MRS. SANDFORD WINKS
A week in Sorrento, during which Merrihew saw all the beautiful villas,
took tea with the Russian princess, made a martyr of himself trying to
acquire a taste for the sour astringent wines of the country, and bought
inlaid-wood paper-cutters and silk socks and neckties and hat-bands,
enough, in truth, to last him for several generations; another week in
Capri, where, at the Zum Kater Hidigeigei, he exchanged compliments with
the green parrot, drank good beer, played _batseka_ (a game of
billiards) with the exiles (for Capri has as many as Cairo!) and beat
them out of sundry lire, toiled up to the ledge where the playful
Tiberius (see guide-books) tipped over his whilom favorites, bought a
marine daub; and then back to Naples and the friendly smells. His
constant enthusiasm and refreshing observations were a tonic to Hillard.
At the hotel in Naples they found a batch of mail. There was a letter
which held particular interest to Merrihew. It was from the consul at
Rome, a reply to Hillard's inquiries regarding the American Comic Opera
Company.
"We'll now find out where your charming Kitty is," Hillard said,
breaking the seal.
But they didn't. On the contrary, the writer hadn't the slightest idea
where the play-actors were or had gone. They had opened a two weeks'
engagement at the Teatro Quirino. There had been a good house on the
opening night; the remainder of the week did not show the sale of a
hundred tickets. It was a fallacy that traveling Americans had any
desire to witness American productions in Italy. So, then, the managers
of the theater had abruptly canceled the engagement. The American
manager had shown neither foresight nor common sense. He had, in the
first place, come with his own scenery and costumes, upon which he had
to pay large duties, and would have to pay further duties each time he
entered a large city. His backer withdrew his support; and the
percentage demanded by the managers in Florence, Genoa, Milan and Venice
was so exorbitant (although they had agreed to a moderate term in the
beginning) that it would have been nothing short of foolhardiness to try
to fill the bookings. The singing of the prima donna, however, had
created a highly favorable impression among the critics; but she was
unknown, and to be unknown was next to positive failure, financially.
This information, the writer explained, had been obtained by personal
investigation. The costumes and scenery had been confiscated; and the
manager and his backer had sailed for America, leaving the members of
the company to get back the best way they could. As none of the players
had come to the consulate for assistance, their whereabouts were
unknown. The writer also advised Mr. Hillard not to put his money in any
like adventure. Italy was strongly against any foreign invasion, aside
from the American trolley-car.
"That's hard luck," growled Merrihew, who saw his hopes go down the
horizon.
"But it makes me out a pretty good prophet," was Hillard's rejoinder.
"The Angel's money gave out. Too many obstacles. To conquer a people and
a government by light opera--it can't be done here. And so the American
Comic Opera Company at the present moment is vegetating in some little
_pensione_, waiting for money from home."
Merrihew gnawed the end of his cane. All his pleasant dreams had burst
like soap-bubbles. Had they not always done so? There would be no jaunts
with Kitty, no pleasant little excursions, no little suppers after the
performance. And what's a Michelangelo or a Titian when a man's in love?
"Brace up, Dan. Who knows? Kitty may be on the high seas, that is, if
she has taken my advice and got a return-ticket. I'll give you a dinner
at the Bertolini to-night, and you may have the magnum of any vintage
you like. We'll have Tomass' drive us down the Via Caracciolo. It will
take some of the disappointment out of your system."
"Any old place," was the joyless response. "Seems to me that Italy has
all the cards when it comes to graft."
"America, my boy, is only in the primary department. Kitty's manager
forgot the most important thing of the whole outfit."
"What's that?"
"The Itching Palm. Evidently it had not been properly soothed. Come on;
we may run across some of our ship-acquaintances. To-morrow we'll start
for Rome, and then we shall add our own investigations to those of the
consul."
They had ridden up and down the Via Caracciolo twice when they espied a
huge automobile, ultramarine blue. It passed with a cloud of dust and a
rumble which was thunderous. Hillard half rose from his seat.
"Somebody you know?" asked Merrihew.
"The man at the wheel looked a bit like Sandford."
"Sandford? By George, that would be jolly!"
"Perhaps they will come this way again. Tomass', follow that motor."
Sure enough, when the car reached the Largo Vittoria, it wheeled and
came rumbling back. This time Hillard had no doubts. He stood up and
waved his arms. The automobile barked and groaned and came to a stand.
"Hello, Sandford!"
"Jack Hillard, as I live, and Dan Merrihew! Nell?" turning to one of the
three pretty women in the tonneau. "What did I tell you? I felt it in my
bones that we would run across some one we knew."
"Or over them," his wife laughed.
