I MEET THE FOE AND FALL
The post that morning, besides containing a telegram from Vienna
apprising me of the immediate embarkation of four irreproachable angels
in the guise of servants, brought a letter from my friends the Hazzards,
inquiring when my castle would be in shape to receive and discharge
house parties without subjecting them to an intermediate season of
peril from drafts, leaky roofs, damp sheets and vampires.
They implored me to snatch them and one or two friends from the
unbearable heat of the city, if only for a few days, appending the sad
information that they were swiftly being reduced to grease spots. Dear
Elsie added a postscript of unusual briefness and clarity in which she
spelt grease with an e instead of an a, but managed to consign me to
purgatory if I permitted her to become a spot no larger than the inky
blot she naively deposited beside her signature, for all the world
like the seal on a death warrant.
I sat down and looked about me in gloomy despair. No words can describe
the scene, unless we devote a whole page to repeating the word "dismal."
Devastation always appears to be more complete of a morning I have
observed in my years of experience. A plasterer's scaffolding that
looks fairly nobby at sunset is a grim, unsightly skeleton at
breakfast-time. A couple of joiners' horses, a matrix or two, a pile
of shavings and some sawed-off blocks scattered over the floor produce
a matutinal conception of chaos that hangs over one like a pall until
his aesthetic sense is beaten into subjection by the hammers of a
million demons in the guise of carpenters. Morning in the midst of
repairs is an awful thing! I looked, despaired and then dictated a
letter to the Hazzards, urging them to come at once with all their
sweltering friends!
I needed some one to make me forget.
At eleven o'clock, Poopendyke brought me a note from the chatelaine
of the east wing. It had been dropped into the courtyard from one of
the upper windows. The reading of it transformed me into a stern,
relentless demon. She very calmly announced that she had a headache
and couldn't think of being disturbed that day and probably not the
next.
My mind was made up in an instant. I would not be put off by a
headache,--which was doubtless assumed for the occasion,--and I would
be master of my castle or know the reason why, etc.
In the courtyard I found a score or more of idle artisans, banished
by the on-sweeping tourists and completely forgotten by me in the
excitement of the hour. Commanding them to fetch their files, saws,
broad-axes and augurs, I led the way to the mighty doors that barred
my entrance to the other side. Utterly ignoring the supplications of
Conrad Schmick and the ominous frowns of his two sons, we set about
filing off the padlocks, and chiselling through the wooden panels. I
stood over my toiling minions and I venture to say that they never
worked harder or faster in their lives. By twelve o'clock we had the
great doors open and swept on to the next obstruction.
At two o'clock the last door in the east ante-chamber gave way before
our resolute advance and I stood victorious and dusty in the little
recess at the top of the last stairway. Beyond the twentieth century
portieres of a thirteenth century doorway lay the goal we sought. I
hesitated briefly before drawing them apart and taking the final plunge.
As a matter of fact, I was beginning to feel ashamed of myself. Suppose
that she _really_ had a headache! What an uncouth, pusillanimous
brute I--
Just then, even as my hand fell upon the curtains, they were snatched
aside and I found myself staring into the vivid, uptilted face of the
lady who had defied me and would continue to do so if my suddenly
active perceptions counted for anything.
I saw nothing but the dark, indignant, imperious eyes. They fairly
withered me.
In some haste, attended by the most disheartening nervousness, I tried
to find my cap to remove it in the presence of royalty. Unfortunately
I was obliged to release the somewhat cumbersome crowbar I had been
carrying about with me, and it dropped with a sullen thwack upon my
toes. In moments of gravity I am always doing something like that. The
pain was terrific, but I clutched at the forlorn hope that she might
at least smile over my agony.
"I beg your pardon," I began, and then discovered that I was not wearing
a cap. It was most disconcerting.
"So you _would_ come," she said, very coldly and very levelly. I have a
distinct recollection of shrinking. If you have ever tried to stand
flatly upon a foot whose toes are crimped by an excruciating pain you
may understand something of the added discomfiture that afflicted me.
"It--it was necessary, madam," I replied as best I could. "You defied
me. I think you should have appreciated my position--my
motives--er--my--"
She silenced me--luckily, heaven knows--with a curt exclamation.
