The Prince of Graustark

by George Barr McCutcheon

  CHAPTER IX

  THE PRINCE MEETS MISS GUILE

  Later on R. Schmidt sat alone in a sheltered corner of the promenadedeck, where chairs had been secured by the forehanded Hobbs. The thindrizzle now aspired to something more definite in the shape of a steadydownpour, and the decks were almost deserted, save for the few whohuddled in the unexposed nooks where the sweep and swish of the rainfailed to penetrate. There was a faraway look in the young man's eyes,as of one who dreams pleasantly, with little effort but excellenteffect. His pipe had gone out, so his dream must have been long anduninterrupted. Eight bells sounded, but what is time to a dreamer? Thencame one bell and two, and now his eyes were closed.

  Two women came and stood over him, but little did they suspect that hisdream was of one of them: the one with the lovely eyes and the softbrown hair. They surveyed him, whispering, the one with a littleperplexed frown on her brow, the other with distinct signs of annoyancein her face. The girl was not more than twenty, her companion quite oldenough to be her mother: a considerate if not complimentary estimate,for a girl's mother may be either forty, fifty or even fifty-five, whenyou come to think of it.

  They were looking for something. That was quite clear. And it wasdeplorably clear that whatever it was, R. Schmidt was sitting upon it.They saw that he was asleep, which made the search if not the actualrecovery quite out of the question. The older woman was on the point ofpoking the sleeper with the toe of her shoe, being a matter-of-factsort of person, when the girl imperatively shook her head and frownedupon the lady in a way to prove that even though she was old enough tobe the mother of a girl of twenty she was by no means the mother ofthis one.

  At that very instant, R. Schmidt opened his eyes. It must have been akindly poke by the god of sleep that aroused him so opportunely, buteven so, the toe of a shoe could not have created a graver catastrophethan that which immediately befell him. He completely lost his head. Ifone had suddenly asked what had become of it, he couldn't have told,not for the life of him. For that matter, he couldn't have put hisfinger, so to speak, on any part of his person and proclaimed withconfidence that it belonged to R. Schmidt of Vienna. He was lookingdirectly up into a pair of dark, startled eyes, in which there was avery pretty confusion and a far from impervious blink.

  "I beg your pardon," said the older woman, without the faintest traceof embarrassment,--indeed, with some asperity,--"I think you areoccupying one of our chairs."

  He scrambled out of the steamer rug and came to his feet, blushing tothe roots of his hair.

  "I beg your pardon," he stammered, and found his awkwardness rewardedby an extremely sweet smile--in the eyes of the one he addressed.

  "We were looking for a letter that I am quite sure was left in mychair," said she.

  "A letter?" he murmured vaguely, and at once began to search with hiseyes.

  "From her father," volunteered the elderly one, as if it were anecessary bit of information. Then she jerked the rug away and threepairs of eyes examined the place where R. Schmidt had been reclining."That's odd. Did you happen to see it when you sat down, sir?"

  "I am confident that there was no letter--" began he, and then allowedhis gaze to rest on the name-card at the top of the chair. "Thishappens to be _my_ chair, madam," he went on, pointing to the card."'R. Schmidt.' I am very sorry."

  "The steward must have put that card there while you were at luncheon,dear. What right has he to sell our chairs over again? I shall reportthis to the Captain--"

  "I am quite positive that this is my chair, sir," said the girl, a spotof red in each cheek. "It was engaged two days ago. I have beenoccupying it since--but it really doesn't matter. It has your name onit now, so I suppose I shall have to--"

  "Not at all," he made haste to say. "It's yours. There has been somemiserable mistake. These deck stewards are always messing things up.Still, it is rather a mystery about the letter. I assure you I saw no--"

  "No doubt the steward who changed the cards had sufficient intelligenceto remove all incriminating evidence," said she coolly. "We shall findit among the lost, strayed and stolen articles, no doubt. Pray retainthe chair, Mr.--" She peered at the name-card--"Mr. Schmidt."

