The Hillman

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  IX

  The first few minutes that John spent in Louise's little house were fullof acute and vivid interest. From the moment of his first meeting withLouise upon the moonlit Cumberland road, during the whole of that nextwonderful morning until their parting, and afterward, through all thelong, dreaming days and nights that had intervened, she had remained amystery to him. It was amazing how little he really knew of her. Duringhis journey to town, he had sat with folded arms in the corner of hiscompartment, wondering whether in her own environment he would find hereasier to understand.

  He asked himself that question again now, as he found himself in herdrawing-room, in a room entirely redolent of her personality. Theirmeeting at the theater had told him nothing. She had gratified hissentiment by the pleasure she had shown at his unexpected appearance,but his understanding remained unsatisfied.

  The room that he was so eagerly studying confirmed his cloudyimpressions of its owner. There was, for a woman's apartment, a curiousabsence of ornamentation and knickknacks. The walls were black andwhite, an idea fantastic in its way, yet carried out with extremelightness in the ceiling and frieze. The carpet was white; thefurniture, of which there was very little, of the French period beforethe rococo type, graceful in its outline, rather heavy in build, andcovered with old-rose colored chintz. There were water-colors upon thewall, an etching or two from a Parisian studio, and some smallblack-and-white fantasies, puzzling to John, who had never even heardthe term Futurist, yet in their way satisfactory.

  There was a small-sized grand piano, which seemed to have found its wayalmost apologetically into a remote corner; a delightful open fireplacewith rough, white tiles, and an old-fashioned brass box, in which waspiled a little heap of sweet-smelling wood blocks. A table, drawn up tothe side of one of the easy chairs, was covered with books andmagazines, some Italian, a few English, the greater part French; andupon a smaller one, close at hand, stood a white bowl full of pinkroses. Their odor was somehow reminiscent of Louise, curiously sweet andwholesome--an odor which suddenly took him back to the morning when shehad come to him from under the canopy of apple-blossom.

  He drew a little sigh of contentment as he rose to his feet and walkedto the window. The room charmed him. It was wonderful that he shouldfind it like this. His heart began to beat with pleasure even before theopening of the door announced her presence. She came in with Sophy, whoat once seated herself by his side.

  "We have been making plans," Louise declared, "for disposing of you forthe rest of the day."

  John smiled happily.

  "You're not sending me away, then? You're not acting this evening?"

  "Not until three weeks next Monday," she replied. "Then, if you aregood, and the production is not postponed, you may seat yourself in abox and make all the noise you like after the fall of the curtain. Theseare real holidays for me, except for the nuisance of rehearsals. Youcouldn't have come at a better time."

  Sophy glanced at the clock.

  "Well," she said, "I must show my respect to that most ancient of adagesby taking my departure. I feel--"

  "You will do nothing of the sort, child," Louise interrupted. "I want tointerest you in the evolution of Mr. Strangewey."

  "I don't feel that I am necessary," Sophy sighed. "Perhaps I might takehim off your hands some evening when you are busy."

  "On this first evening, at any rate," Louise insisted, "we are going tobe a truly harmonious party of three."

  "Of course, if you really mean it," Sophy remarked, resuming her seat,"and if I sha'n't make an enemy for life of Mr. Strangewey, I shouldlove to come, too. Let's decide what to do with him, Louise."

  For a moment the eyes of the two others met. Louise looked swiftly away,and John's heart gave a little leap. Was it possible that the samethought had been in her mind--to spend the evening quietly in thatlittle room? Had she feared it?

  "We must remember," Louise said calmly, "that a heavy responsibilityrests upon us. It is his first night in London. What aspect of it shallwe attempt to show him? Shall we make ourselves resplendent, put on ourbest manners and our most gorgeous gowns, and show him the world ofstarch and form and fashion from the prince's box at the opera? Or shallwe transform ourselves into Bohemians, drink Chianti at our belovedAntonio's, eat Italian food in Soho, smoke long cigarettes, and take himto the Palace? Don't say a word, Sophy. It is not for us to choose."

  "I am afraid that isn't any choice," John declared, his face falling. "Ihaven't any clothes except what you see me in."

