KATHERINE HUNT.
[Illustration: Chapter IX drop-cap I]
In the course of that same morning a bright-looking, dark-eyed girl
appeared in Madame Dupuys' showrooms. She asked to see madame herself.
Madame came out. She gave a start when she saw that the girl who
wished to see her was Miss Hunt.
"I have come to order a dress," said Miss Hunt. "I want it to be
pretty--as pretty as possible. I have, just at the eleventh hour, had
an invitation to go to the great fancy ball at Goring. I am determined
to go; the ball is _the_ event of the season, and I would not miss it
for the world. I have been all morning going from place to place, and
have just time to visit you. What can you give me? Money no object.
I shall require the very prettiest dress you can conceive and execute,
that is all."
Miss Hunt dropped into a seat as she spoke. She had a taking way and a
bright manner. She was one of madame's very best customers. Not only
was she extravagant, but she was open-handed. She was a very rich
girl--the daughter of a millionaire. She always paid ready cash for
her clothes. Had Kitty come to demand a dress on such short notice,
madame would have negatived the possibility immediately; but with Miss
Hunt it was different. If madame could not supply Miss Hunt with a
dress, the latter had it in her power to visit one of the most
expensive shops in Bond Street, and get what she required at double the
money. Money was little or no object to Miss Hunt. She tapped the
floor lightly now with her parasol, and looked with expectant eyes at
madame.
"Something _recherché_," she said, "and at the same time a little
_outré_--something that will attract attention."
"I wonder what she is thinking of?" thought madame. "And does she know
yet that she has lost her purse, and that that purse contained one
hundred pounds? But why should I think she has lost it? Surely Miss
Hepworth would not pay me with another person's money! The mere
coincidence of Miss Hunt's address being in the purse means
nothing--nothing at all."
"You ask me rather a difficult question, Miss Hunt," she said then.
"This is Thursday; the ball is on Monday. I am at my wits' end, as it
is, to supply a dress to Miss Katherine Hepworth. Do you know Miss
Hepworth, Miss Hunt?"
"No--never heard of her," said Katherine Hunt, yawning as she spoke.
"Now, my dear, good creature," she continued, rising, "will you give me
a dress? Yes, or no."
"I shall do my utmost to accommodate you, Miss Hunt; but it is only at
the risk of offending other customers."
"I will pay you anything in reason," said the girl. "I am so delighted
to get this invitation that I shall not rest unless I am one of the
stars of the evening. Understand that money is no matter. And now,
what can you do for me?"
Madame left the room, returning again with fashion-books and yards of
brocade, velvet, and other rich materials. Katherine Hunt became
absorbed in the vital question of what she was to wear. She was a girl
with a great deal of directness of manner; she always knew her own
mind, and on this occasion was not long in making her selection. As
the ball was to be a fancy one, she would appear as Anne Boleyn.
Madame applauded the idea, saying that the dress would suit the stately
figure and bold, bright eyes of the young lady.
"It must be done absolutely correctly," said the girl. "I wish you
would send round to Fortescue's now for a book of costumes of the time
of Henry the Eighth. I know he happens to have them. I will wait
until it comes. We must decide all the particulars immediately."
Madame rang her bell, and an attendant entered the room.
"Will you pay for the book?" she said, turning to the girl.
"Oh yes, certainly." And then Miss Hunt dived her hand into her pocket
to fetch out her purse.
Madame looked at her with intense curiosity. The pupils of her own
eyes dilated when Katherine Hunt took out a pocket-handkerchief, shook
it, and then gazed up at madame with an expression of despair.
"My purse is gone!" she said. "Some one must have stolen it! I went
to the bank only this morning, and got a hundred pounds in gold and
notes. There were several things I wanted to buy--in especial a
wedding present for a friend of mine. The purse is gone! What can be
the matter?"
Madame sympathized, but held her own counsel. Miss Hunt looked
worried. Rich as she was, the loss of a hundred pounds was rather
serious.
