I START ON THE QUEST
AND now to set about sorting out some of these "clothes," after which my
young mistress inquires so peremptorily! It won't take me long, thanks
to the apple-pie order in which I keep them all. (So much easier to be
"tidy" with new and gorgeous garments than it is with a chest of drawers
full of makeshifts!)
I shall take her dressing-bag with the crystal-and-ivory fittings. That
ought to impress even the Fourcastles' ménage, assuming that Lord
Fourcastles has carried her off to his people's. I wonder whose dressing
things and whose dress Miss Million made use of to-day? For, seriously,
of course, she can't have gone "prancing about" in "me cerise
evenin'-one." She must have worn borrowed plumes for the day--plumes
probably miles too long for the sturdy little barn-door chicken that
Million is! I wonder, I wonder from whom those plumes were borrowed?
Please Heaven I shall know by this time to-morrow night!...
Here's her week-end case packed up. The choice of two costumes; the blue
cloth and the tobacco-brown taffeta; blouses; a complete set of
luxurious undies. Even the slip petticoat was an "under-dress" according
to the shops Miss Million patronised! Shoes; a hat; a motor-veil and
wrap. Yes, that's all.
That ought to do her--when we get the things to her!
But now to bed and to sleep the sleep of exhaustion after quite the most
crowded day of my whole life.
To-morrow for Lewes--and more adventure!
We were shadowed on our Lewes journey, though scarcely in the way that I
had anticipated. However, to begin at the beginning.
At nine o'clock this morning, in spite of all difficulties, I did find
myself free of the "Cecil" and away in a two-seater with my mistress's
luggage, sitting beside my mistress's cousin and whirling through the
dull and domesticated streets of South London.
It was a gorgeous June day, just the very day for a quick flight out
into the country. In spite of my anxiety about my mistress my spirits
rose and rose. I could have sung aloud for joy as we left grimy London
behind us and found ourselves whirling nearer the green heart of the
country.
"This is better than your first idea of the railroad trip, Miss Smith?"
said the young American at my side.
"Oh, far more enjoyable," I agreed so eagerly that he laughed.
"There is another thing about that," he said. "I suppose you haven't
thought of what they would do if they saw you going off by train
anywhere?"
"What?" I asked, looking up at him with startled eyes.
"Why, they would wire to every station along the line to take notice
where you got off before Lewes, and to follow up all your movements,
you real, artful, detective-dodging little diamond thief you," declared
my companion teasingly.
And I saw him simply shaking with laughter over the steering-wheel as he
went on.
"The brilliant idea of Rats, and the manager, that you and my little
cousin Nellie should have gotten hold of his old ruby!"
"You knew at once," I said, "that we hadn't!"
And he laughed easily and said: "It didn't take much guessing when he
had seen me and knew that Nellie Million was a relative of his and a
niece of the old man's."
"Jewel thieves, not much!" he said in his quick, reassuring accent.
I said: "Well! I hope you put in a good word for us with that odious
little Jew man that lost the ruby."
"Not on your life! I just love to watch somebody who thinks they are too
quick and clever to live go over-reaching themselves some," said the
American good-humouredly.
How funny it felt to be sitting there beside him, while the hedges
whirled past--I, who had never set eyes on the young man before
yesterday, now joining him in this wild quest of a cousin whom he had
never yet seen!
"Oh, dear! I wonder if we shall find her!" I murmured.
"Why, I am determined not to close an eye to-night until we do, Miss
Smith," said the missing heiress's cousin, gravely looking ahead at the
sliding ribbon of white road. "It's a matter of some little importance
to me that we find her soon. It is also no less important what I think
of her when we do meet!"
I was a little surprised to hear him speak so impressively. Naturally,
when one is going to meet a relative for the first time one wonders what
sort of a mutual impression will be made. But why had this young man
said so seriously that this was "important"?
He seemed to read my thoughts, for, as we cleared a village and came out
into a long stretch of wide and empty road, he turned to me and said:
"You know, it is as a matter of business that I am coming to see this
cousin of mine and this mistress of yours. I have got to have a little
serious heart-to-heart talk with her on the subject of the old man's
money."
"Why?" I asked, startled. "Isn't it safe in that factory place where Mr.
