by Grant Allen
It had taken us twenty minutes to arrange our protocols. As I walked off, well pleased, Lady Georgina’s friend ran after me quickly.
‘You must take care,’ she said, in a warning voice. ‘You’ve caught a Tartar.’
‘So I suspect,’ I answered. ‘But a week in Tartary will be at least an experience.’
‘She has an awful temper.’
‘That’s nothing. So have I. Appalling, I assure you. And if it comes to blows, I’m bigger and younger and stronger than she is.’
‘Well, I wish you well out of it.’
‘Thank you. It is kind of you to give me this warning. But I think I can take care of myself. I come, you see, of a military family.’
I nodded my thanks, and strolled back to Elsie’s. Dear little Elsie was in transports of surprise when I related my adventure.
‘Will you really go? And what will you do, my dear, when you get there?’
‘I haven’t a notion,’ I answered; ‘that’s where the fun comes in. But, anyhow, I shall have got there.’
‘Oh, Brownie, you might starve!’
‘And I might starve in London. In either place, I have only two hands and one head to help me.’
‘But, then, here you are among friends. You might stop with me for ever.’
I kissed her fluffy forehead. ‘You good, generous little Elsie,’ I cried; ‘I won’t stop here one moment after I have finished the painting and papering. I came here to help you. I couldn’t go on eating your hard-earned bread and doing nothing. I know how sweet you are; but the last thing I want is to add to your burdens. Now let us roll up our sleeves again and hurry on with the dado.’
‘But, Brownie, you’ll want to be getting your own things ready. Remember, you’re off to Germany on Monday.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ’Tis a foreign trick I picked up in Switzerland. ‘What have I got to get ready?’ I asked. ‘I can’t go out and buy a complete summer outfit in Bond Street for twopence. Now, don’t look at me like that: be practical, Elsie, and let me help you paint the dado.’ For unless I helped her, poor Elsie could never have finished it herself. I cut out half her clothes for her; her own ideas were almost entirely limited to differential calculus. And cutting out a blouse by differential calculus is weary, uphill work for a high-school teacher.
By Monday I had papered and furnished the rooms, and was ready to start on my voyage of exploration. I met the Cantankerous Old Lady at Charing Cross, by appointment, and proceeded to take charge of her luggage and tickets.
Oh my, how fussy she was! ‘You will drop that basket! I hope you have got through tickets, viâ Malines, not by Brussels — I won’t go by Brussels. You have to change there. Now, mind you notice how much the luggage weighs in English pounds, and make the man at the office give you a note of it to check those horrid Belgian porters. They’ll charge you for double the weight, unless you reduce it at once to kilogrammes. I know their ways. Foreigners have no consciences. They just go to the priest and confess, you know, and wipe it all out, and start fresh again on a career of crime next morning. I’m sure I don’t know why I ever go abroad. The only country in the world fit to live in is England. No mosquitoes, no passports, no — goodness gracious, child, don’t let that odious man bang about my hat-box! Have you no immortal soul, porter, that you crush other people’s property as if it was blackbeetles? No, I will not let you take this, Lois; this is my jewel-box — it contains all that remains of the Fawley family jewels. I positively decline to appear at Schlangenbad without a diamond to my back. This never leaves my hands. It’s hard enough nowadays to keep body and skirt together. Have you secured that coupé at Ostend?’
A MOST URBANE AND OBLIGING CONTINENTAL GENTLEMAN.
We got into our first-class carriage. It was clean and comfortable; but the Cantankerous Old Lady made the porter mop the floor, and fidgeted and worried till we slid out of the station. Fortunately, the only other occupant of the compartment was a most urbane and obliging Continental gentleman — I say Continental, because I couldn’t quite make out whether he was French, German, or Austrian — who was anxious in every way to meet Lady Georgina’s wishes. Did madame desire to have the window open? Oh, certainly, with pleasure; the day was so sultry. Closed a little more? Parfaitement, there was a current of air, il faut l’admettre. Madame would prefer the corner? No? Then perhaps she would like this valise for a footstool? Permettez — just thus. A cold draught runs so often along the floor in railway carriages. This is Kent that we traverse; ah, the garden of England! As a diplomat, he knew every nook of Europe, and he echoed the mot he had accidentally heard drop from madame’s lips on the platform: no country in the world so delightful as England!
