De Freyne was puzzled about Alexandra. Her furs and her frocks baffled
him. When it transpired that she was still living in Sidey Street she
became more than ever an enigma to him. He could not reconcile that
neighborhood with her new and expensive appearance. Business instincts
apart from curiosity made him keep an eye on her. Some acquaintance
with the private affairs of his fair and usually frail merchandise was
sometimes of value to him. Like a good tradesman it was his habit to
take stock of it.
One thing he could not reconcile with Alexandra's apparent opulence: he
never saw her lunching or supping at the Savoy or similar places. Nor
did she appear to have a motor-car, that invariable sign of private
advancement. Not knowing what to make of it he was reduced to detaining
Maggy on pretext of business one matinee afternoon and sounding her
about her friend.
"By the way," he observed casually, after mildly cautioning her against
a want of punctuality of which she had been guilty on the previous
night. "By the way, Miss Hersey seems to have come to her senses at
last. But why does her friend keep in the background?"
Maggy saw that De Freyne took it for granted that Alexandra had a man
behind her. She also knew that it would not be to her advantage to
correct the assumption. She even deemed it wise to stimulate his
imagination. It was easy to do that with a mysterious smile and a
knowing shake of the head.
"It's a bit of a State secret," she said with just the right amount of
hesitation. "I oughtn't to say anything about it. I--I've never seen
his Roy--him, I mean."
De Freyne pricked up his ears.
"But you know who he is? Some foreigner, I suppose?"
"Oh, there wouldn't be any need for secrecy about a foreigner,"
protested Maggy with wicked plausibility.
He put a few more questions but she refused to be drawn.
De Freyne was anything but gullible, but Maggy's artfulness quite took
him in. Her hesitation alone was convincing proof that she knew more
than she would tell. She gleefully retailed the conversation to Woolf
later in the day.
"Mischievous little devil!" he grinned, amused by her audacity. "What
does your precious Lexie say?"
"She doesn't say anything because I shan't tell her. She'd probably go
straight to De Freyne and blab out the truth, which wouldn't do her any
good. He'll think more of her now. At any rate he won't bother her
with men."
Woolf grunted. He could never understand why Maggy was always
suggesting that though a thing might be adequate to herself it was not
of necessity good enough for her friend.
Maggy was not far wrong about De Freyne's subsequent attitude toward
Alexandra. Nothing was said, but all the same she began to receive more
consideration. De Freyne kept an open eye on the stalls and boxes for
any distinguished personage who might be there on her account. On two
nights in succession one such happened to be among the audience. This
lent color to Maggy's powers of invention. Alexandra was at once
promoted to the front row. When, a week later, a young American Croesus
made advances to De Freyne for an introduction to the "tall, dark girl
on the extreme right," he was put off with airy nonchalance.
"Not the least use, my dear sir," said De Freyne. "Between you and me,
a certain royal personage is in the way there. But have a look at the
filly next to her, to-night. She's only sixteen."
De Freyne would not have felt flattered had he been told that his
methods differed little from those of the astute tradesman who, not
having a particular article in stock, never hesitates to try and palm
off the nearest equivalent on his customer. Meanwhile he was debating
whether it would not be wise to interpolate a small part for Alexandra.
The upshot was that he sent for her and heard her sing. The quality of
her voice surprised him.
"Damn it, you know how!" he observed. "Why didn't you tell us you could
sing?"
"I sang at the voice trial," she said.
"Oh, then! You weren't sensible in those days. I must see what I can
do for you." He turned to his stage-manager, who was present. "'Phone
Goss and Lander to come round. I want to talk over a new song to be put
in for Miss Hersey."
The sudden stroke of luck quite confounded Alexandra. Just as Maggy was
unaware of the far-reaching effects of her hints, so was she unable to
account for her preferment. She hardly dared to believe it would
materialize. But a couple of days later her new song and the script of
a few lines of dialogue to introduce it were handed to her. She was to
have a week in which to rehearse them.
De Freyne watched some of these rehearsals, giving much mental
consideration to the style of costume best suited to the singer. In the
end he thought out a design in sprigged muslin, looped with turquoise
ribbon. It would have a refined and childish effect. Refinement,
homeopathically prescribed, would by its contrast look well on the stage
of the Pall Mall.
What De Freyne was not prepared for was an expression of gratitude from
Alexandra. After her first rehearsal she sought him in his office. He
assumed that, after the manner of her kind, she had come to ask for an
increase of salary.
"Well, aren't you satisfied?" he enquired, hoping to put her off.
"I've come to thank you," was her shy answer. "It's so kind of you, Mr.
De Freyne. I'm very grateful."
He was so unaccustomed to being thanked by the members of his chorus,
and so seldom deserved any, that for a moment he was taken aback.
"That's all right," he rejoined. "All I want is that you don't show any
nervousness. Audiences only allow for nervousness on the first night of
a piece. After that it fidgets them. I'm going to Lucille's for your
dress. It's to be _a la jeune fille_. No shocks to your modesty. As
for the rest, well, I daresay you'll introduce me to H.R.H. one of these
days, eh?"
It was more a statement than a question, and De Freyne did not wait for
an answer. When they met after the performance that night Alexandra,
rather bewildered, told Maggy of her good fortune and De Freyne's
curious remark. Maggy's delight was such that she jumped.
"Oh, my dear!" she cried. "I'll tell you now. First it was your furs
and then it was me. We've done the trick between us. But come away from
the theater or some one will hear me and then all the fat will be in the
fire!"
She dragged Alexandra away from the stage-door and described her
interview with De Freyne. Alexandra listened petrified.
"Maggy, how could you?" she protested piteously. "I--I can't let him go
on thinking such a mad thing! I shall have to tell him it isn't true."
"You mustn't, mustn't, mustn't!" commanded Maggy vehemently. "Don't you
see it's good for you? If you do he'll take away your song and put that
Vandaleur man on your track. He's after little Graves now, but he let
out to her that he tried to get to know you, only De Freyne told him he
hadn't an earthly. Graves told me that herself. And you don't want to
get me the sack, do you? After all, Lexie dear," she wheedled, "I made
it a royalty, didn't I? I didn't think any one else good enough."
"I know you meant it for the best. But--but it's such a horrid idea and
so--so far-fetched. De Freyne is sure to find out sooner or later."
"So long as it's later it's all right. You make the most of it while
he's dreaming of meeting your prince and smoking a cigar with him in
public, and p'raps getting the order of the Boot in diamonds to wear on
his chest. It'll do him good to be disappointed."
Alexandra would not have been human had she refused to listen to such
reasoning. She might have argued that De Freyne had recognized her
talent. But she very well knew that was not the case. It was quite
evident to her that had she been without talent or voice he would have
commissioned Goss and Lander to write her a song on two notes all the
same.
"I'll chance it, Maggy," she announced finally.
"That's right," said Maggy, greatly relieved, and then became
abstracted. "You ought to have some diamonds to wear on the night," she
added presently. "I wish I knew an I.D.B."