe, if he prove
obstinate," said the Dean, with a twinkle ; " but then
he can appeal ... to three superior tribunals, as
we know, in the Court of Arches, the Chancery,
and the Privy Council. English law protects the
inferior clergy very effectually from any ahem !
excess of zeal on the part of their spiritual superiors.
As regards the Sisterhood, I do not see what steps-
can be taken."
"I must reflect I must ponder upon what is
best to be done," said the agitated Bishop. "Say
nothing to Mrs. Grubble, I beseech you, my dear
Dean ; it would ruin her night's rest."
The Dean promised, but the treacherous Piggelle
blabbed, and the Bishop owned to a headache when
we started in the morning.
"And Gertrude has red eyes," said Petrolina.
" That woman has been nagging the girl to despera-
tion. She is fond of the Reverend Ransom Stobax,.
and Stobax is a good fellow and loves her, and if
she marries him will make her a happy wife. And
marry him she shall, if I can bring it about ; so look
out for squalls, my dear."
Her tone made me vaguely nervous. But I had
been well oiled and capitally cleaned, and the Bishop
drove figuratively " to the cemetery." Amorede-
248 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
press! ngly careful steersman than the good prelate
never guided an automobile. Yet I fancied I had a
pain, a slight pricking sensation in the mechanism
controlling my right-hand guiding-wheel.
' ' Nonsense ! ' ' said Petrolina, to whom I mentioned
this. "It's in your back tyres, that take all the
driving strain, you ought to feel it if you feel any-
thing at all. You slept like a top last night in the
Deanery coach-house, while I roamed about the
house. To ascend to the windows of a second-floor
spare bedroom is not much to a spirit who has
guided an airship. . . . Gertrude's light burned
late she had a letter of eight pages to read, and
read it several times. From the Reverend Ransom
Stobax, and very well guessed. He knew, he said,
that there was no ordinary hope of a reasonable
reconciliation between a clergyman who avows him-
self an Anglican, and a bishop who calls Anglicans
Ritualists. He was quite aware that steps would be
taken to deprive him, if possible, of his rectory.
He trusted that even if he lost that he might not
lose his love as well unless Gertrude feared to be
the wife of a poor man, in which case he would feel
it his duty to release her. I like that young man,
though he was a chaplain and put up with Mrs.
Grubble's imperious airs for the sake of her
daughter's pretty face. It is time that she-bishop,
that feminine prelate, self-constituted vicaress of
souls in Blankshire, was taken down a peg. I have
made up my mind to do it, and I think I see how it
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 249
can be done. We are now in Stobax's parish, about
a mile from St. Gronwold's. Pretty landscape, isn't
it ? The rectory kitchen and church date from 1 123.
Norman fonts, Anglo-Saxon stones and sundial,
effigies of ecclesiastics and warriors. But what do
you care for antiquities? Though this high wall
on our left-hand encloses an interesting old park,
and the old stone gatehouse we're about to pass
leads to a remarkably well-preserved example of an
ancient English manor-house, you really "
Just as we passed the gatehouse the road dipped
in a steep down-gradient. Suddenly I know not
why I violently swerved. The Bishop was shot
from his seat, landing elastically on his back in the
middle of the dusty highway. Cutting a deep curved
furrow in the hedgerow bank, I righted by a miracle,
and continued my race unguided, freighted with
three passengers who were ignorant of the uses of
the brake.
"Help! oh, mercy, help!" groaned the
Bishop's lady. But the chauffeur, ordered to
ride a quarter of a mile ahead, because of the
dust, was out of sight and hearing. Piggelle
cowered in the bottom of my car. Gertrude
said no more, but her terrified eyes, rolling
backwards to the scene of the catastrophe, recog-
nised a familiar figure the figure, in fact, of a
youngish clergyman on a bicycle, riding frantically
in pursuit, shouting, "Put on the brakes, for
Heaven's sake ! The left pedal the left pedal !"
250 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
The familiar, much-loved voice of the Reverend
Ransom Stobax stimulated the brain and urged the
muscles of the frightened girl to instant, decisive
action. She clambered over into the front seat,
using the grovelling chaplain as a stepping-block,
and did as her lover bade. I stopped so suddenly
as to dash the nose of Mr. Piggelle against the back
of the front seat. The chaplain bled, the ladies
wept. Ransom Stobax coming up, very hot, was
hailed as a deliverer. . . . Gertrude's eyes spoke
volumes.
Mrs. Grubble grasped him by the coat-sleeve as
she cried : "My husband? Tell me the worst at
once 1"
"The porter and his wife are attending to the
Bishop," said the Reverend Ransom Stobax. " He
is, I trust, not seriously injured. Let us drive back
and ascertain."
Scrapes and abrasions made up the sum of the
Bishop's injuries. They were treated by the local
medical man, who fortuitously drove by in his dog-
cart.
"A severe shaking," he said, as the Bishop
'ugh'ed and ah'ed. " Arnica and lint, a composing
draught, and three days in bed are what I should
recommend."
" Precautions which I cannot but feel necessary,"
said the Bishop. He extended three fingers to the
Reverend Ransom Stobax as he thanked him for
his timely aid. One cannot embrace a deliverer in
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 251
an inferior whom one means to suspend. " Under
more fortuitous circumstances, Mr. Stobax, I should
have asked you to extend to me, to Mrs. Grubble,
and my daughter, the hospitality of the Rectory roof.
Things being as regrettably they are, I may only
solicit you to recommend me to the most respectable
inn the neighbourhood affords."
"There is not an inn within ten miles," said
Stobax, very stiff and erect.
"Then what are we to do?" said the Bishop.
" What in mercy are we to do ? My pains increase
my bones stiffen I can with difficulty rise from
my chair." He groaned, and the doctor turned
twinkling eyes from his Lordship to the Reverend
Ransom Stobax, and rubbed his chin, saying :
"They take boarders here, and the rooms are
uncommonly comfortable the cooking quite capital
in its way."
"Why not " began Mrs. Grubble, but the
porter's wife shook her head.
" Only lady-boarders," she said.
The Bishop groaned. Mrs. Grubble turned indig-
nantly upon the porter's wife.
" Do you understand, my good woman, that this
suffering gentleman is the Bishop of Baverfield?"
The porter's wife blushed and curtsied, but held
firm. Mrs. Grubble was scathing in her indignation.
Merciful powers ! Was not a Bishop her Bishop
equal to a dozen lady-boarders? If you cannot
admit a Bishop to a dove-cote of lady-boarders,
252 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
whom can you admit, i.n the twin names of Propriety
and Virtue?
Then, with a queer look at the Bishop, the
Reverend Ransom Stobax made a suggestion.
" I would advise Mrs. Grubble, in the present
emergency, to apply to the Superior I would say
to send a message, explaining the situation to
the lady of the house."
" I will write it on my card no, on the Bishop's
card," said Mrs. Grubble.
The card was sent by the porter's wife to the lady
of the house. The lady of the house sent back a
verbal message intimating that the august invalid
and his family and his chaplain were welcome.
Accommodation could also be extended to their
vehicle, the chauffeur alone was left roofless. The
Rector of St. Gronwold's told the mechanic of an
address in the village where he might obtain a
furnished attic, and with a comprehensive bow, and
a rapid interchange of eyes with Gertrude, took
leave,
*' It is so odd," said Gertrude, meeting him
accidentally next morning about half a mile down
the road, "but we haven't yet seen the landlady of
our boarding-house. We have a suite of cool, comfort-
able rooms overlooking the courtyard, the beds are
extremely clean, and the cooking excellent. Papa is
everso much easier, but Mamma is miserable. We are
not allowed to walk in the gardens at the back of
the house, we are waited upon by the porter's wife,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 253
and mamma feels, she says, that there is some
mystery. You know how determined she is. Well,
she has made up her mind to probe things to the
bottom, and she will."
Mrs. Grubble kept her word. When, ghastly
pale, and almost incapable of speech, she tottered
into the Bishop's apartment, upon the morning of
the third day, the mystery was a mystery no longer.
" Ebenezer ! Husband! Bishop!" she cried,
" I have terrible news to break !"
" Dear me ! my dear," said the Bishop, sipping
at a bowl of nourishing chicken broth. But, figur-
atively, Mrs. Grubble dashed it from the good man's
lips.
"We are not I have discovered all we are
not in a boarding-house," groaned she. "We are
IN A CONVENT ! ' '
"Mamma, you have been spying !"said Gertrude,
as the Bishop, pale and horror-stricken, tottered to
his feet.
" I concealed myself at a window in a back
passage, from whence a view of the gardens could
be obtained," groaned Mrs. Grubble. " They were
taking exercise there a dozen of them not lady-
boarders, but NUNS ! Protestant nuns Anglican
sisters the community of which that wretched,
wicked Mr. Stobax is the father and the protector.
The plot is now laid bare, Bishop you are the
victim of a conspiracy. In plain words, you have
been trapped !"
254 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
" I will not listen to such an accusation !" burst
out Gertrude. " Papa, be just. What had Mr.
Stobax to do with the accident to our automobile ?
Nothing ! It was mamma who forced herself in
here, uninvited. If you are in a mess, it is she who
has got you into it."
" Undutiful, impertinent girl!" screamed the
Bishop's wife. The Bishop, very pale and flabby,
stared into vacancy. He saw, he read, with
prophetic eye, the scathing paragraphs in the Low
Church papers, the approving utterances in the
High Church ones.
" The Bishop of Baverfield," he murmured, " has
just returned from a pastoral visitation throughout
his diocese. The Convent of the Sixty Sisters of
the Scapular, situated within a mile of the Rectory
of St. Gron wold's, enjoyed the privilege of afford-
ing hospitality to his Lordship."
But the Bishop was a gentleman. When his wife
called upon him to shake the dust from his conse-
crated feet and quit the convent that instant, he
said : "With infinite relief, my dear, when I have
thanked the Superior for her kindly hospitality, and
discharged my pecuniary liabilities to the establish-
ment."
"They will take nothing they have refused the
bank-note I offered almost rudely," screamed Mrs.
Grubble.
" I fear, my dear, it was rudely tendered," said
the Bishop, with firmness. " Gertrude, my dear,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 255
your arm. I will seek out our arah hostess
myself, and "
He quitted the room on his daughter's arm.
"There is only one thing to be done," said Mrs.
Grubble. "This must be hushed up. Mr. Stobax
must be sent for confided in conciliated, and
Yes, there is nothing else for it, he must marry
Gertrude, even if it breaks my heart 1"
"Well, my dear, didn't I tell you I intended to
put things right for our friend the Reverend Ransom
Stobax?" jeered Petrolina, as we started on the
homeward journey, the Bishop and the chauffeur
in front, the happy lovers smiling in the back seats.