‘Monsieur is attached to the Embassy in London?’ Lady Georgina inquired, growing affable.
He twirled his grey moustache: a waxed moustache of great distinction. ‘No, madame; I have quitted the diplomatic service; I inhabit London now pour mon agrément. Some of my compatriots call it triste; for me, I find it the most fascinating capital in Europe. What gaiety! What movement! What poetry! What mystery!’
‘If mystery means fog, it challenges the world,’ I interposed.
He gazed at me with fixed eyes. ‘Yes, mademoiselle,’ he answered, in quite a different and markedly chilly voice. ‘Whatever your great country attempts — were it only a fog — it achieves consummately.’
I have quick intuitions. I felt the foreign gentleman took an instinctive dislike to me.
To make up for it, he talked much, and with animation, to Lady Georgina. They ferreted out friends in common, and were as much surprised at it as people always are at that inevitable experience.
‘Ah yes, madame, I recollect him well in Vienna. I was there at the time, attached to our Legation. He was a charming man; you read his masterly paper on the Central Problem of the Dual Empire?’
‘You were in Vienna then!’ the Cantankerous Old Lady mused back. ‘Lois, my child, don’t stare’ — she had covenanted from the first to call me Lois, as my father’s daughter, and I confess I preferred it to being Miss Cayley’d. ‘We must surely have met. Dare I ask your name, monsieur?’
I could see the foreign gentleman was delighted at this turn. He had played for it, and carried his point. He meant her to ask him. He had a card in his pocket, conveniently close; and he handed it across to her. She read it, and passed it on: ‘M. le Comte de Laroche-sur-Loiret.’
‘Oh, I remember your name well,’ the Cantankerous Old Lady broke in. ‘I think you knew my husband, Sir Evelyn Fawley, and my father, Lord Kynaston.’
The Count looked profoundly surprised and delighted. ‘What! you are then Lady Georgina Fawley!’ he cried, striking an attitude. ‘Indeed, miladi, your admirable husband was one of the very first to exert his influence in my favour at Vienna. Do I recall him, ce cher Sir Evelyn? If I recall him! What a fortunate rencounter! I must have seen you some years ago at Vienna, miladi, though I had not then the great pleasure of making your acquaintance. But your face had impressed itself on my sub-conscious self!’ (I did not learn till later that the esoteric doctrine of the sub-conscious self was Lady Georgina’s favourite hobby.) ‘The moment chance led me to this carriage this morning, I said to myself, “That face, those features: so vivid, so striking: I have seen them somewhere. With what do I connect them in the recesses of my memory? A high-born family; genius; rank; the diplomatic service; some unnameable charm; some faint touch of eccentricity. Ha! I have it. Vienna, a carriage with footmen in red livery, a noble presence, a crowd of wits — poets, artists, politicians — pressing eagerly round the landau.” That was my mental picture as I sat and confronted you: I understand it all now; this is Lady Georgina Fawley!’
I thought the Cantankerous Old Lady, who was a shrewd person in her way, must surely see through this obvious patter; but I had under-estimated the average human capacity for swallowing flattery. Instead of dismissing his fulsome nonsense with a contemptuous smile, Lady Georgina perked herself up with a consc
ious air of coquetry, and asked for more. ‘Yes, they were delightful days in Vienna,’ she said, simpering; ‘I was young then, Count; I enjoyed life with a zest.’
PERSONS OF MILADI’S TEMPERAMENT ARE ALWAYS YOUNG.
‘Persons of miladi’s temperament are always young,’ the Count retorted, glibly, leaning forward and gazing at her. ‘Growing old is a foolish habit of the stupid and the vacant. Men and women of esprit are never older. One learns as one goes on in life to admire, not the obvious beauty of mere youth and health’ — he glanced across at me disdainfully— ‘but the profounder beauty of deep character in a face — that calm and serene beauty which is imprinted on the brow by experience of the emotions.’
‘I have had my moments,’ Lady Georgina murmured, with her head on one side.
‘I believe it, miladi,’ the Count answered, and ogled her.
