THE CHARITY BALL
They were not long in finding out what had happened to Saunders. After
luncheon, while Browne and the three ladies were completing the
preparations for the entertainment. Miss Pelham appeared before
Deppingham and Chase in the former's headquarters. She had asked for an
interview and was accompanied by Mr. Britt.
"Lord Deppingham," she began, seating herself coolly before the two men,
her eyes dark with decision, "I approach you as the recognised head of
this establishment. I shan't detain you long. My attorney, Mr. Britt,
will explain matters to you after I have retired. He--"
"Your attorney? What does this mean?" gasped Deppingham, visions of
blackmail in mind. "What's up, Britt? I deny every demmed word of it,
whatever it is!"
"Just a little private affair," murmured Britt, uncomfortably.
"Private?" sniffed Miss Pelham, involuntarily rearranging her hat. "I
think it has been quite public, Mr. Britt. That's the trouble." Lord
Deppingham looked worried and Chase had the feeling that some wretched
disclosure was about to be made by the sharp-tongued young woman. He
looked at her with a hard light in his eyes. She caught the glance and
stared back for a moment defiantly. Then she appeared to remember that
she always had longed for his good opinion--perhaps, she had dreamed of
something more--and her eyes fell; he saw her lip tremble. "I've simply
come to ask Lord Deppingham to stand by me. Mr. Saunders is in his
employ--or Lady Deppingham's, I should say--"
"Which is the same thing," interposed Deppingham, drawing a deeper
breath. He had been trying to recollect if he ever had said anything to
Miss Pelham that might not appear well if repeated.
"Mr. Saunders has deceived me," she announced steadily. "I leave it to
you if his attentions have not been most pronounced. Of course, if I
wanted to, I could show you a transcript of everything he has said to me
in the last couple of months. He didn't know it, but I managed to get
most everything down in shorthand. I did it at the risk, too, your
lordship, of being considered cold and unresponsive by him. It's most
difficult to take conversation without the free use of your hands, I
must say. But I've preserved in my own black and white, every promise he
made and--"
"I'm afraid it won't be good evidence," volunteered her lawyer. "It will
have to be substantiated, my dear."
"Please don't call me 'my dear,' Mr. Britt. Never you mind about it not
being good evidence. Thomas Saunders won't enjoy hearing it read in
court, just the same. What I want to ask of you, Lord Deppingham, as a
friend, is to give Mr. Britt your deposition regarding Mr. Saunders's
attitude toward me, to the best of your knowledge and belief. I'll take
it verbatim and put it into typewriting, free of charge. I--I don't see
anything to laugh at, Mr. Chase!" she cried, flushing painfully.
"My dear girl," he said, controlling himself, "I think you are
misjudging the magnitude of a lover's quarrel. Don't you think it is
rather a poor time to talk breach of promise with the guns of an enemy
ready to take a pop at us at any moment?"
"It's no worse than a charity ball, Mr. Chase," she said severely.
"Charity begins at home, gentlemen, and I'm here to look out for myself.
No one else will, let me tell you that. I want to get the deposition of
every person in the château. They can be sworn to before Mr. Bowles, who
is a magistrate, I'm told. He can marry people and--"
"By Jove!" exclaimed Deppingham suddenly. "Can he? Upon my soul!"
"His manner changed as soon as that horrid little wife of Selim came to
the château. I don't like the way she makes eyes at him and I told him
so this morning, down in the storerooms. My, but he flew up! He said
he'd be damned if he'd marry me." She began to use her handkerchief
vigorously. The men smiled as they looked away.
"I--I intend to sue him for breach of promise," she said thickly.
"Is it as bad as all that?" asked Deppingham consolingly.
"What do you mean by 'bad as all that'? He's kissed me time and again,
but that's all."
"I'll send for Saunders," said Deppingham sternly.
"Not while I'm here," she exclaimed, getting up nervously.
"Just as you like, Miss Pelham. I'll send for you after we've talked it
over with Saunders. We can't afford a scandal in the château, don't you
know."
