the time in the smart set."
"Well, the morals of the smart set are not my morals," I retorted. "My
father was a clergyman, Henriette, and I'm something of a churchman
myself, and I won't stoop to such baseness. Besides, what's to prevent
my wife from blabbing when we try to ship her?"
"H'm!" mused Henriette. "I hadn't thought of that--it would be
dangerous, wouldn't it?"
"Very," said I. "The only safe way out of it would be to kill the young
woman, and my religious scruples are strongly against anything of the
sort. You must remember, Henriette, that there are one or two of the
commandments that I hold in too high esteem to break them."
"Then what shall we do, Bunny?" demanded Mrs. Van Raffles. "_I must have
that tiara._"
"Well, there's the old amateur theatrical method," said I. "Have a
little play here, reproduce Mrs. Rockerbilt's tiara in paste for one of
the characters to wear, substitute the spurious for the real, and there
you are."
"That is a good idea," said Henriette; "only I hate amateur theatricals.
I'll think it over."
A few days later my mistress summoned me again.
"Bunny, you used to make fairly good sketches, didn't you?" she asked.
"Pretty good," said I. "Chiefly architectural drawings, however--details
of facades and ornamental designs."
"Just the thing!" cried Henriette. "To-night Mrs. Rockerbilt gives a
moonlight reception on her lawns. They adjoin ours. She will wear her
tiara, and I want you when she is in the gardens to hide behind some
convenient bit of shrubbery and make an exact detail sketch of the
tiara. Understand?"
"I do," said I.
"Don't you miss a ruby or a diamond or the teeniest bit of filigree,
Bunny. Get the whole thing to a carat," she commanded.
"And then?" I asked, excitedly.
"Bring it to me; I'll attend to the rest," said she.
[Illustration: "IT WAS NOT ALWAYS EASY TO GET THE RIGHT LIGHT"]
You may be sure that when night came I went at the work in hand with
alacrity. It was not always easy to get the right light on the lady's
tiara, but in several different quarters of the garden I got her
sufficiently well, though unconsciously, posed to accomplish my purpose.
Once I nearly yielded to the temptation to reach my hand through the
shrubbery and snatch the superb ornament from Mrs. Rockerbilt's head,
for she was quite close enough to make this possible, but the vulgarity
of such an operation was so very evident that I put it aside almost as
soon as thought of. And I have always remembered dear old Raffles's
remark, "Take everything in sight, Bunny," he used to say; "but, damn
it, do it like a gentleman, not a professional."
The sketch made, I took it to my room and colored it, so that that
night, when Henriette returned, I had ready for her a perfect pictorial
representation of the much-coveted bauble.
"It is simply perfect, Bunny," she cried, delightedly, as she looked at
it. "You have even got the sparkle of that incomparable ruby in the
front."
Next morning we went to New York, and Henriette, taking my design to a
theatrical property-man we knew on Union Square, left an order for its
exact reproduction in gilt and paste.
"I am going to a little fancy-dress dance, Mr. Sikes," she explained,
"as Queen Catharine of Russia, and this tiara is a copy of the very
famous lost negligee crown of that unhappy queen. Do you think you can
let me have it by Tuesday next?"
"Easily, madam," said Sikes. "It is a beautiful thing and it will give
me real pleasure to reproduce it. I'll guarantee it will be so like the
original that the queen herself couldn't tell 'em apart. It will cost
you forty-eight dollars.
"Agreed," said Henriette.
And Sikes was true to his word. The following Tuesday afternoon brought
to my New York apartment--for of course Mrs. Raffles did not give Sikes
her right name--an absolutely faultless copy of Mrs. Rockerbilt's
chiefest glory. It was so like that none but an expert in gems could
have told the copy from the original, and when I bore the package back
to Newport and displayed its contents to my mistress she flew into an
ecstasy of delight.
"We'll have the original in a week if you keep your nerve, Bunny," she
cried.
"Theatricals?" said I.
"No, indeed," said Henriette. "If Mrs. Rockerbilt knew this copy was in
existence she'd never wear the other in public again as long as she
lived without bringing a dozen detectives along with her. No, indeed--a
dinner. I want you to connect the electric lights of the dining-room
with the push-button at my foot, so that at any moment I can throw the
dining-room into darkness. Mrs. Rockerbilt will sit at my left--Tommy
Dare to the right. She will wear her famous coiffure surmounted by the
tiara. At the moment you are passing the poisson I will throw the room
into darkness, and you--"
"I positively decline, Henriette, to substitute one tiara for another in
the dark. Why, darn it all, she'd scream the minute I tried it," I
protested.
