The City of Masks Part 15

Two minutes later she arose triumphant, and put on her stole. Her eyes were sparkling.

"I knew you couldn't stand by and see this outrageous thing done to Eric Temple. Thank you. I--goodness gracious, I quite forgot a most important thing. In the event that our little scheme does not have the desired result, and they persist in persecuting him, we must have something to fall back upon. I know McFaddan very slightly. (She did not speak of the ex-footman as Mr. McFaddan, nor did Cricklewick take account of the omission). He is, I am informed, one of the most influential men in New York,--one of the political bosses, Mr. Smith-Parvis says. He says he is a most unprincipled person. Well, don't you see, he is just the sort of person to fall back upon if all honest measures fail?"

Mr. Cricklewick rather blankly murmured something about "honest measures," and then mopped his brow. Miss Emsdale's enthusiasm, while acutely ingenuous, had him "sweating blood," as he afterwards put it during a calm and lucid period of retrospection.

"I--I a.s.sure you I have no influence with McFaddan," he began, looking at his handkerchief,--and being relieved, no doubt, to find no crimson stains,--applied it to his neck with some confidence and vigour. "In fact, we differ vastly in--"

"McFaddan, being in a position to dictate to the police and, if it should come to the worst, to the magistrates, is a most valuable man to have on our side, Mr. Cricklewick. If you could see him tomorrow morning,--I suppose it is too late to see him this evening,--and tell him just what you want him to do, I'm sure--"

"But, Miss Emsdale, you must allow me to say that McFaddan will absolutely refuse to take orders from me. He is no longer what you might say--er--in a position to be--er--you see what I mean, I hope."

"Nonsense!" she said, dismissing his objection with a word. "McFaddan is an Irishman and therefore eternally committed to the under dog, right or wrong. When you explain the circ.u.mstances to him, he will come to our a.s.sistance like a flash. And don't, overlook the fact, Mr. Cricklewick, that McFaddan will never see the day when he can ignore a--a request from you." She had almost said command, but caught the word in time. "By the way, poor Trotter is out of a situation, and I may as well confess to you that he can ill afford to be without one. It has just occurred to me that you may know of some one among your wealthy friends, Mr.

Cricklewick, who is in need of a good man. Please rack your brain. Some one to whom you can recommend him as a safe, skilful and competent chauffeur."

"I am glad you mention it," said he, brightening perceptibly in the light of something tangible. "This afternoon I was called up on the telephone by a party--by some one, I mean to say,--asking for information concerning Klausen, the man who used to drive for me. I was obliged to say that his habits were bad, and that I could not recommend him. It was Mrs. Ellicott Millidew who inquired."

"The young one or the old one?" inquired Miss Emsdale quickly.

"The elder Mrs. Millidew," said Mr. Cricklewick, in a tone that implied deference to a lady who was ent.i.tled to it, even when she was not within earshot. "Not the pretty young widow," he added, risking a smile.

"That's all right, then," said Miss Emsdale briskly. "I am sure it would be a most satisfactory place for him."

"But she is a very exacting old lady," said he, "and will require references."

"I am sure you can give him the very best of references," said she. "She couldn't ask for anything better than your word that he is a splendid man in every particular. Thank you so much, Mr. Cricklewick. And Lord Temple will be ever so grateful to you too, I'm sure. Oh, you cannot possibly imagine how relieved I am--about everything. We are very great friends, Lord Temple and I."

He watched the faint hint of the rose steal into her cheeks and a velvety softness come into her eyes.

"Nothing could be more perfect," he said, irrelevantly, but with real feeling, and the glow of the rose deepened.

"Thank you again,--and good-bye," she said, turning toward the door.

It was then that the punctilious Cricklewick forgot himself, and in his desire to be courteous, committed a most unpardonable offence.

"My motor is waiting, Lady Jane," he said, the words falling out unwittingly. "May I not drop you at Mr. Smith-Parvis's door?"

"No, thank you," she said graciously. "You are very good, but the stages go directly past the door."

As the door closed behind her, Mr. Cricklewick sat down rather suddenly, overcome by his presumption. Think of it! He had had the bra.s.s to invite Lady Jane Thorne to accept a ride in his automobile! He might just as well have had the effrontery to ask her to dine at his house!

CHAPTER IX

MR. TROTTER FALLS INTO A NEW POSITION

THE sagacity of M. Mirabeau went far toward nullifying the hastily laid plans of Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. It was he who suggested a prompt effort to recover the two marked bills that Trotter had handed to his landlady earlier in the day.

