V
THE BASKET IN THE BOUNDARY ROAD
The doctors will tell you sometimes that motoring is good for thenerves; and since so many of them now buy cars, and there's no man likea doctor for looking after his own flesh and blood, I suppose they meanwhat they say. All the same, I wish I'd had a doctor with me the nightI picked up Mabel Bellamy; for if his nerves had stood that and hehadn't given himself quinine and iron for the next two months, why, I'dhave paid his fee myself.
You see, it was a rum job from the very beginning of it. I was workingfor Hook-Nosed Moss at the time, and, being Lent, and half thetheatrical ladies of position doing penance down at Monte Carlo, weweren't exactly knocking a hole in the Bank of England--nor, for thatmatter, even earning our fares to Jerusalem. Moss came down to thegarage in the West End gloomier and gloomier every day; and one morningwhen I saw that he'd pawned his diamond shirt-stud (the same that wecalled "The Bleriot"), why then, says I, Lal Britten, keep off theStock Exchange and don't put your last thirty bob in Consols, whereverelse you place it.
Now this was the state of things when one morning, early in the monthof March last year, we were rung up from a public telephone call inBayswater, and the covered Napier was ordered for a house in theRichmond Road, Bayswater--a locality with which I was unfamiliar, butwhich Moss declared must be all right, since the gentleman who livedthere knew that we had a Napier car and therefore was in a mannerintroduced to us. Half an hour later he discovered that Richmond Roadwas nothing better than a mean street of lodging-houses, and, my word,didn't he reel off his instructions to me like texts out of a copy-book.
"Dot's a shame, Britten," he said, coming round by the bonnet of thecar, which I was tuning up for the trip--"I was deceived by the dabe ofthe street. We must have our modey before they have the goods. Mindthat now, you dote drive a mile unless they pay the shinies. Threeguideas id your pocket and then you drive 'em. Are you listening,Britten?"
I managed to give him a squirt of oil out of my can--for we do loveMoss, and then I told him that Nelson on the quarter-deck of the_Victory_ wasn't more alive to his duties.
"Three guineas cash down and then I drive 'em. Is this a round trip tosee the beauties of Surrey, Mr. Moss, or do I return to my little cotafter the ball is over? I'd like to know on account of taking my Courtsuit, if you don't mind."
"Oh," says he, "you're ordered for ded o'clock, so I suppose id's thelight fadastic toe, Britten. But mide you get your modey--or I'll stopyour salary, sure. Three guideas and what you cad hook for yourself--Ishan't touch that, Britten--I dow how to treat my servants well."
I laughed at this, but didn't say too much for fear he should find outthat he'd got a patch of oil as big as a football on the back of hisbeautiful new spring suit, and when he had told me that the party'sname was Faulkland Jones and had given me the number of the house, Igot on with my work again and soon had the three-year-old Napierrunning as well as ever she did in all her life. Nor did anything elsehappen until ten o'clock that night, at which hour precisely I droveher up to the house in the Richmond Road, Bayswater, and sent a smallboy to knock at the door.
It was a twopenny-ha'penny shop, and no doubt about it; a two-storiedday-before-yesterday lodging-house, with a bow window like aMetallurgique bonnet and a door about as big as the top of yourgear-box.
So far as I could see from the road there was only one lamp showing inthe place, and that was on the off-side, so to speak, in a littlewindow of a bedroom--but the boy said afterwards that there was a glimin the hall, and he was old enough to have known. Taken altogether,you wouldn't have offered them thirty pounds a year for the lot unlessyou had been a Rothschild with a cook to pension off--and what suchpeople wanted with a Napier limousine at three guineas the job I reallycould not have said. This, however, was no business of mine; so I justgave the lad a penny and settled myself down in my seat until theDuchess in the apron should appear.
It wasn't a long time I had to wait, perhaps five minutes, perhaps ten.I told the police, when they questioned me afterwards, to split thedifference, for none but a policeman could have told you what it hadgot to do with my story. When the door did open at last, a couple ofmen carrying a basket came down the bit of a garden, and the first ofthem wished me "Good evening" very civilly. Then they let the basketdown softly on to the pavement and began to talk to me about it.
"How strong's your roof?" asked the first, speaking with a nasal twangI couldn't quite place. "Will it take this bit of a basket all right?"
"Why," says I, "it might depend on what you've got inside that same.Have I come for the washing, or do I drive your plate to the Bank ofEngland?"
The second, the taller man of the two, laughed at this; but the firstseemed very uneasy, and it was not lost upon me that he glanced to theright and the left of him as though afraid that someone would come upand hear what his friend had to say next.
"I guess it's neither one nor the other," the first speaker went on."We're playing theatricals at the Hampstead Town Hall to-morrow night,and these are the dresses. We want you to take them up to the BoundaryRoad, St. John's Wood--I'll show you the house when we get there; butit's called Bredfield, and you'll know it by a square-toed lamp upagainst the side-track. Perhaps you can give us a hand with thebaggage--and say, have you any objection to gold when you can't getsilver?"
He passed up a sovereign and I put it inside my glove. Moss had toldme to collect the shekels before I drove them a mile, and so I told thepair of them as I was getting down the luggage ladder, whichfortunately I had brought, not knowing the job. A bit to my surprisethey paid up immediately, but I made no remark about that; and when Ihad signed the receipt by the light of my near-side lamp, I helped themup with the basket and soon had it strapped to the rails in a way thatsatisfied even the nervous little man with the saucer eyes.
Many have asked me if I had no suspicions about that basket, was notcurious as to its contents, and remarked nothing as we hoisted it up.To these I say that the men themselves were the chief actors in thebusiness; that they lifted the baggage from the pavement, and that mytask was chiefly to guide it to the rails and to make it fast when Ihad got it there. Otherwise, this basket was no different from anydress-basket you may see upon half a dozen four-wheelers the first timeyou look in at a railway station; and I should be telling an untruth ifI said that I thought about it at all. Indeed, it was not until we gotto the Boundary Road, and I stopped at the house called Bredfield, thatso much as a notion of anything wrong entered my head. There, however,I did get a shock, and no mistake; for no sooner had I pulled up than Idiscovered that I had come on alone, and that neither the big man withthe Yankee accent nor the little man with the saucer eyes had deignedto accompany me.
Well, I got down from the driver's seat, opened and shut the door asthough to be sure that neither the one nor the other was hiding underthe seat, and then I rang loudly at the front door bell and waited tosee what fortune had got in her lucky-bag.
Had the men told me plainly that I was to go alone, I should never havegiven the matter a second thought; but I could have sworn that the pairof them were inside the limousine when I started away from the RichmondRoad, and how or where they got down I knew no more than the LordChancellor. It remained to be seen if the people in the house were anywiser; and you may be sure that I was curious enough by this time, and,if the truth must be told, not a little frightened.
Boundary Road, as many will know, is a quiet thoroughfare in St. John'sWood, most of the houses being detached, and many of them having twentyfeet of garden back and front. This particular house was larger thanordinary, and owned an odd iron lamp fixed above the garden gate andconspicuous a hundred yards away. Unlike the shanty in the RichmondRoad, nearly every window showed a bright light; and I don't suppose Ihad waited twenty seconds, though they seemed like a quarter of anhour, when the front door flew open and one of the prettiestparlourmaids I have ever clapped eyes upon came running down the path,and asked, even before she had op
ened the gate, if the lady had arrived.