  Her cool insolence succeeded in nettling a nature that was usually mostgentle. He spoke with characteristic directness.

  "Thank you, I shall do so. We thereby manage to strike a fair average.I seize your deck chair, you seize my table. We are quits."

  She smiled faintly. "R. Schmidt did not sound young and gentle, but oldand hateful. That is why I seized the table. I expected to find R.Schmidt a fat, old German with very bad manners. Instead, you areneither fat, old, nor disagreeable. You took it very nicely, Mr.Schmidt, and I am undone. Won't you permit me to restore your table toyou?"

  The elderly lady was tapping the deck with a most impatient foot."Really my dear, we were quite within our rights in approaching thehead waiter. He--"

  "He said it was engaged," interrupted the young lady. "R. Schmidt wasthe name he gave and I informed him it meant nothing to me. I am verysorry, Mr. Schmidt. I suppose it was all because I am so accustomed tohaving my own way."

  "In that case, it is all very easy to understand," said he, "for I havealways longed to be in a position where I could have my own way. I amsure that if I could have it, I would be a most overbearing, selfishperson."

  "We must enquire at the office for the letter, my dear, before--"

  "It may have dropped behind the chair," said the girl.

  "Right!" cried R. Schmidt, dragging the chair away and pointing intriumph at the missing letter. He stooped to recover the missive, butshe was quick to forestall him. With a little gasp she pounced upon itand, like a child proceeded to hold it behind her back. He stiffened."I remember that you said it was from your father."

  She hesitated an instant and then held it forth for his inspection,rather adroitly concealing the postmark with her thumb. It wasaddressed to "Miss B. Guile, S. S. _Jupiter_, New York City, N. Y.,"and type-written.

  "It is only fair that we should be quits in every particular," shesaid, with a frank smile.

  He bowed. "A letter of introduction," he said, "in the strictest senseof the word. You have already had my card thrust upon you, soeverything is quite regular. And now it is only right and proper that Ishould see what has become of your chairs. Permit me--"

  "Really, Miss Guile," interposed her companion, "this is quiteirregular. I may say it is unusual. Pray allow me to suggest--"

  "I think it is only right that Mr. Schmidt should return good forevil," interrupted the girl gaily. "Please enquire, Mr. Schmidt. Nodoubt the deck steward will know."

  Again the Prince bowed, but this time there was amusement instead ofuncertainty in his eyes. It was the first time that any one had everurged him, even by inference, to "fetch and carry." Moreover, she wasextremely cool about it, as one who exacts much of young men in sergesuits and outing-caps. He found himself wondering what she would say ifhe were to suddenly announce that he was the Prince of Graustark. Thethought tickled his fancy, accounting, no doubt, for the even deeperbow that he gave her.

  "They can't be very far away," he observed quite meekly. "Oh, I say,steward! One moment, here." A deck steward approached with alacrity."What has become of Miss Guile's chair?"

  The man touched his cap and beamed joyously upon the fair young lady.

  "Ach! See how I have forgot! It is here! The best place on the deck--onany deck. See! Two--side by side,--above the door, away from thedraft--see, in the corner, ha, ha! Yes! Two by side. The very best.Miss Guile complains of the draft from the door. I exchanged thechairs. See! But I forgot to speak. Yes! See!"

  And, sure enough, there were the chairs of Miss Guile and her companionsnugly stowed away in the corner, standing at right angles to the longrow that lined the deck, the foot rests pointed directly at the chairR. Schmidt had just vacated, not more than a yard and a half away.

  "How stupid!" exclaimed Miss Guile. "Thank you, steward. This is muchbetter. So sorry, Mr.
Schmidt, to have disturbed you. I abhor drafts,don't you?"

  "Not to the extent that I shall move out of this one," he repliedgallantly, "now that I've got an undisputed claim to it. I intend tostand up for my rights, Miss Guile, even though you find me at yourfeet."

  "How perfectly love--" began Miss Guile, a gleam of real enthusiasm inher eyes. A sharp, horrified look from her companion served as a check,and she became at once the coolly indifferent creature who exactseverything. "Thank you, Mr. Schmidt, for being so nice when we weretrying so hard to be horrid."