  "Hooray!" Sophy exclaimed. "Off with your smart gown, Louise! We'll besplendidly Bohemian. You shall put on your black frock and a black hat,and powder your nose, and we'll all go to Guido's first and drinkvermuth. I can't look the part, but I can act it!"

  "But tell me," Louise asked him, "did you lose your luggage?"

  "I brought none," he answered.

  They both looked at him--Sophy politely curious, Louise more deeplyinterested. He answered the inquiry in her eyes.

  "You'll say, perhaps," he observed, "that living that quiet, half-buriedlife up in Cumberland one should have no moods. I have them sometimes. Iwas in Market Ketton, on my way to the hotel for lunch, when I heard thewhistle of the London Express coming in. I just had time to drive to thestation, leave the horse and dog-cart with a man I knew, and jump intothe train. I had no ticket or luggage."

  They both stared at him.

  "You mean," Louise demanded, "that after waiting all these months youstarted away upon impulse like that--without even letting your brotherknow or bringing any luggage?"

  "That's exactly what I did," John agreed, smiling. "I had a sovereign inmy pocket when I had bought my ticket; and by the time I had paid for mydinner on the train, and tipped the men--well, I hadn't a great dealleft to go shopping with. I stayed at the St. Pancras Hotel, andtelephoned to my solicitor before I got up this morning to have himsend me some money. The joke of it was," he went on, joining in thegirls' laughter, "that Mr. Appleton has been worrying me for months tocome up and talk over reinvestments, and take control of the money myuncle left me; and when I came at last, I arrived like a pauper. He wentout himself and bought my shirt."

  "And a very nice shirt, too," Sophy declared, glancing at the pattern."Do tell us what else happened!"

  "Well, not much more," John replied. "Mr. Appleton stuffed me full ofmoney and made me take a little suite of rooms at what he called a morefashionable hotel. He stayed to lunch with me, and I have promised tosee him on business to-morrow morning."

  The two girls sat up and wiped their eyes.

  "Oh, this is a wonderful adventure you have embarked upon!" Louiseexclaimed. "You have come quite in the right spirit. Now I am going tochange my clothes and powder my face, and we will go to Guido's for alittle vermuth, dine at Antonio's, and sit side by side at the Palace.We shall have to take Sophy with us, but if you show her too muchattention I shall send her home. It is your first night here, Mr.Strangewey, so I warn you that Sophy is the most irresponsible andcapricious of all my friends. She has more admirers than she knows whatto do with, and she disposes of them in the simplest way in theworld--by getting new ones."

  Sophy made a grimace.

  "Mr. Strangewey," she begged earnestly, "you won't believe a word shesays, will you? All my life I have been looking for a single andsteadfast attachment. Of course, if Louise wants to monopolize you, Ishall fall into the background, as I usually do; but if you think thatI am going to accept hints and let you go out to dinner alone, you arevery much mistaken. To-night, at any rate, I insist upon coming!"

  Louise shook her head.

  "We shall have to put up with her," she told John with a little grimace.

  The door of the room was suddenly opened. The parlor maid stood at oneside.

  "The Prince of Seyre, madam," she announced.

  Louise nodded. She was evidently expecting the visit. She turned toJohn.

  "Will you come back and call for us here--say at seve
n o'clock? Mind,you are not to bother about your clothes, but to come just as you are. Ican't tell you," she added under her breath, "how much I am lookingforward to our evening!"

  Sophy sprang to her feet.

  "Won't you drop me, please, Mr. Strangewey?" she asked. "Then, if youwill be so kind, you can pick me up again on your way here. You'll haveto pass where I live, if you are at the Milan. I must go home and do mylittle best to compete."

  Louise's frown was so slight that even John failed to notice it. Uponthe threshold they encountered the prince, who detained John for amoment.

  "I was hoping that I might meet you here, Mr. Strangewey," he said. "Ifyou are in town for long, it will give me great pleasure if I can be ofany service to you. You are staying at a hotel?"

  "I am staying at the Milan," John replied.

  "I will do myself the pleasure of calling upon you," the princecontinued. "In the meantime, if you need any service that a Londoner canoffer you, be sure to let me know. You will easily find my house inGrosvenor Square."

  "It is very kind of you indeed," John said gratefully.