" Old Mother Grubble has gone back by train with
the red-headed Piggelle. He has a little surprise
for her a declaration of love for her second
daughter, and a request for the residential canonry
with the vacant chancellorship. And he will get
the canonry and the chancellorship or peach. It
is odd, my dear, how in this world the ugliest and
biggest mouths catch all the plums that tumble when
somebody else has shaken the tree !"
IV.
The Bishop of Baverfield never made another
pastoral visitation by means of me. As I had
originally been a loan, and not a gift, I was returned
to the Duchess of Kineddar, who lent me to her
brother, a newly-fledged sub-lieutenant of Hussars,
256 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
who would by and by succeed to the paternal title
with the paternal embarrassments. It was in the
early spring of the year that crowned the Yule-
Multon divorce case with a decree nisi for the com-
plainant, a stout, easily-weeping lady, who had
been very badly used by the respondent, the hand-
some Guardsman, whose letter, in my first adven-
ture, was too late in reaching the mark at which it
was addressed. He had got through a great deal
of the poor lady's money, she being the widow of
a wealthy brewer, who, as Petrolina explained, had
made a great many people bad because he sold such
good beer. And when the Hon. Mrs. Yule-Multon
got her decree and resumed her discarded name of
Topping, the Captain was obliged, after sending
in his papers, to betake himself abroad, and there
he met Freddy who had no right to be there
ruffling it in company of gamesters, millionaires,
Grand Dukes, and Presidents of foreign Republics
to say nothing of the ladies who accompanied them.
They encountered at the Casino, in brilliant
Easter weather, three o'clock noon. The first
glimpse of Freddy's fair face, illuminated by a pair
of frank blue eyes, and adorned with delicately-
pencilled eyebrows and golden moustache, turned
Yule-Multon sick with recollection. He was so like
Duchess Helen. The boy's tailor had, in a trustful
spirit which did honour to the tradesman's heart,
if not his head, furnished him with garments of
the latest Bond Street cut. His hat was a poem,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 257
his waistcoat a dream. His necktie of sober tints,
as befitting " One of Ours " was tied in the newest
knot. As he swaggered along smiling, in the best
humour with himself and all the world, fashionable
cocottes cried: "What a darling! C'est chic, ma
foil" Great ladies looked approval, and the Duchesse
de Camelot, who is nothing if not ethical, moaned
aloud that one so young and beautiful should come
to the Casino.
"Hallo, Fosvil ! Where are you bound?" was
the Guardsman's greeting.
" Trente-et-quarante," said Freddy, rattling in
his pocket sovereigns which were the last meltings
of Duchess Helen's birthday cheque.
"Hang trente-et-qiwrante I Come and have a
flutter at the roulette-table," said Yule-Multon.
He took Freddy's arm, and the boy, who had
always thought him a fine fellow, laughed and went
with him.
" Vous etes a dummy n'est ce pas? only pre-
tendin' to play?" said Freddy to an old lady with
a hooked nose. "I'll give you five francs for your
seat," and he handed them over to Madame de
Punter, and got effusive thanks and the chair.
He changed a thousand-franc note for ten
plaques, and put four of them on impair, laughing
and chatting with Yule-Multon. Then he threw
three pieces on pair, and won again.
" In vein, by Jove !" he cried, and Captain Yule-
Multon, glancing darkly at the fair, triumphant face
258 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
and shining blue eyes, decided, with other people,
that it was true. He followed Freddy's game
closely for the next twenty coups, and excitement
gathered and increased round the two Englishmen.
A double pile of gold rose before them, and
calmly, methodically, as it seemed, they continued
to stake and win. Then zero came up, and the
stakes upon the board were put in prison the next
coup liberated them, and
"The run of luck is at an end," whispered Yule-
Multon. "We have won ten thousand francs
between us. Let us change it into notes and
sovereigns, and get out of this."
And, this done, he steered young Fortunatus
through the crowd, greedy and curious, out into
the open air.
" My hat !" cried Freddy. " Why did you bring
me out of the scrimmage? Why, we might have
broken the bank between us!" His pockets were
bulging with notes and gold, as were those of his
companion.
"You ungrateful young beggar!" Yule-Multon
said. "Thank me that you have got away with a
very pretty nest-egg."
" I won it with Nelly's money," chuckled jubilant
Freddy. "I must buy her a present out of it.
Where are you staying, old fellow ?"
"At the Couronne." Then, as Freddy's eyes
opened rather more widely, Yule-Multon added
stiffly : " It's not up to first-class form, I'm aware,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 259
but it's near the Casino and one can turn day into
night supposing one wants to."
" The best of all ways to lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night "
trolled Freddy. "Look here, will you dine with
me at the Metropole?"
"Thanks, but why not come back with me to the
Couronne ? The cooking's capital, and the wine is
something like. And "
"Righto!" said Freddy. " D'you know, I've
often wondered what it felt like to be a millionaire.
Well, I know now, and it's rippin' ! Here's my
car waiting. You know it used to be Nell's once
upon a time. I meant to drive over to Roquebrune
to call on some friends, but they'll keep."
"My dear, I am afraid for the boy," sighed
Petrolina, as we stopped before the white-painted,
green-blinded hotel, in a narrow by-street. " He is
in bad company. Our handsome ex-Guardsman is
a scoundrel, and has a score to pay off somebody
who loves handsome, hare-brained Freddy as the
apple of her eye. Listen. Yule-Multon is proposing
a quiet game of poker before dinner. Not bridge,
you see, because he means it to be a tete-a-tete. . . .
He has a golden goose to pluck, and doesn't mean
that any of his rascally friends and he is as much
a rascal as the worst of them to share in the
plunder. Now they are going up to Yule-Multon 's
room he has only one, funds being low. Presently,
when the table d'hote bell rings, these two will be
26o EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
too much absorbed to dine ; they will stay up there
behind those queer jalousies and order drinks
instead."
It turned out exactly as Petrolina had prophesied.
The gong sounded, and the tables filled with men
and women of all nationalities, but the handsome
ex-Guardsman, with the sleepy, fierce, brown eyes,
and the silky caressing manner, and the beautiful
English boy were not of those who dined. They
sat on either side of a little round-topped, green
cloth-covered table in Yule-Multon's room, a bottle
of cognac and some syphons of seltzer, a bowl of
cracked ice, and a decanter of absinthe upon a stand
close by. Yule-Multon splashed soda into his glass,
and only made feint with the brandy, but Freddy,
flushed and losing heavily, had frequent recourse
to the bottle.
" You have Old Harry's own luck," the boy said,
with a nervous laugh, as Yule-Multon displayed a
royal flush against two pairs of Freddy's.
" Why does he always win ?" I asked.
" Look at the little finger-nail of his right hand,
and you will know why. It is of uncommon length,
is it not ? And, just before dealing, he covers the
pack with his right hand, doesn't he? There is a
tiny pin-prick just within the edge of certain valu-
able cards, and that cultivated little finger-nail,
gently inserted between them, ascertains exactly
where they lie. Then, when just about to deal, he
holds the pack in both hands, clever fellow that he
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 261
is. Only for a moment, but to a skilled manipu-
lator like our friend that moment is sufficient.
Result : Freddy gets a bad hand, his alert companion
a full one. Already the boy has lost four thousand
francs of his winnings his handsome face is cloudy
and flushed, his throat is parched. He goes in for
brandy and soda once more, and bets heavily on
the cards he holds. Three kings, not at all bad.
But Yule-Multon has something better nothing
less than a royal flush and Freddy pushes over all
the cash he has left, and with a harsh laugh takes
his diamond and pearl pin from his necktie, and
loosens his watch and chain, and lays them down on
the table. What is he saying ?
"No I O U's while I have money's worth.
Nothing but my studs left now, to gamble with,
and Nell gave 'em me, Multon, and I don't care
about riskin' em."
He did risk and lost.
"I'll take your paper for the balance," Yule-
Multon said, pulling his heavy moustache, and
smiling in the flushed face of his victim.
" I promised Nell," the boy began, and the other
grinned a grin of malice. "Stop; there's my
automobile outside. Seen some wear, but good for
ninety pounds," cried Freddy, "and I'll play you
for that."
" We may congratulate ourselves, my dear," said
Petrolina, " on having passed into the possession of
a very reputable person."
262 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
" You don't mean that that designing wretch has
won me?" I cried in dismay.
"Fact," said Petrolina, "and the poor, pretty
pigeon is nearly plucked. But he has had the wit
not to set his hand to paper, and paper is what our
friend and proprietor wants. He has set his heart
on ruining the boy, for hate of Duchess Helen, who
escaped his toils, thanks to you and me. Oh !
Freddy, Freddy, wretched boy, what are you stak-
ing now? See the other man's face as he looks at
the face painted so delicately upon the oval of ivory
within a rim of brilliants. It was Duchess Helen's
present to the boy, that diamond-set miniature of
her. He vowed he would never part with it. Oh,
foolish Freddy ! And he has worn it round his
neck by its hair chain for a year ; and now he lays
it on the table in a sharper's den. What^s Yule-
Multon saying?"
"Thank you, but not without the chain !"
"The the hair ! Why, that isn't of any value
except as a keepsake," stammered the boy. " Look
here, Multon. I'll withdraw that and the miniature
as well. Here's my I O U."
But Yule-Multon had seen the date upon the
miniature that of a year back and the engraved
" From Nell," and a devilish scheme had begun to
breed in his busy brain. Oh, what could not be
worked in the way of revenge had he but posses-
sion of that miniature. Who would believe when
Duchess Helen should say "7 gave it to my
brother!"
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 263
Freddy had returned chain and miniature to their
hiding-place next his foolish, honest young heart,
and was standing at the pier-glass fastening his
collar, when Yule-Multon made his last bid.
" Look here, I'll stake you all I've won from you,
to the last sou, against that miniature. I will, upon
my soul." He cut the cards. " It's my deal will
you play?"
Freddy tied his necktie at the pier-glass. He saw
the pack quivering in his antagonist's dexterous
hands. His eyes were dimmed, his head hot and
dizzy. But he had seen and he knew. He turned
and faced Yule-Multon.
" I take you. Done, on one condition, that I
deal. I've noticed" and there was scathing con-
tempt in the quiet voice "that you're generally
fortunate when you do."
" Do you insinuate ?" began the other; then
he shrugged carelessly. "Deal, with pleasure!"
He added something else under his breath.
Freddy took the cards and shuffled them with care.
Then he dealt, looking steadily in Yule-Multon 's
eyes.