In a foreign land one's flag is no longer eyed negligently and
carelessly, as though it possessed no significance; it now becomes a
symbol of the soil wherein our hearts first took root. A popular tune we
have once scorned, now, when heard, catches us by the throat; the merest
acquaintance becomes a long-lost brother; and persons to whom we nod
indifferently at home now take the part of tried and true friends. But
when we meet an old friend, one who has accepted our dinners and with
whom we have often dined, what is left but to fall on his neck and weep?
There was, then, over this meeting, much ado with handshaking and
compliments, handshaking and questions; and, as in all cases like this,
every one talked at once. How was old New York? How was the winter in
Cairo? And so forth and so on, till a policeman politely told them that
this was not a private thoroughfare, and that they were blocking the
way. So they parted, the two young men having promised to dine with the
Sandford party that evening.
"What luck, Dan!" Hillard was exuberant.
"Saves you the price of a dinner."
"I wasn't thinking of that. But I shall find out all about her
to-night."
"Who?"
"The Lady in the Fog, the masquerading lady!"
"Bah! I should prefer something more solid than a vanishing lady."
"Look here, Dan, I never throw cold water on you."
"There have been times when it would have done my head good."
Sandford knew how to order a dinner; and so by the time that Merrihew
had emptied his second glass of Burgundy and his first of champagne, he
was in the haze of golden confidence. He would find Kitty, and when he
found her he would find her heart as well.
"Say, Jack," said Sandford, "what did you mean by that fool cable,
anyhow?"
Hillard had been patiently waiting for an opening of this sort. "And
what did you mean by hoaxing me?"
"Hoaxing you?"
"That's the word. I was in your house that night; I was there as surely
as I am here to-night."
"Nell, am I crazy, or is it Jack?"
"Sometimes," said Mrs. Sandford, "when you put the chauffeur in the
tonneau, I'm inclined to think that it is you."
Hillard looked straight into the placid grey eyes of his hostess. Very
slowly one of the white lids drooped. His heart bounded.
"But really," continued Sandford seriously, "unless you bribed the
caretaker, you could not possibly have entered the house. You have been
dreaming."
"Very well, then; it begins to look as if I had." It was apparent to
Hillard that Sandford was not in his wife's confidence in all things. He
also saw the wisdom of dropping the subject while at the table. To take
up the thread of that romance again! He needed no wine to tingle his
blood.
They took coffee and liqueur in the glass-inclosed balcony. All Naples
sparkled at their feet, and the young moon rose over the Sorrentine
Hills. Sandford and Merrihew and the other two ladies began an animated
exchange of experiences. Hillard found a quiet nook, not far from the
lift. He saw that Mrs. Sandford's chair was placed so that she could get
a good view of the superb night. He sat down himself, sipped his liqueur
meditatively, drank his coffee, and, as she nodded, lighted a cigarette.
"Well?" she said, smiling into his brown eyes. She was rather fond of
Hillard; a gentleman always, and one of excellent taste. There was never
any wearisome innuendo in his wit nor suggestion in his stories.
"You deliberately winked at me," he began.
"I deliberately did."
"Sandford is in the dark; I suspected as much."
"Regarding the wink?"
"Regarding the mysterious woman who occupied your house by your express
authority, and who rode the hunter in the park."
"Was there ever a more beautiful picture?" sweeping her hands toward the
city.
"The beauty of it will last several hours yet. Who and what was she?"
"I wish I could find you a wife; you would make a good husband."
"Thank you. I am even willing, with your assistance, to prove it. Who
was she, and how came she in your house?"
"She wished that favor, and that her presence in New York should not be
known. Now, describe to me exactly what happened. I am worrying about
the plate and the silver."
He laughed. "And you will meet me half-way?"
"I promise to tell you all I ... dare."
"There is a mystery?"
"Yes. So begin with your side of it."
He was a capital story-teller. He recounted the adventure in all its
color; the voice under his window, the personals in the paper, the
interchange of letters, the extraordinary dinner, the mask in the
envelope. She followed him with breathless interest.
"Charming, charming!" She clapped her hands. "And how well you tell it!
You have told it just as it happened."
"Just as it happened!" confounded for a moment.
"Exactly. I have had a letter, two, in fact. You did not see her face?"
"Only the chin and mouth. But if I ever meet her again I shall know her
by her teeth."
"Heavens! And how?"
"Two lower ones are gone; otherwise they would be beautiful."
"Poor man! You have builded your house upon the sands. Her teeth are
perfect. She has fooled you."
"But I saw with these two eyes!"
"There is a preparation which theatrical people use; a kind of gum. She
mentioned the trick. Isn't she clever?"
"Yet I shall know her hair," doggedly.
She put her hands swiftly to her head. "Now, you have known me for
years. What is the color of my hair?"
"Why, it is blond."