"Your position! It is intensely Napoleonic," said she with fine irony.
Her gaze swept my horde of panting, wide-eyed house-breakers. "What
a noble victory!"
It was quite time for me to assert myself. Bowing very stiffly, I
remarked:
"I regret exceedingly to have been forced to devastate my own property
in such a trifling enterprise, madam. The physical loss is
apparent,--you can see that for yourself,--but of course you have no
means of estimating the mental destruction that has been going on for
days and days. You have been hacking away at my poor, distracted brain
so persistently that it really had to give way. In a measure, this
should account for my present lapse of sanity. Weak-mindedness is not
a crime, but an affliction."
She did not smile.
"Well, now that you are here, Mr. Smart, may I be so bold as to inquire
what you are going to do about it?"
I reflected. "I think, if you don't mind, I'll come in and sit down.
That was a deuce of a rap I got across the toes. I am sure to be a
great deal more lenient and agreeable if I'm _asked_ to come in and see
you. Incidentally, I thought I'd step up to inquire how your headache is
getting on. Better, I hope?"
She turned her face away. I suspected a smile.
"If you choose to bang your old castle to pieces, in order to satisfy
a masculine curiosity, Mr. Smart, I have nothing more to say," she
said, facing me again--still ominously, to my despair. Confound it
all, she was such a slim, helpless little thing--and all alone against
a mob of burly ruffians! I could have kicked myself, but even that
would have been an aimless enterprise in view of the fact that
Poopendyke or any of the others could have done it more accurately
than I and perhaps with greater respect. "Will you be good enough to
send your--your army away, or do you prefer to have it on hand in case
I should take it into my head to attack you?"
"Take 'em away, Mr. Poopendyke," I commanded hurriedly. I didn't mind
Poopendyke hearing what she said, but it would be just like one of
those beggars to understand English--and also to misunderstand it.
"And take this beastly crowbar with you, too. It has served its purpose
nobly."
Poopendyke looked his disappointment, and I was compelled to repeat
the order. As they crowded down the short, narrow stairway, I remarked
old Conrad and his two sons standing over against the wall, three very
sinister figures. They remained motionless.
"I see, madam, that you do not dismiss _your_ army," I said, blandly
sarcastic.
"Oh, you dear old Conrad!" she cried, catching sight of the hitherto
submerged Schmicks. The three of them bobbed and scraped and grinned
from ear to ear. There could be no mistaking the intensity of their
joy. "Don't look so sad, Conrad. I know you are blameless. You poor
old dear!"
I have never seen any one who looked less sad than Conrad Schmick. Or
could it be possible that he was crying instead of laughing? In either
case I could not afford to have him doing it with such brazen
discourtesy to me, so I rather peremptorily ordered him below.
"I will attend to you presently,--all of you," said I. They did not
move. "Do you hear me?" I snapped angrily. They looked stolidly at the
slim young lady.
She smiled, rather proudly, I thought. "You may go, Conrad. I shall
not need you. Max, will you fetch up another scuttle of coal?"
They took their orders from her! It even seemed to me that Max moved
swiftly, although it was doubtless a hallucination on my part, brought
about by nervous excitement.
"By Jove!" I said, looking after my trusty men-servants as they
descended. "I like _this!_ Are they my servants or yours?"
"Oh, I suppose they are yours, Mr. Smart," she said carelessly. "Will
you come in now, and make yourself quite at home?"
"Perhaps I'd better wait for a day or two," said I, wavering. "Your
headache, you know. I can wait just as well as--"
"Oh, no. Since you've gone to all the trouble I suppose you ought to
have something for your pains."
"Pains?" I murmured, and I declare to heaven I limped as I followed
her through the door into a tiny hall.
"You are a most unreasonable man," she said, throwing open a small
door at the end of the hall. "I am terribly disappointed in you. You
looked to be so nice and sensible and amiable."
"Oh, I'm not such a nincompoop as you might suspect, madam," said I,
testily, far from complimented. I dislike being called nice, and
sometimes I think it a mistake to be sensible. A sensible person never
gets anything out of life because he has to avoid so much of it.
"And now, Mr. Smart, will you be kind enough to explain this
incomprehensible proceeding on your part?" she said, facing me sternly.