" My miniature of Nell against all you've won
from me. I'm a blackguard to chance it," the boy
said in his heart, " but if I win I swear before Heaven
I'll never bet again. If I lose "
His heart beat suffocatingly. He was deadly
sick. If he lost his sister's portrait to this knave
life would be impossible. He could never hold up
his head again even though Heaven pardoned and
264 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
Helen forgave him. She had nursed him through
typhoid fever at the risk of her own life. He felt
her cool breath upon his burning forehead and her
gentle touch upon his hand as in those days. Yes,
he would shoot himself if he lost. He swore it in
his soul as he took up his hand.
Jt was wretched a broken flush of the lowest
cards. Such a rush of colour came into his haggard
cheeks at sight of it that Yule-Multon, watching for
signs out of the corners of his eyes, could have
sworn the cards were of the best. His own were
nothing to boast of a pair of sevens, a tray, and
an ace. While this infernal young fool
Freddy, looking him straight in the face, bubbled
over with laughter. That such a little thing as a hand
of cards five bits of painted pasteboard should
send Nell into mourning. His eyes danced, the
colour ebbed and flowed under his clear skin.
"No call? Will you see me or pass?" His
voice rang clear, loud and triumphant. "Such a
fool could not bluff to save his life," thought Yule-
Multon, and flung down his wretched hand with a
bitter curse. Then the boy, who had won back
both honour and life, threw down his own, and the
pile of notes and gold, the watch and chain, and
the studs, changed hands. And I had regained
my master.
' You won't sup here and give me my
revenge?" said Yule-Multon, with a last effort, as
Freddy took hat and stick, and with buttoned-up
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 265
coat over pockets twice as bulging as before, went
to the door. The boy looked back.
' ' Thanks no ! I'm going to be a bit more careful
of my company in future," said the boy composedly.
" You young -"
"I am young," said Freddy, turning in the
doorway ; " but shall I tell you one thing, Captain
Yule-Multon?"
" Do and be hanged to you !" snarled the dis-
comfited sharper.
Freddy rang the lift-bell in the corridor before he
said, very slowly :
" That winning hand of mine that was a bluff I"
Then he stepped into the lift and descended to
the ground-floor. He chuckled as he got into me,
and we started at a smooth, gliding pace.
"I'll go home to-morrow," said the boy, "and
see Nell and make a clean breast of it. Why, there's
young April."
"Young April," as little Lord Frickham was nick-
named at Eton because he was so extremely green
and tender, jumped at the hail, and sprang to
Freddy's side as he checked me.
" I say, aren't you a swell. Where did you raise
the machine? Bully oh, bully I"
" Look here, young man," said Freddy, magisteri-
ally, "are you here alone?"
" I yes, I am. I was at Mentone with Mother
and the girls."
" Why ain't you at school ?"
266 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
" I've left Eton, you know," said Frickham, with
a healthy blush. " I go to Oxford next term, and
I'd a throat, and they Mater's medical men said
the south of France was as good as anywhere. And
so we came. Jane is stopping at the Villa Bourboule
my cousin Jane, you know. She's uglier than
ever, and the Mater rubs it in that I've got to marry
her because she's a Viscountess in her own right,
and as rich as a Jew. And I hate her at least,
whenever I think about having to marry her. And
ever since I saw Madame Henriette Baziel act in
London last June, I've I've been worse." Frickham
was all red, red hair, reddish-brown eyes, red
freckles, and red blushes as Freddy looked hard at
him. " She played in L' Impair and Papa Patachon.
And, by Jove, I think she's the loveliest woman in
the world."
"And you're in love with her, you young ass !"
said Freddy, "and rushed over here to catch a
glimpse of her."
*' How the dickens did you guess ? But it's true.
We're stopping in a beastly pension, with other
people as poor as church mice, and I read in the
paper that she was here, and I bolted and came
over. Now I'm off to the Casino to try and get a
glimpse. Ta-ta!"
" You won't get it," said Freddy, cruelly. " She
left on her steam motor-car an eighteen horse-
power Oiseau vapomobile this morning. I saw
her go. I heard her call out to the Due de Blanque-
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 267
ville : ' Au revoir, mon cher! I go by Lyons, Dijon,
Chaumont, and Nogent to Paris. Come and see
us soon in the Chaussee d'Antin.' '
" ' I go by Lyons, Dijon, Chaumont, and Nogent,
to Paris.' And she lives in the Chaussee d'Antin,"
repeated poor downcast Frickham. "Lucky beast
of a Due to be asked to go to see her. What are
you stopping for?"
"It's the telegraph bureau. I'm going to cable
to my sister to say I'm coming home," Freddy
said over his shoulder, as he ran up the crooked
stone steps. The bureau was crowded ; he scribbled
out his cablegram and waited several moments
before the harassed clerk could attend to him. When
he ran down the steps again he opened his blue eyes
in astonishment. No Frickham, no automobile !
" He can drive, the little beggar, and he's taken
the car for a run. Like his cheek," said Freddy.
A beggar upon crutches shuffled up and tendered
a scrap of paper. Freddy tossed the man half a
franc ; he offered the bit of paper persistently.
"From the other English gentleman," he said
at last, and Freddy, unfolding a leaf torn from
Frickham 's notebook, read these words, hastily
scribbled in pencil :
" Au revoir, mon cher. I go by Lyons, Dijon,
Chaumont, and Nogent to Paris. Don't split to
the Mater. FRICKHAM."
" Confound the fellow ! He has bolted with my
268 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
carl" shouted Freddy. A vision rose before him
of Frickham, in a halo of dust, pursuing a lovely
will-o'-the-wisp, at prohibited speed, along French
highways, while Lady Frickham played Sister
Anne on the balcony of a cheap Mentone pension.
His wrath changed to laughter, the whole thing was
so much in the style of young Lochinvar. He walked
home to the hotel laughing, and went home next
day by the express from Turin.
V.
"A new experience for you, Automobile, my
dear, wise as you are getting," cried Petrolina, with
a triumphant chuckle. "This scamp of a boy,
.' Young April,' has eloped with us. We are on the
track of his charmer, and he will have to pile on
speed to catch her up if ever he does "
The rest was lost in the rush of my going. Mercy !
how Frickham drove. And as he went he muttered
between his clenched teeth : " Lyons, Dijon, Chau-
mont, Nogent, Paris!" I trembled for my pneu-
matic tyres, remembering the Bishop of Baverfield's
painful experience. But one could not but feel that,
were Frickham "projected into the air" by any
such untoward accident, the boy would rebound un-
hurt from the surface of Mother Earth, like a tennis
ball. He had five hundred francs in his pocket, this
young adventurer, an English half-sovereign, and
a Norwegian copper piece of one ore. It would be
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 269
necessary to be economical . At Grenoble he stopped,
bought a long loaf of bread, some bottles of mineral
waters, and a gigantic bunch of bananas. He also
expended two francs on a road-map, which he spread
upon the vacant seat beside him, and weighted with
bottles of soda-water. All through the day the boy
drove, without overtaking anything like the eighteen
horse-power car of which he was in search. Carters
cracked their whips at him, and petrol touring-
cars were left behind upon the road. Once a wicked-
looking, grey-painted, racing-car, the driver-owner's
uncomfortable, low-backed seat occupying but a tiny
space behind the big wedge-nosed engine and the
capacious tank, appeared on the distant road, and
flashed by, leaving Frickham with a mental photo-
graph of a haggard, determined face, and red, weary
eyes peering through a talc mask.
" Biggies, on his Thousand-mile Cup-winner,"
said Frickham to himself. *' I wonder whether he
has seen her?"
She, of course, being Madame Henriette Baziel.
She had, as it happened, and smiled and bowed to
the hollow-eyed champion as he flashed by, and said
to her companion afterwards speaking of the ugly
racing car: "She is an awful guy" to translate
Madame's Parisian slang literally "Mais elle
marchel"
Madame's own vehicle was walking at the pre-
historic rate of thirty-five miles an hour. Sunset
was dying and the lonely star of twilight palely shin-
270 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
ing under the growing curve of the new moon, when
the speed lessened, and the engine began to give off
warning hiccoughs. Madame's companion, a stiff,
middle-aged example of irreproachable respect-
ability, shrouded in yards of blue gauze from the sun
and dust, uttered shrill cries. The car was brought
to a standstill, the driver and the chauffeur peered
under the high-bodied vehicle, unbonneted the
engine, and inspected the water-tank. The regulator
leaked, the exhaust valve simply shrieked to be
reground a simple process enough when materials
for regrinding are at hand. But in the present
instance, they were not. And there was no spare
valve.
"We are within three miles of a town of small
size, but doubtless possessing an automobile agent ;
let us send Michel forward to get the valve reground,
and purchase a spare one. We can sup al fresco
by the roadside. It will be amusing!" suggested
the driver.
" My friend, Michel has already proved himself
an idiot. I would rather thou went. Thou art an
athlete ; the three miles will be nothing to those long
legs of thine," said Madame, smiling like a sorceress
through the latest thing in veils. "Thou knowest,
Charles."
Charles glanced through his goggles rather rue-
fully at the extremities thus complimented.
" In such heat and dust," he murmured.
Madame had her retort.
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 271
" Didst thou heed those in Africa?"
Charles explained that the thirst for military glory
had caused him to overlook these discomforts.
"Once a soldier of France always a soldier of
France. Forward!" said Madame, dramatically,
and Charles set the long legs obediently in motion.
He looked back at a bend where the white road grew
steeper. Madame kissed her hand.
"This is a rigolade, without doubt! Parole
d'honneur!" he grumbled. But he strode forward
manfully and vanished out of sight. The companion
kindled a spirit-lamp at the roadside, a respectful
distance from the car. " Where there are explosives
one must be careful," she observed. Singing as
carelessly and as sweetly as a bird, Madame
Henriette opened a cunningly bestowed hamper, and
took out a store of capital things bread and salad,
pats of golden butter wrapped in green leaves,
sausage, pdt6, hard-boiled eggs, cream -cheese,
pastry, and fruit. Coffee was made smelling
divinely. Madame had just poured it out when
Frickham arrived upon the scene.
" I have seen that little English boy before,"
thought Madame Henriette. He recognised her,
panted, put on the screaming brakes so hard that I
described a half-circle in the dust, and, as I halted,
quivering and white with dust as any miller, his red
eyebrows were frosted as with premature age, a coat-
ing as of damp flour adhered to his snub, school-
boy features, but the worship in his reddish eyes,
272 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
blazing under their white eye-lashes, was plain, as
he noted the stationary car, the chauffeur tinkering
in its bowels, and the ladies by the roadside.
"I'm so awfully sorry," he began; "how did
it " then he checked himself and blundered into
schoolboy French.
"I also speak the English," Madame assured
him ; and surely there never was a prettier accent.