"Why," says I, quickly enough, "that she certainly has not, being tookto dine with the Grand Duke Isaac at the Metropolitan Music Hall. Buther dresses are here, miss, and if you like to try on any of 'em beforeshe arrives, why, you're welcome so far as I am concerned."
She laughed at this and came out on to the pavement. I have said shewas pretty, but that's hardly the word for it. If she went on theGaiety stage to-morrow, she'd be the talk of the town in afortnight--and as for her manners, well, it isn't my place to remark onthose. Affability appeals to me wherever I find it, and if BetsyChambers isn't affable, then I don't know the meaning of the term.
"Where have you come from?" she asked me as we stood there; "have youcome from Scotland?"
"More like from Scotland Yard in these times," says I; "why should youask me that?"
"Because the gentleman said that his wife would be arriving fromScotland to-night, but that he would not be here until to-morrow. Iwouldn't have stopped in the house for anything if he had not said shewas coming!"
"Then you're alone, my dear?"
She tossed her head.
"Yes, I am, and that's why all the lamps are lighted."
"Why, to be sure," cried I, "there might have been a man under thebed;" but she was too polite to notice this, and I could see she wasvery much afraid of sleeping alone in that strange house, and I don'twonder at it.
"I can walk up and down the front garden all night, if you like," saidI, "or maybe I could sleep on the drawing-room sofa, if you prefer it.Is this the first time they have left you alone here?"
She looked at me in surprise.
"I was only engaged yesterday from the registry office in Marylebone.This is a furnished house, and they have taken it for three monthscertain. The gentleman comes from Edinburgh and the lady is anAmerican. They haven't got a cook yet, but hope to have one byto-morrow. Whatever shall I do if they never come at all?"
"Oh," says I, "try on her dresses and see how they suit you. Supposewe get the basket in to begin with. Here's a chap coming who looks asthough he could lay out sixpence if he hadn't got a shilling; we'llenlist him and then talk about supper afterwards. Is your name Susan,by the way? The last nice girl I met was called Susan, and so Ithought----"
"Oh, don't be silly," says she; "my name's Betsy, and if you squeeze myhand like that, some one will see you."
I told her it must have been done in a moment of abstraction, and thenI hailed the "cab runner" who was loafing down the road; and, what withhim and a messenger boy in a hurry, we got the basket down and liftedit into a big square hall and laid it almost at the foot of thestaircase, up which we should have to carry it presently.
Somehow or other it seemed to me over-heavy for a clothes' basket; butI said nothing about it at the time, and, telling Betsy I would returnin a minute, I went back to my car to turn off the petrol and see thatall was shipshape. When I entered the house again, and almost as soonas I had shut the door, the queerest thing I can remember happened tome. It was nothing less than this--that the girl, Betsy, came towardme with her face as white as a sheet; and, before I could utter asingle word or ask her the ghost of a question, she just slippedheadlong through my arms and lay like a dead thing.
Now, this was a nice position to be in and no mistake about it. Thegirl limp and helpless in my arms, not a soul in the house, me notknowing where to lay hands on a drop of brandy, to say nothing of aglass of water, and, above all, the peculiar feeling that something notover-pleasant must have frightened Betsy, and that it might frighten mebefore many minutes had passed. Listening intently, I could not atfirst hear a sound in all the house--but just when I was telling myselfnot to be a fool, I heard, as plainly as ever I heard anything in mylife, a sigh as of some one groaning in pain; and at that I do believeI dropped the girl clean on to the floor and made a dash into thenearest room in a state of mind I should have been ashamed to confesseven to my own brother.
What did it mean, who was playing tricks with us, and what was themystery? I looked round the apartment and made it out to be thedining-room, plainly furnished, well lighted, but as empty of people asWestminster Abbey at twelve o'clock of a Sunday night. A smaller roomto the right lay in darkness, but I found the switch and satisfiedmyself in a moment that no one was hidden there; nor did a search inevery nook and cranny near by enlighten me further. What was evenworse was the fact that I could now hear the groaning very plainly; andwhen I had stood a minute, with my heart beating like a steam pump andmy eyes half blinded with the shadows and the light, I discovered, justin a flash, that whoever groaned was not in any room of the house,neither in the hall nor upon the staircase, but in the very basket Ihad just laid down and should have carried to the floor above beforemany minutes had passed.
I am not going to state here precisely what I thought or did when Imade that astonishing discovery, or just what I felt at the moment whenI tried to understand its significance. Perhaps I could not rememberhalf that happened even if I tried to do so. My clearest memory is ofa dark, silent street, and of me standing there, bare-headed, with afainting girl in my arms, and a civil old chap with white whiskersasking again and again, "My good fellow, whatever is the matter andwhat on earth are you doing here?" When I answered him it was to beghim for God's sake to tell me the name of the nearest doctor--and atthat I remember he simply pointed to the house opposite and to a brassplate upon its door.
"I am Mr. Harrison, the surgeon," he said quickly; "I am just buying amotor, and so I crossed the road to look at yours. Tell me what hashappened and what is the matter with the woman."
I told him as quietly as I could.
"God knows what it is--perhaps murder. The girl heard it and fainted.She'll be all right in a minute if I can lay her down. I never thoughtany woman weighed half as much. Anyway, she's coming to and that'ssomething--if you could call a policeman, sir."
He was a self-possessed gentleman, I must say, and, looking up and downthe street, while I set the girl down on the footboard of the car, heespied the little messenger boy who had helped us to carry the basketinto the house and sent him for a policeman. Betsy had opened her eyesby this time, but all she could say had no meaning for me, nor was itany clearer to him. When we had got her across to his surgery and lefther there, we returned to the house together, and as we went I tried totell him just what had happened and how I came to be mixed up in such astrange affair. The story was still half told when we mounted thesteps of Bredfield and walked straight up to the basket which hadscared the girl out of her wits and left me wondering whether I wasawake or dreaming. Now, however, I had no doubt at all about thematter, for whoever was under that lid was struggling pretty wildly toget free, and would have broken the cords in another minute if thedoctor had not cut them.
A couple of slashes with a lancet severed the stout rope with which my"bundle" had been tied, and a third cut the bit of string which boundthe hasp to the wickerwork. I stepped back instinctively as thegentleman raised the lid, and so, to be honest, did he--the samethought, I am sure, being in both our heads and the belief that our ownlives might be in danger. When the truth was revealed, my firstimpulse was to laugh aloud, my second to set off in my car without amoment's loss of time, and try to lay by the heels the pair of villainswho had done this thing.
In a word, I may tell you that the basket contained a young girl,apparently not more than fifteen years of age; that she was dressed inrags, though apparently a lady of condition, and that when we liftedher out it appeared that her reason had gone and that her young lifemight shortly follow it.
I've been through some strange times in my life; had many a peep intothe next world, so to speak; seen men die quick and die slow--but forreal right-down astonishment and pity I shall never better that scenein the Boundary Road, St. John's Wood, if I live as long as thepatriarchs.