"No, I should think not," she said pointedly. Then she looked at Chase
and winked, with a meaning nod at the unobserving Deppingham. Chase
followed her into the hall.
"None of that, Miss Pelham," he said severely.
Saunders came in a few minutes later, nervous and uncomfortable.
"You sent for me, my lord," he said weakly.
"Sit down, Saunders. Your knees seem to be troubling you. Miss Pelham is
going to sue you for breach of promise."
"Good Lord!"
"What have you promised her, sir?"
"That I _wouldn't_ marry her, that's all, sir," floundered Saunders.
"She's got no right to presume, sir. Gentlemen always indulge in little
affairs--flirtations, I might say, sir--it's most common. Of course, I
thought she'd understand."
"Don't you love her, Saunders?"
"Oh, I say, my lord, that's rather a pointed question. My word, it is,
sir! There may have been a bit of--er--well, you know--between us, sir,
but--that's all, that's quite all. Absurdly all, 'pon my soul."
"Saunders," said Britt solemnly, "I am her attorney. Be careful what you
say in my presence."
"Britt," said Saunders distinctly, "you are a blooming traitor! You told
me yourself that she was used to all that sort of thing and wouldn't
mind. Now, see what you do? It's--it's outrageous!" He was half in
tears. Then turning to Deppingham, he went on fiercely, "I won't be
bullyragged by any woman, sir. We got along beautifully until she began
to shy figurative pots at me because Selim's wife looked at me
occasionally. Hang it all, sir, I can't help it if the ladies choose to
look at me. Minnie--Miss Pelham--was perfectly silly about it. Good
Lord," he groaned in recollection. "It was a very trying scene she made,
sir. More than ever, it made me realise that I can't marry beneath me.
You see, my lord, we've got a fairish sort of social position out
Hammersmith way--as far out as Putney, I might say, where we have rather
swell friends, my mother and I--and I don't think--"
"Saunders," said Lord Deppingham sternly, "she loves you. I don't
understand why or how, but she does. Just because you have obtained an
exalted social position at Hammersmith Bridge is no reason you should
become a snob. I daresay she stands just as well at Brooklyn Bridge as
you do at Hammersmith. She's a fine girl and would be an adornment to
you, such as Hammersmith could be proud of. If you want my candid
opinion, Saunders, I think you're a silly ass!"
"Do you really, my lord?" quite humbly.
"Shall I prove it to you by every man on the place? Miss Pelham is quite
good enough for any one of us. I'd be proud to have her as my wife--if I
lived at Hammersmith Bridge."
"You amaze me, sir!"
"She's a very pretty girl," volunteered Chase glibly.
"Oh, she could marry like a flash in New York," said Britt. "A dozen men
I know of are crazy about her. Good-looking chaps, too," The sarcasm
escaped Saunders, who was fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Of course--you know--the breaking of the engagement--I should say the
row, wasn't of my doing," he submitted, pulling at his finger joints
nervously.
"I'm afraid it can't be patched up, either," said Britt dolefully.
"She's been insulted, you see--"
"Insulted? My eye! I wouldn't say anything to hurt her for the world. I
may have been agitated--very likely I said a sharp word or two. But as
for insulting her--never! She's told me herself a thousand times that
she doesn't mind the word 'damn' in the least. That may have misled
me--"
"Saunders, we can't have our only romance marred by a breach of promise
suit," said his lordship resolutely. "There is simply got to be a
wedding in the end or the whole world will hate us. Every romance must
have its young lovers, and even though it doesn't run smooth, love will
triumph. So far you have been our prize young lover. You are the
undisputed hero. Don't spoil everything at the last moment, Saunders.
Patch it up, and let's have a wedding in the last chapter. You should
not forget that it was you who advocated multi-marriage. Try it once for
yourself, and, if you like it, by Jove, we'll all come to your
succeeding marriages and bless you, no matter how many wives you take
unto yourself."
Saunders, very much impressed by these confidences, bowed himself out of
the room, followed by Britt, of whom he implored help in the effort to
bring about a reconciliation. He was sorely distressed by Britt's
apparent reluctance to compromise the case without mature deliberation.