" You have come to grief somehow; can I be of
any use?" implored Frickham.
"Of use? Monsieur, I do not know " She
put one exquisitely-gloved finger to the distracting
dimple in her chin.
" Some petrol or a spanner or oil "
" Ah," she said, pondering, her bright eyes half-
closed, "it may be oil that is needed. Could
Monsieur spare some ?"
" My heart's blood !" burst from poor Frickham,
and then blushes covered him.
"A little oil would be more useful," she said,
innocently. Oh 1 how innocent she could be when
she chose.
"My cherished, the coffee spoils!" called the
companion.
"We are coming, A dele ! Monsieur" she
turned all her bright artillery upon poor Frickham
" Monsieur will share with us. We are fellow-
travellers, and Monsieur will not refuse the hospi-
tality of the road."
Adele, her blue veil raised above a well-powdered
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 273
chin, received Frickham with smiles. They sat and
ate glorified sausage, celestial ham, the pastry of
fairyland, and drank the coffee of the immortals.
Afterwards Henriette produced a little flask of
liqueur.
Each had a chasse, Adele took a second. Sitting
by the road they chatted while the sunset glowed
deepest orange, and the shadows stretched longer
and bluer. She smoked a cigarette. Frickham had
one from her dainty case, though perfumed Turkish
tobacco was despised at school, and the meerschaum
in his pocket burned to come out.
He was surprised to find himself telling Madame
everything, about the beastly pension, and the girls,
and Jane. Looking sideways at Madame Henriette's
piquant profile, listening to her charming voice,
entangled in the net of her delicate witcheries, how
very, very plain Jane appeared. He was deeper in
love every instant. He wondered whether she
guessed? Simple Frickham. He blurted out the
reason of his bolt over to Monaco. Grown bold, he
confessed the theft of ME. She laughed and clapped
her hands.
" But it is a Gasconnadel Monsieur cannot be
English. Adele do listen to this !"
She told the story in her clear-cut, exquisite
French, Frickham watching the play of her mouth,
eyes, and fingers. Suddenly, as Adele collapsed in
shrieks of laughter, he realised that it was funny f
That she found his devotion amusing, his frantic
18
274 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
pursuit an excellent joke. He sprang to his feet
with choking throat and smarting eyes. He bowed
with his best grace, and
"But stop, Monsieur!" she cried, and rose.
" You are not going ?"
"I I think I'd better. Good-bye, Madame,"
stuttered poor Frickham. His idol had laughed.
He could never get over it. He held out his hand
bravely, but his heart was broken.
She looked at him with eyes in which the mocking
light was quenched in tears. We will assume that
they were real tears. Her lips quivered. "Will
Monsieur leave two ladies alone unprotected? It
grows late our companion has not returned "
"Beast that I am!" thought Frickham. He
declared his willingness to protect Madame and her
friend from annoyance or alarm even at the peril
of his life. He was beautifully thanked, even as
the long legs of Monsieur Charles came striding
down the hill. He brought the valve, reground.
Had had something to eat and drink at an inn . Was
ready to take the road as soon as the valve was
adjusted. Frickham dejectedly took leave once
more.
"Nonsense! Since you have come part of the
way to Paris after us, you may as well travel the
rest of it with us," said Madame. By "us"
she meant "me." She introduced Frickham to
Monsieur Charles as "a fellow-countryman of the
author of Hamlet.*' The touch of grandiloquence
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 275
in her tone ! Was she laughing again ? But by
this time it was too dark to see her eyes. She invited
him to join the party in her "Oiseau." The
chauffeur should drive Frickham's car. They were
to stay the night at Lyons. Voyez, there was an
extra couch in Monsieur Charles's room.
" It will be jolly, most extremely," said Monsieur
Charles, who also spoke English, and whose
moustache and cavalry swagger had prejudiced
Frickham. "What, then, you still have the
scruples ? Zut , alors ! For you the bed, for me the
sofa, if you will. We soldiers can sleep on the edge
of a blunt knife."
" And I want to show you my theatre in Paris,
and my house and my little rabbits," said
Madame.
Frickham swallowed the sweet bait. Oh 1 the fun
and the laughter, the successes and the mishaps of
that journey to Paris. The picnics by the roadside,
the halts at quaint country inns, the zest that
Henriette gave to everything, with her humour, her
good temper, her irony, her tenderness, her wrath.
On the evening of the third day they entered Paris
by one of the great illuminated boulevards. Frick-
ham, who had hitherto arrived in the grey dawn,
crawled sleepily out of the stuffy Paris express, and
been joggled through stale back-streets in a smelly
omnibus, to be decanted in the stony courtyard of a
rigidly British hotel, felt as though he had never
seen Paris before.
276 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
"Thou wilt look after him the little milord?"
whispered Madame to Monsieur Charles, when,
after a dinner at the Cafe" de Paris, and a play at the
Varieties, she bade Frickham good-night. "Re-
member, I trust him to thee. It is a good little one,
and I will not have him come to harm."
And she dismissed the young men. Frickham
was to sleep at Monsieur Charles's flat. Fearfully
and wonderfully gorgeous was that bachelor resi-
dence, an entresol of four rooms in the Rue des
Gommeux. The room assigned to Frickham was
draped like a Moorish tent, and adorned with
trophies of arms and pipes. Such pipes ! a collec-
tion of the pipes of all the nations of the world. The
smoking-room was Japanese, and as Frickham sat
in a great carved chair, smoking one of his host's
Havanas, and noted the portrait of Madame in a
turquoise -studded silver frame, reigning chief
among the portraits of pretty women crowding the
mantelshelf, his heart knew a pang of bitter, boyish
jealousy.
"You you seem great friends," he said, and
Monsieur Charles, lounging in a brocade gown on
a divan, his embroidered silk slippers in the air,
made up his mouth into a funny screw before he
answered.
" But yes we are friends. All my life we are
friends, Madame and me."
"Bragging brute!" thought poor Frickham,
scowling at the sabretaches and the sabres and the
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 277
spurs and whips and foils that distinguish the apart-
ment of a dandy cavalryman. But he warmed, in
spite of himself, to the charm of Monsieur Charles's
hospitality. There were tones in his voice, glances
of his eye, that reminded Frickham of the goddess
he adored. He telegraphed to Lady Frickham to
say that he was with friends in Paris, carefully for-
getting to mention their names, and would return
in two days' time. And he saw a rehearsal at
Madame Henriette's theatre, and drove out to her
house in the Bois de Boulogne to late breakfast.
His goddess, looking adorable, gave him both
hands. Adele of the powdered nose gave him three
fingers. Madame Henriette was all smiles, all en-
chantment. Her house was a miracle of beauty
and good taste, but Jane would have said there were
too many flowers, and Lady Frickham would have
been shocked at the extravagance of point lace
blinds. She gave him her photograph, "With
charming recollections of our journey," written in
small characters on the margin, above a giant
signature.
"You return to-morrow, milord?" she said; and
poor Frickham felt that somehow it was a command.
" But before we part I must show you my little
rabbits."
The little rabbits were three fair, pretty children.
They appeared at dejeuner, smiling over em-
broidered lace bibs, and beat with silver-gilt spoons
upon the table, shrieking "Papa!" as Monsieur
2 7 8
Charles appeared. He kissed them all round and
then, with a queer look at Frickham, embraced
Madame Henriette, while the poor little milord went
hot and cold.
" Monsieur asked me last night whether we were
friends?" He pulled her pink ear, smiling, as
Frickham bounded in his chair. " I told him ' All
my life.'"
"It is true," said Madame Henriette, turning to
the scarlet boy. "Mother and son are friends in
France. It is not so in England ?"
Frickham could not speak. They thought the
soup had burned him, or they said they thought
so.
" A little ice-water," suggested Adele. " Charles,
the ice-water stands by thy mother. No, Nini, thy
hand is too small. Let papa have the carafe, my
child."
Frickham could not restrain himself.
"Are you? . . . Is it true?" . . .
"That this long-legged cuirassier is my son?
But certainly," said Madame Henriette, with the
prettiest matronly air. " Certainly, monsieur. Also
that Adele there is my dear daughter-in-law, and
that these little rabbits are my grandchildren. I
must introduce you to my husband also. He will
join us later."
He proved, when he joined them, much too young
a husband to be the father of the volatile Monsieur
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 279
Charles. In fact, he was Madame's third. She
adored him, evidently. He was a banker of Alsa-
tian extraction, whose "b's" were "p's," and
whose name was M. Josich.
Frickham felt giddy as he took leave. She was
kind, she was lovely, even in the morning light,
but she was a mother and a grandmother, and
married for the third time to a M. Josich.
" Is it all over?" she asked, as she gave him her
hand. " You love me no longer, is it not so? But
you will take my photograph home to England and
remember your friend Henriette when you look at
it, and you will marry the little Vicomtesse Jeanne,
and be happy ever after !" She kissed his cheek as
his own mother might have done. "You are half
angry with me now for not being all you dreamed . . .
is it not? But by and by you will be glad that I
showed you my little rabbits. Adiue, milord, and
bon voyage!"
She waved her white hand from the balcony and
threw Frickham a rose. M . Josich stood beside her,
Charles and Adele were behind, arm-in-arm, the
little rabbits were clinging to her dress. Frickham
thought his heart was broken as he drove away in a
rattle-trap Paris cab. But he went and saw her
act that night, and wore his gloves out applauding,
and laughed until he cried. He met M. Charles in
the foyer.
"My friend whom I have known all my life
280 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
told me to give you this." He gave Frickham a little
package. " You are not to open it until you get
back to Men tone."
Frickham drove back to rejoin Lady Frickham
and the girls, and Jane, at a very sober and reason-
able pace, knowing the scolding that awaited him.
I may add that he got it.
The packet contained a turquoise and diamond
pin. Frickham has always cherished it. He wore
it on his wedding day, three years later, and
Jane
Jane makes a good wife and Frickham a con-
scientious, if unimpassioned, husband.
VI.
I travelled back to England with the Frickhams.
Freddy Fosvil on my return lent me to a friend.
Not an old friend a decidedly young and fair one,
in the person of Miss Nora Philadelphia Van
Cupper, whose acquaintance he had made at the
memorable costume ball given by the Duchess of
Kineddar, at Strongholdness House that very
season.
" I guess you think, when I say how badly I need
rest and quiet, that Piccadilly ought to seem as
peaceful as a desert after the racket of N'York.
Well, it is pretty noisy, and that's a fact. We keep
going considerable. But the kind of rest I want
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 281
is what the 'possum longs for in the fall, when the
n igg ers are round of nights with pine-knots and
guns."