  "But you don't know how nice you are when you are trying to be horrid,"he remarked. "Are you not going to sit down, now that we've capturedthe disappearing chair?"

  "No," she said, and he fancied he saw regret in her eyes. "I am goingto my room,--if I can find it. No doubt it also is lost. This seems tobe a day for misplacing things."

  "At any rate, permit me to thank you for discovering me, Miss Guile."

  "Oh, I daresay I shall misplace you, too, Mr. Schmidt." She said it soinsolently that he flushed as he drew himself up and stepped aside toallow her to pass. For an instant their eyes met, and the sign of thehumble was not to be found in the expression of either.

  "Even _that_ will be something for me to look forward to, Miss Guile,"said he. Far from being vexed, she favoured him with a faint smileof--was it wonder or admiration?

  Then she moved away, followed by the uneasy lady--who was old enough tobe her mother and wasn't.

  Robin remained standing for a moment, looking after her, and somehow hefelt that his dream was not yet ended. She turned the corner of thedeck building and was lost to sight. He sat down, only to arise almostinstantly, moved by a livelier curiosity than he ever had felt before.Conscious of a certain feeling of stealth, he scrutinised the cards inthe backs of the two chairs. The steward was collecting the discardedsteamer-rugs farther down the deck, and the few passengers who occupiedchairs, appeared to be snoozing,--all of which he took in with hisfirst appraising glance. "Miss Guile" and "Mrs. Gaston" were the nameshe read.

  "Americans," he mused. "Young lady and chaperone, that's it. A realAmerican beauty! And Blithers loudly boasts that his daughter is theprettiest girl in America! Shades of Venus! Can there be such a thingon earth as a prettier girl than this one? Can nature have performedthe impossible? Is America so full of lovely girls that this one musttake second place to a daughter of Blithers? I wonder if she knows theimperial Maud. I'll make it a point to inquire."

  Moved by a sudden restlessness, he decided that he was in need ofexercise. A walk would do him good. The same spirit of restlessness, nodoubt, urged him to walk rather rapidly in the direction opposite tothat taken by the lovely Miss Guile. After completely circling the deckonce he decided that he did not need the exercise after all. His walkhad not benefitted him in the least. She _had_ gone to her room. Hereturned to his chair, conscious of having been defeated but withoutreally knowing why or how. As he turned into the dry, snug corner, hecame to an abrupt stop and stared. Miss Guile was sitting in her chair,neatly encased in a mummy-like sheath of grey that covered her slimbody to the waist.

  She was quite alone in her nook, and reading. Evidently the bookinterested her, for she failed to look up when he clumsily slid intohis chair and threw the rug over his legs--dreadfully long,uninteresting legs, he thought, as he stretched them out and found thathis feet protruded like a pair of white obelisks.

  Naturally he looked seaward, but in his mind's eye he saw her as he hadseen her not more than ten minutes before: a slim, tall girl in a smartbuff coat, with a limp white hat drawn down over her hair by means of abright green veil; he had had a glimpse of staunch tan walking-shoes.He found himself wondering how he had missed her in the turn about thedeck, and how she could have ensconced herself so snugly during hisbrief evacuation of the spot. Suddenly it occurred to him that she hadreturned to the chair only after discovering that his was vacant. Itwasn't a very gratifying conclusion.

  An astonishing intrepidity induced him to speak to her after a lapse offive or six minutes, and so surprising was the impulse that he blurtedout his question without preamble.

  "How did you manage to get back so quickly?" he inquired.

  She looked up, and for an instant there was something like alarm in herlovely eyes, as of one caught in the perpetration of a guilty act.

  "I beg your pardon," she said, rather indistinctly.

  "I was away less than eight minutes," he declared, and she wasconfronted by the wonderfully frank smile that never failed to work itscharm. To his surprise, a shy smile grew in her eyes, and her warm redlips twitched uncertainly. He had expected a cold rebuff. "You musthave dropped through the awning."

