The City of Masks Part 19

"He isn't an American," said Lord Temple, savagely. "Don't insult America by mentioning his name in--"

"Please, please! Be careful not to knock over the lamp, dear boy. It's Florentine, and Count Antonio says it came from some dreadful sixteenth-century woman's bedroom, price two hundred guineas net. She's afraid she's being watched."

"She? Oh, you mean Lady Jane?"

"Certainly. The other woman has been dead for centuries. Jane thinks it isn't safe for her to come here for a little while. There's no telling what the wretch may stoop to, you see."

Lord Temple squared his shoulders. "I don't see how you can be so cheerful about it," he said icily. "I fear it isn't worth while to ask the favour I came to--er--to ask of you tonight."

"Don't be silly. Tell me what I can do for you."

"It isn't for me. It's for her. I came early tonight so that we could talk it all over before any one else arrived. I've slept precious little the last few nights, Marchioness." His brow was furrowed as with pain.

"In the first place, you will agree that she cannot remain in that house up there. That's settled." As she did not offer any audible support, he demanded, after a pause: "Isn't it?"

"I daresay she will have something to say about that," she said, temporizing. "She is her own mistress, you know."

"But the poor girl doesn't know where to turn," he protested. "She'd chuck it in a second if something else turned up."

"I spoke of marriage, you will remember," she remarked, drily.

"I--I know," he gulped. "But we've just got to tide her over the rough going until she's--until she's ready, you see." He could not force the miserable word out of his mouth. "Now, I have a plan. Are you prepared to back me up in it?"

"How can I answer that question?"

"Well, I'll explain," he went on rapidly, eagerly. "We've got to make a new position for her. I can't do it without your help, of course, so we'll have to combine forces. Now, here's the scheme I've worked out.

You are to give her a place here,--not downstairs in the shop, mind you,--but upstairs in your own, private apartment. You--"

"Good heavens, man! What are you saying? Would you have Lady Jane Thorne go into service? Do you dare suggest that she should put on a cap and ap.r.o.n and--"

"Not at all," he interrupted. "I want you to engage her as your private secretary, at a salary of one hundred dollars a month. She's receiving that amount from the Smith-Parvises. I don't see how she can get along on less, so--"

"My dear man!" cried the Marchioness, in amazement. "What _are_ you talking about? In the first place, I haven't the slightest use for a private secretary. In the second place, I can't afford to pay one hundred--"

"You haven't heard all I have to say--"

"And in the third place, Lady Jane wouldn't consider it in the first place. Bless my soul, you _do_ need sleep. You are losing your--"

"She sends nearly all of her salary over to the boy at home," he went on earnestly. "It will have to be one hundred dollars, at the very lowest.

Now, here's my proposition. I am getting two hundred a month. It's just twice as much as I'm worth,--or any other chauffeur, for that matter.

Well, now what's the matter with me taking just what I'm worth and giving her the other half? See what I mean?"

He was standing before her, his eyes glowing, his voice full of boyish eagerness. As she looked up into his s.h.i.+ning eyes, a tender smile came and played about her lips.

"I see," she said softly.

"Well?" he demanded anxiously, after a moment.

"Do sit down," she said. "You appear to have grown prodigiously tall in the last few minutes. I shall have a dreadful crick in my neck, I'm afraid."

He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I can get along like a breeze on a hundred dollars a month," he pursued. "I've worked it all out,--just how much I can save by moving into cheaper lodgings, and cutting out expensive cigarettes, and going on the water-wagon entirely,--although I rarely take a drink as it is,--and getting my clothes at a department store instead of having them sent out from London,--I'd be easy to fit, you see, even with hand-me-downs,--and in a lot of other ways. Besides, it would be a splendid idea for me to practise economy. I've never--"

"You dear old goose," broke in the Marchioness, delightedly; "do you think for an instant that I will allow you to pay the salary of my private secretary,--if I should conclude to employ one?"

"But you say you can't afford to employ one," he protested. "Besides, I shouldn't want her to be a real secretary. The work would be too hard and too confining. Old Bramble was my grandfather's secretary. He worked sixteen hours a day and never had a holiday. She must have plenty of fresh air and outdoor exercise and--and time to read and do all sorts of agreeable things. I couldn't think of allowing her to learn how to use a typing machine, or to write shorthand, or to get pains in her back bending over a desk for hours at a time. That isn't my scheme, at all.

She mustn't do any of those stupid things. Naturally, if you were to pay her out of your own pocket, you'd be justified in demanding a lot of hard, exacting work--"

"Just a moment, please. Let's be serious," said the Marchioness, pursing her lips.

"Suffering--" he began, staring at her in astonishment.

"I mean, let's seriously consider your scheme," she hastened to amend.

"You are a.s.suming, of course, that she will accept a position such as you suggest. Suppose she says no,--what then?"

"I leave that entirely to you," said he, composedly. "You can persuade her, I'm sure."

"She is no fool. She is perfectly well aware that I don't require the services of a secretary, that I am quite able to manage my private affairs myself. She would see through me in a second. She is as proud as Lucifer. I don't like to think of what she would say to me. And if I were to offer to pay her one hundred dollars a month, she would--well, she would think I was losing my mind. She knows I--"

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, slapping his knee, his face beaming. "That's the ticket! That simplifies everything. Let her think you _are_ losing your mind. From worry and overwork--and all that sort of thing. It's the very thing, Marchioness. She would drop everything to help you in a case like that."

"Well, of all the--" began the Marchioness, aghast.

"You can put it up to her something like this," he went on, enthusiastically. "Tell her you are on the point of having a nervous breakdown,--a sort of collapse, you know. You know how to put it, better than I do. You--"

"I certainly do _not_ know how to put it better than you do," she cried, sitting up very straight.

"Tell her you are dreadfully worried over not being able to remember things,--mental strain, and all that sort of thing. May have to give up business altogether unless you can--Is it a laughing matter, Marchioness?" he broke off, reddening to the roots of his hair.

"You are delicious!" she cried, dabbing her eyes with a bit of a lace handkerchief. "I haven't laughed so heartily in months. Bless my soul, you'll have me telling her there is insanity in my family before you're through with it."

"Not at all," he said severely. "People _never_ admit that sort of thing, you know. But certainly it isn't asking too much of you to act tired and listless, and a _little_ distracted, is it? She'll ask what's the matter, and you simply say you're afraid you're going to have a nervous breakdown or--or--"

"Or paresis," she supplied.

"Whatever you like," he said promptly. "Now you _will_ do this for me, won't you? You don't know what it will mean to me to feel that she is safe here with you."

"I will do my best," she said, for she loved him dearly--and the girl that he loved dearly too.

"Hurray!" he shouted,--and kissed her!

"Don't be foolish," she cried out. "You've tumbled my hair, and Julia had a terrible time with it tonight."

"When will you tackle--see her, I mean?" he asked, sitting down abruptly and drawing his chair a little closer.

"The first time she comes in to see me," she replied firmly, "and not before. You must not demand too much of a sick, collapsible old lady, you know. Give me time,--and a chance to get my bearings."

He drew a long breath. "I seem to be getting my own for the first time in days."