Just picture the brightly lighted hall and the open basket, and thispretty little thing with yellow hair streaming over her sho
ulders andher bare arms extended as though in entreaty toward the doctor and me,and such cries upon her lips as though we, and not the men who had senther here, had been her would-be murderers. I tell you that I wouldhave sold my home to save her, and that's no idle word. Unhappily, Icould do nothing, and what I would have done the police forbade me todo, for there were three of them in the room before five minutes hadpassed; and I might be forgiven for saying that half the local forcewas present inside half an hour.
Well, you know what a policeman is when anything big turns up; howthere's a mighty fine note-book about two foot long to be produced, andperhaps a drop of whisky and soda to whet his pencil, and then thequestions and the answers and what not--all the time the thief isrunning hard down the back street and the gold watch is sticking out ofhis boot.
I answered perhaps a hundred and fifty questions that night, and nobodyany the wiser for them. Notes were taken of everything: the time I setout, where my father was born, what they paid me for the job, theaddress of the garage, Christian name and surname of AbrahamMoss--whether I'd had my licence endorsed or kept it clean--until atlast, able to stand it no longer, I told the inspector plainly thatthis wasn't Colney Hatch, and the sooner he understood as much thebetter.
"Here's my car and there's the street," said I; "will you drive toRichmond Road and see the house for yourself or will you not? I tellyou there were two of them, and one may be there now. You can prove itfor yourself or let it go, as you like. But don't say it wasn't talkedabout or I shall know how to contradict you."
He came down to ground at this and consented to go with me. We wereback again in the Richmond Road inside a quarter of an hour andknocking at the door of the house where I had picked the basket upabout two minutes later. A very old woman opened to us this time, andanswered very civilly that the two strange gentlemen had left for theContinent by the evening train, and she had no idea if they wouldreturn or no. They had always paid her regularly, she said, though notoften at home; while as for their room, we could examine that withpleasure. The more amazing confession came after, for when she waspressed to tell us something about the young lady, she declared stoutlythat she had never seen one, and that the Messrs. Picton--for so shecalled her lodgers--kept no female company, and very rarely had askedeven a gentleman to their rooms.
The inspector listened to all she had to say and then made a formalsearch of the house. It would be waste of time to insist that he foundnothing--not so much as a scrap of paper or an empty collar-box toenlighten him; but he gave strict orders that no one was to enter themen's room upon any pretext whatsoever; and when he had locked it andpocketed the key, he made me drive him back to the Boundary Road andthen up to the hospital at Hampstead, to which the little girl had beencarried and where she was then lying. Naturally I had the _entree_ aswell as he--for there were three or four swagger men from Scotland Yardon the carpet by this time, and all of them mighty anxious to make myacquaintance. From these I learned that the child was still incoherentin her talk, and utterly unable to remember who she was or whence shehad come. Fright had paralysed her faculties. She might have beenborn yesterday for all she knew about it.
For my part, I had a strong desire to talk to the girl myself and put afew questions which had come into my head while we were waiting; butthe police would have none of this, and the most they would permit meto do was to look at her from the far end of the ward, which I did fora long time, watching her face very closely, and wondering howbeautiful it was.
When they sent me away at last I returned to the garage down West, andso to my bed, but not to sleep. It must have been three o'clock of themorning by this time, and I lay until I heard some noisy church-clockstriking seven, when I determined to stop there tossing about nolonger, but to get up and read the morning papers. Few of them,however, had more than a brief paragraph announcing the fact, and wehad to wait for the "evenings" to discover the real sensation. Myword, how thick they laid it on--and what a hero they made of me. Imust have been interviewed a dozen times that day, and when thefollowing morning's papers came, I read for the first time that areward of five hundred pounds had been offered for the capture of theperpetrators of this outrage, and that it would be paid by the Editorof the _Daily Herald_ on the day that the mystery was solved.
Of course, there were many theories. Some believed it to be a case ofabduction pure and simple, some of revenge; a few recommended thedoctors to follow the poison clue and to ascertain if the child hadbeen drugged before she was put into the basket.
Speaking for myself, I had an idea in my head, which I didn't mentioneven to Betsy Chambers, whom it was necessary for me to see prettyoften about that time, and generally of evenings. This idea, Isuppose, would have knocked the Scotland Yard braves silly withlaughing; but I had no fancy to share five hundred with them--moreespecially since they took seven fifteen off me at Kingston last PettySessions--so I just kept a quiet tongue in my head and mentioned thematter to nobody. Perhaps it was unfortunate I did not; I can't tellyou more than this, that the next ten days found me walking about Sohoas though I had a fancy to buy up the neighbourhood, and that on theeleventh day precisely I found what I wanted--found it by what I mighthave called a turn of Providence if I didn't know now it was somethingvery different.
I should remind you hereabouts that the case was still the rage of thetown, though hope of bringing the would-be assassins to justice hadalmost been abandoned.
The little girl now began to remember her past in a dim sort of way,and had told the police that she lived in a foreign country by thesea--which was not the same as saying Southend-on-the-Mud by a longway. Her father she recollected distinctly, and cried out for him veryoften in her sleep. She did not seem to think she had a mother, and ofwhat happened in the Richmond Road her mind recalled nothing. I hadseen her twice; but she was so frightened when I went near her that thepolice forbade me to go at all--and I do believe, upon my solemn word,that if it hadn't been for the witnesses they would have said I hadsomething to do with the job myself.
This, be sure, didn't trouble me at all. What was in my mind was thefive hundred sterling offered by the _Daily Herald_ for the solution ofthe mystery; and that sum I did not lose sight of night or day. To winit I must discover the Yankee with the voice like a saw-mill, and thelittle cove with the saucer eyes, and for these, upon an instinct whichI can hardly account for even to myself (save to say it was connectedwith three days I spent in Paris eight months ago) I hunted Soho foreleven days as other men hunt big game in Africa. And, will youbelieve it, when I discovered one of them at last, it was not by myeyes, but by his, for he spotted me at the very top of Wardour Street,and, coming across the road, he slapped me on the shoulder, just asthough I had been his only brother let loose on society for theespecial purpose of shaking him by the hand.
"Why," says he, "I guess it's the coachman."
"Coachman be d----d," says I; "hasn't Pentonville taught you no bettermanners than that? You be careful," says I, "or they'll be cancellingyour ticket-of-leave----"
He wasn't to be affronted, for he continued to treat me as though heloved me and life had been a misery since we lost each other.
"Say," cried he, "you got through with the basket all right. Well, seehere, now; do you want to get that five hundred, Britten, or do younot? I'll play the White Man with you--do you want to get it?"
"Oh," cried I, "if it's a matter of five hundred being put in thecloak-room because there isn't a label on it----"
"Then come along," he rejoined, and, taking me by the arm, he led mealong the street, turned sharp round to the right into a place thatlooked like a disused coach-house; and before I could wink my eye, hedragged me through a door into a room beyond, and then burst outlaughing fit to split.
"Britten," says he, "you're fairly done down. I've got the cinch onyou, Britten. Don't you perceive that same?"