  "Your imagination is superior to that employed by the author of thisbook," she said, "and that is saying a good deal, Mr.--Mr.--"

  "Schmidt," he supplied cheerfully. "May I inquire what book you arereading?"

  "You would not be interested. It is by an American."

  "I have read a great many American novels," said he stiffly. "My fatherwas an American. Awfully jolly books, most of them."

  "I looked you up in the passenger list a moment ago," she said coolly."Your home is in Vienna. I like Vienna."

  He was looking rather intently at the book, now partly lowered. "Isn'tthat the passenger list you have concealed in that book?" he demanded.

  "It is," she replied promptly. "You will pardon a natural curiosity? Iwanted to see whether you were from New York."

  "May I look at it, please?"

  She closed the book. "It isn't necessary. I _am_ from New York."

  "By the way, do you happen to know a Miss Blithers,--Maud Blithers?"

  Miss Guile frowned reflectively. "Blithers? The name is a familiar one.Maud Blithers? What is she like?"

  "She's supposed to be very good-looking. I've never seen her."

  "How queer to be asking me if I know her, then. Why _do_ you ask?"

  "I've heard so much about her lately. She is the daughter of WilliamBlithers, the great capitalist."

  "Oh, I know who he is," she exclaimed. "Perfect roodles of money,hasn't he?"

  "Roodles?"

  "Loads, if it means more to you. I forgot that you are a foreigner. Hegave that wonderful ball last week for the Prince of--of--Oh, someinsignificant little place over in Europe. There are such a lot ofqueer little duchies and principalities, don't you know; it is quiteimpossible to tell one from the other. They don't even appear on themaps."

  He took it with a perfectly straight face, though secretly annoyed. "Itwas the talk of the town, that ball. It must have cost roodles ofmoney. Is that right?"

  "Yes, but it doesn't sound right when you say it. Naturally one doesn'tsay roodles in Vienna."

  "We say noodles," said he. "I am very fond of them. But to resume; Isupposed every one in New York knew Miss Blithers. She's quite therage, I'm told."

  "Indeed? I should think she might be, Mr. Schmidt, with all thoselovely millions behind her."

  He smiled introspectively. "Yes; and I am told that, in spite of them,she is the prettiest girl in New York."

  She appeared to lose interest in the topic. "Oh, indeed?"

  "But," he supplemented gracefully, "it isn't true."

  "What isn't true?"

  "The statement that she is the prettiest girl in New York."

  "How can you say that, when you admit you've never seen her?"

  "I can say it with a perfectly clear conscience, Miss Guile," said he,and was filled with delight when she bit her lip as a sign ofacknowledgment.

  "Oh, here comes the tea," she cried, with a strange eagerness in hervoice. "I am so glad." She scrambled gracefully out of her rug andarose to her feet.

  "Aren't you going to have some?" he cried.

  "Yes," she said, quite pointedly. "In my room, Mr. Schmidt," and beforehe could get to his feet she was moving away without so much as a nodor smile for him. Indeed, she appeared to have dismissed him from herthoughts quite as completely as fro
m her vision. He experienced a queersensation of shrivelling.

  At dinner that night, she failed to look in his direction, acircumstance that may not appear extraordinary when it is stated thatshe purposely or inadvertently exchanged seats with Mrs. Gaston and satwith her back to the table occupied by R. Schmidt and his friends. Hehad to be content with a view of the most exquisite back and shouldersthat good fortune had ever allowed him to gaze upon. And then there wasthe way that her soft brown hair grew above the slender neck, to saynothing of--but Mrs. Gaston was watching him with most unfriendly eyes,so the feast was spoiled.

  The following day was as unlike its predecessor as black is like white.During the night the smooth grey pond had been transformed into aturbulent, storm-threshed ocean; the once gentle wind was now a howlinggale that swept the decks with a merciless lash in its grip and whippedinto submission all who vaingloriously sought to defy its chilldominion. Not rain, but spray from huge, swashing billows, clouded thedecks, biting and cutting like countless needles, each drop with thesting of a hornet behind it. Now the end of the world seemed far away,and the jumping off place was a rickety wall of white and black,leaning against a cold, drear sky.