But I was dumb. I stood just inside the door of the most remarkable
apartment it has ever been my good fortune to look upon. My senses
reeled. Was I awake? Was this a part of the bleak, sinister,
weather-racked castle in which I was striving so hard to find a
comfortable corner?
"Well?" she demanded relentlessly.
"By the Lord Harry," I began, finding my tongue only to lose it again.
My bewilderment increased, and for an excellent reason.
The room was completely furnished, bedecked and rendered habitable by
an hundred and one articles that were mysteriously missing from my
side of the castle. Rugs, tapestries, curtains of the rarest quality;
chairs, couches, and cushions; tables, cabinets and chests that would
have caused the eyes of the most conservative collector of antiques
to bulge with--not wonder--but greed; stands, pedestals, brasses,
bronzes, porcelains--but why enumerate? On the massive oaken centre
table stood the priceless silver vase we had missed on the second day
of our occupancy, and it was filled with fresh yellow roses. I sniffed.
Their fragrance filled the room.
And so complete had been the rifling of my rooms by the devoted vandals
in their efforts to make this lady cosy and comfortable that they did
not overlook a silver-framed photograph of my dear mother! Her sweet
face met my gaze as it swept the mantel-piece, beneath which a coal
fire crackled merrily. I am not quite sure, but I think I repeated "by
the Lord Harry" once if not twice before I caught myself up.
I tried to smile. "How--how cosy you are here," I said.
"You couldn't expect me to live in this awful place without some of
the comforts and conveniences of life, Mr. Smart," she said defiantly.
"Certainly not," I said, promptly. "I am sure that you will excuse me,
however, if I gloat. I was afraid we had lost all these things. You've
no idea how relieved I am to find them all safe and sound in my--in
their proper place. I was beginning to distrust the Schmicks. Now I
am convinced of their integrity."
"I suppose you mean to be sarcastic."
"Sarcasm at any price, madam, would be worse than useless, I am sure."
Crossing to the fireplace, I selected a lump of coal from the scuttle
and examined it with great care. She watched me curiously.
"Do you recognise it?" she asked.
"I do," said I, looking up. "It has been in our family for generations.
My favourite chunk, believe me. Still, I part with it cheerfully."
Thereupon I tossed it into the fire. "Don't be shocked! I shan't miss
it. We have coals to burn, madam!"
She looked at me soberly for a moment. There was something hurt and
wistful in her dark eyes.
"Of course, Mr. Smart, I shall pay you for everything--down to the
smallest trifle--when the time comes for me to leave this place. I
have kept strict account of--"
She turned away, with a beaten droop of the proud little head, and
again I was shamed. Never have I felt so grotesquely out of proportion
with myself as at that moment. My stature seemed to increase from an
even six feet to something like twelve, and my bulk became elephantine.
She was so slender, so lissom, so weak, and I so gargantuan, so
gorilla-like, so heavy-handed! And I had come gaily up to crush her!
What a fine figure of a man I was!
She did not complete the sentence, but walked slowly toward the window.
I had a faint glimpse of a dainty lace handkerchief fiercely clutched
in a little hand.
By nature I am chivalrous, even gallant. You may have reason to doubt
it, but it is quite true. As I've never had a chance to be chivalrous
except in my dreams or my imagination, I made haste to seize this
opportunity before it was too late. "Madam," I said, with considerable
feeling. "I have behaved like a downright rotter to-day. I do not know
who you are, nor why you are here, but I assure you it is of no real
consequence if you will but condescend to overlook my insufferable--"
She turned towards me. The wistful, appealing look still lingered in
her eyes. The soft red nether lip seemed a bit tremulous.
"I _am_ an intruder," she interrupted, smiling faintly. "You have every
right to put me out of your--your home, Mr. Smart. I was a horrid pig to
deprive you of all your nice comfortable chairs and--"
"I--I haven't missed them."
"Don't you ever sit down?"
"I will sit down if you'll let me," said I, feeling that I wouldn't
appear quite so gigantic if I was sitting.
"Please do. The chairs all belong to you."
"I'm sorry you put it in that way. They are yours as long as you choose
to--to occupy a furnished apartment here."
"I have been very selfish, and cattish, and inconsiderate, Mr. Smart.
You see, I'm a spoilt child. I've always had my own way in everything.
You must look upon me as a very horrid, sneaking, conspiring person,
and I--I really think you ought to turn me out."
She came a few steps nearer. Under the circumstances I could not sit
down. So I stood towering above her, but somehow going through a process
of physical and mental shrinkage the longer I remained confronting her.
Suddenly it was revealed to me that she was the loveliest woman I had
ever seen in all my life! How could I have been so slow in grasping
this great, bewildering truth? The prettiest woman I had ever looked
upon! Of course I had known it from the first instant that I looked
into her eyes, but I must have been existing in a state of stupefaction
up to this illuminating moment.
I am afraid that I stared.
"Turn you out?" I cried. "Turn you out of this delightful room after
you've had so much trouble getting it into shape? Never!"
"Oh, you don't know how I've imposed upon you!" she cried plaintively.
"You don't know how I've robbed you, and bothered you--"
"Yes, I do," said I promptly. "I know all about it. You've been stealing
my coals, my milk, my ice, my potatoes, my servants, my sleep and
"--here I gave a comprehensive sweep of my hand--"everything in sight.
And you've made us walk on tip-toe to keep from waking the baby, and--"
I stopped suddenly. "By the way, whose baby is it? Not yours, I'm
sure."
To my surprise her eyes filled with tears.
"Yes. She is my baby, Mr. Smart."
My face fell. "Oh!" said I, and got no further for a moment or two.
"I--I--please don't tell me you are married!"
"What would you think of me if I were to tell you I'm not?" she cried
indignantly.
"I beg your pardon," I stammered, blushing to the roots of my hair.
"Stupid ass!" I muttered.
Crossing to the fireplace, she stood looking down into the coals for
a long time, while I remained where I was, an awkward, gauche spectator,
conscious of having put my clumsiest foot into my mouth every time I
opened it and wondering whether I could now safely get it out again
without further disaster.
Her back was toward me. She was dressed in a dainty, pinkish house
gown--or maybe it was light blue. At any rate it was a very pretty
gown and she was wonderfully graceful in it. Ordinarily in my fiction
I am quite clever at describing gowns that do not exist; but when it
comes to telling what a real woman is wearing, I am not only as vague
as a savage, but painfully stupid about colors. Still, I think it was
pink. I recall the way her soft brown hair grew above the slender neck,
and the lovely white skin; the smooth, delicate contour of her
half-averted cheek and the firm little chin with the trembling red
lips above it; the shapely back and shoulders and the graceful curves
of her hips, suggestive of a secret perfection. She was taller than
I had thought at first sight, or was it that I seemed to be getting
smaller myself? A hasty bit of comparison placed her height at five
feet six, using my own as something to go by. She couldn't have been
a day over twenty-two. But she had a baby!
Facing me once more she said: "If you will sit down, Mr. Smart, and
be patient and generous with me, I shall try to explain everything.
You have a right to demand it of me, and I shall feel more comfortable
after it is done."
I drew up a chair beside the table and sat down. She sank gracefully
into another, facing me. A delicate frown appeared on her brow.
"Doubtless you are very much puzzled by my presence in this gloomy old
castle. You have been asking yourself a thousand questions about me,
and you have been shocked by my outrageous impositions upon your good
nature. I confess I have been shockingly impudent and--"
"Pardon me; you are the only sauce I've had for an excessively bad
bargain."
"Please do not interrupt me," she said coldly. "I am here, Mr. Smart,
because it is the last place in the world where my husband would be
likely to look for me."
"Your husband? Look for you?"
"Yes. I shall be quite frank with you. My husband and I have separated.
A provisional divorce was granted, however, just seven months ago. The
final decree cannot be issued for one year."
"But why should you hide from him?"
"The--the court gave him the custody of our child during the
probationary year. I--I have run away with her. They are looking for
me everywhere. That is why I came here. Do you understand?"
I was stunned. "Then, I take it, the court granted _him_ the divorce and
not you," I said, experiencing a sudden chill about the heart. "You were
deprived of the child, I see. Dear me!"
"You are mistaken," she said, a flash in her eyes. "It was an Austrian
court. The Count--my husband, I should say--is an Austrian subject.