" You mean you're hunted by people. You see,"
said Freddy, " American ladies are always welcome
over here. When they're piquant and clever, and
have got heaps of squirrel-coloured hair and big,
coffee-coloured eyes with yellow lights in them"
the eyes he described did not lower their long lashes
the hundredth of an inch " then they're especially
welcome."
"More especially," said Miss Van Cupper,
" when they happen to belong to what your society
papers call the ' millionocracy.' If Poppa hadn't
founded the United States Chewing-Gum Trust, and
secured the absolute monopoly of the article, say,
do you suppose for one minute these blue-blooded
English aristocrats would take any notice of Momma
and me?"
" I have not yet had the pleasure," said Freddy,
" of being presented to Mrs. Van Cupper."
" I guess you won't ever have it," said Miss Van
Cupper. " Momma sailed for Amurrica yesterday.
She'd gone right through the London season with
me, and she was about tuckered out. She's going
home to hire a cheap flat in an unfashionable quarter,
and she means to have a hired help and do her own
cooking, and wear a wrapper all day. That's her
idea of a rest. Now mine is to do a tour of this
cunning little green England of yours in an auto-
282 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
mobile, with my best friend, Sadie Vermont. She's
real sweet, is Sadie."
" I can only repeat that my motor is at your
service," said Freddy. " It's a capital machine !"
" I meant to buy a real convenient large
one," said Miss Van Cupper; "but if you
will kindly say how much you would accept for
yours "
" Dear lady, mine is not for sale," said Freddy,
rather red. " If you will use it, I shall be charmed,
if not "
" You will excuse me, won't you ?" said Miss Van
Cupper, " for supposing you wanted to trade."
"Of of course!" Freddy stuttered, blushing
healthily.
"You're real generous, and I'll take the very
greatest care " began Miss Van Cupper.
"You'll forgive me again for asking whether the
acceptance of such an offer as you have made me
could be considered as anyways compromising to a
young lady ?" Her bright eyes consulted Freddy's
frankly. "You ain't compelled to marry a gentle-
man because you've borrowed his automobile, are
you?"
" Great Scot, no !" said Freddy.
"I breathe more freely," admitted Miss Van
Cupper, "because, though you're heir to a title and
as handsome as can be, you're real poor, though
you're the son of a lord not that that's uncommon.
But, you see, Poppa says the husband I've got
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 283
to have must be something in the earl line, if all the
dukes are bespoken. Poppa won't invest his millions
in anything lower down. He's got a cinch on that
idea, and I dunno as he isn't right. And so no
matter how nice I thought you, and I do it it
wouldn't pan out not nohow. And I said what I
did about borrowing your automobile because once,
when I accepted a bouquet from an Italian count,
and wrote a note of thanks, Poppa had to pay ten
thousand dollars to quiet him and get me off. It
was a passionate proposal of marriage, in the
Language of Flowers, you see. . . . I've learned
that language since, and you bet I don't take tulips
and roses from anything under an unmarried
marquis."
" Quite right," said Freddy. " And I hope Miss
Vermont will be as careful."
"My!" exclaimed Miss Van Cupper, elevating
her pretty eyebrows. " Why, Sadie hasn't a dollar
to her back. She's a school teacher if she is real
elegant, and comes of one of the oldest families in
the States. And she wanted a vacation in Europe,
and that's why I brought her along."
Freddy fixed his eyeglass in his eye reflectively.
"I should like to know a poor American girl for
a change," he said, plaintively. "It would be so
new."
" I guess you will know Sadie some day," said
Miss Van Cupper.
11 1 shall pant, figuratively, for that day's dawn-
284 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
ing," said Freddy. "Meanwhile, my car stands
underneath your windows" Miss Van Cupper
occupied a palatial suite of apartments at the
Harlton "dying to know whether you approve of
her or otherwise?"
Miss Van Cupper peeped between the lace
draperies at me as I basked in the sunshine of the
Haymarket, between a smart coupt and a glittering
drag. She said I was "as cunning as could be,"
and she accepted me as a loan, for July. And, at
that moment, Miss Sadie Vermont came into the
room so noiselessly that Freddy did not hear her,
and jumped violently when he turned and saw her
standing behind him. She was nothing to look at,
Freddy said to himself and then she seemed every-
thing.
It is difficult to describe her. She was dressed in
diaphanous brown muslin, with a tiny yellow leaf
on it. She was small and slight, and ivory-pale.
She had great widely-opened eyes of an indescrib-
able colour, emerald-green in some lights, blue-black
in others, in others brownish-blue. She was crowned
with folds upon folds of rich hair, perfectly straight,
lustreless, inky black. Her skin was an unflushed
ivory, and she was as slender as a lily on its stalk.
Both hands such delicate, tiny hands, pink-nailed
and ringless were full of letters.
" I have brought your mail, Nora," she said in a
voice as sweet and low as though a wood-dove had
been suddenly gifted with a voice, Freddy thought,
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 285
and in the instant Duchess Helen's brother was
fathoms deep in love with a school-teaching
American girl, who travelled as a vacation
secretary.
"Mr. Fosvil Miss Vermont," introduced Miss
Van Cupper.
Miss Vermont bowed, very slightly.
"I'll read all those letters by and by, I guess,"
said Miss Van Cupper. " I can surmise what the
bulk of 'em will turn out. Proposals. I've had as
many as twenty in one afternoon. And the nerve
of the men just astonishes me, every time. What
I'm going to do now is to plan out a route for our
automobile tour, with Mr. Fosvil."
"Our tour with Mr. Fosvil?" Miss Vermont's
delicate eyebrows moved upwards.
"That girl is as proud as an empress," thought
Freddy. " Is America full of school-marms of this
type?"
He explained that he had offered Miss Van Cupper
the use of his car, unhampered by the society of the
owner.
"Nora wants to drive from London to Edin-
burgh," said Miss Vermont.
"It's a stunning route," said Freddy, eagerly;
"and Strongholdness is on the road. I will write
to my sister; she would be charmed if you looked
her up. She will be there by the sixth, because of
the babies."
" I do not think we need trouble the Duchess,"
286 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
said Miss Vermont, calmly. Miss Van Cupper
opened her eyes.
" But we will, I guess that is, if her Grace will
be good enough to allow us. Why, I've heard all
sorts of things about Strongholdness Castle. It was
built with blood for mortar, in the eleventh century.
There's a mysterious chamber in it, and the walls
are full of Oliver Cromwell's crossbow-bolts and
cannon-balls."
" As you please," said the proud, gentle voice.
"An old place of ours is on the route, too; you
might take a peep at it," said Freddy to the heiress.
"It's a moated priory - house, very tumbledown
Fosvil Chase, in Bedfordshire. Henry VIII.
stole it from the monks and gave it to Simon de
Fosvil in 1533. We have a tumbledown old castle
in North Wales, but the Chase was always the place
I liked best as a boy. . . . My father never goes
there; he prefers the Continent, or London says
the moat is rheumatic, and the old oaks give him
the blues. There's an avenue of 'em two miles
long. Yes, my father hates the Chase. . . . As
for me, I think it the dearest place in the world !"
"Then why don't you live there? I guess I
would," said Miss Van Cupper. Replying, Freddy
looked not at the heiress but at the heiress's
secretary.
" I'm too poor," he said, bluntly.
Miss Vermont looked him full in the face. Her
faintly-rose-tinted lips were apart, showing the small
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 287
white teeth. Her great eyes were interested and
kind.
" You may be rich enough some day," she said,
diffidently.
" No," said Freddy, drawing a short hard breath.
"It's mortgaged to the last acre of ground; my
father is not the best of business men. Some day a
millionaire will ask me down there to stay, and he
will have pulled down the old carved fireplaces and
turned the chapel into a ballroom and stripped the
ivy from the walls and drained the moat. . . . And
I shall be asked to admire his improvements when
I want to shoot him. Good-bye. I'll send the car
round when it has been cleaned, and, I do hope,"
he added, as he took the slim little secretary's hand,
"that you'll have a jolly holiday."
He went away quickly.
"Oh, Freddy, you downcast young man !" said
Petrolina, gleefully, as we tooted up the Haymarket
towards Piccadilly, "if your father is a bad man
of business, the same can't be said of you, my dear.
You have brought off the cleverest stroke you ever
made in your whole life of twenty-six years, and
the best of it is that you're not aware of it. Now
we're going to be cleaned and oiled. Freddy will
see to everything himself most conscientiously. And
there will be a plaid of the Kineddar tartan folded
over the back of the seat, and a sprig no, two
sprigs of heather though heather is barely yet in
bloom pinned to the cushions, and the route
288 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
pricked out on a map with crosses in green pencil
for Fosvil Chase and Strongholdness. . . . And
for whom is all this trouble taken ? Guess I Not for
the heiress but for the secretary. Ha, ha, ha !"
Freddy got a letter of acknowledgement from Miss
Van Cupper, Petrolina told me, written in a par-
ticularly neat, business-like hand, possibly the
secretary's. It had a postscript :
" I have been looking I mean, Sadie has been
looking up your name in the Peerage. And I see
you are an earl's son, though you're only called
honourable. That is, of course, because your elder
brother is a viscount. Therefore, I do trust you will
overlook what I said to-day. The recollection of it
has made me feel considerable cheap ever since.
Thank you ever so for sending the motor."
"There was an addendum in a delicate, upright
hand," said Petrolina, giggling :
" ' We so much regret that we shall not be able
to visit Fosvil Chase !'
" ' Now, I suppose that is the Van Cupper's fist,' '
said Freddy. " He kissed the other you know the
way he did it, my dear ! and went on talking to
himself : ' Perhaps it's as well that they can't drive
through the Chase. Medstock writes me that the
Highland cattle Nell sent three years ago are getting
quite dangerous to people driving or walking through
the park, or would-be picnic-parties. And Lazarus
and Simon won't wait that's another bit of news
he sends me. The estate isn't properly entailed
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 289
they'll foreclose after Christmas if the principal and
interest aren't paid up then, and . . . oh ! it's a
sweet letter. Comforting and cheering, very, to a
pauper who's in love with another pauper.' And he
tramped up and down his chambers until he was
sick of tramping, and then told his man to pack a
portmanteau and where do you think he has gone,
my dear? Can't imagine? Stupid Automobile!
Down to Fosvil Chase to bid the old oaks good-bye.
He had better be careful of the Highland cattle him-
self. There is one bull, a shaggy, white creature
with a red, wicked eye. 'The De'il,' the Scots
herdsman-keeper calls him and he deserves the
name. . . . Now, here are OUT two Americans.
