The Lady in the Car Part 34

At first she seemed shy in the presence of the Kaiser's cousin, but presently, when her awkwardness wore off, she grew quite merry.

To the two visitors the meal was a perfect success. Those dark watchful eyes of the Italian, however, marred their pleasure considerably. Even the Parson was now convinced that the man knew something.

What was it? Where had the fellow met the Prince before? Was it under suspicious circ.u.mstances--or otherwise?

Next day Garrett arrived with the car, while to the White House Hotel at Whitby came a quietly dressed and eminently respectable golfer, who gave his name as Harvey, but with whom we are already familiar under the name of Mason.

The afternoon was a hot, breathless one, but towards five o'clock the Prince invited his hostess to go for a run on the "forty"--repainted, since its recent return from the Continent, dark blue with a coronet and cipher upon its panels.

Garrett who had had a look round the widow's "sixty" Mercedes, in confidence told his master that it was all in order, and that the chauffeur was an experienced man.

With the widow and her two guests seated together behind, Garrett drove the car next day along the pretty road by Pickering down to Malton, returning by way of Castle Howard. The pace they travelled was a fast one, and the widow, turning to his Highness, said:

"Really, Prince, to motor with you is quite a new experience. My man would never dare to go at such a rate as this for fear of police-traps."

"I'm pretty lucky in escaping them," responded the good-looking adventurer, glancing meaningly at the man in black clerical overcoat and cap.

"The Prince once ran from Boulogne to Nice in twenty-eight hours on his St Christopher," remarked the Rev Thomas. "And in winter, too."

"Marvellous!" declared the widow, adjusting her pale-blue motor-veil, new for the occasion. "There's no doubt a great future before that car--especially after the record at Brooklands."

"Rather!" exclaimed the rubicund vicar. "I'm only a poor parson, but if I had a little capital I should certainly put it in. I have inside knowledge, as they say in the City, I believe, Mrs Edmondson," he laughed.

"From the Prince?"

"Of course. He intends having the largest interest in the concern.

They've had eight orders for racers in the last six days. A record at Brooklands means a fortune to a manufacturer."

His Highness was silent, while the self-satisfied widow discussed the future of the eight-cylinder St Christopher.

Returning to the Hall, Ferrini came forth bowing to his mistress, and casting a distinctly suspicious glance at the two visitors. Both men noticed it, and were not a little apprehensive. They had played some clever games, but knew not from one moment to the other when some witness might not point a finger at them in open denunciation.

While the Prince was dressing for dinner Charles said:

"That butler fellow is far too inquisitive for my liking. I found him in here an hour ago, and I'm positive he had been trying to unlock your crocodile suit-case. He made an excuse that he had come to see whether you had a siphon of soda. But I actually caught him bending over your bag."

The Prince remained grave and silent.

"Where have we met that fellow before? I can't remember."

"Neither can I. His face is somehow familiar. I'm sure we've seen him somewhere!"

"That's what the Parson says. Write to Max at Whitby, and tell him to come over on some pretext or other and get a glance at the man. Post the letter yourself to-night."

"Perhaps the fellow is afraid of his plate," the valet exclaimed in an undertone, laughing.

"He needn't be. It's all `B' electro--not worth taking away in a dung-cart. The only thing I've seen is the old woman's necklet, and that she keeps in her room, I fancy. If the sparklers are real they're worth a couple of thousand to the Dutchman."

"They are certainly real. She's got them out of the bank in your honour. Her maid told me so to-day. And she means, I believe, to give a big dinner-party for some of the county people to meet you."

"Are you sure of this?" asked his master quickly.

"The cook told the footman, who told me. The housekeeper to-day ordered a lot of things from London, and to-morrow the invitations are to be sent out."

"Are people coming here to dine and sleep?"

"Yes. Eight bedrooms are to be prepared."

"Then keep an eye on that confounded Italian. Send that letter to Max, and tell him to reply to you in cipher. His letter might fall into somebody else's hands. Max might also inquire into what the police arrangements are about here--where the village constable lives, and where is the nearest police-station."

"Couldn't you send me in to Whitby, and I'd give him all instructions, and tell him the state of affairs?"

"Yes. Go in the morning. Garrett will take you in on the car. Say you're going to buy me a book I want."

And with that his Highness finished tying his cravat with care, and descended into the pretty drawing-room, where the widow, lounging picturesquely beneath the yellow-shaded lamp, awaited him.

That evening the Parson, who complained of headache on account of the sun during a walk in the morning, retired to his room early, and until past eleven the Prince sat alone with his fat and flattered hostess.

As she lolled back in the big silk-covered easy-chair, slowly fanning herself and trying to look her best, he, calm, calculating person that he was, had his eyes fixed upon her sparkling necklet, wondering how much the old Jew in Amsterdam would give for it.

"What a splendid ornament!" he remarked, as though he had noticed it for the first time.

"Do you like it?" she asked with a smile. "It belonged to my husband's family."

"Beautiful!" remarked his Highness, bending closer to examine it, for he had the eye of a connoisseur, and saw that it was probably French work of the eighteenth century.

"Many people have admired it," she went on. "My husband was very fond of jewellery, and gave me quite a quant.i.ty. I never keep it here, however, for a year ago an attempt was made to break into the place."

"So you keep them in a safe deposit?" he exclaimed; "and quite right, too. Diamonds are always a sore temptation to burglars."

"I'm asking a few people to dinner next Wednesday, and am sending to the bank in York for some of my ornaments," remarked the widow. "I hope they'll be safe here. Since the attempt by thieves, I confess I've been awfully nervous."

"Oh, they'll be safe enough," declared the audacious adventurer, taking a fresh Russian cigarette from his case.

"I hope so. I have invited a few people--the best in the county--to meet your Highness. I hope you won't object."

"Not at all," he replied affably. "Only, as you know, I much prefer to remain _incognito_."

"You're one of the most modest men I've ever met," she declared, in a soft voice, intended to be seductive.

"I find life as a commoner much more agreeable than as a prince," he responded. "In _incognito_, I always enjoy freedom of speech and freedom of action, which, as a royalty, it is impossible to obtain."

The widow's mind was ever active. She was straining her utmost to fascinate her guest. The difference in their ages was really not so very great. Her secret hope was that she could induce him to make a declaration of love. Fancy her, plain Mrs Edmondson, ridiculed by the county and only tolerated by a certain section of it, suddenly becoming a princess!

Milnthorpe was a beautiful old place, but to her it was but a sepulchre.

She hated it because, while in residence there, she was buried alive.

She preferred Monte Carlo, Paris, or even Cairo.

"Then the dinner-party will be a very smart one?" he remarked for want of something better to say. "And my hostess herself will surely be the smartest of them all," he added with a bow and an intent to flatter.