His interests must be protected." She said this with a sneer on her
pretty lips. "You see, my father, knowing him now for what he really
is, has refused to pay over to him something like a million dollars,
still due for the marriage settlement. The Count contends that it is
a just and legal debt and the court supports him to this extent: the
child is to be his until the debt is cleared up, or something to that
effect. I really don't understand the legal complications involved.
Perhaps it were better if I did."
"I see," said I, scornful in spite of myself. "One of those happy
international marriages where a bride is thrown in for good measure
with a couple of millions. Won't we ever learn!"
"That's it precisely," she said, with the utmost calmness and candour.
"American dollars and an American girl in exchange for a title, a lot
of debts and a ruined life."
"And they always turn out just this way. What a lot of blithering fools
we have in the land of the free and the home of the knave!"
"My father objected to the whole arrangement from the first, so you
must not speak of him as a knave," she protested. "He doesn't like
Counts and such things."
"I don't see that it helps matters. I can hardly substitute the word
'brave' for the one I used," said I, trying to conceal my disgust.
"Please don't misunderstand me, Mr. Smart," she said haughtily. "I am
not asking for pity. I made my bed and I shall lie in it. The only
thing I ask of you is--well, kindness."
She seemed to falter again, and once more I was at her feet,
figuratively speaking.
"You are in distress, in dread of something, madam," I cried. "Consider
me your friend."
She shook her head ruefully. "You poor man! You don't know what you
are in for, I fear. Wait till I have told you everything. Three weeks
ago, I laid myself liable to imprisonment and heaven knows what else
by abducting my little girl. That is really what it comes to--abduction.
The court has ordered my arrest, and all sorts of police persons are
searching high and low for me. Now don't you see your peril? If they
find me here, you will be in a dreadful predicament. You will be charged
with criminal complicity, or whatever it is called, and--Oh, it will
be frightfully unpleasant for you, Mr. Smart."
My expression must have convicted me. She couldn't help seeing the
dismay in my face. So she went on, quite humbly.
"Of course you have but to act at once and all may be well for you.
I--I will go if you--if you command me to--"
I struck my knee forcibly. "What do you take me for, madam? Hang the
consequences! If you feel that you are safe here--that is, comparatively
safe,--_stay!_"
"It will be terrible if you get into trouble with the law," she murmured
in distress. "I--I really don't know what might happen to you." Still
her eyes brightened. Like all the rest of her ilk, she was selfish.
I tried to laugh, but it was a dismal failure. After all, wasn't it
likely to prove a most unpleasant matter? I felt the chill moisture
breaking out on my forehead.
"Pray do not consider my position at all," I managed to say, with a
resolute assumption of gallantry. "I--I shall be perfectly able to
look out for myself,--that is, to explain everything if it should come
to the worst." I could not help adding, however: "I certainly hope,
however, that they don't get on to your trail and--" I stopped in
confusion.
"And find me here?" she completed gloomily.
"And take the child away from you," I made haste to explain.
A fierce light flamed in her eyes. "I should--kill--some one before
that could happen," she cried out, clenching her hands.
"I--I beg of you, madam, don't work yourself into a--a state," I
implored, in considerable trepidation. "Nothing like that can happen,
believe me. I--"
"Oh, what do you know about it?" she exclaimed, with most unnecessary
vehemence, I thought. "He wants the child and--and--well, you can see
why he wants her, can't you? He is making the most desperate efforts
to recover her. Max says the newspapers are full of the--the scandal.
They are depicting me as a brainless, law-defying American without
sense of love, honour or respect. I don't mind that, however. It is
to be expected. They all describe the Count as a long-suffering,
honourable, dreadfully maltreated person, and are doing what they can
to help him in the prosecution of the search. My mother, who is in
Paris, is being shadowed; my two big brothers are being watched; my
lawyers in Vienna are being trailed everywhere--oh, it is really a
most dreadful thing. But--but I will not give her up! She is mine. He
doesn't love her. He doesn't love me. He doesn't love anything in the
world but himself and his cigarettes. I know, for I've paid for his
cigarettes for nearly three years. He has actually ridiculed me in
court circles, he has defamed me, snubbed me, humiliated me, cursed
me. You cannot imagine what it has been like. Once he struck me in--"
"Struck you!" I cried.
"--in the presence of his sister and her husband. But I must not
distress you with sordid details. Suffice it to say, I turned at last
like the proverbial worm. I applied for a divorce ten months ago. It
was granted, provisionally as I say. He is a degenerate. He was
unfaithful to me in every sense of the word. But in spite of all that,
the court in granting me the separation, took occasion to placate
national honour by giving him the child during the year, pending the
final disposition of the case. Of course, everything depends on father's
attitude in respect to the money. You see what I mean? A month ago I
heard from friends in Vienna that he was shamefully neglecting our--my
baby, so I took this awful, this perfectly bizarre way of getting her
out of his hands. Possession is nine points in the law, you see. I--'
"Alas!" interrupted I, shaking my head. "There is more than one way
to look at the law. I'm afraid you have got yourself into a
serious--er--pickle."'
"I don't care," she said defiantly. "It is the law's fault for not
prohibiting such marriages as ours. Oh, I know I must seem awfully
foolish and idiotic to you, but--but it's too late now to back out,
isn't it?"
I did not mean to say it, but I did--and I said it with some conviction:
"It is! You _must_ be protected."
"Thank you, thank you!" she cried, clasping and unclasping her little
hands. I found myself wondering if the brute had dared to strike her
on that soft, pink cheek!
Suddenly a horrible thought struck me with stunning force.
"Don't tell me that your--your husband is the man who owned this castle
up to a week ago," I cried. "Count James Hohendahl?"
She shook her head. "No. He is not the man." Seeing that I waited for
her to go on, she resumed: "I know Count James quite well, however.
He is my husband's closest friend."
"Good heaven," said I, in quick alarm. "That complicates matters,
doesn't it? He may come here at any time."
"It isn't likely, Mr. Smart. To be perfectly honest with you, I waited
until I heard you had bought the castle before coming here myself. We
were in hiding at the house of a friend in Linz up to a week ago. I
did not think it right or fair to subject them to the notoriety or the
peril that was sure to follow if the officers took it into their heads
to look for me there. The day you bought the castle, I decided that
it was the safest place for me to stay until the danger blows over,
or until father can arrange to smuggle me out of this awful country.
That very night we were brought here in a motor. Dear old Conrad and
Mrs. Schmick took me in. They have been perfectly adorable, all of
them."
"May I enquire, madam," said I stiffly, "how you came to select my
abode as your hiding place?"
"Oh, I have forgotten to tell you that we lived here one whole summer
just after we were married. Count Hohendahl let us have the castle for
our--our honey-moon. He was here a great deal of the time. All sorts
of horrid, nasty, snobbish people were here to help us enjoy our
honeymoon. I shall never forget that dreadful summer. My only friends
were the Schmicks. Every one else ignored and despised me, and they
all borrowed, won or stole money from me. I was compelled to play
bridge for atrociously high stakes without knowing one card from the
other. But, as I say, the Schmicks loved me. You see they were in the
family ages and ages before I was born."
"The family? What family?"
"The Rothhoefen family. Haven't they told you that my great-grandmother
was a Rothhoefen? No? Well, she was. I belong to the third generation
of American-born descendants. Doesn't it simplify matters, knowing
this?"
"Immensely," said I, in something of a daze.
"And so I came here, Mr. Smart, where hundreds of my ancestors spent
their honeymoons, most of them perhaps as unhappily as I, and where
I knew a fellow-countryman was to live for awhile in order to get a
plot for a new story. You see, I thought I might be a great help to
you in the shape of suggestion."
She smiled very warmly, and I thought it was a very neat way of putting
it. Naturally it would be quite impossible to put her out after hearing
that she had already put herself out to some extent in order to assist
me.
"I can supply the villain for your story if you need one, and I can
give you oceans of ideas about noblemen. I am sorry that I can't give
you a nice, sweet heroine. People hate heroines after they are married
and live unhappily. You--"
"The public taste is changing," I interrupted quickly. "Unhappy
marriages are so common nowadays that the women who go into 'em are
always heroines. People like to read about suffering and anguish among
the rich, too. Besides, you are a Countess. That puts you near the
first rank among heroines. Don't you think it would be proper at this
point to tell me who you are?"
She regarded me steadfastly for a moment, and then shook her head.
"I'd rather not tell you my name, Mr. Smart. It really can't matter,
you know. I've thought it all out very carefully, and I've decided
that it is not best for you to know. You see if you don't know who it
is you are sheltering, the courts can't hold you to account. You will
be quite innocent of deliberately contriving to defeat the law. No,
I shall not tell you my name, nor my husband's, nor my father's. If
you'd like to know, however, I will tell you my baby's name. She's two
years old and I think she'll like you to call her Rosemary."
By this time I was quite hypnotised by this charming, confident
trespasser upon my physical--and I was about to say my moral estate.
Never have I known a more complacent violater of all the proprieties
of law and order as she appeared to be. She was a revelation; more
than that, she was an inspiration. What a courageous, independent,
fascinating little buccaneer she was! Her calm tone of assurance, her
overwhelming confidence in herself, despite the occasional lapse into
despair, staggered me. I couldn't help being impressed. If I had had
any thought of ejecting her, bag and baggage, from my castle, it had
been completely knocked out of my head and I was left, you might say,
in a position which gave me no other alternative than to consider
myself a humble instrument in the furthering of her ends, whether I
would or no. It was most amazing. Superior to the feeling of scorn I
naturally felt for her and her kind,--the fools who make international
beds and find them filled with thorns,--there was the delicious
sensation of being able to rise above my prejudices and become a willing
conspirator against that despot, Common Sense.
She was very sure of herself, that was plain; and I am positive that
she was equally sure of me. It isn't altogether flattering, either,
to feel that a woman is so sure of you that there isn't any doubt
concerning her estimate of your offensive strength. Somehow one feels
an absence of physical attractiveness.
"Rosemary," I repeated. "And what am I to call you?"
"Even my enemies call me Countess," she said coldly.
"Oh," said I, more respectfully. "I see. When am I to have the pleasure
of meeting the less particular Rosemary?"
"I didn't mean to be horrid," she said plaintively. "Please overlook
it, Mr. Smart. If you are very, very quiet I think you may see her
now. She is asleep."
"I may frighten her if she awakes," I said in haste, remembering my
antipathy to babies.
Nevertheless I was led through a couple of bare, unfurnished rooms
into a sunny, perfectly adorable nursery. A nursemaid,--English, at
a glance,--arose from her seat in the window and held a cautious finger
to her lips. In the middle of a bed that would have accommodated an
entire family, was the sleeping Rosemary--a tiny, rosy-cheeked, yellow
haired atom bounded on four sides by yards of mattress.
I stood over her timorously and stared. The Countess put one knee upon
the mattress and, leaning far over, kissed a little paw. I blinked,
like a confounded booby.
Then we stole out of the room.
"Isn't she adorable?" asked the Countess when we were at a safe
distance.
"They all are," I said grudgingly, "when they're asleep."
"You are horrid!"
"By the way," I said sternly, "how does that bedstead happen to be a
yard or so lower than any other bed in this entire castle? All the
rest of them are so high one has to get into them from a chair."
"Oh," she said complacently, "it was too high for Blake to manage
conveniently, so I had Rudolph saw the legs off short."
One of my very finest antique bedsteads! But I didn't even groan.
"You will let me stay on, won't you, Mr. Smart?" she said, when we
were at the fireplace again. "I am really so helpless, you know."
I offered her everything that the castle afforded in the way of loyalty
and luxury.
"And we'll have a telephone in the main hall before the end of a week,"
I concluded beamingly.
Her face clouded. "Oh, I'd much rather have it in my hallway, if you
don't mind. You see, I can't very well go downstairs every time I want
to use the 'phone, and it will be a nuisance sending for me when I'm
wanted."
This was rather high-handed, I thought.
"But if no one knows you're here, it seems to me you're not likely to
be called."
"You never can tell," she said mysteriously.
I promised to put the instrument in her hall, and not to have an
extension to my rooms for fear of creating suspicion. Also the electric
bell system was to be put in just as she wanted it to be. And a lot
of other things that do not seem to come to mind at this moment.
I left in a daze at half-past three, to send Britton up with all the
late novels and magazines, and a big box of my special cigarettes.