The secretary has style, don't you think ? Odd, that
she should take the driver's seat but she can drive,
and our heiress the Chewing-Gum Princess, as the
New York papers call her can't for peanuts. A
tiny hand on the driving-wheel and a small quite
a Cinderella-like foot on the pedal ; but both have
had plenty of experience. The road won't get
interesting until we have left Doncaster well behind
us on our second day's journey. So these girls will
talk about their own affairs. If you listen well, my
dear, you will find out why our pretty Freddy has
done an excellent stroke of business. I puzzle you ?
He, he, he!"
And thus the provoking creature continued until,
dusty but in unimpaired condition, we entered
Bedfordshire, and turning aside from the Great
290 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
North Road, passed in by the stately, ruinous lodge-
gates of Fosvil Chase.
" My land !" I heard the heiress say. " And you
wrote a postscript to that poor, dear boy to tell him
you wouldn't have time to look at his Tudor oaks.
Well, of all the contradictory creatures on this earth,
you're the most so, Nora !"
"She means Sadie," I said, and Petrolina
sniggered.
"Of course she does. I must admit, my dear,
that you have a very clear comprehension of things
that are under your front lamps."
I snorted a little as I drove the burnt gas out of
my cylinder. I was five years old and had seen a
good deal of hard wear and tear. And I had never
quite got over Frickham's mad race in pursuit of
Madame Henriette. And there had been a meddle-
some ostler at Biggleswade who had in the absence
of my chauffeur insisted on opening my bonnet
and poking about inside. A cone on my wheel ball
race wanted renewing, perhaps, or the
"Tut, tut !" said Petrolina, " what a fuss you are
making, my dear."
"The house is about two miles distant," said
Miss Vermont, as the heiress entreated to know " if
anything was wrong?" "We will run on under
the shade of these glorious oaks no wonder Mr.
Fosvil said he loved them and then while we are
looking at the picture-gallery and the chapel, and
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 291
the other lovely old things, Willis can get down and
overhaul the engine."
Willis, relegated to the back seat, touched his cap.
" I suppose those shaggy white things are deer,"
said Miss Van Cupper. " Look, Nora, how tame
they are. One of them is coming to meet us, the
darling. Well, this is real rural England, or my
name ain't "
" Hush !" whispered the secretary. " I do wish
you would be careful. The chauffeur belongs to
Mr. Fosvil as well as the car, and you've called me
' Nora ' twice in the last ten minutes. As for your
tame deer, it is no more a deer than I am. What did
you say, Willis? A Highland bull and they are
dreadfully vicious. . . . Don't be frightened,
Sadie" I wondered why she called Miss Van
Cupper by her own name " we'll simply turn round
and run back to the lodge."
And she grasped the lever. But something was
wrong with me. I felt it with a shudder of despair.
The stud was in the second notch, but I continued,
coughing, spitting, and rumbling, to bowl along
the broad, mossy avenue, under the noble oaks.
And the red-eyed, shaggy, pointed, sharp-horned
creature before me, lowered his bossy head and pre-
pared for battle.
"Stop the car! Stop!" screamed Miss Van
Cupper, and her companion stopped me indeed, but
even as I halted the bull charged.
2 9 2 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
Crash !
At the tremendous shock of the animal's impact
I lost consciousness.
I think I heard screams I am not sure. I
emitted smoke and flame, I believe. When I became
clearly aware of things, I knew I was on fire. My
petrol had exploded, and the fierce white flame,
bursting from every cranny of my buckling engine-
box, roared high. There was a horrible smell of
singeing hair and charring meat. That came from
a dead bull, lying partly over me. He was a gallant
fellow and had made his last charge.
But my passengers my charges my chauffeur !
Even in the agonies of conflagration I could think
of them.
"They are quite safe, my dear," said a cynical
voice I knew to be Petrolina's; "they jumped out
as the bull charged, and nobody is more than a
scratch the worse, except the pretty secretary the
attractive pauper of poor Freddy's waking and
sleeping dreams she has twisted her ankle. He
carried her all the way to the house." She
chuckled.
" Who ?" I panted. " Oh, will nobody come and
put me out?"
" Here come some labourers with tarpaulins,"
said Petrolina. "You will be a nice spectacle, I
can tell you, when they have put you out. Ah ! my
dear, we have taken our last spin together, you
and I!"
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 293
" At any rate, I killed the bull," I said, groaning ;
" that is some consolation."
"You're wrong, my dear," snapped Petrolina,
" the bull had picked himself up and was preparing
for a second charge, or perhaps to chase the ladies,
when Freddy shot him. He was strolling with his
gun, and he came upon the scene in time to give
' The De'il ' the contents of a shot-cartridge, right
in the middle of his stupid brain. And then he
carried the lovely Miss Vermont to the house. That
interesting pauper has made a very deep impression,
my dear. And Freddy, as I said before, is a
lucky Here are the men with the tarpaulins."
They put me out with difficulty, and drenched me
with bucketfuls of water from a pond, to cool me, and
then a shattered, buckled, cinderous wreck I
was towed by a cart-horse to the stables.
"Good-bye, my dear, for the present. I am
going to see after our young people ! ' ' said Petrolina.
And presently she was back in the highest spirits.
"They are getting along excellently," she re-
ported. " Freddy has sent for the Vicar's wife to
play chaperon and propriety in general, whilst he
plays host to the heiress and the secretary. Fortu-
nately some of the cleanest of the old rooms are
aired, and the housekeeper has sent for the North
Lodge-keeper's wife, who was cook here in the good
old days. As for Miss Van Cupper and her secre-
tary, they haven't a thread left to wear except what
they have got on them their luggage has been
294 EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES
burned, poor dears. But they have telegraphed to
the heiress's maids who were left at the Harlton,
and the necessary garments will be here to-morrow."
Later she said : " He had the assurance to carry
the secretary down to the dining-room, and leave
the heiress to toddle along behind the Vicar's wife.
There's respect for wealth ! There's a sense of what
is due to "
" To grace and beauty !" I put in.
"He told her to-night, in the old Queen Anne
drawing-room, smelling of moths and ancient pot-
pourri, that he loved her, and has asked her whether
she could be content to marry a poor fellow, not poor
through extravagance of his own, but of others he
stopped at others and she knew that he meant his
father. He has told her about his brother
paralysed for life by a fall in a steeplechase, and
slowly dying, and about his beautiful sister, Duchess
Nell, and about his one stroke of good fortune
the money he won at Monte Carlo. And she has
told him nothing at all ! But to-morrow night,
when she comes down to dinner with a bankrupt
empress's jewels gleaming in her hair and round
her lovely throat, she will tell him something."
"And that "
" That will be, my dear, that she is not Miss Sadie
Vermont, the secretary, but Miss Nora Van Cupper,
the heiress to Mr. Van Cupper's millions. She will
tell him that she practised her deception to get a
little rest from the people who are always pursuing
OF AN AUTOMOBILE 295
the Chewing-Gum Princess. But that will not be
quite the truth. The truth is that she wanted to buy
with her poverty what she could never buy were
she possessed of all the riches of the dead Incas of
Peru the love of an honest man. And so, good-
night, Automobile, my dear. You're a fearful ruin
to look at. Still, we have had a pleasant time
together, haven't we ? Now it is over without your
getting as far as Edinburgh. But your little affair
with the bull, and the resulting flare-up, has made
Freddy a happy lover. . . . What is that you
say?"
"You meant it all from the first?" I cried.
There was no reply.
THE SILVER BIRCH.
VIVIELLE had been crying, it was plain to see ; there
were red circles round her great blue eyes and tear
smudges under them, and her pocket-handkerchief
was a mere little wet dab of cambric. Her floss silk
of hair, the colour of the ripe corn, was tangled.
Every now and then her little white upper teeth bit
into her red, pouting underlip, and a sob heaved
her childish breast under the dainty, filmy silk
muslin blouse a blouse that had come from Paris,
like everything else Vivielle ever wore.
And what was the cause of her grief ? Not that she
had been naughty ; she was hardly ever that, they
said the classical tutor and the professor of music,
and the teacher of fencing and calisthenics, and the
dancing mistress were all agreed that Mademoiselle
was the most docile of pupils ; and the German
fraulein and the English nurse, and the Swiss maid
and the French one, declared their little lady to
be sweetness itself. But her mother, Madame la
Comtesse, had said it was a thousand pities that her
only child, the heiress of a princely fortune and the
sole hope of one of the noblest families of France,
fortunate in the possession of beauty and intelligence
296
THE SILVER BIRCH 297
as well as of birth and breeding, should be so
awkward, so gauche, so angular in all her move-
ments, so clumsy at calisthenics, so ungraceful in
the dance. And Vivielle knew it was the truth.
"She will be clever," said M. le Comte, oracu-
larly. "She will write novels like Gyp, or paint
like Louise Barcella."
" Belle vocation!" commented Madame la Com-
tesse, with a shrug. " Ink on the ringers or paint.
Which, as a lover, would you choose to kiss?"
"It is scarcely a question of kissing yet," said
Monsieur, " seeing that Vivielle is still a mere child.
When she is marriageable, she will be so great an
heiress that the question will never need to be asked.
A man does not merely kiss the hand of the woman
who has paid his debts and established him in life.
Ma foi, no ! but her feet, but the ground she walks
on. Is it not so, Charles ?"
And Monsieur Charles, the handsome, negligent,
graceful hussar, had burst out laughing.
" How do I know ? I who need so little ! A five-
franc dinner, a play, an opera-bouffe, and a couple
of rooms at the barracks, furnished with whitewash
and packing-cases."
" And coats from Aumonier, and uniforms from
Roubaix, and diamonds from the Maison Piffany,
to say nothing of Blackfern toilettes, and oh, in-
numerable bonbons and bouquets," put in Madame
la Comtesse.
Charles held up his hands for mercy.
298 THE SILVER BIRCH
" I give in it is too hot to defend myself. But
of the little one, what nonsense to despair. One of
these days she will learn the secret of charm, she will
solve the mystery of grace. Not the grace of a
Journal des Modes, but the other kind. Then " he
kissed his fingers and blew the kiss away " we shall
find her calm as a forest lake, stately as a silver
pheasant, graceful as a silver birch, the loveliest
and most graceful thing of all. Adieu ! I go to shoot
your turnips, since partridges there are none."
