THE KNAVE OF DIAMONDS
By ETHEL M. DELL
Author of "The Way Of An Eagle"
1912
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIEND AND SISTER IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF
HER SYMPATHY AND HELP
O Charity, all patiently
Abiding wrack and scaith!
O Faith that meets ten thousand cheats
Yet drops no jot of faith!
Devil and brute Thou dost transmute
To higher, lordlier show,
Who art in sooth that lovely Truth
The careless angels know!
_To the True Romance_.
RUDYARD KIPLING
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAPTER
I.--THE MISSING HEART
II.--THE QUEEN'S JESTER
III.--THE CHARIOT OF THE GODS
IV.--CAKE MORNING
V.--THE FIRST ENCOUNTER
VI.--AT THE MEET
VII.--THE FALL
VIII.--THE RIDE HOME
IX.--THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE
X.--THE HAND OF A FRIEND
XI.--THE STING OF A SCORPION
XII.--BROTHERS
XIII.--THE JESTER'S INFERNO
XIV.--A BIG THING
XV.--THE CHAMPION
XVI.--THE MASQUERADE
XVII.--THE SLAVE OF GOODNESS
XVIII.--THE DESCENT FROM OLYMPUS
XIX.--VENGEANCE
XX.--THE VISION
XXI.--AT THE MERCY OF A DEMON
XXII.--THE CITY OF REFUGE
PART II
I.--THE JESTER'S RETURN
II.--THE KERNEL OF THE DIFFICULTY
III.--THE FIRST ORDEAL
IV.--THE FATAL STREAK
V.--THE TOKEN
VI.--THE BURIAL OF A HATCHET
VII.--A QUESTION OF TRUST
VIII.--A SUDDEN BLOW
IX.--THE BOON
X.--A DAY IN PARADISE
XI.--THE RETURN TO EARTH
XII.--IN THE FACE OF THE GODS
XIII.--AN APPEAL AND ITS ANSWER
XIV.--THE IRRESISTIBLE
XV.--ON THE EDGE OF THE PIT
XVI.--DELIVERANCE
PART III
I.--THE POWER DIVINE
II.--THE WORKER OF MIRACLES
III.--THE WOMAN'S PART
IV.--THE MESSAGE
V.--THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND
VI.--A VOICE THAT CALLED
VII.--THE UNINVITED GUEST
VIII.--THE HEART OF A SAVAGE
IX.--THE DIVINE SPARK
X.--THE QUEEN'S PARDON
XI.--SOMETHING GREAT
XII.--A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING
XIII.--THE FINAL DEFEAT
XIV.--AT THE GATE OF DEATH
XV.--THE KING'S DECREE
XVI.--THE STRAIGHT GAME
XVII.--THE TRANSFORMING MAGIC
XVIII.--THE LAST ORDEAL
XIX.--OUT OF THE FURNACE
XX.--THE PROMOTION OF THE QUEEN'S JESTER
XXI.--THE POWER THAT CASTS OUT DEVILS
PART I
CHAPTER I
THE MISSING HEART
There came a sudden blare of music from the great ballroom below, and the
woman who stood alone at an open window on the first floor shrugged her
shoulders and shivered a little. The night air blew in brisk and cold
upon her uncovered neck, but except for that slight, involuntary shiver
she scarcely seemed aware of it. The room behind her was brilliantly
lighted but empty. Some tables had been set for cards, but the cards were
untouched. Either the attractions of the ballroom had remained
omnipotent, or no one had penetrated to this refuge of the bored--no one
save this tall and stately woman robed in shimmering, iridescent green,
who stood with her face to the night, breathing the chill air as one who
had been on the verge of suffocation. It was evidently she who had flung
up the window. Her gloved hands leaned upon the woodwork on each side of
it. There was a certain constraint in her whole attitude, a tension that
was subtly evident in every graceful line. Her head was slightly bent as
though she intently watched or listened for something.
Yet nothing could have been audible where she stood above the hubbub of
music, laughter, and stamping feet that rose from below. It filled the
night with uproar. Nor was there anything but emptiness in the narrow
side-street into which she looked.
The door of the room was ajar and gradually swinging wider in the
draught. Very soon it would be wide enough for anyone passing in the
passage outside to spy the slim figure that stood so motionless before
the open window. It was almost wide enough now. Surely it was wide
enough, for suddenly it ceased to move. The draught continued to eddy
round the room, stirring the soft brown hair about the woman's temples,
but the door stood still as at the behest of an unseen hand.
