The Yellow Crayon Part 65

"I will ring for you in half an hour, Annette," she said. "See that I am not disturbed."

On her way to the fireplace she paused for a moment in front of a tall looking-gla.s.s, and looked steadily at her own reflection.

"I suppose," she murmured to herself, "that I am looking at my best now.

I slept well last night, and a bath gives one colour, and white is so becoming. Still, I don't know why I failed. She may be a little better looking, but my figure is as good. I can talk better, I have learnt how to keep a man from feeling dull, and there is my reputation. Because I played at war correspondence, wore a man's clothes, and didn't shriek when I was under fire, people have chosen to make a heroine of me. That should have counted for something with him--and it didn't. I could have taken my choice of any man in London--and I wanted him. And I have failed!"

She threw herself back in her easy-chair and laughed softly.

"Failed! What an ugly word! He is old, and he limps, and I--well, I was never a very bashful person. He was beautifully polite, but he wouldn't have anything to say to me."

She began to tear open her letters savagely.

"Well, it is over. If ever anybody speaks to me about it I think that I shall kill them. That fool Saxe Leinitzer will stroke his beastly moustache, and smile at me out of the corners of his eyes. The Dorset woman, too--bah, I shall go away. What is it, Annette?"

"His Highness the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer has called, milady."

"Called! Does he regard this as a call?" she exclaimed, glancing towards the clock. "Tell him, Annette, that your mistress does not receive at such an hour. Be quick, child. Of course I know that he gave you a sovereign to persuade me that it was important, but I won't see him, so be off."

"But yes, milady," Annette answered, and disappeared.

Lady Carey sipped her coffee.

"I think," she said reflectively, "that it must be Melton."

Annette reappeared.

"Milady," she exclaimed, "His Highness insisted upon my bringing you this card. He was so strange in his manner, milady, that I thought it best to obey."

Lady Carey stretched out her hand. A few words were scribbled on the back of his visiting card in yellow crayon. She glanced at it, tore the card up, and threw the pieces into the fire.

"My shoes and stockings, Annette," she said, "and just a morning wrap--anything will do."

The Prince was walking restlessly up and down the room, when Lady Carey entered. He welcomed her with a little cry of relief.

"Heavens!" he exclaimed. "I thought that you were never coming."

"I was in no hurry," she answered calmly. "I could guess your news, so I had not even the spur of curiosity."

He stopped short.

"You have heard nothing! It is not possible?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"No, but I know you, and I know him. I am quite prepared to hear that you are outwitted. Indeed, to judge from your appearance there can be no doubt about it. Remember I warned you."

The Prince was pale with fury.

"No one could foresee this," he exclaimed. "He has walked into the lion's den."

"Then," Lady Carey said, "I am quite prepared to hear that he tamed the lion."

"If there was one person living whom I could have sworn that this man dared not visit, it was our Emperor," the Prince said. "It is only a few years since, through this man's intrigues, Germany was shamed before the world."

"And yet," Lady Carey said sweetly, "the Emperor has received him."

"I have private intelligence from Berlin," Saxe Leinitzer answered.

"Mr. Sabin was in possession of a letter written to him by the Emperor Frederick, thanking him for some service or other; and the letter was a talisman."

"How like him," Lady Carey murmured, "to have the letter."

"What a pity," the Prince sneered, "that such devotion should remain unrewarded."

Lady Carey sighed.

"He has broken my heart," she replied.

The Prince threw out his hands.

"You and I," he cried, "why do we behave like children! Let us start afresh. Listen! The Emperor has summoned me to Berlin."

"Dear me," Lady Carey murmured. "I am afraid you will have a most unpleasant visit."

"I dare not go," the Prince said slowly. "It was I who induced the Emperor to become the t.i.tular head of this cursed Order. Of course he knew nothing about the second or third degree members and our methods.

Without doubt he is fully informed now. I dare not face him."

"What shall you do?" Lady Carey asked curiously.

"I am off to South America," he said. "It is a great undeveloped country, and there is room for us to move there. Muriel, you know what I want of you."

"My good man," she answered, "I haven't the faintest idea."

"You will come with me," he begged. "You will not send me into exile so lonely, a wanderer! Together there may be a great future before us. You have ambition, you love intrigue, excitement, danger. None of these can you find here. You shall come with me. You shall not say no. Have I not been your devoted slave? Have--"

She stopped him. Her lips were parted in a smile of good-natured scorn.

"Don't be absurd, Saxe Leinitzer. It is true that I love intrigue, excitement and danger. That is what made me join your Order, and really I have had quite a little excitement out of it, for which I suppose I ought to thank you. But as for the rest, why, you are talking rubbish.

I would go to South America to-morrow with the right man, but with you, why, it won't bear talking about. It makes me angry to think that you should believe me capable of such shocking taste as to dream of going away with you."

He flung himself from the room. Lady Carey went back to her coffee and letters. She sent for Annette.

"Annette," she directed, "we shall go to Melton to-morrow. Wire Haggis to have the Lodge in order, and carriages to meet the midday train. I daresay I shall take a few people down with me. Let George go around to Tattershalls at once and make an appointment for me there at three o'clock this afternoon. Look out my habits and boots, too, Annette."

Lady Carey leaned back in her chair for a moment with half-closed eyes.

"I think," she murmured, "that some of us in our youth must have drunk from some poisoned cup, something which turned our blood into quicksilver. I must live, or I must die. I must have excitement every hour, every second, or break down. There are others too--many others.

No wonder that that idiot of a man in Harley Street talked to me gravely about my heart. No excitement. A quiet life! Bah! Such wishy-washy coffee and only one cigarette."

She lit it and stood up on the hearthrug. Her eyes were half closed, every vestige of colour had left her cheeks, her hand was pressed hard to her side. For a few minutes she seemed to struggle for breath. Then with a little lurch as though still giddy, she stooped, and picking up her fallen cigarette, thrust it defiantly between her teeth.