"Of course she would," said she, impatiently. "And that is why I don't
propose any such idiotic performance. You will merely stumble in the
dark and manage your elbow so awkwardly that Mrs. Rockerbilt's coiffure
will be entirely disarranged by it. She will scream, of course, and I
will instantly restore the light, after which _I_ will attend to the
substitution. Now don't fail me and the tiara will be ours."
[Illustration: "ALL WAS AS HENRIETTE HAD FORETOLD"]
I stand ready with affidavits to prove that that dinner was the most
exciting affair of my life. At one time it seemed to me that I could not
possibly perform my share of the conspiracy without detection, but a
glance at Henriette, sitting calmly and coolly, and beautiful too, by
gad, at the head of the table, chatting as affably with the duke of
Snarleyow and Tommy Dare as though there was nothing in the wind, nerved
me to action. The moment came, and instantly as I leaned over Mrs.
Rockerbilt's side with the fish platter in my hand out went the light;
crash went my elbow into the lady's stunning coiffure; her little,
well-modulated scream of surprise rent the air, and, flash, back came
the lights again. All was as Henriette had foretold, Mrs. Rockerbilt's
lovely blond locks were frightfully demoralized, and the famous tiara
with it had slid aslant athwart her cheek.
"Dear me!" cried Henriette, rising hurriedly and full of warm sympathy.
"How very awkward!"
"Oh, don't speak of it," laughed Mrs. Rockerbilt, amiably. "It is
nothing, dear Mrs. Van Raffles. These electric lights are so very
uncertain these days, and I am sure James is not at all to blame for
hitting me as he has done; it's the most natural thing in the world,
only--may I please run up-stairs and fix my hair again?"
"You most certainly shall," said Henriette. "And I will go with you, my
dear Emily. I am so mortified that if you will let me do penance in
that way I will myself restore order out of this lovely chaos."
The little speech was received with the usual hilarious appreciation
which follows anything out of the usual course of events in high social
circles. Tommy Dare gave three cheers for Mrs. Van Raffles, and Mrs.
Gramercy Van Pelt, clad in a gorgeous red costume, stood up on a chair
and toasted me in a bumper of champagne. Meanwhile Henriette and Mrs.
Rockerbilt had gone above.
* * * * *
"Isn't it a beauty, Bunny," said Henriette the next morning, as she held
up the tiara to my admiring gaze, a flashing, coruscating bit of the
jeweler's art that, I verily believe, would have tempted the soul of
honor itself into rascally ways.
"Magnificent!" I asserted. "But--which is this, the forty-eight-dollar
one or the original?"
"The original," said Henriette, caressing the bauble. "You see, when we
got to my room last night and I had Mrs. Rockerbilt sitting before the
mirror, and despite her protestations was fixing her dishevelled locks
with my own fair hands, I arranged to have the lights go out again just
as the tiara was laid on the dressing-table. The copy was in the table
drawer, and while my right hand was apparently engaged in manipulating
the refractory light, and my voice was laughingly calling down
maledictions upon the electric lighting company for its wretched
service, my left hand was occupied with the busiest effort of its career
in substituting the spurious tiara for the other."
"And Mrs. Rockerbilt never even suspected?"
"No," said Henriette. "In fact, she placed the bogus affair in her hair
herself. As far as her knowledge goes, I never even touched the
original."
"Well, you're a wonder, Henriette," said I, with a sigh. "Still, if
Mrs. Rockerbilt should ever discover--"
"She won't, Bunny," said Henriette. "She'll never have occasion to test
the genuineness of her tiara. These Newport people have other sources of
income than the vulgar pawnshops."
But, alas! later on Henriette made a discovery herself that for the time
being turned her eyes red with weeping. The Rockerbilt tiara itself was
as bogus as our own copy. There wasn't a real stone in the whole outfit,
and the worst part of it was that under the circumstances Henriette
could not tell anybody over the teacups that Mrs. Rockerbilt was, in
vulgar parlance, "putting up a shine" on high society.
VIII
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CARNEGIE LIBRARY
"Merciful Midas, Bunny," said Henriette one morning as I was removing
the breakfast-tray from her apartment. "Did you see the extent of Mr.
Carnegie's benefactions in the published list this morning?"