Thenceforward to Dover, they talked together with ceaseless animation. The Cantankerous Old Lady was capital company. She had a tang in her tongue, and in the course of ninety minutes she had flayed alive the greater part of London society, with keen wit and sprightliness. I laughed against my will at her ill-tempered sallies; they were too funny not to amuse, in spite of their vitriol. As for the Count, he was charmed. He talked well himself, too, and between them I almost forgot the time till we arrived at Dover.
It was a very rough passage. The Count helped us to carry our nineteen hand-packages and four rugs on board; but I noticed that, fascinated as she was with him, Lady Georgina resisted his ingenious efforts to gain possession of her precious jewel-case as she descended the gangway. She clung to it like grim death, even in the chops of the Channel. Fortunately I am a good sailor, and when Lady Georgina’s sallow cheeks began to grow pale, I was steady enough to supply her with her shawl and her smelling-bottle. She fidgeted and worried the whole way over. She would be treated like a vertebrate animal. Those horrid Belgians had no right to stick their deck-chairs just in front of her. The impertinence of the hussies with the bright red hair — a grocer’s daughters, she felt sure — in venturing to come and sit on the same bench with her — the bench ‘for ladies only,’ under the lee of the funnel! ‘Ladies only,’ indeed! Did the baggages pretend they considered themselves ladies? Oh, that placid old gentleman in the episcopal gaiters was their father, was he? Well, a bishop should bring up his daughters better, having his children in subjection with all gravity. Instead of which— ‘Lois, my smelling-salts!’ This was a beastly boat; such an odour of machinery; they had no decent boats nowadays; with all our boasted improvements, she could remember well when the cross-Channel service was much better conducted than it was at present. But that was before we had compulsory education. The working classes were driving trade out of the country, and the consequence was, we couldn’t build a boat which didn’t reek like an oil-shop. Even the sailors on board were French — jabbering idiots; not an honest British Jack-tar among the lot of them; though the stewards were English, and very inferior Cockney English at that, with their off-hand ways, and their School Board airs and graces. She’d School Board them if they were her servants; she’d show them the sort of respect that was due to people of birth and education. But the children of the lower classes never learnt their catechism nowadays; they were too much occupied with literatoor, jography, and free-’and drawrin’. Happily for my nerves, a good lurch to leeward put a stop for a while to the course of her thoughts on the present distresses.
At Ostend the Count made a second gallant attempt to capture the jewel-case, which Lady Georgina automatically repulsed. She had a fixed habit, I believe, of sticking fast to that jewel-case; for she was too overpowered by the Count’s urbanity, I feel sure, to suspect for a moment his honesty of purpose. But whenever she travelled, I fancy, she clung to her case as if her life depended upon it; it contained the whole of her valuable diamonds.
We had twenty minutes for refreshments at Ostend, during which interval my old lady declared with warmth that I must look after her registered luggage; though, as it was booked through to Cologne, I could not even see it till we crossed the German frontier; for the Belgian douaniers seal up the van as soon as the through baggage for Germany is unloaded. To satisfy her, however, I went through the formality of pretending to inspect it, and rendered myself hateful to the head of the douane by asking various foolish and inept questions, on which Lady Georgina insisted. When I had finished this silly and uncongenial task — for I am not by nature fussy, and it is hard to assume fussiness as another person’s proxy — I returned to our coupé which I had arranged for in London. To my great amazement, I found the Cantankerous Old Lady and the egregious Count comfortably seated there. ‘Monsieur has been good enough to accept a place in our carriage,’ she observed, as I entered.
He bowed and smiled. ‘Or, rather, madame has been so kind as to offer me one,’ he corrected.
‘Would you like some lunch, Lady Georgina?’ I asked, in my chilliest voice. ‘There are ten minutes to spare, and the buffet is excellent.’
‘An admirable inspiration,’ the Count murmured. ‘Permit me to escort you, miladi.’
‘You will come, Lois?’ Lady Georgina asked.
‘No, thank you,’ I answered, for I had an idea. ‘I am a capital sailor, but the sea takes away my appetite.’
‘Then you’ll keep our places,’ she said, turning to me. ‘I hope you won’t allow them to stick in any horrid foreigners! They will try to force them on you unless you insist. I know their tricky ways. You have the tickets, I trust? And the bulletin for the coupé? Well, mind you don’t lose the paper for the registered luggage. Don’t let those dreadful porters touch my cloaks. And if anybody attempts to get in, be sure you stand in front of the door as they mount to prevent them.’