Chesterton said it had better be kept?"
"Oh, it is safe enough there," he said. "The question is, is all that
money going to be allowed to remain in the hands of one little
dark-haired girl without let or hindrance, as the lawyers say?"
"Allowed?" I echoed. "But who is to disallow it?"
There was a moment's silence.
Then the young American said meditatively: "I might! That is, I might
have a try. True, it mightn't come off. I don't say that it is bound to
come off. But, between you and me, the old gentleman was remarkably
queer in his head when he made that second will, leaving the whole pile
to his niece, Miss Nellie Million. The will he made a couple of years
before, leaving everything to his nephew, Hiram P. Jessop, might be
proved to be the valid one yet, if I liked to go setting things to
work."
At the sound of this a dark cloud seemed to blot out some of the June
sunshine that was steeping the white roads and the hawthorn hedges and
the emerald-green fields of corn "shot" with scarlet poppies.
Poor little unsuspecting Million! Wherever she was, she had not an idea
of this--that the fortune which she had only just begun to enjoy might
be yet snapped out of her hands, leaving no trace of it behind but the
costly new trousseau of clothes, a gorgeous array of trunks, and an
unpaid hotel bill!
How terrible! It would be worse than if she had never had any money at
all! For it is odd how quickly we women acclimatise ourselves to
personal luxuries, even though we have not been brought up to them. For
instance, already since I had had my own new things I felt that I could
never bear to go back to lisle thread or cashmere stockings again. Only
silk were possible for Miss Million's maid! Another awful thought.
Supposing Miss Million ceased to be an heiress? She would then cease to
require the services of a lady's-maid. And then I should be indeed upon
the rocks!
Again that weird young American seemed to read my thoughts. Dryly he
said: "You see yourself out of a job already, Miss Smith?"
"No, indeed, I don't," I said with spirit. "You have not got the money
yet, my mistress is still in possession of it."
"And possession is nine-tenths of the law, you mean," he took up; "still
I might choose to fight on the tenth point, mightn't I?"
He put back his head and laughed.
"Perhaps I shan't have to fight. This entirely depends upon how Nellie
and I are going to fix it up when we do meet," he said cheerily.
"We have got to find her first," I said, with a feeling of apprehension
coming over me again. And this young American who may have control of
our future (mine and Miss Million's) said cheerfully: "We are going to
find her or know why, I guess. Don't you get worrying."
Such an easy thing to say: "Don't worry"!
As if I hadn't had enough to worry me already! Now this fresh
apprehension! I felt my face getting longer and longer and more
despondent inside the frame of the thin black motor-scarf with which I
had wreathed my hat. The young American glanced at it and smiled
encouragingly.
"I guess you are starving with hunger," he said; "I'll wager you hadn't
the horse sense to eat a decent breakfast before you started away from
the 'Cess'? Tea and toast, what? I knew it. Now, see here, we are going
to climb right down and have a nice early lunch at the first hostelry
that we come to, with honeysuckle and English roses climbing over the
porch."
It was hardly a mile further on that we came to a wayside inn such as
he had described. There it was, a white-washed, low-roofed house, with
roses and creepers, with a little bit of green in front of it, and a
swinging painted sign, and a pond not far off, with a big white duck and
a procession of little yellow ducklings waddling towards it across the
road.
It looked quite like a page out of a Caldecott picture-book. The only
twentieth-century detail in it was the other two-seater car that was
drawn up just in front of the porch. This was a car very much more
gorgeous than the hireling in which we were setting forth on our quest.
She--this other car--appeared to be glitteringly new. The hedge-sparrow
blue enamel and the brass work were a dazzlement to the eyes in the
brilliant June sunshine. In front there was affixed the mascot, a
beautiful copy of "The Winged Victory," modelled in silver.
I wondered for a moment who the lucky owner of such a gem of cars might
be.
And then, even as I descended from the hireling, and entered the inner
porch with my companion, I thought of the last time that I had heard a
small car mentioned.
That was Lord Fourcastles's!
The gnarled-looking old woman who kept this decorative-looking inn shook
her head doubtfully over the idea of being able to let us have lunch as
early as all that.
"Mid-day dinner," she informed us rather reproachfully, "was at
mid-day!"