Prince Waldemar de Bosky, with a brand new twenty-dollar bill in his possession,--(supplied by the excited Frenchman)--boarded a Lexington Avenue car and in due time mounted the steps leading to the front door of the lodging house kept by Mrs. Dulaney. Ostensibly he was in search of a room for a gentleman of refinement and culture; Mrs. Dulaney's house had been recommended to him as first cla.s.s in every particular.

The landlady herself showed him a room, fourth-floor front, just vacated (she said) by a most refined gentleman engaged in the phonograph business. It was her rule to demand references from prospective lodgers, but as she had been in the business a great many years it was now possible for her to distinguish a gentleman the instant she laid eyes on him, so it would only be necessary for the present applicant to pay the first week's rent in advance. He could then move in at once.

With considerable mortification, she declared that she wouldn't insist on the "advance,"--knowing gentlemen as perfectly as she did,--were it not for the fact that her rent was due and she was short exactly that amount,--having recently sent more than she could spare to a sick sister in Bridgeport.

De Bosky was very amiable about it,--and very courteous. He said that, so far as he knew, all gentlemen were prepared to pay five dollars in advance when they engaged lodgings by the week, and would she be so good as to take it out of the twenty-dollar bill?

Mrs. Dulaney was slightly chagrined. The sight of a twenty-dollar bill caused her to regret not having asked for two weeks down instead of one.

"If it does not inconvenience you, madam," said de Bosky, "I should like the change in new bills. You have no idea how it offends my artistic sense to--" He shuddered a little. "I make a point of never having filthy, germ-disseminating bank notes on my person."

"And you are quite right," said she feelingly. "I wish to G.o.d I could afford to be as particular. If there's anything I hate it's a dirty old bill. Any one could tell that you are a real gentleman, Mr.--Mr.--I didn't get the name, did I?"

"Drexel," he said.

"Excuse me," she said, and moved over a couple of paces in order to place the parlour table between herself and the prospective lodger.

Using it as a screen, she fished a thin flat purse from her stocking, and opened it. "I wouldn't do this in the presence of any one but a gentleman," she explained, without embarra.s.sment. As she was twice the size of Prince Waldemar and of a ruggedness that challenged offence, one might have been justified in crediting her with egotism instead of modesty.

Selecting the brightest and crispest from the layer of bank notes, she laid them on the table. De Bosky's eyes glistened.

"The city has recently been flooded with counterfeit fives and tens, madam," he said politely. This afforded an excuse for holding the bills to the light for examination.

"Now, don't tell me they're phoney," said Mrs. Dulaney, bristling. "I got 'em this morning from the squarest chap I've ever had in my--"

"I have every reason to believe they are genuine," said he, concealing his exultation behind a patronizing smile. He had discovered the tell-tale marks on both bills. Carefully folding them, he stuck them into his waistcoat pocket. "You may expect me tomorrow, madam,--unless, of course, destiny should shape another end for me in the meantime. One never can tell, you know. I may be dead, or your comfortable house may be burned to the ground. It is--"

"For the Lord's sake, don't make a crack like that," she cried vehemently. "It's bad luck to talk about fire."

"In any event," said he jauntily, "you have my five dollars. Au revoir, madam. Auf wiedersehn!" He b.u.t.toned Mr. Bramble's ulster close about his throat and gravely bowed himself out into the falling night.

In the meantime, Mr. Bramble had subst.i.tuted two unmarked bills for those remaining in the possession of Thomas Trotter, and, with the return of Prince Waldemar, triumphant, M. Mirabeau arbitrarily confiscated the entire thirty dollars.

"These bills must be concealed at once," he explained. "Temporarily they are out of circulation. Do not give them another thought, my dear Trotter. And now, Monsieur Bookseller, we are in a proper frame of mind to discuss the beefsteak you have neglected to order."

"G.o.d bless my soul," cried Mr. Bramble in great dismay. His unceremonious departure an instant later was due to panic. Mrs. O'Leary had to be stopped before the tripe and tunny fish had gone too far.

Moreover, he had forgotten to tell her that there would be two extra for dinner,--besides the extra sirloin.

On the following Monday, Thomas Trotter entered the service of Mrs.

Millidew, and on the same day Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis returned to New York after a hasty and more or less unpremeditated visit to Atlantic City, where he experienced a trying half hour with the unreasonable Mr.

Carpenter, who spoke feelingly of a personal loss and most unfeelingly of the British Foreign Office. Every nation in the world, he raged, has a foreign office; foreign offices are as plentiful as birds'-nests. But Tom Trotters were as scarce as hen's-teeth. He would never find another like him.

"And what's more," he interrupted himself to say, glowering at the shocked young man, "he's a gentleman, and that's something you ain't,--not in a million years."

"a.s.s!" said Mr. Smith-Parvis, under his breath.

"What's that?" roared the aggrieved one.

"Don't shout like that! People are beginning to stare at--"