"I have not received my paper yet," said I. "Moreover, I doubt if it
will contain any reference to such matters when it does come. You know I
read only the London _Times_, Mrs. Van Raffles. I haven't been able to
go the American newspapers."
"More fool you, then, Bunny," laughed my mistress. "Any man who wants
to pursue crime as a polite diversion and does not read the American
newspapers fails to avail himself of one of the most potent instruments
for the attainment of the highest artistic results. You cannot pick up a
newspaper in any part of the land without discovering somewhere in its
columns some reference to a new variety of house-breaking, some new and
highly artistic method of writing another man's autograph so that when
appended to a check and presented at his bank it will bear the closest
scrutiny to which the paying-teller will subject it, some truly
Napoleonic method of entirely novel design for the sudden parting of the
rich from their possessions. Any university which attempted to add a
School of Peculation to its curriculum and ignored the daily papers as a
positive source of inspiration to the highest artistry in the profession
would fail as ignobly as though it should forget to teach the
fundamental principles of high finance."
"I was not aware of their proficiency in that direction," said I.
"You never will get on, Bunny," sighed Henriette, "because you are not
quick to seize opportunities that lie directly under your nose. How do
you suppose I first learned of all this graft at Newport? Why, by
reading the newspaper accounts of their jewels in the Sunday and daily
newspapers. How do I know that if I want to sand-bag Mr. Rockerbilt and
rifle his pockets all I have to do is to station myself outside the
Crackerbaker Club any dark opera night after twelve and catch him on his
way home with his fortune sticking out all over him? Because the
newspapers tell me that he is a regular habitue of the Crackerbaker and
plays bridge there every night after the opera. How do I know just how
to walk from my hall bedroom in my little East Side tenement up Fifth
Avenue into Mrs. Gaster's dining-room, where she has a million in plate
on her buffet, with my eyes shut, without fear of stumbling over a step
or a chair or even a footstool? Because the newspapers have so
repeatedly printed diagrams of the interior of the lady's residence that
its halls, passages, doorways, exits, twists, turns, and culs-de-sac are
indelibly engraved upon my mind. How did I acquire my wonderful
knowledge of the exact number of pearls, rubies, diamonds, opals,
tiaras, bracelets, necklaces, stomachers, and other gorgeous jewels now
in the possession of the smart set? Only by an assiduous devotion to the
contents of the daily newspapers in their reports of the doings of the
socially elect. I have a scrap-book, Bunny, that has been two years in
the making, and there hasn't been a novel burglary reported in all that
time that is not recorded in my book, not a gem that has appeared at
the opera, the theatre, the Charity Ball, the Horse Show, or a monkey
dinner that has not been duly noted in this vademecum of mine, fully
described and in a sense located. If it wasn't for that knowledge I
could not hope for success any more than you could if you went hunting
mountain-lions in the Desert of Sahara, or tried to lure speckled-trout
from the depths of an empty goldfish globe."
"I see," said I, meekly. "I have missed a great opportunity. I will
subscribe to the _Tribune_ and _Evening Post_ right away."
I have never understood why Henriette greeted this observation with a
peal of silvery laughter that fairly made the welkin ring. All I know is
that it so irritated me that I left the room to keep from making a
retort that might seriously have disturbed our friendship. Later in the
day, Mrs. Van Raffles rang for me and I attended upon her orders.
"Bunny," said she, "I've made up my mind to it--I must have a Carnegie
library, that is all there is about it, and you must help. The
iron-master has already spent thirty-nine million dollars on that sort
of thing, and I don't see why if other people can get 'em we can't."
"Possibly because we are not a city, town, or hamlet," I suggested, for
I had been looking over the daily papers since my morning's talk with
the lady, and had observed just who had been the beneficiaries of Mr.
Carnegie's benefactions. "He don't give 'em to individuals, but to
communities."
"Of course not," she responded, quickly. "But what is to prevent our
becoming a municipality?"
My answer was an amazed silence, for frankly I could not for the life
of me guess how we were to do any such thing.
"It's the easiest thing in the world," she continued. "All you have to
do is to buy an abandoned farm on Long Island with a bleak sea-front,
divide it up into corner lots, advertise the lots for sale on the
instalment plan, elect your mayor, and Raffleshurst-by-the-Sea, swept by
ocean breezes, fifteen cents from the Battery, is a living, breathing
reality."