However, if bread and cheese and cider would do us those we could have.
She had taken a tray with those on already to the gentleman who had
driven up in a small car, if we wouldn't mind having it in the little
coffee-room with him.
Thankfully enough I preceded Mr. Jessop into the coffee-room. It was
long, and low-ceilinged, and dark from the screen of tangled ivy and
honeysuckle and jasmine that grew up about the low window. Inside was a
framed picture of Queen Victoria as a blonde girl in a dressing-gown
receiving the news of her accession to the English throne. Another
picture showed her in Jubilee robes. There were also cases of stuffed
birds and squirrels, padded chairs with woollen antimacassars. At the
further table there loomed against the light the broad back of a man
eating bread and cheese and reading a newspaper. From the look of him,
he was the owner of that sumptuous car.
My American friend exclaimed in delight.
"Well, now, if any one had told me there still existed anything so real
old-fashioned and quaint right close up to the most sophisticated old
town in Europe I would never have believed them!" he ejaculated. "It
takes Old England to supply anything in the nature of a setting for
romance. Doesn't this look the exact parlour where the runaway couple
would be fixing things up with the relenting pa on the way back from
Gretna Green, Miss Smith?"
I laughed as I said: "It is rather a long way from here to Gret----"
Here there was a sudden noise of a man springing quickly to his feet.
The guest, who had been sitting there over his bread and cheese and
cider, swung swiftly round.
"By the powers, but this is a delightful surprise!" he exclaimed.
I stared up at him with eyes now grown accustomed to the dimness of the
inn parlour. I beheld, handsomer and more débonnaire than ever, no less
a person than the Honourable Jim Burke!
As I shook hands I wondered swiftly from whom this blue-eyed pirate had
borrowed the brand-new, spick-and-span little car that stood outside
there with her nose and the mascot that was its ornament turned towards
London.
I saw young Mr. Jessop staring with all his shrewd yet boyish eyes. I
wondered what on earth he thought of my very conspicuous-looking friend;
no, I can't call him "friend" exactly, my conspicuous-looking
acquaintance to whom I hurriedly introduced him?
"Very happy to meet you," said the American, bowing. Mr. Burke, with the
most extraordinary flavour of an American accent tinging his brogue,
added: "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Jessop."
Without my seeing how he did it exactly, Mr. Burke had arranged the
chairs about his table so that we all sat at lunch there together. But
he changed his seat so that it was Mr. Jessop who sat with his face to
the light, opposite to the man I had known just a very little longer.
Really, it does seem odd to think that I am the same Beatrice Lovelace
who used to live at No. 45 Laburnum Grove! There, from year's end to
year's end, I never exchanged a single word with anything that you
could describe as a young man!
And now, to parody the old story about the 'bus driver, "Young men are
no treat to me!" Within forty-eight hours I have had one propose to me,
one taking me out for a walk on the Embankment and arranging to bring me
for this motor expedition to-day, and a third having lunch with me and
the second!
It was a very funny lunch. And not a very comfortable one. The two men
talked without ceasing about automobiles, and "makes," and garages, and
speeds, and the difference between American and English workmen. (Mr.
Burke really does seem to know something about America.) But I felt that
the air of that shady coffee-room was simply quivering with the thoughts
of both of them on very different subjects. Mr. Jessop was thinking:
"Now, see here! Who's this young Irish aristocrat? He seems to be on
such perfectly friendly terms of equality with my cousin's maid. How's
this?"
Mr. Burke was thinking: "Who the dickens is this fellow? How is it that
Miss Million's maid seems to be let loose for the whole day without her
mistress, and a young man and a car to herself?"
The keynote of the next half-hour might be summed up in Kipling's
phrase, "Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he dare not say!"
My heart meanwhile was bursting with the wild longing to find out if Mr.
Burke knew anything at all of the whereabouts of my mistress.
I decided that he did not, for if he had wouldn't he have mentioned
something to do with her?
As it was, which I am sure was buzzing in all of our brains, the name
Million did not pass any of our lips!
The men went out together, apparently on the most friendly terms, to pay
the landlady and exchange inspection of the "automobiles." By some
manoeuvring or other Mr. Burke contrived to come back first into the
coffee-room where I stood alone before the mirror readjusting the black
gauze scarf.