"You see, old chap," mused Deppingham, after their departure, "matrimony
is no trifling thing, after all. No matter whether it contemplates a
garden in Hammersmith or an island in the South Seas, it has its
drawbacks."
The charity ball began at ten o'clock, schedule time. If all of those
who participated were not in perfect sympathy with the spirit of the mad
whim, they at least did not deport themselves after the fashion of wet
blankets. To be quite authentic, but two of the promoters were heartily
involved in the travesty--Lady Agnes, whose sprightliness was never
dormant, and Bobby Browne, who shone in the glamour of his first
encounter with the nobility. Drusilla Browne, asserting herself as an
American matron, insisted that the invitation list should include the
lowly as well as the mighty. She had her way, and as a result, the bank
employés, the French maids, Antoine and the two corporals of
Rapp-Thorberg's Royal Guard appeared on the floor in the grand march
directly behind Mr. Britt, Mr. Saunders, and Miss Pelham.
"One cannot discriminate at the charity ball," Drusilla had stoutly
maintained. "The _hoi polloi_ and the riff-raff always get in at home.
So, why not here? If we're going to have a charity ball, let's give it
the correct atmosphere."
"I shall feel as if I were dancing with my green grocer," lamented Lady
Agnes. Later on, when the dancing was at its height, she exclaimed with
all the fervour of a charmed imagination: "I feel as the Duchess de
What's-her-name must have felt, Bobby, when she danced all night at her
own ball, and then dressed for the guillotine instead of going to bed.
We may all be shot in the morning."
The Indian fakirs and showmen gave a performance in the courtyard at
midnight. They were followed by the Bedouin tumblers and the inspired
Persians, who danced with frantic abandon and the ripe lust of joy.
There was but one unfortunate accident. Mr. Rivers, formerly of the
bank, got very tight and fell down the steps leading to the courtyard,
breaking his left arm.
Lord Deppingham and Chase kept their heads. They saw to it that the
watch over the grounds and about the château was strictly maintained.
The former led the grand march with the Princess. She was more
ravishingly beautiful than ever. Her gown, exquisitely cool and simple,
suggested that indefinable, unmistakable touch of class that always
marks the distinction between the woman who subdues the gown and the
gown which subdues the woman.
Hollingsworth Chase was dazzled. He discovered, much to his subsequent
amusement, that he was holding his breath as he stared at her from the
opposite side of the banquet hall, which had been transformed into a
ballroom. She had just entered with the Deppinghams. Something seemed to
shout coarsely, scoffingly in his ear: "Now, do you realise the distance
that lies between? She was made for kings and princes, not for such as
you!"
He waited long before presenting himself in quest of the dance he
hungered for so greedily--afraid of her! She greeted him with a new,
brighter light in her eyes; a quiver of delight, long in restraint, came
into her voice; he saw and felt the welcome in her manner.
The blood surged to his head; he mumbled his request. Then, for the
first time, he was near to holding her close in his arms--he was
clasping her fingers, touching her waist, drawing her gently toward his
heart. Once, as they swept around the almost empty ballroom, she looked
up into his eyes. Neither had spoken. His lips parted suddenly and his
fingers closed down upon hers. She saw the danger light in his eyes and
knew the unuttered words that struggled to his lips and stopped there.
She never knew why she did it, but she involuntarily shook her head
before she lowered her eyes. He knew what she meant. His heart turned
cold again and the distance widened once more to the old proportions.
He left her with Bobby Browne and went out upon the cool, starlit
balcony. There he gently cursed himself for a fool, a dolt, an idiot.
The shouts of laughter and the clapping of hands on the inside did not
draw him from his unhappy reverie. He did not know until afterward that
the official announcement of the engagement of Miss Minnie Pelham and
Thomas Saunders was made by Bobby Browne and the health of the couple
drunk in a series of bumpers.