"By the jumping Disraeli, Henriette, but you are a marvel!" I cried,
with enthusiasm. "But," I added, my ardor cooling a little, "won't it
cost money?"
"About fifteen hundred dollars," said Henriette. "I can win that at
bridge in an hour."
"Well," said I, "you know you can command my services, Henriette. What
shall I do?"
"Organize the city," she replied. "Here is fifty dollars. That will do
for a starter. Go down to Long Island, buy the farm, put up a few signs
calling on people to own their own homes; advertise the place in big
capital letters in the Sunday papers as likely to be the port of the
future, consider yourself duly elected mayor, stop in at some photograph
shop in New York on your way back and get a few dozen pictures of street
scenes in Binghamton, Oberlin, Kalamazoo, and other well-populated
cities, and then come back here for further instructions. Meanwhile I
will work out the other details of the scheme."
According to my habit I followed Henriette's instructions to the letter.
A farm of five hundred acres was secured within a week, the bleakest,
coldest spot ever swept by ocean breezes anywhere. It cost six hundred
dollars in cash, with immediate possession. Three days later, with the
use of a ruler, I had mapped out about twelve thousand corner lots on
the thing, and, thanks to my knack at draughtsmanship, had all ready for
anybody's inspection as fine a ground-plan of Raffleshurst-by-the-Sea as
ever was got up by a land-booming company in this or any other country.
I then secured the photographs desired by my mistress, advertised
Raffleshurst in three Sunday newspapers to the tune of a half-page each,
and returned to Newport. I flattered myself that the thing was well
done, for on reading the advertisement nothing would do but that
Henriette should visit the place in person. The ads were so phrased, she
said, as to be irresistible.
"It's fine, Bunny," she cried, with an enthusiastic laugh as she gazed
out over the broad acres of Raffleshurst and noted how well I had
fulfilled her orders. "Under proper direction you are a most able
workman. Nothing could be better. Nothing--absolutely nothing. And now
for Mr. Carnegie."
I still did not see how the thing was coming out, but such was my
confidence in my leader that I had no misgivings.
"Here is a letter from Mrs. Gaster introducing the Hon. Henry
Higginbotham, mayor of Raffleshurst, to Mr. Carnegie," said Henriette.
"You will call at once on the iron-master. Present this letter,
keeping in mind of course that you are yourself the Hon. Henry
Higginbotham. Show him these photographs of the City Hall at
Binghamton, of the public park at Oberlin, the high school at Oswego,
the battery walk at Charleston and other public improvements of
various other cities, when he asks you what sort of a place
Raffleshurst is; then frankly and fearlessly put in your application
for a one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar library. One picture--this
beautiful photograph of the music-hall at the St. Louis Exhibition--you
must seem to overlook always, only contrive matters so that he will
inquire what it is. You must then modestly remark that it is nothing but
a little two-hundred-thousand-dollar art gallery you have yourself
presented to the town. See?"
"H'm--yes, I see," said I. "But it is pretty risky business, Henriette.
Suppose Mrs. Gaster asks for further information about Mayor
Higginbotham? I think it was unwise of you to connect her with the
enterprise."
"Don't bother about that, Bunny. _I_ wrote that letter of
introduction--I haven't studied penmanship for nothing, you know.
Mrs. Gaster will never know. So just put on your boldest front,
remember your name, and don't forget to be modest about your own
two-hundred-thousand-dollar art gallery. That will inspire him, I
think."
It took me a week to get at the iron-master; but finally, thanks to
Mrs. Gaster's letter of introduction, I succeeded. Mr. Carnegie was as
always in a most amiable frame of mind, and received me cordially, even
when he discovered my real business with him.
[Illustration: "'IF YOU WANTED A LAKE, MR. HIGGINBOTHAM, I--'"]
"I hadn't intended to give any more libraries this year," he said, as he
glanced over the pictures. "I am giving away lakes now," he added. "If
you wanted a lake, Mr. Higginbotham, I--"
"We have such a large water-front already, Mr. Carnegie," said I, "and
most of our residents are young married couples with children not over
three and five. I am afraid they would regard a lake as a source of
danger."
"That's a pretty playground," he suggested, glancing at the Oberlin
Park. "Somehow or other, it reminds me of something."
I thought it quite likely, but, of course, I didn't say so. I may be a
fool but I have some tact.
"It's at the far corner of the park that we propose to put the library
if you are good enough to let us have it," was all I ventured.
"H'm!" he mused. "Well, do you know, I like to help people who help
themselves--that's my system."