  Only the hardiest of the passengers ventured on deck; the exhilarationthey professed was but another name for bravado. They shivered andgasped for breath as they forged their bitter way into the gale, andfew were they who took more than a single turn of the deck. Like beatencowards they soon slunk into the sheltered spots, or sought even lessheroic means of surrender by tumbling into bed with the consideratehelp of unsmiling stewards. The great ship went up and the great shipcame down: when up so high that the sky seemed to be startlingly nearand down so horribly low that the bottom of the ocean was even nearer.And it creaked and groaned and sighed even above the wild monody of thewind, like a thing in misery, yet all the while holding its sides tokeep from bursting with laughter over the plight of the little creaturewhom God made after His own image but not until after all of the bigthings of the universe had been designed.

  R. Schmidt, being a good sailor and a hardy young chap, albeit a princeof royal blood, was abroad early, after a breakfast that staggered thefew who remained unstaggered up to that particular crisis. A genialsailor-man and an equally ungenial deck swabber advised him, in totallydifferent styles of address, to stay below if he knew what was good forhim, only to be thanked with all the blitheness of a man who jolly wellknows what is good for him, or who doesn't care whether it is good forhim or not so long as he is doing the thing that he wants to do.

  He took two turns about the deck, and each time as he passed the spothe sent a covert glance into the corner where Miss Guile's chair wasstanding. Of course he did not expect to find her there in weather likethis, but--well, he looked and that is the end to the argument. Thegoing was extremely treacherous and unpleasant he was free to confessto the genial sailor-man after the second breathless turn, and gavethat worthy a bright silver dollar upon receiving a further bit ofadvice: to sit down somewhere out of the wind, sir.

  Quinnox and Dank were hopelessly bed-ridden, so to speak. They werevery disagreeable, cross and unpleasant, and somehow he felt that theyhated their cheerful, happy-faced Prince. Never before had CountQuinnox scowled at him, no matter how mad his pranks as a child or howsilly his actions as a youth. Never before had any one told him to goto the devil. He rather liked it. And he rather admired poor Dank forordering him out of his cabin, with a perfectly astounding oath as aclimax to the command. Moreover, he thought considerably better of thefaithful Hobbs for an amazing exposition of human equality in thematter of a pair of boots that he desired to wear that morning butwhich happened to be stowed away in a cabin trunk. He told Hobbs to goto the devil and Hobbs repeated the injunction, with especial heat, tothe boots, when he bumped his head in hauling them out of the trunk.Whereupon R. Schmidt said to Hobbs: "Good for you. Hobbs. Go on,please. Don't mind me. It was quite a thump, wasn't it?" And Hobbsmanaged, between other words, to say that it was a whacking thump, andone he would not forget to his dying day--(if he lived through thisone!).

  "And you'd do well to sit in the smoke-room, sir," further advised thesailor-man, clinging to the rail with one hand and pocketing the coinwith the other.

  "No," said R. Schmidt resolutely. "I don't like the air in thesmoke-room."

  "There's quite a bit of air out 'ere, sir."

  "I need quite a bit."

  "I should think you might, sir, being a 'ealthy, strappin' sort of achap, sir. 'Elp yourself. All the chairs is yours if you'll unpile 'em."

  The young man battled his way down the deck and soon found himself inthe well-protected corner. A half-dozen unoccupied chairs werecluttered about, having been abandoned by persons who over-estimatedtheir hardiness. One of the stewards was engaged in stacking them upand making them fast.

  Miss Guile's chair and that of Mrs. Gaston were staunchly fastened downand their rugs were in place. R. Schmidt experienced an exquisitesensation of pleasure. Here was a perfect exemplification of thatmuch-abused thing known as circumstantial evidence. She contemplatedcoming on deck. So he had his chair put in place, called for his rug,shrugged his chin down into the collar of his thick ulster, and satdown to wait.