  Sophy made a wry face as the prince entered the drawing-room.

  "Didn't some old Roman once write something about being afraid of Greekswho brought gifts?" she asked, as they descended the stairs together.

  "Quite right," John assented.

  "Well, be careful!" she advised him. "That's all."

  * * * * *

  John handed Sophy into the taxi and took his place beside her.

  "Where shall I put you down?" he asked.

  "It's such a terribly low neighborhood! However, it's quite close to theMilan--No. 10 Southampton Street."

  John gave the address to the man, and they started off. They wereblocked in a stream of traffic almost as soon as they reached Hyde ParkCorner. John leaned forward all the time, immensely interested in thestream of passers-by.

  "Your interest in your fellow creatures," she murmured demurely, "iswonderful, but couldn't you concentrate it just a little?"

  He turned quickly around. She was smiling at him most alluringly.Unconsciously he found himself smiling back again. A wonderfullight-heartedness seemed to have come to him during the last few hours.

  "I suppose I am a perfect idiot," he admitted. "I cannot help it. I amused to seeing, at the most, three or four people together at a time. Ican't understand these crowds. Where are they all going? Fancy everyone of them having a home, every one of them struggling in some form oranother toward happiness!"

  "Do you know," she pronounced severely, "for a young man of your age youare much too serious? Please commence your psychological studiesto-morrow. To-night we are going to have a really frivolous evening, youand I--and Louise. If you want to be a great success during the next fewhours, what you have to do is to imagine that there are only two peoplein the world beside yourself--Louise and I."

  "I think I shall find that very easy," he promised, smiling.

  "I am quite sure you could be nice if you wanted to," she continued."How much are you in love with Louise?"

  "How much am I what?"

  "In love with Louise," she repeated. "All the men are. It is a perfectcult with them. And here am I, her humble companion and friend,absolutely neglected!"

  "I don't believe you are neglected at all," he replied. "You are toomuch too--"

  He turned his head to look at her. She was so close to him that theirhats collided. He was profuse in his apologies.

  "Too what?" she whispered.

  "Too attractive," he ventured.

  "It's nice to hear you say so," she sighed. "Well, I have to get outhere. This is where I live, up on the fourth floor."

  "How does one get there?" he inquired.

  She looked at him quickly. There was a little catch in her breath.

  "What do you mean?" she murmured.

  "Didn't you say that I was to come and fetch you, and then we could goon to Miss Maurel's together?"

  "Of course," she assented slowly. "How stupid of me! Some day I'll showyou, but I know you would lose the way now. If you like, I'll come foryou--to the Milan."

  "If you would really prefer it?"

  "I am quite sure that I should," she decided. "There are about seventurns up to my room, and I shall have to personally conduct you therethree or four times before you'll ever be able to find your way. I willcome as soon as I am ready, and then you can give me a cocktail beforewe set out."

  She disappeared with a little wave of the hand, and John drove on to hisdestination. His rooms at the Milan were immensely comfortable and intheir way quite homelike. John made some small changes to his toilet andwas still in his shirt-sleeves, with hair-brushes in his hands, whenthere came a ring at the bell. He answered it at once and found Sophystanding outside. He gave a little start.

  "I say, I'm awfully sorry!"

  "What for, you silly person?" she laughed. "Which way is the sittingroom, please? Oh, I see! Now, please ring for the waiter and order me avermuth cocktail, and one for yourself, of course; and I want somecigarettes. How clever of you to get rooms looking out upon theEmbankment! I wish they would light the lamps. I think the illuminatedarcs along the Embankment and past the Houses of Parliament is the mostwonderful thing in London. Don't please, look so terrified because youhaven't got your coat on! Remember that I have five brothers."

  "I had no idea you would be here so soon," he explained, "or I wouldhave been downstairs, waiting for you."

  "Don't be stupid!" she replied. "Please remember that when you are withme, at any rate, you are in Bohemia and not Belgravia. I don't expectsuch attentions. I rather like coming up to your rooms like this, and Ialways love the Milan. I really believe that I am your first ladyvisitor here."

  "You most assuredly are!" he told her.

  She turned away from the window and suddenly threw up her arms.