"Nothing of the kind. It is auburn. If you can not tell mine, how will
you tell hers?"
"I shall probably run after every red-headed woman in Europe till I find
her," humorously.
"If you can keep out of jail long enough."
"I shall at any rate remember her voice."
"That is better. Our ears never deceive half so often as our eyes."
"Her face is not scarred, is it?"
"Scarred!" indignantly. "She is as beautiful as a Raphael, as lovely as
a Bouguereau. If I were a man I should gladly journey round the world
for the sight of her."
"I am willing, even anxious."
"I should fall in love with her."
"I believe I have."
"And I should marry her, too."
"Even that."
"Come, Mr. Hillard; I am just fooling. You are too sensible a man to
fall in love with a shadow, a mask. Your fancy has been trapped, that is
all. One does not fall in love that way."
"You ought to know," with a sidelong glance at Sandford.
As her glance followed his, hers grew warm and kindly. Sandford, by
chance meeting the look, smiled back across the room. This little
by-play filled Hillard with a sense of envy and loneliness. At
three-and-thirty a bachelor realizes that there is something else in
life besides business and travel.
"It is quite useless to ask who she is?" he inquired of his hostess.
"Quite useless."
"She is married?"
"Certainly I have not said so."
He flicked the ash from his cigarette. What was the use of trying to
trap a woman into saying what she did not propose to say?
"Have you those letters?"
"One of them I'll show you."
"Why not the other?"
"It would be wasting time. It merely relates to your adventure. She
sailed the day after you dined with her."
"That accounts for the shutters. The police and the caretaker were
bribed."
"I suspect they were."
"If I were a vain man, and you know I am not, I might ask you if she
spoke well of me in this letter. Understand, I am not inquiring."
"But you put the question as adroitly as a woman. We are sure of vanity
always. Yes, she spoke of you. She found you to be an agreeable
gentleman. But," with gentle malice, "she did not say that she wished
she had met you years ago, under more favorable circumstances, or that
she liked your eyes, which are really fine ones."
He had to join in her laughter.
"Come, give me the death-stroke and have done with it. Tell me what you
dare, and I'll be content with it."
She opened her handkerchief purse and delved among the various articles
therein.
"I expected that you would be asking questions, so I came prepared. I
did not tell my husband for that very reason. He would have insisted
upon knowing everything. Here, read this. It is only a glimpse."
He searched eagerly for the signature.
"Don't bother," she said. "The name is only a nickname we gave her at
school."
"School? Do you mean to tell me that you went to school with her?
Where?"
"In Pennsylvania first; then in Milan. Read."
O Cara Mia--If only you knew how sorry I am to miss you! Why must
you sail at once? Why not come to my beautiful Venice? True, I
could not entertain you as in the days of my good father. But I
have so much to say to you that can not be written. You ask about
the adventure. Pouf! goes my little dream of greatness. It was a
blank failure. Much as I knew about Italy I could not know
everything. The officials put unheard-of obstacles in our path. The
contracts were utterly disregarded. In the first place, we had not
purchased our costumes and scenery in Italy.
"Costumes and scenery?" Hillard sought the signature again. Mrs.
Sandford was staring at the moonlit bay.
That poor manager! And that poor man who advanced the money! They
forgot that the booking is as nothing, the incidentals everything.
The base of all the trouble was a clerk in the consulate at Naples.
He wrote us that there would be no duties on costumes and scenery.
Alas! the manager and his backer are on the way to America, sadder
and wiser men. We surrendered our return tickets to the chorus and
sent them home. The rest of us are stranded--is not that the
word?--here in Venice, waiting for money from home. If I were
alone, it would be highly amusing; but these poor people with me!
There is only one way I can help them, but that, never. You
recollect that my personal income is quarterly, and it will be two
months before I shall have funds. I could get it advanced, but I
dare not. There are persons moving Heaven and earth to find me. My
companions haven't the least idea who I am; to them I am one of the
profession. So here we all are, wandering about the Piazza San
Marco, calling at Cook's every day in hopes of money, and
occasionally risking a penny in corn for the doves. I am staying
with my nurse, my mother's maid, in the Canipo Santa Maria Formosa,
near our beloved Santa Barbara. Very quietly I have guaranteed the
credit of my unfortunate companions, and they believe that
Venetians are very generous people. Generous! Think of it! Come to
Venice, dear; it is all nonsense that you must return to America.
Perhaps you will wonder how I dared appear on the stage in Italy. A
black wig and a theatrical make-up; these were sufficient. A duke
sent me an invitation to take supper with him, as if I were a
ballerina! I sent one of the American chorus girls, a little minx
for mischief. She ate his supper, and then ran away. I understand
that he was furious. Only a few months more, Nell, and then I may
come and go as I please. Come to Venice. Capricciosa.