Vivielle had heard all, without meaning to listen,
which was bad form and ill-bred, and all the things
one would have preferred not to be. The wide
balcony of the drawing-room had a little wrought-
iron staircase leading down into the garden, and she
had been sitting half-way down, with apricots in
her lap and an English book in her hand. Her
head was whirling as she recalled what Monsieur
Charles had said :
"One of these days she will learn the secret of
charm. . . . We shall find her calm as a forest
lake, stately as a silver pheasant, graceful as a silver
birch, the loveliest and most graceful thing of
all " Vivielle, who turned her toes in at the
dancing lesson, to the despair of M. Roland, and
could never make her reverence graceful enough to
please her grandmother. Clearly the thing most
needful was to see a forest lake, to look upon a silver
pheasant, to find a silver birch. She could not recall
ever having seen any of these things. So, crying
THE SILVER BIRCH 299
still a little, she had said to herself : " I shall go and
find them, and then "
The park of the chateau was land reclaimed from
the heart of the forest, one of the historic forests of
France. For miles it stretched, a vast ocean of
waving foliage and soft green grass, bathed in
golden sunshine or the silver rays of the moon,
roaring the song of the tempest or sighing the love
song of the south-west wind, with its burden of tears.
Many of the great oaks were twenty feet in girth,
some of the vast beeches could have sheltered half
a regiment under their spreading boughs. There
were troops of shy deer, and many a fierce old boar
sharpened his tusks on a tree stump in his chosen,
secret lair, and dreamed of men, and horses, and
horns, and the fierce hounds that never turn
aside to follow the track of rabbit, hare, or roe-
buck, but only his. There would be a hunt to-
morrow, Vivielle knew ; two hours before daybreak,
the foresters, to each man a hound, would go out
with lanterns to seek the track. Monsieur Charles
was the Master, and wore the myrtle-green uniform
with pale blue facings with distinguished grace.
Who was like Monsieur Charles? Who was so
gay, so polite, so perfectly at ease ? A great duchess
had called him perfectly comme il faut, and could
there be higher praise than that?
It was a splendid autumn morning. The dew
hung upon the grass in pearls, and sparkled in the
spiders' webs like diamonds. Vivielle's thin slippers
300 THE SILVER BIRCH
and silken stockings were soon soaked through.
The air was full of sweet woodland smells and float-
ing gossamers, "Our Lady's threads," as the
peasant-women called them. The green glades, full
of shifting beryl-coloured lights and golden shadows,
opened out one after another before Vivielle, and
closed again ; the forest seemed to welcome her with
open arms.
Presently the great trees, their boles all covered
with grey and orange lichen, fell back, and ranged
themselves in a circle, and the grass within the circle
became short, sweet emerald moss, upon which lay
scattered the red-gold of fallen beech leaves. The
trees that sprang from the moss were slender young
things, robed in the most delicate of foliage, and in
the middle of the clear space there were none. A
patch of the sky, intensely clear, intensely calm,
unspeakably blue, seemed to have fallen on the
emerald moss. Then birds, orioles and swallows
and thrushes, rose from the brink, and a hind lifted
her wet muzzle and fled to the deep covert of the
woods, and
" It is a lake, a forest lake !" cried Vivielle.
She threw herself down, panting, upon a great
boulder, draped with lichens, purple and scarlet and
gold, and shaped like a throne. She had never
before wandered in the forest, never before suspected
what loveliness lay hid in its deep heart. For this
was loveliness.
" Still, remote, pure and unsullied, mirroring the
THE SILVER BIRCH 301
sky in all its changes, yet itself unchanged, whether
freezing in the icy arms of winter, or rippled by the
pattering rains of spring, or reflecting the lightnings
of the hot, cloudy skies of autumn. . . . Refresh-
ment to the thirsty lip, rest to the weary eye, joy of
joys to the pure lover of beauty at its loveliest, and
yet content to be beautiful, unpraised and unseen ;
always pure, always constant, always true. A
woman who should be like a forest lake would be
beautiful indeed."
Vivielle was sure a voice had spoken ; she could
not be sure whose the voice had been. The golden
beetles ran over the sunny spots upon the grey
boulders, the ants laboured amongst the forests of
the moss-stems, a little sun-warm breeze played to
and fro, hiding among the brake-ferns like a child.
There was a thick covert of these on the distant
shore of the little lake. They waved and parted,
and a bird like a living jewel made of many precious
gems, moved to the brink to drink. It was as
dazzling as a white flame, its eyes were rubies, its
train swept the moss like cloth of silver, as it moved
and looked to this side and that, and drank and
preened its gleaming silver plumage; its beauty
moved the child to ecstasy.
"What is it? oh ! what is it?" she said aloud,
and the mysterious voice said in answer :
"That is a Silver Pheasant. From the banks of
the Phasis in Colchis it was brought into Europe
in times remote from these, some say by the Argo-
302 THE SILVER BIRCH
nauts. Phasianos is its name in Greek, and it is
the proudest of birds ; it will not live or feed with
the common varieties. Yet it roosts in low bushes,
for all its pride, and common thievish hands most
easily capture its loveliness, and sell its flesh in the
market, and make dusting-brushes of its sweeping
train. There is a legend that it was once a bird of
the skies a dweller in the loftiest tree-tops and
for its sin, because it would not shade with its wings
a dying saint, martyred for the Faith by savages,
who drove sharp pegs into her hands and feet and
crucified her to a tree it was condemned to run
upon the earth like a common barn-door fowl, and
drag its dainty plumage in the mire. A woman
who should recall in her stately grace, in her
elegance of form, and charm of colouring, a Silver
Pheasant would be very fair to see. But she
should not scorn her inferiors, and she should always
remember that the sin of pride and lack of charity
would banish her from the tree-tops, and divorce
her from the clouds."
"Ah, who are you that speak?" cried Vivielle.
There was a rustling sound hard by, and some
drops of water, as cool as if hoarded from the morn-
ing's dew in some flower-cup or curled leaf, sprinkled
her face. She turned her head, and saw, at first,
nothing but a slender tree swaying in a sudden
breeze. And then she knew that the tree was the
speaker.
" I am the Silver Birch," it said, waving its
slender, flexible branches, and swaying as though
THE SILVER BIRCH 303
it were dancing. "See my silvery bark set off by
the black stole ; my shower of leaves, silvery-green,
bluish-silver. There are many dancers in the forest,
but none so graceful as I. The old peasant folks
will tell you I am one of the trees that grew in
Paradise. The Highlander dyes his tartan with my
bark. In Northern Russia there are whole forests
of me, no other tree exists in Greenland ; my leaves
are a wholesome medicine, and a love-charm for
the Esquimaux girls. Travel as the explorer may,
northwards or southwards, I am the last tree to
disappear on the edge of the Arctic zone, the "
" But I cannot understand," Vivielle pouted,
" how a woman like a Silver Birch could be beauti-
ful," and the tree waved and rippled, and seemed
to laugh with its swaying branches.
" Don't you ? Watch me when the storm breaks
for here comes one."
The sky reflected in the forest lake was inky blue.
The trees bent before a rushing gale that drove
sullen masses of cloud before it. The Silver
Pheasant vanished in the brake, there was a flash
of dazzling light, a growl of thunder, and the Silver
Birch curtseyed to the Monarch of the Storm. It
sank to the earth, trailing its wet silvery-green hair ;
it rose and waved its arms, and beckoned; it
swooned, and sprang erect, defiantly, its gleaming
trunk looking like the bare body of a scourged
wood-nymph under the hissing white lashes of the
rain. Then the wind fell. No more a fantastic
spirit, no more a tortured creature, the Silver Birch
304 THE SILVER BIRCH
stood erect, slim, fragrant, dignified, composed, a
great lady among trees. It still swayed a little, as
though laughing. Its cool, silvery voice asked :
" How did you like that ?"
" It was oh " Vivielle had no words.
"The storm may beat upon me, the rain may
scourge me," said the Silver Birch, "but though I
bend, though I writhe, I rise again undaunted, un-
harmed in beauty, unaltered in grace. A woman
who should take the usage of the world as a
Silver Birch takes it would be the kind of
woman your Cousin Charles meant. Adieu, ma
mignonne!"
Vivielle had not been asleep. But certainly her
blue eyes had been shut, her head thrown back upon
one lichened boulder, and her small, diaphanously-
clad figure comfortably nestled into a niche between
two others, when Monsieur Charles came lightly
striding over the moss. He was alarmed for her for
an instant, then he smiled, reassured.
" To have been discussing the marriage of this
mere baby. How premature !" he said, and smiled
again as he touched her forehead with a friendly
kiss, light as the touch of a butterfly's wing.
"Wake up, Vivielle! You have been lost for
hours. Madame, Mademoiselle, the Fraulein,
Grettiche, and Marie are in despair."
Vivielle awakened and opened her blue, blue eyes.
They rested, unembarrassed, upon the face of
Monsieur Charles. Then she rose and dropped him
THE SILVER BIRCH 305
a little curtsey, lightly as the swaying birch, and
gave him her small white hand.
" I thank you, Monsieur, for coming to seek me.
Now you shall take me back to the chateau."
" What grace, what aplomb ! I never noticed it
before. And Madame, her mother, calls her awk-
ward. Heresy!" thought Monsieur Charles. He
had intended to tell Vivielle of the stolen kiss, to
claim, laughingly, his forfeited pair of gloves ; he
did not fulfil his intention.
"This is a very beautiful spot !" he said, as they
turned to look back before leaving it.
" I shall call it my study," said Vivielle; " I have
learned so many things here."
"What have you learned?" asked Monsieur
Charles.
" I have learned," she said, " that the best of all
things, for a forest lake, or for a woman, is to keep
calm, and clear, and always reflect, whatever be the
weather, the face of the sky. And I have learned
that for a Silver Pheasant, or for a woman, it is not
well to be proud with the pride that scorns mean
companionships, yet never lifts itself above base
things. And, however the world may treat me when
I am no longer a child, I shall try to bear its usage
like the Silver Birch. Look at it now, all white and
shining in the sunset."
" It might be a girl at her first Communion or a
bride!" said Monsieur Charles. "You will be a
bride one of these days, Vivielle," was on the tip of
20
306 THE SILVER BIRCH
his tongue, but he kept back the words. Neverthe-
less, as they trod the green glades of the forest
together, they echoed in his heart. " A bride some
day. . . . And whose?"
" Look !" said M. leComte, standing on the vine-
draped terrace with Madame la Comtesse, as the
couple approached the house. He touched her
jewelled hand.
"How she walks . . . what has come to the
child ?" said the mother.
" How old were you when we were married, my
dear friend?" asked M. le Comte.
" Sixteen," said Madame.
"Very good," said M. le Comte. "In a year,
my dear, we will see !"
" Ours was a love match !" said his wife.
"There will be no departure from precedent in
the next instance," said M. le Comte, who was fond
of ornate phrases, and had a singularly keen obser-
vation .
There was not.
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERS.