Well, of all the fools! My head spun with the thought; not at firstthe thought of fear, mind you, though fear f
ollowed right enough, butjust with the irony of it all, and the rightdown lunacy which sent meinto this trap as a fly goes into a spider's web. And this man wouldsuck me dry; I hadn't a doubt of it; a word might cost me my life.
"Well," I rejoined, knowing that my safety depended upon my wits, "andwhat if I am? Do you suppose I came here without letting InspectorMelton know where I was coming? You'd better think it out, old chap.There may be two at the corner and both on the wrong side. Don't youmake no mistake."
He laughed very quietly, and as though to make his own words good heput up the shutters on the only window the miserable den of a placepossessed. We were in a kind of twilight now, in a miserably furnishedshanty, with the paper peeling off the walls and the fire-grate allrusted and the very boards broken beneath our feet. And I believed hehad a pistol in his pocket, and that he would use it if I so much aslifted my hand.
"Oh," says he presently, and in a mocking tone which ran down my backlike cold water from a spout. "Oh, you're a brave boy, Britten, andwhen you spread yourself about the tecs, I like you. Now, see here,did I try to murder that girl or did I not? Fair question and fairanswer. Am I the man the police are looking for, or is it another?"
I answered him straight out.
"The pair of you are in it. You know that well enough--and the rewardis five hundred, to say nothing of what the police are offering."
"You mean to have that reward, Britten."
"If I can get it fairly, yes."
"As good as to say you'll walk straight out of here and give me up?"
"Unless you can tell me you didn't do it."
He swung round on his heel and looked at me as savage as a devil out ofhell.
"I did it, Britten--Barney, my mate, had nothing to do with it. Didn'tyou see him sweat the night you picked us up? Barney's a tender-footat this game; he'll never cut a figure in the 'Calendar,' why, not ifhe lives to be a chimpanzee in the human menagerie. Barney ought to beholding forth in the tabernacle round the corner. Him do it--why, hecouldn't kill a calf."
Well, I think I sat back and shuddered at this; anyway, an awfulfeeling of horror came upon me, both at the man's word and at thethought of my lonely situation, and of what must come afterwards. Allthe calculations seemed against me. I am a strong man, and would havestood up to this Yankee, fist to fist, for any sum you care to name;but the pistol in his pocket, and the certainty that he would use itupon any provocation, held me to my seat as though I were glued there.And thus for five whole minutes, an eternity of time to me, I watchedhim pace up and down the room, gloating upon his horrid work, andwondering when my turn would come.
"Britten," he said presently--and his voice had changed, Ithought--"Britten, would you like a whisky and soda?"
"If it's only whisky and soda----"
"What! You think I'm going to doctor it--same as I did Mabel's?"
"I don't know to what you refer--but something of the kind was in myhead."
It amused him finely--and I must say again that his attitude allthrough was that of a man who could hardly keep from laughing whateverhe did, so that I came to think he must be little short of a ravingmaniac, and that perhaps the Court would find him such.
"Oh," says he, "don't you fear, Britten, I shan't treat you thatway--you may drink my whisky all right, a barrelful if you can. When Iwant to deal with you, Britten, it will be another wayaltogether--cash, my boy; have you any objection to a little cash?"
I opened my eyes wide, telling myself, for the second time, that he wasas certainly mad as any March hare in the picture-books; but I saidnothing, for he had turned to a little wooden cupboard near thefireplace, and before he spoke again he set a bottle of whisky, asyphon, and two tumblers on the table, and poured out a stiffish dosefor himself and its fellow for me. When I had watched him drink it,and not before, I followed suit, and never did a man want a whisky andsoda as badly.
"Your health," says he--I believe I wished him the same. "And littleMabel Bellamy's----"
I put the glass down on the table with a bang.
"Good God!" said I, "not Mabel Bellamy that did the disappearing trickat the Folies Bergeres in Paris two years ago?"
"The same," says he.
"And you are telling me----"
"That she was a very fine actress. Do you deny it, Mr. Britten?"
I rose and buttoned my coat--but the black look was in his eyes again.
"Britten," says he, "not in so much of a hurry, if you please. I amgoing round to the _Daily Herald_ this afternoon to get that fivehundred. You will sit here until I return, when I shall pay you fiftyof the best. Is it a bargain, Britten--have we the right to the moneyor have you?"
I thought upon it for a moment and could not deny the justice of it.
"Do you mean to say you did it for an advertisement?" I cried.
"The very same," says he, "and this night, Mabel's fond papa, thegentleman with the big eyes, Britten, will go to Hampstead and take hislong-lost daughter to his breast. She makes her first appearance atthe Casino Theatre to-morrow night, Britten----"
I rose and shook him by the hand.
"Fifty of the best," said I, "and I'll wait for them here."
* * * * *
Well, I must say it was a tidy good notion, first for the pair of themto work a trick like that on the public just for the sake of lettingall the world know that Mabel Bellamy was to disappear from a basket atthe Casino Theatre; and secondly, dropping on the _Daily Herald_ forfive hundred of the best--and getting it, too, before the story gotwind.
You see, the _Herald_ lost no money, for they had a fine scoop all totheir little selves, while the other papers gnashed their teeth andlooked on. Nor was the whole truth told by a long way, but a garbledversion about foreign coves who worked the business and bolted, and adoting father who never consented to it--and such a hash-up andhocus-pocus as would have made a pig laugh.
Whether, however, the public really took it all, or whether it resentedthe manner of the play, is not for me to say.
Sentiment is, after all, a very fine thing, as I told Betsy Chambersthe night I gave her the anchor brooch and asked her to wear it forauld lang syne, to say nothing of the good time we had when I took herto Maidenhead in old Moss's car and pretended I was broken down atReading with a dot-and-go-one accumulator. Of course, Moss weighed inwith an interview. I wonder the sight of his ugly old mug didn'tshrivel the paper it was printed on.
Anyway me and Betsy--but that's another story, and so, perhaps, I hadbetter conclude.
VI
THE COUNTESS
To begin with, I suppose, it would be as well to tell you her name, butI only saw it once in the address-book at the Ritz Hotel in Paris, andthen I couldn't have written it down for myself--no, not if a man hadoffered me five of the best for doing so.
You see, she gave it out that she came from foreign parts, and herhusband, when she remembered that she'd got one, was supposed to be aHungarian grandee with a name fit to crack walnuts, and a moustachelike an antelope's horns set over a firegrate to speak of herancestors. Had I been offered two guesses, I would have said that shecame from New York City and that her name was Mary. But who am I tocontradict a pretty woman in trouble, and what was the matter withMaria Louise Theresa, and all the rest of it, as she set it down in thevisitors' book at the hotel?
I'd been over to Paris on a job with a big French car, and worked therea little while for James D. Higgs, the American tin-plate maker, whowas making things shine at the Ritz Hotel, and had a Panhard almost bigenough to take the chorus to Armenonville--which he did by sections,showing neither fear nor favour, and being wonderful domesticated inhis tastes.
When James was overtaken by the domestic emotions, and thought he wouldreturn to Pittsburg to his sorrowing wife and children, he handed meover to the Countess, saying that she was a particular friend of his,and that if her ancestors didn't sail with the Conqueror it wasprobably because they had an appointment at the Moulin R
ouge and weretoo gentlemanly to break it--which was his way of tipping me the wink;and "Britten, my boy," says he, "keep her out of mischief, for you areall she has got in this wicked world."