Hillard did not stir. Another labyrinth to this mystery! Capricciosa;
Kitty Killigrew's unknown prima donna; and all he had to do was to take
the morning train for Venice, and twenty-four hours later he would be
prowling through the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. Though his mind was busy
with a hundred thoughts, his head was still bent and his eyes riveted
upon the page.
Mrs. Sandford observed him curiously, even sadly. Why couldn't his fancy
have been charmed by an every-day, sensible girl, and not by this
whimsical, extraordinary woman who fooled diplomats, flaunted dukes, and
kept a king at arm's length as a pastime? And yet--!
"Capricciosa," he mused aloud. "That is not her name."
"And I shall not tell it you."
"But her given name? Just a straw; something to hold on; I'm a drowning
man." Hillard's pleadings would have melted a heart of stone.
"It is Hilda."
"That is German."
"She prefers it to Sonia."
"Sonia Hilda; it begins well. May I keep this letter?"
"Certainly not. With that _cara mia_? Give it to me."
He did so. "Shall I seek her?"
"This is my advice: don't think of her after to-night. If you ever see
or recognize her, avoid her. It may sound theatrical, but she is the
innocent cause of two deaths. These men sought her openly, too."
"What has she done?"
"She made a great, though common, mistake."
"Political?"
Her lips closed firmly, but a smile lurked in the corners.
He sighed.
"Don't be foolish. I am sorry I let you see the letter. I forgot that
she told me her hiding-place."
"Her hiding-place?"
"Mr. Hillard, she is as far removed from your orbit as Mars' is from
Jupiter's. Forget her."
"My orbit is not limited. I shall seek her; when I find her I
shall ... marry her."
But her lips closed again.
"Sphinx!" he murmured with reproach.
"I like you too much, Mr. Hillard, to stand by and see you break your
heart against a stone wall."
"Don't you see, the deeper the mystery is the more powerful the
attraction becomes?"
The door to the lift opened and closed noisily, and Hillard turned
negligently. A man sauntered through the room. The moment he came into
the light Hillard's interest became lively enough: It was the handsome
Italian with the scar.
"Who is that man?" he whispered. "Only a few weeks ago I bumped into him
on coming out of the club."
A swift glance, then her eyes grew unfriendly, her shoulders rigid and
repellent.
"Do not attract his attention," she answered in a low tone. "Yes, I know
him, and I do not wish him to see me."
"Who is he?" he repeated.
"A Venetian officer, and a profligate. I entertained him once, but I
learned from him that I had been ill-advised."
Hillard saw that this subject would admit of no further questions. The
man with the scar had committed some inexcusable offense, and Mrs.
Sandford had crossed him off the list. He knew that the Italian officer
is, more or less, a lady's man; and the supreme confidence he has in the
power of brass buttons and gold lace makes him at times insufferable.
It was after ten when Hillard and his friend took their leave. They
would not see their host and hostess again till they reached New York.
Upon coming out on the Corso, Hillard whistled merrily.
"Pleasant evening," was Merrihew's comment.
Hillard continued to whistle.
"Good dinner, too."
The whistle went on serenely, in spite of Merrihew's obvious attempts to
choke it off.
"You seemed to have a good deal to say to Mrs. Sandford. She knows the
lady who was in the house?"
Still the whistle.
"Say, wake up!" cried Merrihew impatiently.
"We shall leave in the morning for Venice," said Hillard, taking up the
tune again.
"Venice? How about Rome and Florence?"
"Which would you prefer: Rome and the antiquities, or Venice and--Kitty
Killigrew?"
"Kitty in Venice? Are you sure?"
"She is there with La Signorina Capricciosa. Oh, this is a fine world,
after all, and I was wrong to speak ill of it this morning."
"If Kitty's in Venice, I'm an ungrateful beggar, too. But I do not see
why Kitty's being in Venice excites you."
"No? Well, fate writes that Kitty's mysterious prima donna and my Lady
of the Mask are one and the same person."
"No!"
The two, without further words, marched along the middle of the Corso to
the hotel, which was only a few steps away. They entered. The concierge
started toward them as if he desired to impart some valuable
information, but suddenly reconsidered, and retreated to his bandbox of
an office and busied himself with the ever-increasing _debours_. The
strangeness of his movements passed unnoticed by the two men, who
continued on through the lobby, turning into the first corridor. Hillard
inserted his key in the door of his room, unlocked it, and swung it
inward. This done, he paused irresolutely on the threshold, and with
good cause.
"What the devil can this mean?" he whispered to Merrihew, who peered
over his shoulder.
Two dignified _carabinieri_ rose quickly and approached Hillard. There
was something in the flashing eyes and set jaws that made him realize
that the safest thing for him to do at that moment was to stand
perfectly still!