For fully half a minute nothing happened; then as suddenly and silently
as a picture flashed from a magic lantern slide, a man's head came into
view. A man's eyes, dusky, fierce, with something of a stare in them,
looked the motionless figure keenly up and down.
There followed another interval as though the intruder were debating
with himself upon some plan of action, then, boldly but quite quietly, he
pushed the door back and entered.
He was a slight, trim man, clean-shaven, with high cheek-bones that made
a long jaw seem the leaner by contrast. His sleek black hair was parted
in the middle above his swarthy face, giving an unmistakably foreign
touch to his appearance. His tread was light and wary as a cat's.
His eyes swept the room comprehensively as he advanced, coming back
to the woman at the window as though magnetically drawn to her. But
she remained quite unaware of him, and he, no whit disconcerted,
calmly seated himself at one of the tables behind her and took up a
pack of cards.
The dance-music in the room below was uproariously gay. Some of the
dancers were singing. Now and then a man's voice bellowed through the
clamour like the blare of a bull.
Whenever this happened, the man at the table smiled to himself a faint,
thin-lipped smile, and the woman at the window shivered again.
Suddenly, during a lull, he spoke. He was counting out the cards into
heaps with lightning rapidity, turning up one here and there, and he did
not raise his eyes from his occupation.
"I say, you know," he said in a drawl that was slightly nasal, "you will
have to tell me how old you are. Is that an obstacle?"
She wheeled round at the first deliberate syllable. The electric
light flared upon her pale, proud face. She stood in dead silence,
looking at him.
"You mustn't mind," he said persuasively, still without lifting his eyes.
"I swear I'll never tell. Come now!"
Very quietly she turned and closed the window; then with a certain
stateliness she advanced to the table at which he sat, and stopped
before it.
"I think you are making a mistake," she said, in a voice that had a hint
of girlish sweetness about it despite its formality.
He looked up then with a jerk, and the next instant was on his feet.
"Gad! I'm tremendously sorry! What must you take me for? I took you for
Mrs. Damer. I beg you will forgive me."
She smiled a little, and some of the severity went out of her face. For a
moment that too seemed girlish.
"It is of no consequence. I saw it was a mistake."
"An idiotic mistake!" he declared with emphasis. "And you are not a bit
like Mrs. Damer either. Are you waiting for someone? Would you like me to
clear out?"
"Certainly not. I am going myself."
"Oh, but don't!" he begged her very seriously. "I shall take it horribly
to heart if you do. And really, I don't deserve such a snub as that."
Again she faintly smiled. "I am not feeling malicious, but you are
expecting your partner. And I--"
"No, I am not," he asserted. "My partner has basely deserted me for
another fellow. I came in here merely because I was wandering about
seeking distraction. Please don't go--unless I bore you--in which case
you have only to dismiss me."
She turned her eyes questioningly upon the cards before him. "What are
you doing with them? Is it a game?"
"Won't you sit down?" he said, "and I will tell you."
She seated herself facing him. "Well?"
He considered the cards for a little, his brows bent. Then, "It is a
magician's game," he said. "Let me read your fortune."
She hesitated.
Instantly he looked up. "You are not afraid?"
She met his look, a certain wistfulness in her grey eyes. "Oh, no, not
afraid--only sceptical."
"Only sceptical!" he echoed. "That is a worldwide complaint. But anyone
with imagination can always pretend. You are not good at pretending?"
"Not particularly."
His eyes challenged hers. "Perhaps you have never needed an anaesthetic?"
he said coolly.
She looked slightly startled. "What do you mean?"
He leaned deliberately forward across the table. "You know what an
anaesthetic does, don't you? It cheats the senses of pain. And a little
humbug does the same for the mind. Of course you don't believe anything.
I don't myself. But you can't stand for ever and contemplate an abyss of
utter ignorance. You must weave a little romance about it for the sake of
your self-respect."
She looked straight into the challenging eyes. The wistfulness was still
in her own. "Then you are offering to weave a little romance for me?" she
said, with a faint involuntary sigh.
He made her a brief bow. "If you will permit me to do so."
"To relieve your boredom?" she suggested with a smile.
"And yours," he smiled back, taking up the cards.
She did not contradict him. She only lowered her eyes to the deft hands
that were disposing the cards in mystic array upon the table.
There followed a few moments of silence; then in his careless, unmusical
drawl the man spoke.
"Do you mind telling me your first name? It is essential to the game, of
course, or I shouldn't presume to ask."
"My name is Anne," she said.
The noise below had lessened considerably, and this fact seemed to cause
her some relief. The tension had gone out of her bearing. She sat with
her chin upon her hand.
Not a beautiful woman by any means, she yet possessed that indescribable
charm which attracts almost in spite of itself. There was about her
every movement a queenly grace that made her remarkable, and yet she was
plainly not one to court attention. Her face in repose had a look of
unutterable weariness.
"How old are you please?" said the magician.
"Twenty-five."
He glanced up at her.
"Yes, twenty-five," she repeated. "I am twenty-five to-day."
He looked at her fixedly for a few seconds, then in silence returned to
his cards.
She continued to watch him without much interest. The dance-music was
quickening to the _finale_. The hubbub of voices had died away. Evidently
a good many people had ceased to dance.
Suddenly her companion spoke. "Do you like diamonds?"
She smiled at the question. "Yes, I like them. I haven't a passion
for them."
"No," he said, without raising his eyes. "You haven't a passion for
anything at present. You will have soon."
"I think it very unlikely," she said.
"Of course you do." He was manoeuvring the cards rapidly with one hand.
"Your eyes have not been opened yet. I see an exciting time before you.
You are going to have an illness first. That comes in the near future."
"I have never been ill in my life," she said.
"No? It will be an experience for you, then--not a very painful one, I
hope. Are you getting nervous?"
"Not in the least."
"Ah! That's as well, because here comes the King of Diamonds. He has
taken a decided fancy to you, and if you have any heart at all, which
I can't discover, you ought to end by being the Queen. No, here comes
the Knave--confound his impudence!--and, by Jove, yes, followed by the
missing heart. I am glad you have got one anyway, even if the King is
not in it. It looks as if you will have some trouble with that Knave,
so beware of him." He glanced up at her for a moment. "Beware of him!"
he repeated deliberately. "He is a dangerous scamp. The King is the
man for you."
She received his caution with that faint smile of hers that softened her
face but never seemed to reach her eyes.
He continued his contemplation of the cards in silence for some seconds.
"Yes," he said finally, "I see an exciting future before you. I hope you
will look out for me when you come into your own. I should value your
majesty's favour immensely."
"I will give you a place at court as the Queen's jester," she said.
He glanced up again sharply, met her smile, and bowed with much ceremony.
"Your majesty's most humble servant!" he declared, "I enter upon my
functions from this day forward. You will see my cap and bells in the
forefront of the throng when you ride to your coronation."
"You are sure there will be a coronation?" she asked.
"It is quite evident," he replied with conviction.
"Even though I chance to be married already?"
He raised his brows. "That so?" he drawled. "Well, it rather complicates
matters, doesn't it? Still--" He looked again at the cards. "It seems
pretty certain. If it weren't for that hobgoblin of a Knave I should say
it was quite so. He comes between the King and the heart, you see. I
shouldn't be too intimate with him if I were you."
She rose, still smiling. "I shall certainly keep him at a respectful
distance," she said. "Good-bye."
"Oh, are you going? Let me escort you! Really, I've nothing else to do."
He swept the cards together and sprang to his feet. "Where may I take
you? Would you like some refreshment?"
She accepted his proffered arm though she instantly negatived his
proposal. "Shall we go down to the vestibule? No doubt you have a partner
for the next dance."
"Have you?" he questioned keenly.
"That is beside the point," she remarked.
"Not at all. It is the centre and crux of the situation. Do say you are
disengaged for the next!" His manner became almost boyishly eager. He
had shed his drawl like a garment. "Say it!" he insisted.
She stood in the doorway as one halting between two opinions. "But if I
am not disengaged?" she said.
He laughed. "There is a remedy for that, I fancy. And the Queen can do
no wrong. Don't be a slave to the great god Convention! He's such a
hideous bore."
His bold dark eyes smiled freely into hers. It was evident that he wasted
little time before the shrine of the deity he condemned. But for all
their mastery, they held a certain persuasive charm as well. She
hesitated a moment longer--and was lost.
"Well, where shall we go?"
"I know of an excellent sitting-out place if your majesty will deign to
accompany me," he said, "a corner where one can see without being
seen--always an advantage, you will allow."
"You seem to know this place rather well," she observed, as she suffered
him to lead her away in triumph.
He smiled shrewdly. "A wise general always studies his ground," he said.