The Count handed her out; he was all high courtly politeness. As Lady Georgina descended, he made yet another dexterous effort to relieve her of the jewel-case. I don’t think she noticed it, but automatically once more she waved him aside. Then she turned to me. ‘Here, my dear,’ she said, handing it to me, ‘you’d better take care of it. If I lay it down in the buffet while I am eating my soup, some rogue may run away with it. But mind, don’t let it out of your hands on any account. Hold it so, on your knee; and, for Heaven’s sake, don’t part with it.’
THAT SUCCEEDS? THE SHABBY-LOOKING MAN MUTTERED.
By this time my suspicions of the Count were profound. From the first I had doubted him; he was so blandly plausible. But as we landed at Ostend I had accidentally overheard a low whispered conversation when he passed a shabby-looking man, who had travelled in a second-class carriage from London. ‘That succeeds?’ the shabby-looking man had muttered under his breath in French, as the haughty nobleman with the waxed moustache brushed by him.
‘That succeeds admirably,’ the Count had answered, in the same soft undertone. ‘Ça réussit à merveille!’
I understood him to mean that he had prospered in his attempt to impose on Lady Georgina.
They had been gone five minutes at the buffet, when the Count came back hurriedly to the door of the coupé with a nonchalant air. ‘Oh, mademoiselle,’ he said, in an off-hand tone, ‘Lady Georgina has sent me to fetch her jewel-case.’
I gripped it hard with both hands. ‘Pardon, M. le Comte,’ I answered; ‘Lady Georgina intrusted it to my safe keeping, and, without her leave, I cannot give it up to any one.’
‘You mistrust me?’ he cried, looking black. ‘You doubt my honour? You doubt my word when I say that miladi has sent me?’
‘Du tout,’ I answered, calmly. ‘But I have Lady Georgina’s orders to stick to this case; and till Lady Georgina returns I stick to it.’
He murmured some indignant remark below his breath, and walked off. The shabby-looking passenger was pacing up and down the platform outside in a badly-made dust-coat. As they passed their lips moved. The Count’s seemed to mutter, ‘C’est un coup manqué.’
However, he did not desist even so. I saw he meant to go on with his dangerous little
game. He returned to the buffet and rejoined Lady Georgina. I felt sure it would be useless to warn her, so completely had the Count succeeded in gulling her; but I took my own steps. I examined the jewel-case closely. It had a leather outer covering; within was a strong steel box, with stout bands of metal to bind it. I took my cue at once, and acted for the best on my own responsibility.
When Lady Georgina and the Count returned, they were like old friends together. The quails in aspic and the sparkling hock had evidently opened their hearts to one another. As far as Malines they laughed and talked without ceasing. Lady Georgina was now in her finest vein of spleen: her acid wit grew sharper and more caustic each moment. Not a reputation in Europe had a rag left to cover it as we steamed in beneath the huge iron roof of the main central junction.
I had observed all the way from Ostend that the Count had been anxious lest we might have to give up our coupé at Malines. I assured him more than once that his fears were groundless, for I had arranged at Charing Cross that it should run right through to the German frontier. But he waved me aside, with one lordly hand. I had not told Lady Georgina of his vain attempt to take possession of her jewel-case; and the bare fact of my silence made him increasingly suspicious of me.
‘Pardon me, mademoiselle,’ he said, coldly; ‘you do not understand these lines as well as I do. Nothing is more common than for those rascals of railway clerks to sell one a place in a coupé or a wagon-lit, and then never reserve it, or turn one out half way. It is very possible miladi may have to descend at Malines.’
Lady Georgina bore him out by a large variety of selected stories concerning the various atrocities of the rival companies which had stolen her luggage on her way to Italy. As for trains de luxe, they were dens of robbers.
So when we reached Malines, just to satisfy Lady Georgina, I put out my head and inquired of a porter. As I anticipated, he replied that there was no change; we went through to Verviers.
The Count, however, was still unsatisfied. He descended, and made some remarks a little farther down the platform to an official in the gold-banded cap of a chef-de-gare, or some such functionary. Then he returned to us, all fuming. ‘It is as I said,’ he exclaimed, flinging open the door. ‘These rogues have deceived us. The coupé goes no farther. You must dismount at once, miladi, and take the train just opposite.’