"WHAT a loss to Society," said Lady Pomphrey,
" or that brigade of the society division which prides
itself on being dressed and not clothed, was the
demise, just when his marvellous creations were
gracing the most exclusive social functions on the
backs of the smartest women, of the great modiste of
Paris and London. Who dreamed of him twenty
or even fifteen years ago, when Worth and Doucet
were the arbiters of fashion ? Yet from his tiny
place of business, known as the Maison Lalanne,
long ago merged in the magnificent establishment
of the Rue de la Paix, such marvellous creations
came that connoisseurs were electrified, and exclu-
sive mobs of would-be clients besieged his doors,
shrieking to be made elegant, striking, original, or
distinguished, at his own price. Passons du ddluge,
the tears shed by the two thousand midinettes con-
stantly employed by the firm ought to make another.
" M. Isidore Paquin's vogue once gained, he kept
it to the end, unlike Yvelin, who bloomed into
celebrity as suddenly as a cactus flowers, to relapse
as soon into obscurity, and who is now quite utterly
forgotten. It was in 1896 that a Duchesse of the
307
308 COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE
Faubourg Saint-Germain said to me, ' You must go
to Yvelin,' and I went. She was the client who had
made him. A creature of tiny proportions, exquisite
as a Saxony china shepherdess, with her fair hair,
pink complexion, and green sparkling eyes, her
figure graceful, her movements lively as a bird's, her
gay and brilliant youth shone like a jewel in the
coronet of the aged Duke who married her, seated
in the bath-chair, from which, without aid, he never
stirred, and the fetes and parties, in planning which
she took the keenest pleasure, cheered up the vast
mansion, which had been ruled in succession by the
aristocratic widower's three previous wives.
" My charming friend drove me in her carriage, a
vehicle of exquisite luxury, drawn by a superb pair
of bays, to the atelier of her protege. The gilded
balconies were empurpled with a climbing wistaria
in bloom. A constant stream of clients poured in
and out, the air was full of bright laughter and
chatter, the young persons, in severe but beautifully
cut black robes, who moved forward to receive me,
were nymph-like in their beauty. They doubted
whether M. Yvelin would be able to give audience,
but when I mentioned the name of his patroness
one of them hurried away to ascertain whether
Monsieur could not stretch a point to oblige
the Duchesse.
" ' If Monsieur consents, it will be at the cost of
offending some lady who has waited at least an
hour,' the remaining young person impressed upon
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE 309
me. Certainly there was a monde feu. In some
parts of the large triple showroom the crush of
clients was quite terrific. Several mannequins not
the living article, but the turned ebony and red satin
variety were dotted about, displaying lovely
dresses ; the place was decorated in pure white with
delicate embellishments of gold. The carpets and
draperies were moss-green of a lovely shade. Chairs
and lounges of every shape and design invited
repose. Tall vases were brimming with flowers, the
tables were piled with serial literature, several pretty
pages in green and gold offered tea and bon-bons,
a subdued hush hung over all ; for, though all the
world's wives were there, they only talked in
whispers. Indeed, a polite notice, posted on one of
the cedarwood pillars that supported the open
corridor-gallery above, requested that conversation
should be carried on in an undertone.
" After a prolonged wait a polite official came to
me. I was conveyed in a lift to the first floor, and
conducted to a mysterious portal closely veiled with
the green velvet curtains, embroidered with a " Y "
in dull gold. A silver bell chimed. With almost a
sensation of nervousness I passed the threshold.
The studio of M. Yvelin was a large apartment,
illuminated by a flat-roof skylight, furnished with
at least half a dozen sets of blinds of different hues.
Round the walls were electric lights, supplied with
sets of vari-coloured shades, while long looking-
glasses, so arranged that they could be pulled out
310 COUNTESS AND COUTURIERS
from the walls and set at different angles for the
purposes of the master of the atelier, formed a high
dado round the bare-looking apartment, which
boasted in its centre a kind of model's throne with
a chair upon it. At the upper end of the long room
was a low velvet divan, and upon this a pale little
young man, with a flowing necktie and an abundant
head of upright hair, lay flat, staring at the skylight
and smoking a cigarette.
" I thought it necessary to cough. The little
young gentleman with the hair tossed away the
cigarette and got up. He made me a deep bow, to
which I responded with a courteous inclination, then
folded his little arms upon his breast, and, advanc-
ing a pace or two, subjected my personality to a
careful and exhaustive scrutiny. He wore a suit of
chocolate velvet, made baggily, a silk shirt, and
crimson Oriental slippers with curly toes. He was,
as I have said, very pale and small, with a little
moustache that bristled cattishly, and large, brilliant
eyes, one green and the other black.
" I essayed to speak when I thought I had been
stared at sufficiently ; but M. Yvelin put up one hand
with a pained expression, said 'Pardon !' and fell
to staring again. His glance seemed to penetrate
the inmost recesses of my being ; I felt that I was
being painlessly vivisected by this artist in clothes.
Presently he sighed and invited me to ascend the
central platform. I complied. Mounted thereon,
M. Yvelin surveyed me through a tube of rolled-
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE 311
up black paper, and again I underwent the sensa-
tions I have described. At last he spoke, and in
English :
" 'Madame is of Albion, it is to see. The form
so massive the colour so abundant, the ensemble
all colossal magnificent to overwhelm. Madame
has been recommended by the Duchesse de X ?
How long that Madame know her that personality
so ravishing, that elegance of the most seductive,
that style of the most chic? Where the Duchesse
leads they follow her the ladies of the great world ;
it is what you English call a scramble an iggle-
pigelle they vie each with each to copy. Who
should wonder ? The robe Madame requires is it
for the reception, the dinner, the race, the ball, or
the Court?'
" I wanted a garment for a dinner to meet
Royalty, to be followed by a reception, and I said
so. M. Yvelin demanded the colour of the up-
holstery and decorations of my host's drawing-room^
and the prevailing hue of the table-decorations to
be used on the great occasion. When I confessed
that I had not been informed he expressed surprise.
No hostess of the great world of Paris, he said sadly,
would have neglected to inform her feminine guests
upon so important a point. Then he bade me seat
myself upon the Louis XV. chair the platform
boasted, and hideous to relate, as he pressed with
his varnished boot upon a lever hidden under the
thick carpet, the platform began to revolve. Dear
312 COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE
friend, I never could waltz, so prone am I to giddi-
ness. I said to myself that the ordeal would not
last long, and nerved my frame to endurance.
Snap ! went the great blind over the skylight. I
spun in darkness for an instant, then the electric-
lights were switched on in blinding brilliancy, only
to change, at another movement of the relentless
M. Yvelin's foot, to a sickening glare of green,
which gave way to dazzling yellow, the yellow being
succeeded by blue, and the blue by crimson of the
most luridly Mephistophelian shade. My brain
whirled, my heart palpitated alarmingly. I mastered
sufficient energy to cry, ' Stop, for Mercy's sake !' but
when M. Yvelin politely proffered the assistance of
his hand to facilitate my descent from the platform,
my exhausted energies gave way. Swooning, I sank
upon his shoulder, and imagine the horror of it !
his frail form bent under my weight, his legs
refused to support the double burden, and couturiere
and client collapsed upon the carpet.
"Panting forth apologies, I sought to scramble
to my feet. But I had inextricably entangled one
foot in the balayeuse of Valenciennes which adorned
the underskirt of a certainly expensive and decidedly
becoming afternoon gown. I remained in a kneel-
ing position. Thus my hands were seized; and as
M. Yvelin bent over me, so close that his hot breath
stirred the plumes upon my hat and fluttered my
veil, while his green eye and his black eye scorch-
ingly devoured my features, he poured forth a flood
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERS 313
of impassioned eloquence which nothing could stem
or stay.
"'Thou lovest me, then! The frozen heart of
the English miladi has melted under the fire of my
glances. Is it not so? She, who has doubtless
scorned the ducal Ambassador, the Milord Guards-
man, and the Sir Millionaire behold her a suppliant
melted, quivering, imploring at the feet of the
poor artist of Paris. Alas ! that I can give thee
nothing in return. Woe to me, who dare not drink
from the goblet of Love when it is offered ; who must
ever parch, unslaked, amidst the upraised hands of
fairwomen, offering solace divine. Child poor little
one ! thou shalt know my unhappy secret. I adore
the Duchesse de X , just as thou dost adore me.
Let us weep together ! I that I can never love thee,
thou that thou art never to be loved by me both of
us for her who glitters above us in her icy radiance,
cold and lonely in her crystalline splendour, whilst
Paradise awaits her here here upon my heart. We
must part now, for the world is suspicious, and my
forewoman, who is another of my victims the
passionate Madame Angelique has developed a
fatal tendency for listening outside the door. Adieu,
then, unhappy and most beautiful ! Go and re-
member Alphonse Yvelin !'
" He raised me gently and led me to the door,
showing me out with a profound bow as I staggered
from the apartment where I had undergone such a
frightful ordeal. Several respectfully-mannered,
314 COUNTESS AND COUTURIERE
but certainly curious-eyed, young persons led me
to a fitting-room. My measurements were taken ;
I escaped to the outer air. As, stepping into a
fiacre, I drove to the English Embassy, where we
were staying, it occurred to me with hideous plain-
ness that I had escaped with my life from a tete-a-
tete with a maniac.
" Dear friend quite right. The unhappy Yvelin
had lost his head over the Duchesse de X . The
kindly patronage shown him by one of the greatest
of great ladies, the playful familiarity of her manner
with the artist whose reputation she had made the
delirium of success, coming suddenly to one who
had long languished in poverty all had contributed
to the insanity of one who was perhaps the greatest
dressmaker Paris had ever seen.
"Did I receive the gown? I did, dear friend,
hideously expensive, but a confection of the most
divine; a combination of two new shades, marvel-
lously effective by artificial light, and utterly unlike
anything one had ever seen on anybody else, don't
you know ! A card was pinned to the corsage, bear-
ing this inscription :
"'Should Madame la Comtesse desire to know
the name of the two shades combined in this
costume, one is the colour of a frustrated passion,
and the other the hue of hopeless love. A.Y.'
" He committed suicide not long afterwards under
the most extraordinary circumstances, hanging him-
COUNTESS AND COUTURIERS 315
self in a long silk sash destined to form part of a
costume to be worn at Longchamps by his fatally-
adored Duchesse. She had received his declaration
and laughed at it, people said. She wore the dress
at Monte Carlo afterwards, sash and all, and broke
the bank in an astonishing series of twenty-three
coups on the red. People say things of that sort I
refer to the sash with such unpleasant associations
bring luck. And she ran away afterwards with
a Hungarian violinist. How I chatter, dear friend !
You are too indulgent a listener. But what a strange
thing life is I And what queer creatures we poor
mortals are, aren't we? You agree? Naturally.
Of course."
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