  "Oh, I love this place!" she exclaimed. "I love the sort of evening thatwe are going to have! I feel happy to-night. And do you know?--I quitelike you, Mr. Strangewey!"

  She clasped the back of her chair and from behind it looked across athim. She was petite and slender, with a very dainty figure. She wore ablack tailor-made costume, a simple, round-black hat with a long quillset at a provoking angle, white-silk stockings, and black, patent shoes.She was unlike any girl John had ever known. Her hair was almost golden,her eyes a distinct blue, yet some trick of the mouth saved her facefrom any suggestion of insipidity. She was looking straight into hiseyes, and her lips were curled most invitingly.

  "I wish I knew more about certain things," he said.

  She came round from behind the chair and stood a little nearer to him.

  "What things?"

  "You know," he said, "I am afraid there is no doubt about it that I ammost horribly in love with another woman. I have come to London becauseof her. It seems to me that everything in life depends upon how shetreats me. And yet--"

  "And yet what?" she asked, looking up at him a little wistfully.

  "I feel that I want to kiss you," he confessed.

  "Well, if you don't get it done before the waiter brings in thosecocktails, I shall scream!"

  He took her lightly in his arms for a moment and kissed her. Then shethrew herself down in the easy chair and began to laugh softly.

  "Oh, why didn't you come before?" she exclaimed. "Fancy Louise nevertelling me about you!"

  The waiter entered a few minutes later. He drew up a small round tablebetween them, placed the two wineglasses upon it, and departedexpeditiously. John took one of the glasses over to Sophy. She acceptedit and gave him her fingers to kiss.

  "Dear man," she sighed, "I am getting much too fond of you! Go and sitin your corner, drink your cocktail, and remember Louise. I love yourrooms, and I hope you'll ask me to lunch some time."

  "I'll have a luncheon party to-morrow, if you like--that is, if Louisewill come."

  She looked up at him quickly.

  "Isn't Louise going to Paris?"
she asked.

  He set down the glass which he had been in the act of raising to hislips.

  "Paris? I didn't hear her say anything about it."

  "Perhaps it is my mistake, then," Sophy went on hastily. "I only fanciedthat I heard her say so."

  There was a moment's silence. John had opened his lips to ask aquestion, but quickly closed them again. It was a question, he suddenlydecided, which he had better ask of Louise herself.

  "If she does go, I shall be very sorry," he said; "but I do not wish, ofcourse, to upset her plans. We must talk to her about it to-night. Isuppose we ought to go now."

  Sophy walked with him to the door and waited while he took his hat andgloves from the hat-stand. Suddenly she laid her hand upon his arm.

  "If Louise goes to Paris," she whispered disconsolately, "I supposethere will be no luncheon-party?"

  For a single moment he hesitated. She was very alluring, and thechallenge in her eyes was unmistakable.

  "I think," he said quietly, "that if Miss Maurel goes to Paris, I shallreturn to Cumberland to-morrow."

  He opened the door, and Sophy passed out before him. She had dropped herveil.

  * * * * *

  They drove down the Strand toward Knightsbridge. For a time there was asignificant silence. Then Sophy raised her veil once more and lookedtoward John.

  "Mr. Strangewey," she began, "you won't mind if I give you just a littleword of advice? You are such a big, strong person, but you are rather achild, you know, in some things."

  "This place does make me feel ignorant," he admitted.

  "Don't idealize any one here," she begged. "Don't concentrate all yourhopes upon one object. Love is wonderful and life is wonderful, butthere is only one life, and there are many loves before one reaches theend. People do such silly things sometimes," she wound up, "just becauseof a little disappointment. There are many disappointments to be metwith here."

  He took her hand in his.

  "Little girl," he said, "you are very good to me, and I think youunderstand. Are you going to let me feel that I have found a friend onmy first evening in London?"

  "If you want me," she answered simply. "I like you, and I want you to behappy here; and because I want you to be happy, I want you to come downfrom the clouds and remember that you have left your hills behind andthat we walk on the pavements here."

  "Thank you," he whispered, "and thank you for what you have not said. IfI am to find sorrow here instead of joy," he added, a little grimly, "itis better for me to stumble into the knowledge of it by myself."

  "Your hills have taught you just that much of life, then?" Sophymurmured.