Well, it was an eye-opener, I must say; for I hadn't seen her for morethan two minutes together, and when we did meet, I found her to be justa jolly little American chassis, slim and shapely, and as full of "go"as a schoolgirl on a roundabout. Her idea, she told me, was to drive aDelahaye car she had hired, from Paris to Monte Carlo, and there tomeet her husband with the jaw-cracking name; whom, she assured me, withthe look of an angel in the blue picture, she hadn't seen for more thantwo years.
"Two years, Britten--sure and certain. Now what do you think of that?"
"It would depend upon your husband, madame," said I; upon which shelaughed so loud they must have heard her in the garden below.
"Why, to be sure," says she, "you've got there first time. It doesdepend upon the husband, and mine is the kindest, gentlest, mostfoolish creature that ever was in this world. So, you see, I amdetermined not to be kept from him any longer."
"Then, madame," said I, "we had better start at once."
I thought that she hesitated, could have sworn that she was about toadmit me further into her confidence; but I suppose she considered thetime unsuited; and after asking me a few questions about the car, andwhether I knew the road and was a careful driver, she gave meinstructions to be at the hotel at nine o'clock on the followingmorning. So away I went, telling myself that the world was a funnyplace, and wondering what Herr Joseph, the jaw-cracker, would have tosay to his good lady when she did turn up at Montey and laid her newbeehive hat upon his doting bosom.
This was no business of mine. I am a motor-driver, and two pound tenon Saturday is my abiding anxiety. Give me my wages regular, and theclass of passenger who feels for the driver's palm at the journey'send, and I'll ask nothing more of Providence. So on the followingmorning, at nine sharp, I drove the big Delahaye round to the Ritz, andby a quarter past her ladyship was aboard and we were making for Dijonand the coast.
No motorist who knows anything of the game will ask me to describe thisjourney, or to tell him just where he should stop because of the dead'uns of five hundred years ago, or where he should hurry on because ofthe livestock of to-day. I had a fine car under me, a pretty woman inthe tonneau, a May-day to put life into me, and a road so fine that aman might dream of it in his sleep. And if that's not what theschoolmaster calls Eldorado, then I'll send him a halfpenny card tofind out just what is.
So let it suffice to say that we went at our leisure--slept at Dijonand at Lyons, were one night at Avignon, and two nights later at Nice.If there was anything to remark during the journey, it was Madame'sgrowing anxiety as we approached the Mediterranean, and the number oftelegrams she sent to her friends whenever we chanced to halt--even inthe meanest villages.
The telegrams I had the pleasure to read more than once as I handedthem over the counter; but those that were in German were no good tome, and those that were in French I could but half decipher. None theless, I got the impression that she was in a state of much distress andperplexity, and that all her messages were to one end--namely, that sheshould have the right to go somewhere at present forbidden her, andthat the Baron Albert, whoever he might be, should be interviewed onher behalf and persuaded that she was a lady of all the virtues.
A final telegram to an English gentleman at Vienna capped all, and wasnot to be misunderstood. It simply said, "I shall publish the story ifthey persevere." And that seemed to me an ugly threat to come from sopretty a sender, though of its meaning I had no more knowledge than thedead.
Perhaps you will say that I was a poor sort to have been reading hertelegrams at all; that it didn't concern me; and that I was paid tohold my tongue. Well, that is true enough, and Madame had little tocomplain of on such a score, I must say. To all and sundry whoquestioned me at the hotels, I just said she was the wife of aHungarian nobleman, and that she travelled for her pleasure. When wearrived at Nice, and an impertinent policeman got me into a corner, soto speak, and tried to put me through the catechism, I simply said, "Nospeakee Frenchee--Mistress Americano," and at that he shook his headand wrote it down in a note-book about as large as a grocer's ledger.But I plainly perceived that something more than mere police curiosityaccounted for all this cross-examination; and when Madame sent for meto her private sitting-room that night, I guessed immediately thatsomething was up, and that I was about to learn the nature of it.
I shall always remember the occasion, as beautiful a night of aSouthern summer as a man could hap upon. Still and starry, the seawithout a ripple; the ships like black shapes against an azure sky; thelights of the houses shining upon the moonlit gardens; the music of thebands; the gay talk of the merry people--oh, who would go northward ho!if Providence set him down on such a spot as this? And upon it all wasthe picture of Madame herself--of that lady of the gazelle's eyes andthe milk-white skin, as she invited me into her sitting-room and askedme to sit down while she talked.
You could not have matched her for beauty in Nice; I doubt if you couldhave done it nearer than Paris and the Ritz. Dressed in a lot offluffy stuff, with a pink satin skirt, and arms bare to the shouldersand a chain of diamonds about her neck--dressed like this, and so sweetand gracious in her manner, talking to me just as though she had knownme from infancy, and asking me, Lal Britten, to help her--why, you betI said "Yes," and said it so plainly that even she could not mistake me.
"Why, Britten," says she, "do you know what has happened to-day?"
"Couldn't guess it if I tried, madame," said I.
"Well, then, I must tell you: they won't let me go to Monte Carlo,Britten. They say the Emperor forbids it."
"But, madame, is there any need to ask the old gentleman's permission?Aren't you an American citizen?"
She laughed at my idea of it, and asked me if I would like a glass ofport wine, which I did to oblige her; while she took another as thoughshe liked it, which I have no reason to suppose she did not.
"You see, Britten," she said, presently, "a woman is of her husband'snationality, and so, of course, I am a Hungarian. That is why theEmperor has the power to say that I must not be admitted to Monte Carlojust at the moment when my dear husband is waiting for me there. Now,don't you think it is very hard upon us both?"
"It's very hard on him, madame, seeing you are in the case. I shouldwant to know him before I said the same thing for you, asking yourpardon for the liberty."
She took no notice of this, but casting up her eyes to heaven--and atthat game Miss Sarah Bernhardt out of Paris couldn't beat her--sheexclaimed:
"Oh, my poor Joseph, whatever will he think of me? I dare notcontemplate it, Britten--I really dare not."
"Then I should leave it alone, madame. Is there no way of getting thisdecision altered?"
"None that I can think of, unless----"
"Unless what, madame?"
She tapped the table with her pretty fingers, and poured me out asecond glass of port wine.
"Unless the mountain will come to Mahomet--but I guess you don't knowwhat that means, Britten, now do you?"
She screwed her lips up to the kissing point with this, and looked atme so tenderly that I began to feel nervous--upon my word I did.
"Do you mean that your husband must come here, madame?"
"Of course I mean it, Britten. You must fetch him--by a trick. Nowwouldn't that be splendid--say, wouldn't it be fine? If we couldoutwit them--if we could make the Emperor look foolish!"
I rubbed my chin and thought about it. There isn't much modesty in myprofession, but the idea of getting up against a policeman so far frommy humble home somehow put the brake on, and I found myself misfiringlike one o'clock in spite of her pretty eyes and her red lips, and her"take me in your arms and kiss me" look. The Croydon lot are badenough, but as for the beaks at Montey--well, I've heard tales of themand to spare.
"It would be fine, madame, if we co
uld do it," said I at last; "butbetween talking of it here in this hotel and crossing the frontier----"
"Oh," she cried, interrupting me almost angrily--and she has the devilof a temper--"oh, there's no difficulty, Britten. Just drive to theHermitage after my husband has dined to-morrow night, and say that ifhe wants the news of Madame Clara, you can take him where he will getit. Don't you see, Clara is one of my pet names. He'll understand ina moment, and you can drive him to this hotel. Are you afraid to dothat, Britten?"
Of course I wasn't afraid, and she knew it. It was nothing to meanyway, and I could always plead that I was her servant and anEnglishman, and didn't care a damn for this particular Emperor or anyother. None the less, if she hadn't smiled upon me as she did at thatparticular moment--smiled like a daffy-down-dilly in April, andsqueezed my hand as soft as June roses, which the same appeared to bedone by accident, I might have left it alone, after all. As it was, Ihad set off at seven o'clock on the following evening, and at a quarterpast nine I was asking at the Hermitage for Count Joseph, just as fullof the story I had to tell as a history-book of kings.
A black and white _maitre d'hotel_, picked out with gold, replied tothis, and after talking to half a dozen waiters and sending for anotherchap with a shirt-front like a Mercedes bonnet, they directed me to alittle hotel down by Monaco; and there the head waiter received mequite affably, and said, "Certainly, the gentleman was at home." WhenI had given my name, but not my business, I was ushered up, perhapsafter an interval of ten minutes, to a sitting-room on the first floor,and there I found myself face to face with a fat, red-faced man inevening dress; and if ever there was a martinet down Montey way, thisfine gentleman was that same. He was fat, I say, and forty--but towrite that he was fair would be impossible, for he hadn't more thanabout half a dozen hairs on his head, and those had drifted down hisneck to get out of the wind. When I came in he appeared to be sippingCognac out of a long green bottle, and to be reading private papersjust as fast as he could get through them, but he looked up presently,and a pair of wickeder eyes I do not want to see.
"Who sent you here?" he asked.
"A lady," said I.
"Her name?"
"Madame Clara."
He turned and snuffed the wick of a candle standing on the table by hisside. From his manner I did not think him quite sober, but he appearedto pull himself together by-and-by, and then he exclaimed:
"Repeat your message."
"I am to say that if you wish for news of Madame Clara, I can take youwhere you will get it."
Well, I thought that he smiled, though I cannot be quite sure of that.Presently, however, he stood up without a word, and, going into hisbedroom, he brought a heavy fur coat and cap into the sitting-room, andmotioned me to help him on with them. When that was done, he openedthe door and invited me to precede him down the corridor.
"I will see the lady," he said--and that was all. We were in the cartwo minutes afterwards, making for Nice on the "fourth," and not a soulto interfere with us or to do more than take a glance at our papers aswe passed the stations. Never had there been a lighter job; never hada man helped a woman so easily.
I thought about all this, be sure, as we drew near Nice and the end ofour game appeared to be at hand. The old women tell us not to countour chickens before they are hatched, and that's a thing I am not inthe habit of doing; but the more I reflected upon it, the betterpleased did I feel with myself, and the greater was my wonder at thelady's tastes. That such a pretty little woman, such a gay soul, sucha good judge of men--for she was a judge, I'll swear--that she shouldhave ever been in love with this sack of lard I was driving toNice--well, that did astonish me beyond measure; though it should nothave done so, knowing women as I do, and seeing how old Father Timedoes stick his dirty fingers on our idols and make banshees of the bestof them.
I say that I was astonished, but such a feeling soon gave place toothers; and when I brought up my car with a dash to the door of thehotel, and the gold-laced porter helped the fat old gentleman out,curiosity took the place of wonder. I became as anxious as aparlourmaid at a keyhole to know what Madame would have to say to thistwenty-stone husband, and, what particular terms of endearment he wouldchoose for his reply. Certainly if pleasurable anticipation is to bedenoted by smiles, he found no fault with his present situation, for hegrinned like a gorilla when he got down, and, nodding to me quiteaffably, he asked:
"Upon which floor is Madame Clara staying, did you say?"
"The third floor--number 113."
"Ah," says he, adjusting his glasses and turning round to go in, "thatis an unlucky number, my friend," and without another word he enteredthe hotel and left me there.
Of course, I didn't expect him to talk to me, was not looking for a tipfrom Madame's own husband, but I had expected a question or two; andwhen he had departed the porter and I stopped there gossiping a bit,for it was likely that the car might be wanted again that night--and,to be truthful, I more than half hoped that Madame would send for me.
"What's up?" asks the porter--he passes for a foreigner, but I happento know he was born just off Soho. "What's up, matey?"
"Why," says I, "that's just what I'd like to know myself. Can't youtell the chambermaid at 113 to find out?"
"The maid's off. Is that old cove licensed?"
"All in order at Scotland Yard," says I. "He's took out a license todrive, and his papers are passed. That's my missis' husband."
"Oh," he remarked, in a dreamy kind of way, "which one?"
"Why, the gentleman who just went in."
"Poor soul!" says he, in a most aggravating manner, "how fast she dolose 'em. I wonder who pays for the headstones?"
"Do you know her?" asked I, for his words took me aback.
He shook his head at this, and then scratched it as though he weretrying to think.
"Larst time," he said presently, "larst time she dropped one or two atCannes, I'm thinking---- But, Lord love me, what's that?"
He stepped back on the pavement and looked up to the window of the room113. I had heard the shindy as well as he--a regular scream, as thougha woman was mad in her tantrums, and upon that a crash of glass andsilence--while the porter and me, we just stared at one another.
"Votes for women!" says he, presently, and in so droll a way that I hadto laugh in spite of myself; but before I could answer him, what do youthink? Why, out come the old gentleman, just as calm and smiling as hehad been ten minutes ago.
"You will drive me back to Monaco," he began. I asked him by whoseorders; but at that he looked like a devil incarnate, and spoke so loudthat I was right down frightened of him.
"You will drive me back to Monaco or spend the night in prison!" heshouted. "Now, which do you prefer?"
"Oh," says I, "in you get!" And in he did get, as I'm a Dutchman, andI drove him back to the hotel at Monaco--which was about the hour ofone in the morning, and no mistake at all. When he got out at last, nobabe in frocks could have looked more innocent, and he just handed meup a couple of louis, like a father blessing his only son.
"You drive very well, my lad. Where did you learn?"
"On a good car, sir. Henri Fourtnier taught me about the time of thesecond Gordon Bennett. But I don't suppose you remember that."
"Certainly I remember it. The late Count Zborowski was one of myfriends. Let me give you a little piece of advice. It is better todrive for a gentleman than a lady."
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
But he waved his hand with a flourish, and crying, "A bonnyarntarndure," or something of that kind, he disappeared into his hoteland left me to think what I liked. And a lot I did think as I droveback to Nice, I do assure you--for a rummier game I had never beenengaged in, and that's the truth, upon my word and honour.
It was daylight when I reached the garage, and out of the question, ofcourse, to think of seeing Madame. Speaking for myself, I was toodog-tired to ask if she wanted me or not; and going up to my bedroom, Imust have slept till n
ine o'clock without lifting an eyelid. At thathour the boots waked me in a deuce of a stew, telling me that Madamemust see me without a moment's loss of time. I dressed anyhow and wentdown to her. Poor little woman, what a state she was in! I don'tthink I ever saw a sorrier picture in all my life.
No fluffy stuff and fine pink satin now, but a shabby old morning gownand her hair anyhow upon her shoulders, and in her eyes the look of awoman who has been hunted and does not know where on God's earth she isgoing to find a habitation. I've seen it twice in my life, and I neverwant to see it again--for what man with a heart would wish to do so?
"Britten," she says, almost like a play-actress on the stage of atheatre, "Britten, do you know what happened last night?"
"Well," says I, "for that matter lots of things happened; but if you'respeaking of the gentleman, your husband----"
"My husband!"--you should have heard her laugh; it was just like one ofthe animals at the Zoo--"my husband! That wasn't my husband! That wasthe Baron Albert--the man I dread more than any one in the world. Howcould you make such a mistake, Britten?"
I shook my head.
"Madame," says I, "I'm very sorry, but I took the first one that camealong and answered to the name. It must have been the head waiter'sfault."
She clenched her hands and began to step up and down the room, wildwith perplexity.
"It was all planned, Britten--all planned. They knew that I shouldsend for Count Joseph, and this villain came from Vienna to thwart me.He must have bribed the servants at the hotel. And now, what do yousay to it? I am to be banished from France--he swears it. They havewritten to Paris, and the decree may come at any moment. I am to bebanished, Britten--driven out like a common criminal! Oh, what shall Ido? My God, what shall I do?"
That was a question I couldn't answer, but it did seem a wicked thingto treat a woman so, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.
"Is there any law in France that can turn you out, madame?" I asked.She answered that quickly enough.
"Certainly there is, Britten. I know all about it. They can turn meout at twenty-four hours' notice."
"Why not go to the American Consulate, madame?"
"Oh, you don't understand. If my husband were but here! Oh, theywould not insult me then--even if you were my husband, Britten."
Upon my life and soul, I believe that she meant it. There was a lookin her eyes as she stood before me which, unless I'm the biggest foolin Christendom, told me what was what plainly enough. A word, and Icould have taken that fine lady in my arms. I would swear to it.
And what forbade me, you ask? Well, perhaps I'd heard a smash of glasslast night, and perhaps I hadn't; but I do believe it was that porter'sfoolish remark about "votes for women" which put me off more thananything else. So I drew back a step and answered her with morerespect than ever.
"I'll see that nobody insults you while I am your servant, madame. IfI may make a suggestion, I would advise you to leave this town."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"And where should I go, Britten?"
"Back to Paris, madame--they won't interfere with you there."
"But my husband--my dear husband?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Perhaps Mahomet will come to the--er--em--to you, madame."
It was her turn to laugh; but I soon learned that my suggestion was nogood to her, and for a very simple reason.
"Ah," she said, "men are strange creatures, Britten. When we will,they will not; and when we will not, why, then they give us jewellery.I can't go back to Paris. If I do, a police officer goes with me."
"Take him on the box and call him a footman--unless you prefer to makefor London right away, madame."
She was emphatic about this.
"I can't, Britten! I must stay in Paris. It is my last chance ofseeing Count Joseph before he returns to Vienna for the summer. Oh, isthere no way? Is it quite impossible?"
I scratched my head. Something had been inside it for some minutes.
"Would you care to sit on the box beside me, madame?"
She was all ears at this.
"Of course I wouldn't mind. Have I not myself driven a car? CountMendez taught me at Cannes last year."
"Could you drive this car a little way on the road to Italy?"
"Why, certainly I could. But how would that help us?"
"Supposing," said I, "that you didn't mind my old mackintosh, madame.I've got that, and a leather cap I keep for the cold weather. If youwould put them on and sit beside me, I think we might do it. You candrive if there's any necessity to do so."
She clapped her hands so loud that I thought they would hear us on thePromenade des Anglais below.
"I'll do it, Britten--as I'm a living woman I'll do it. Go and bringyour clothes. We may not have an hour to spare. I'll cheat them yet,Britten. Oh, you clever man--you clever man to have thought of it."
"We might start at dusk, madame. Pay your bill, and give it out thatwe are going into Italy this afternoon. You needn't come back. I'llfind you a private room next door to the garage, where you can change,and we can set off just like two drivers on the box-seat, and nobody apenny the wiser. When you get to Paris I can take you to a littlehotel----"
She was like a child about it.
"Why, of all the clever men! You shall look after me in Paris. Iwon't forget you, Britten, and I'm rich enough for anything--atpresent. You shall stop with me until Count Joseph comes----"
I thought to myself that it would be an over-long engagement in thatcase; but there was no call to say anything of the kind to her, andstopping only to repeat my directions, I went round to the garage andmade ready. If Madame herself was excited at the prospect of givingthe fat man the go-by, I was no less; and I assure you that no boy'sgame I had ever played excited me half as much. Best of all was thethought that our quickness would forestall them; and if the authoritiesdid decide to expel her, we should be on the road to Paris long beforethe edict arrived.
As to what might happen afterwards, I was indifferent; for Paris is thesame as London to a proper motor-man, and I am just as much at home inthe Champs Elysees as in Regent Street. So I left that to fortune,and, setting about the plan, I had my things packed and the car madeready under an hour, and at four o'clock sharp that afternoon I pickedup Madame and her trunks at the door of the hotel and set off boldly asthough to drive her to the Italian frontier. But I turned back beforewe had gone a mile, and making straight for the little Italian hotelnext door to the garage, I smuggled her in without a soul being thewiser, and out again as cleverly just after dusk. She was dressed thenjust as I have told you--mackintosh up to her ears and a flat leathercap, suiting her pretty face to perfection. But any fool could haveseen she was a woman twenty yards away; and I began to ask which wasthe bigger idiot--me for making the suggestion, or she for taking it?It was too late, however, to think of that, and trusting that good luckmight pull us through, perhaps looking on the whole affair as one whichwas pretty near its end--and that no good end--I let the car go andmade straight for Brignoles.
Quite what apprehension of danger was in her head or mine I reallydon't know. Sometimes I think that she had a silly notion of what theFrench prefect might have done to her, exaggerating, as women will, thereal situation, and dreadfully frightened of "foreigners."
For myself, I wanted to get her back to Paris in spite of the attemptto stop us; perhaps I wanted to be even with the red-faced man, who hadordered me about last night; but whichever way it was, I could havelaughed fit to split every time I looked at that odd little bundle bymy side and thought of it as it was last night, all dressed in flummeryand rustling like the leaves. Nevertheless, I made no mention of it;and, as much to her surprise as mine, we passed through Frejus withoutany one stopping us, and drove right through the night without let orhindrance. Not until dawn did I begin to ask myself somequestions--and they were awkward ones. What the devil was I going todo with her in the towns? Why had I never
thought of it? She waswearing my long mackintosh, to be sure; but who would fail to recogniseher, and what would the talk be like?
A hundred difficulties, not one of which I had had the brains to thinkof last night, kept popping up like midgets in a puppet-show; and, asthough to crown them all, bang went the near-side back tyre at thatvery moment, and there we were by the roadside, at five in the morning,in as desolate a place as you want to find, and not the sign of houseor village wherever the eye might turn.
Now Madame had been nearly asleep upon my shoulder when this happened,but she woke up at the report and looked up all about her as though shehad been dreaming.
"Where are we, Britten?" she asked. "What has happened to us?"
"Tyre gone, madame. I must trouble you to get down."
She woke up at this, and got out immediately. I could see that she wasmore clear-headed than she had been last night, if not less frightened.
"This was a very foolish thing to do, Britten. We are sure to befollowed."
"That's as it may be, madame. I fear it's too late to think of it now.My business is to get this tyre fixed up."
"Will it take you very long, Britten?"
"Thirty minutes ordinary. But it's a new cover and stiff--I'll sayforty."
"Then I'll see to the breakfast. Wasn't it clever of me to think ofit? I've brought a Thermos and a basket. We'll have breakfast in thelittle wood on the hillside. If no one follows us, I can be myselfagain at Aix, and we shall get to Paris, after all. But oh, Britten, Imust look an object in your clothes. Why ever did you ask me to wearthem?"
I made a dry answer. A man wrestling with a 935 by 135 cover isn'texactly in the mood to compliment a woman on her frippery or talk aboutthe mountains. And I'm no more than human, all said and done, and thesight of the food she took out of the basket made me feel well-nighdesperate. So I turned my back upon her, and she went off to the copseto prepare breakfast as she had promised. Not five minutes afterwardsI heard the hum of another car in the distance, and, looking up from mywheel, I saw a great red Mercedes coming down the hillside like a racerat Brooklands.
I knew that we were in for it; instinct told me immediately that we hadbeen followed from Frejus or Nice, and that danger was aboard thatflyer, and would be up with us in less than two minutes. What to do,whether to shout to Madame to run and hide herself--to do that or justgo on with my work as though nothing had happened was a problem to makea man half silly. But in the end I held on tenaciously, and when thebig car drew up beside me, I merely looked up and nodded to the driveras though to signal to him that all was well.
"Bon jour," says he.
"Morning," says I.
"Vous-etes en panne, mon ami?"
"Hit it first time," says I--for those words are understood by everymotor-man who's been in the Riviera--"in the pan and the greasetogether. Where are you for?"
"Brignoles et Paris. Mais ou donc est Madame?"
I looked up, my heart beating fast, and took a peep into his tonneau.The red-faced man was there right enough, but as fast asleep as aparson over his empty port-wine glass. Could I persuade this bonnyFrenchman to get on with his job, we were half out of the wood sure andcertain. But could I? Lord, how my hands shook when I replied:
"Madame est alle dans le train--Paree--Calais--moi je suis seul"--whichwas rather good, I thought, though that was not the time to say so.
Well, it seemed successful enough. The Frenchee took a look to theright and a look to the left of him, opened his throttle as though tolet in his clutch and closed it again, took off his side brake, andthen, just when I was pluming myself that we were through, what do youthink the fool does? Why, turns deliberately round and wakes thered-faced Baron.
What passed between them I don't pretend to say, for the French went toand fro like lightning between summer clouds. But of this I amcertain: that there never was such a devilish smile as the old Baronturned on me when he got down from the tonneau and took a swift surveyof the scene as though sure already of his quarry.
"Ah," he cried, "here is our faithful friend once more. Good-day, Mr.Britten. I hope I see you well?"
"You see me next door to the devil," said I--for out here on themountain side I didn't care a dump for him. Bluff, however, went fornothing that morning. I had met my match, and I knew it.
"Britten," says he, taking a big cigar from a case and lighting it withprovoking deliberation. "Shall we make a truce, Britten?"
"Make what you like," says I. "This car has got to get to Paris tofetch my mistress. If a truce will do it, I'm taking some, right here."
He smiled again, but so softly that I could have hit him.
"Where is she hiding, Britten?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "Wherehas that very pretty lady chosen to conceal her charms? Come, tell me,my lad, and I'll give you five louis. What is the good of being sofoolish?"
I didn't answer a word, and he took another look all round the hills.Luckily, if there was one coppice, there were twenty in that gorge, andwhen I saw him walking away to the wrong one, I thought I should burstout laughing on the spot. That, I am glad to say, I did not do; butcalmly going on with my work, I had the new cover in presently and wasready to make a start. From that moment the drollery of thesituation--for it was droll, as I live--began in dead earnest, andlasted right through a hot summer's day--until dusk came down, in fact,and the issue was over for good and all.
Can't you imagine just what happened, and see the irony of it all?Depict a great open chasm between the hills, little copses of pineseverywhere, and more than one thicket; a white road winding through thevalley, and two cars stuck up on that same.
Say that there was a fat Baron trotting to and fro like a dog huntingfor rabbits; put down two tired and hungry chauffeurs, famished forwant of meat and cursing their fate; do this, and add that they sworeat both the sexes indifferently, and you'll have the thing to a tick.But I assure you that it's pleasanter to read about than to suffer; andany driver would admit as much.
Good Lord, what a day it was! The fat Baron, I should tell you, didnot give up the hunt until near twelve o'clock; but when he hadsearched every thicket within a mile or more, he came back to us anddeliberately made himself comfortable inside his car. As for me, I didnot dare to move a step either way. If I had gone on, it would havebeen to have left Madame in the woods; while if I stayed, hestayed--and there you had it. And this game went on till dusk, mindyou, and would have gone on longer but for the instinct which came tome quite suddenly like a thought dropped from the skies: that herladyship had given us both the slip, after all, and would be alreadywhere the Baron Albert could not find her. This idea growing to anunalterable conviction decided me at last. I started my engine,mounted my box-seat, and without a word to either of them drovestraight away to Brignoles--thence, without a question from any one, toParis and my master.
* * * * *
It would have been three months afterwards that I received a letterfrom Madame, addressed from the yacht _Mostar_, then in Norwegianwaters. She sent me ten pounds for myself, and after telling me thatshe was cruising with Baron Albert and his sister--a piece of newswhich fairly took my breath away--she went on to remark that the trainservice from Brignoles to Aix is excellent, but that she preferred notto make the journey in a leather cap and a mackintosh.
So, you see, I guessed in a moment that she had slipped away toBrignoles while we were talking about her that morning, and just takenthe early express to Aix without a word to anybody. We had been butthree kilometres from the town when the tyre burst, and so the journeycould hardly have fatigued her.
As for her husband, the so-called Count Joseph, I heard in Parisafterwards that he wasn't her husband at all, but a rich youngHungarian noble she was trying desperately hard to marry. The CountAlbert had been sent to Monte Carlo by the young man's people toprotect him from this ambitious lady, and right well he appears to havedone the business, for he must have found her in Paris afterward
s andoffered her the hospitality of his yacht.
I hope his sister was on board; I do indeed hope so.
But this is a rum world--and Lord, the scandal that some people willthink of makes me quite unhappy sometimes.
The Man Who Drove the Car Page 5