I assured him that we of Raffleshurst were accustomed to helping
ourselves to everything we could lay our hands on, a jest which even
though it was only too true seemed to strike him pleasantly.
"What is that handsome structure you always pass over?" he asked, as I
contrived to push the music-hall photograph aside for the fifth time.
I laughed deprecatingly. "Oh, that," I said, modestly--"that's only a
little two-hundred-thousand-dollar music-hall and art gallery I have
built for the town myself."
Oh, that wonderful Henriette! How did she know that generosity even
among the overgenerous was infectious?
"Indeed!" said Mr. Carnegie, his face lighting up with real pleasure.
"Well, Mr. Higginbotham, I guess-- I guess I'll do it. I can't be
outdone in generosity by you, sir, and--er-- I guess you can count on
the library. Do you think one hundred and fifty thousand dollars will be
enough?"
"Well, of course--" I began.
"Why not make my contribution equal to yours and call it an even two
hundred thousand dollars?" he interrupted.
"You overwhelm me," said I. "Of course, if you wish to--"
"And the Raffleshurst common council will appropriate five per cent. of
that amount annually for its maintenance?" he inquired.
"Such a resolution has already been passed," said I, taking a paper from
my pocket. "Here is the ordinance, duly signed by myself as mayor and
by the secretary of the council."
Again that extraordinary woman, to provide me with so necessary a
document!
The millionaire rose with alacrity and with his own hand drew me the
required check.
"Mr. Mayor," said he, "I like the quick, business-like way in which you
do things. Pray present my compliments to the citizens of
Raffleshurst-by-the-Sea, and tell them I am only too glad to help them.
If you ever want a lake, sir, don't fail to call upon me." With which
gracious words the millionaire bowed me out.
* * * * *
"_Two_ hundred thousand dollars, Bunny?" cried Henriette when I handed
her the check.
"Yep," said I.
"Well, that _is_ a good day's sport!" she said, gazing at the slip.
"Twice as much as I expected."
"Yes," said I. "But see here, Henrietta, suppose Mr. Carnegie should go
down to Raffleshurst to see the new building and find out what a bunco
game we have played on him?"
"He's not likely to do that for two reasons, Bunny," she replied.
"In the first place he suffers acutely from lumbago in winter and
can't travel, and in the second place he'd have to find
Raffleshurst-by-the-Sea before he could make the discovery that
somebody'd put up a game on him. I think by the time he is ready to
start we can arrange matters to have Raffleshurst taken off the map."
"Well, I think this is the cleverest trick you've turned yet,
Henriette," said I.
"Nonsense, Bunny, nonsense," she replied. "Any idiot can get a Carnegie
library these days. That's why I put _you_ on the job, dear," she added,
affectionately.
IX
THE ADVENTURE OF THE HOLD-UP
Now that it is all over, I do not know whether she was really worn-out
or by the expert use of powder gave to her cheeks the pallid look which
bore out Mrs. Van Raffles's statement to me that she needed a rest. At
any rate, one morning in mid-August, when the Newport season was in full
feather, Henriette, looking very pale and wan, tearfully confessed to me
that business had got on her nerves and that she was going away to a
rest-cure on the Hudson for ten days.
"I just can't stand it for another minute, Bunny," she faltered, real
tears coursing down her cheeks. "I haven't slept a wink of natural
sleep for five days, and yet when night comes it is all I can do to keep
my eyes open. At the Rockerbilt ball last night I dozed off four times
while talking with the Duchess of Snarleyow, and when the Chinese
Ambassador asked me to sit out the gavotte with him I'm told I actually
snored in his face. A woman who can't keep awake all night and sleep
properly by day is not fit for Newport society, and I've simply got to
go away and get my nerve back again."
"You are very wise," I replied, "and I wholly approve of your course.
There is no use of trying to do too much and you have begun to show the
strain to which you have been subjecting yourself. Your failure last
Friday night to land Mrs. Gollet's ruby dog-collar when her French
poodle sat in your lap all through the Gaster musicale is evidence to me
that your mind is not as alert as usual. By all means, go away and rest
up. I'll take care of things around here."
"Thank you, dear," said she, with a grateful smile. "You need a change
too, Bunny. What would you say if I sent all the servants away too, so
that you could have a week of absolute tranquillity? It must be awful
for a man of your refined sensibilities to have to associate so
constantly with the housemaids, the under-butlers and the footmen."