Chase's bitter reflections were at last disturbed by a sound that came
sharply to his attention. He was staring moodily into the night, his
cigarette drooping dejectedly in his lips. The noise came from directly
below where he stood. He peered over the stone railing. The terrace was
barely ten feet below him; a mass of bushes fringed the base of the
wall, dark, thick, fragrant. Some one was moving among these stubborn
bushes; he could hear him plainly. The next moment a dark figure shot
out from the shadows and slunk off into night, followed by another and
another and yet others, seven in all. Chase's mind refused to work
quickly. He stood as one petrified for a full minute, unable to at once
grasp the meaning of the performance.
Then the truth suddenly dawned upon him. The prisoners had escaped from
the dungeon!
He dashed into the ballroom and shouted the alarm. Confusion ensued. He
called out sharp commands as he rushed across to where Deppingham was
chatting with the Princess.
"There's been treachery," he explained quickly. "Some one has released
the prisoners. We must keep them from reaching the walls. They will
overpower our guards and open the gates to the enemy. Britt, see that
the searchlight is trained on the gates. We must stop those fellows
before it is too late. Time enough to hunt for the traitor later on!"
Two minutes later, a swarm of armed men forsook the mock charity ball
and sallied forth to engage in realities. Firing was soon heard at the
western gate, half a mile away. Thither, the eager pursuers rushed. The
wide ray from the searchlight swung down upon this gate and revealed the
forms of struggling men.
The prisoners had fallen suddenly upon the two Greeks who guarded the
western gate, surprising them cleverly. The Greeks fought for their
lives, but were overwhelmed in plain view of the relief party which
raced toward them. Both fell under the clubbed guns of their
adversaries.
Chase and Selim were not more than a hundred yards away when the
desperate Greeks went down. The blinding glare of the searchlight aided
the pursuers, who kept outside its radius. The fugitives, bewildered,
confused by the bright glare in which they found themselves, faced the
light boldly, five of them kneeling with guns raised to protect their
two companions who started across the narrow strip which separated them
from the massive gate. Selim gave a shout and stopped suddenly, throwing
his rifle to his shoulder.
"They have the keys!" he cried. "Shoot!"
His rifle cracked a second later and one of the two men leaped into the
air and fell like a log. Chase understood the necessity for quick work
and fired an instant later. The second man fell in a heap, thirty feet
from the gate. His companions returned the fire at random in the
direction from which the well-aimed shots had come.
"Under cover!" shouted Chase. He and Selim dropped into the shrubbery in
time to escape a withering fire from outside the gates. The searchlight
revealed a compact mass of men beyond the walls. It was then that the
insiders realised how near they had come to being surprised and
destroyed. A minute more, and the gates would have been opened to this
merciless horde.
The prisoners, finding themselves trapped, threw themselves upon the
ground and shrieked for mercy. Lord Deppingham and the others came up
and, scattering well, began to fire at the mass outside the wall. The
islanders were at a disadvantage. They could not locate the opposing
marksmen on account of the blinding light in their faces. It was but a
moment before they were scampering off into the dark wood, shrieking
with rage.
The five fugitives were compelled to carry their fallen comrades and the
two Greeks from the open space in front of the gates to a point where it
was safe for the defenders to approach them without coming in line with
a possible volley from the forest.
A small force was left to guard the gate; the remainder returned as
quickly as possible to the château. The Greeks were unconscious, badly
battered by the clubbed guns. Browne, once more the doctor, attended
them and announced that they would be on their feet in a day or two--"if
complications don't set in." One of the prisoners was dead, shot through
the heart by the deadly Selim. The other had a shattered shoulder.
Immediately upon the return to the château, an inspection of the
dungeons was made, prior to an examination of the servants in the effort
to apprehend the traitor.
The three men who went down into the damp, chill regions below ground
soon returned with set, pale faces. There had been no traitor!
The man whose duty it was to guard the prisoners was found lying inside
the big cell, his throat cut from ear to ear, stone dead!
There was but one solution. He had been seized from within as he came to
the grating in response to a call. While certain fingers choked him into
silence, others held his hands and still others wrenched the keys from
his sash. After that it was easy. Deppingham, Chase and Selim looked at
each other in horror--and, strange as it may seem, relief.
Death was there, but, after all, Death is no traitor.