He came behind and spoke to my reflection in the mirror, smiling into
the eyes that met his own blue and unabashed ones in the glass.
"Child, a word with you," murmured the Honourable Jim in his flattering
and confidential tones. "Will you tell me something? Does all this mean,
now, that my good services are no longer required in the way of
introducing to you with a view to matrimony the wealthy alien that I
mentioned at that charming tea the day before yesterday, was it?"
"What do you mean, Mr. Burke?" I said. "What do you mean by all this?"
The Honourable Jim jerked his smooth black head towards the window,
whence he could get a glimpse of the waiting cars.
"I mean our friend, the American Eaglet, who is so highly favoured that
he doesn't even have to wait until Friday afternoon off," said the
Honourable Jim softly, watching my face, "for his flights with the
little black-plumaged pigeon."
Naturally when one is watched one colours up. Who could help it? The
Honourable Jim said rather more loudly: "I'll tell you something. You
have every symptom about you of a girl who has had a proposal of
marriage in the last couple of days. Didn't I see it at lunch? The way
you held your head! The new pride in your voice! Something in the very
movement of the hand----"
He caught me very gently by the wrist of my left hand as he spoke. I
hadn't yet put on my gloves.
"No ring there," said the Honourable Jim, dropping the hand again.
"But--Miss Lovelace, child! Will you deny to me that some one has not
proposed to you since you and I had tea together?"
At that I could not help thinking of poor Mr. Brace in Paris. He would
be coming over at the end of the week to receive the answer which I had
not yet had time to think about. I was so amazed at Mr. Burke's
perspicacity that I could not help reddening even deeper with pure
surprise. The Irishman said softly: "I am answered! Tell me, when are
you going over to the Stars and Stripes?"
Good heavens! what an idiotic mistake. He really imagined that the man
who had proposed to me was not Mr. Brace, but Mr. Hiram P. Jessop, of
Chicago! I protested incoherently: "Why! I only met him last night."
"What is time to love?" laughed Mr. Burke.
"But don't be so ridiculous," I besought him. "This Mr. Jessop has
nothing to do with me! He is----" Here the conversation was stopped by
the entrance of Mr. Jessop himself.
I think Mr. Hiram P. Jessop soon discovered that Mr. Burke had made up
his mind about one thing.
Namely, that he meant to start first from the inn where we'd lunched!
He rose to say good-bye, and to add that he must be "off" so very
firmly, and just after he had helped me to another plateful of
raspberries drowned in cream.
We shook hands, and in a few seconds we heard him starting his motor--or
rather, the Super-car that I conclude he had borrowed, or "wangled," or
whatever he calls it, from one of his many wealthy friends. Through the
window I caught a flashing glimpse of this hedge-sparrow-blue car with
her silver mascot whizzing past--on the road to Lewes.
This was odd, I thought.
For there was no doubt that when we pulled up at the inn, that car's
nose had been towards home, and London.
Then we, too, started off for Lewes, and the inquiries we had to make
there.
This was when I discovered that Mr. Jessop and I were, as I've said,
"shadowed."
Mr. Burke, in that gorgeous car of his, had evidently determined, for
some obscure reason, not to lose sight of us.
We overtook him, tooling leisurely along, a mile this side of Uckfield.
We waved; we caught a cheery gleam of his white teeth and black-lashed
blue eyes. I thought that would be the last of him. Oh, dear, no. A
quarter of a mile further on he appeared to the right by some
cross-road. And from then on he and the light-blue car kept appearing
and disappearing in our field of vision.
At one moment the light-blue and silver gleam of his motor would flash
through the midsummer green of trees overshadowing some lane ahead of
us. Again he would appear a little behind and to the left. Presently,
again, to the right....
"That friend of yours seems to know the country considerable well,"
remarked the American to me. "Looks like as if he was chasing
butterflies all over it. Is he a great Nature-lover, Miss Smith?"
"I couldn't tell you," I said vaguely, and feeling rather annoyed. "I
don't know this Mr. Burke at all well."
"Is that so?" said the young American gravely.
Near Lewes we lost sight of that glittering car; it seemed finally.
I felt thoroughly relieved at that. He was a most embarrassing sort of
travelling companion, the Honourable Jim!