"Who can be the thief?" she said. "I remember now: I was in a hansom
driving to Bond Street. I took out my purse and handkerchief. I must
have left the purse on the seat, or perhaps it tumbled to the floor.
Yes, I remember the number of the hansom. I took the number. It is
funny that I should have done so, but I did. I can repeat it to
you--22,461. If the man found the purse, he will, of course, take it
to Scotland Yard."
"Of course, Miss Hunt," replied madame. "But, on the other hand, a
dishonest person may have got into the hansom and taken the purse."
"Oh, not likely, not at all likely," said Miss Hunt, in a careless
tone. Then she said, turning to the messenger, "Will you pay for the
book, please? I will wait until it comes back.--Dishonest people don't
often ride in those nice sort of hansoms," she continued. "It had
rubber tyres, I remember quite well. Yes, and the number was 22,461.
I will drive from here to Scotland Yard. I do hope I shall get back my
purse. I was so fond of it too."
"Had your purse silver initials on the outside?" asked madame suddenly.
"Yes, my own initials, 'K.H.' Why do you ask?"
"And was it a Russian leather one?"
"It was; and oh, such a darling purse! It was given to me by one of my
cousins a week ago. But have you seen it? How strange!"
"I must have seen it with you," said madame, "when last you called."
"That is impossible. I have not been here for three weeks, and my
darling new purse has been one of my pet toys for only a week."
"Then I must have dreamt about it," said madame carelessly. "It is
well, Miss Hunt, that you are a rich young lady: you can afford to lose
even a hundred pounds."
"Indeed I can't; no one can. And daddy will be so angry. If he is a
millionaire, he works hard for his wealth. He will hate to think that
I was so careless. But now let us talk about the dress. When shall I
be able to have it?"
The conversation became quite dressmakery. The messenger soon returned
with the book of costumes, and madame and the girl bent over the pages,
criticising, suggesting alterations, and finally making up their minds.
The dress was ordered, and Miss Hunt, with a laugh, said that she would
desire her hansom-driver to take her to Scotland Yard at once.
"If I get back my pretty purse with my initials, I will let you know,"
she said, with a nod. And then she went out of the room.
After she was gone madame stood for some time and thought. She was not
a hard-hearted woman, and she was sorry for Katherine Hepworth.
"There is not the slightest doubt what has happened," thought madame.
"That poor little lady was sorely tempted; she yielded to temptation.
The hundred pounds in notes and gold which I have locked away in my
writing-table is stolen money. What is to be done? I cannot for a
moment allow this thing to go on. I must see Mrs. Keith. I am sorry
for Miss Hepworth; but if I passed over a matter of this kind, I should
consider myself terribly to blame."
Busy as she was, madame, soon after lunch that day, went out. She took
a hansom and drove to the house in Maida Vale. When the servant opened
the door, she asked for Mrs. Keith. The woman told her that Mrs. Keith
was out, and would not be back until the evening. Madame uttered a
sigh of disappointment, and had scarcely done so before a tall,
well-set-up young man crossed the hall. Madame had often heard of
Captain Keith, and guessed that it was he. He might do as well as his
mother, and save her having a second journey--a waste of time which she
could ill afford.
"Perhaps Captain Keith is in," she said suddenly.
The young man paused at the sound of his name and turned round.
"I am Captain Keith," he said, coming forward courteously. "Can I do
anything to help you?"
"You certainly can help me, sir, if you will," replied madame.
"Then come into the library," said Keith. He ushered the dressmaker in
and closed the door behind them.
"I am Madame Dupuys," she said at once. "Perhaps you have heard my
name, sir? I am a well-known dressmaker; I live in Bond Street."
"You make dresses for Miss Hepworth," he said, with a smile. "She was
telling me only this morning that she was going to see you. She was
anxious about a dress she is to wear on Monday night."
"Miss Hepworth is going to the fancy ball at Goring as the Silver
Queen," said madame.
Keith was silent for a moment; then he said,--
"Well, and what can I do for you?"
Madame looked full at him. Should she tell him, or should she be
silent? