CHAPTER II
THE QUEEN'S JESTER
The chosen corner certainly had the advantage of privacy. It was analcove at the end of one of the long narrow passages in which the ancienthostelry abounded, and the only light it boasted filtered through asquare aperture in the wall which once had held a window. Through thisaperture the curious could spy into the hall below, which just then wasthronged with dancers who were crowding out of the ballroom and driftingtowards the refreshment-room, the entrance to which was also visible.
An ancient settee had been placed in this coign of vantage, and upon thisthey established themselves by mutual consent.
The man was laughing a little below his breath. "I feel like arefugee," he said.
His companion leaned her arms upon the narrow row sill and gazeddownwards. "A refugee from boredom?" she suggested. "We are all that,more or less."
"I dispute that," he said at once. "It is only the bores who areever bored."
"And I dispute that," she replied, without turning, "of necessity, inself-defence."
He leaned forward to catch the light upon her profile. "You are bored?"
She smiled faintly in the gloom. "That is why I have engaged the servicesof a jester."
"By Jove," he said, "I'm glad you pitched on me."
She made a slight movement of impatience. "Isn't it rather futile to saythat sort of thing?"
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you know quite well it was not a matter of choice."
"Rather a matter of _manque de mieux_?" he suggested coolly.
She turned from her contemplation of the crowd below. "I am not going tocontradict you," she said, "I never foster _amour propre_ in a man. It isalways a plant of hardy growth."
"'Hardy' is not the word," he declared. "Say 'rank,' and you will benearer the mark. I fully endorse your opinion. We are a race ofconceited, egotistical jackanapeses, and we all think we are going tolick creation till a pretty woman comes along and makes us dance to herpiping like a row of painted marionettes. But is the pretty woman anythe happier, do you think, for tumbling us thus ruthlessly off ourpedestals? I sometimes wonder if the sight of the sawdust doesn't makeher wish she hadn't."
The drawl in his voice was very apparent as he uttered the last sentence.His chin was propped upon his hands. He was obviously studying her with adeliberate criticism that observed and considered every detail.
But his scrutiny held without embarrassing her. She met it with noconscious effort.
"I can't bear cynicism," she told him frankly.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Cynics--real cynics--never can."
"But I am not a cynic."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes, quite sure."
"And yet you tell me that you never take the trouble to flatter theinferior male. That's conflicting evidence, you know. Are you aman-hater, by the way?"
She shivered as if at a sudden draught. "I'm not prepared to answer thatquestion off-hand." she said.
"Very prudent of you!" he commented. "Do you know I owe you an apology?"
"I shouldn't have said so."
"No? Well, let me confess. I'm rather good at confessing. I didn'tbelieve you just now when you said you were twenty-five. Now I do. Thatsingle streak of prudence was proof absolute and convincing."
"I usually tell the truth," she said somewhat stiffly.
"Yes, it takes a genius to lie properly. I am not so good at it myself asI should like to be. But a woman of twenty-five ought not to look like aprincess of eighteen--a tired princess moreover, who ought to have beensent to bed long ago."
Her laugh had in it a note of bitterness. "You certainly are not the sortof genius you aspire to be," she said, "any more than I am a princess ofeighteen."
"But you will be a queen at thirty," he said. "Hullo! Here is someonecoming! Don't speak, and p'r'aps they won't discover us. They can'tstay long."
He rose swiftly with the words and blocked the little spy-hole withhis body. Certainly footsteps were approaching, but they ceased beforethey reached the alcove at the end of the passage. There was anothersettee midway.
"Oh, this is quite comfortable," said a woman's voice. "Here I am, MajorShirley! It's dark, isn't it, but rather a relief after the glaredownstairs. What a crush it is! I am beginning to think the Hunt Ballrather a farce, for it is next to impossible to dance."
"People don't know how to dance nowadays," grumbled Major Shirley inresponse. "I can't stand these American antics. That young Nap Errolfairly sickens me."
"Oh, but he is a splendid dancer," protested his partner tolerantly.
"Oh course you say so," growled the Major. "All women like that horridlittle whipper-snapper. I can't see what in thunder they find to attractthem. I call him a downright cad myself, and I'm inclined to think him ablackguard as well. He wouldn't be tolerated if it weren't for hisdollars, and they all belong to his brother, I'm told."
"Ah! He is a charming man. Such a pity he is a cripple!"
"He would probably be as insufferable as Nap if he weren't," rejoined theMajor gloomily. "I can't think what the County are coming to. They willaccept anybody nowadays, it seems to me. I even met that little bounderat the Rifle Club the other day. Heaven knows how he got in. Dollarsagain, I suppose, confound his audacity!"
His partner made a slight movement of uneasiness. "I wonder where heis. I haven't seen him for some time. I hope he isn't anywherewithin earshot."
"Not he! He is stowed away in some corner well out of the way with hislatest conquest. He won't turn up again this evening. He never does whenonce he goes to earth--the wily young fox."
"Who is his latest conquest, I wonder?" mused the woman. "I thought itwas Mrs. Damer. But I have just seen her dancing with young Waring."
"Mrs. Damer! Why, that was the day before yesterday!" The Major laughedunpleasantly. "'Anyone for a change, but no one for long,' is his motto.The fellow is an infernal bounder through and through. He will get asound hiding one of these days, and serve him jolly well right, say I!"
"My dear Major, how you hate him! Anyone would think he had tried toflirt with Violet."
"He'd better," growled the Major.
There came a slight sound from the darkness of the alcove, as thoughsomeone faintly chuckled.
"What's that?" asked the woman's voice nervously.
"Nothing--nothing!" said the Major testily. "Somebody laughing in thehall. I wonder where my wife is. I shall clear out soon. I'm tired ofthis show. Haven't had a decent dance all the evening. Shouldn't thinkyou have either. They ought to build a Town Hall in this place, and dothe thing properly."
"There is some talk of it, you know. Now that there is a millionaire inthe neighbourhood it really might be done. The Carfaxes would help too, Iam sure. Sir Giles is very open-handed."
"Drunken beast!" commented the Major. "A pretty spectacle he has beenmaking of himself to-night. He is sitting in a corner of therefreshment-room now absolutely incapable. He reached the noisy stagevery early in the evening. I am not sure that he even came sober."
"No! Isn't it too pitiful for words? That young wife of his! I can'tthink how she endures it. It must be positive martyrdom."
"Lady Carfax is a fool!" said the Major crossly. "I can't stand thesemartyrs. If she leads a dog's life it's her own fault. She's a fool toput up with it."
"Perhaps she can't help herself," pleaded the woman.
"Stuff and nonsense! No woman need be the slave of a drunken sot likethat. It's a downright offence to me to be in the same room with thefellow. He always reeks of drink. And she has, or professes to have, acertain amount of refinement. Not much, I dare say. She was nothing buthis bailiff's daughter, you know, and people of that class don'tgenerally suffer from an exaggerated sense of duty. She probably sticksto the man because she wants to keep in with the County. I don't like thewoman, never did. Her airs and graces always rub me up wrong way. Whycouldn't Sir Giles have married in his own set? He probably wouldn't beso fond of the whiskey bottl
e now if he had."
"I must say I like Lady Carfax," broke in the woman with decision."Whatever her origin, that queenliness of hers is not assumed. I believeher to be intensely reserved, and, perhaps for that very reason, I have agenuine admiration for her."
"My dear Mrs. Randal, you'd find points to admire in a wax candle,"grunted the Major. "She always makes me think of one; pale and pure andsaintly--I can't stand the type. Let's go downstairs and find Violet."
"Oh, not saintly, I think," protested Mrs. Randal charitably. "Saintlypeople are so uninteresting."
The Major laughed. He was already on his feet.
"Probably not--probably not. But a show of saintliness is more thanenough to frighten me away. A woman who can't understand a wink Iinvariably strike forthwith off my visiting-list."
"How cruel of you!" laughed Mrs. Randal. They were already moving awaydown the corridor. Her voice receded as they went. "But I can'tunderstand any man daring to wink at Lady Carfax; I can't, indeed."
"That's just what I complain about," grumbled Major Shirley. "Thosewax-candle sort of women never see a joke. What fools they are to leavethe place in darkness like this! Can you see where you are going?"
"Yes, we are just at the head of the stairs. It is rather foolish as yousay. People might hurt themselves."
"Of course they might. Infernally dangerous. I shall complain."
The voices fell away into distance; the band in the ballroom struckup again, and the woman on the settee in the alcove sat up andprepared to rise.
"Suppose we go down now," she said.
Her companion moved away from the little window as one coming out of areverie. "Our gallant Major Shirley seems somewhat disgruntled tonight,"he said. "Do you know him?"
"Yes, I know him." Her words fell with icy precision.
"So do I." The man's tone was one of sheer amusement. "I had the pleasureof meeting him at the Rifle Club the other day. Someone introduced us. Itwas great fun. If there were a little more light, I would show you whathe looked like. For some reason he wasn't pleased. Do you really want togo downstairs though? It is much nicer here."
She had risen. They were facing one another in the twilight. "Yes," shesaid, and though still quiet her voice was not altogether even. "I wantto go, please."
"Mayn't I tell you something first?" he said.
She stood silent, evidently waiting for his communication.
"It's not of paramount importance," he said. "But I think you may as wellknow it for your present edification and future guidance. Madam, I amthat wicked, wanton, wily fox, that whipper-snapper, that unmitigatedbounder--Nap Errol!"
He made the announcement with supreme complacence. It was evident that hefelt not the faintest anxiety as to how she would receive it. There waseven a certain careless hauteur about him as though the qualities hethus frankly enumerated were to him a source of pride.
She heard him with no sign of astonishment. "I knew it," she saidquietly. "I have known you by sight for some time."
"And you were not afraid to speak to such a dangerous scoundrel?" hesaid.
"You don't strike me as being very formidable," she answered. "Moreover,if you remember, it was you who spoke first."
"To be sure," he said. "It was all of a piece with my habitual confoundedaudacity. Shall I tell you something more? I wonder whether I dare."
"Wait!" she said imperatively. "It is my turn to tell you something,though it is more than possible that you know it already. Mr. Errol, Iam--Lady Carfax!"
He bowed low. "I did know," he said, in a tone from which all hint ofbanter had departed. "But I thank you none the less for telling me. Imuch doubted if you would. And that brings me to my second--or is it mythird?--confession. I did not take you for Mrs. Damer in the card-room alittle while ago. I took you for no one but yourself. No man of ordinaryintelligence could do otherwise. But I had been wanting to make youracquaintance all the evening, and no one would be kind enough to presentme. So I took the first opportunity that occurred, trusting to the end tojustify the means."
"But why have you told me?" she said.
"Because I think you are a woman who appreciates the truth."
"I am," she said. "But I do not often hear it as I have heard itto-night"
He put out his hand to her impulsively. "Say, Lady Carfax, let me go andkick that old scandal-monger into the middle of next week!"
Involuntarily almost she gave her hand in return. "No, you mustn't," shesaid, laughing faintly. "The fault was ours. You know the ancient adageabout listeners. We deserved it all."
"Don't talk about deserts!" he exclaimed, with unexpected vehemence. "Hedoesn't deserve to have a whole bone left in his body for speaking of youso. Neither do I for suffering it in my presence!"
She freed her hand gently. "You could not have done otherwise. Believeme, I am not altogether sorry that you were with me when it happened. Itis just as well that you should know the truth, and I could not have toldit you myself. Come, shall we go down?"
"Wait a minute!" he said. "Let me know how I stand with you first. Haveyou decided to pass over that lie of mine, or are you going to cut menext time we meet?"
"I shall not cut you," she said.
"You are going to acknowledge me then with the coldest of nods, which iseven more damnable," he returned, with gloomy conviction.
She hesitated for an instant. Then, "Mr. Errol," she said gently, "willyou believe me when I say that, however I treat you in the future, thatlie of yours will in no way influence me? You have helped me much morethan you realise by your trifling to-night. I am not sure that you meantto do so. But I am grateful to you all the same."
"Then we are friends?" said Nap, quickly.
"Yes, we are friends; but it is very unlikely that we shall meet again. Icannot invite you to call."
"And you won't call either on my mother?" he asked.
"I am afraid not."
He was silent a moment. Then, "So let it be!" he said. "But I fancy weshall meet again notwithstanding. So _au revoir_, Lady Carfax! Can youfind your own way down?"
She understood in an instant the motive that prompted the question, andthe impulse to express her appreciation of it would not be denied. Sheextended her hand with an assumption of royal graciousness that did notcloak her gratitude. "Good-bye, Sir Jester!" she said.
He took her fingers gallantly upon his sleeve and touched them with hislips. "Farewell to your most gracious majesty!" he responded.
The Knave of Diamonds Page 2
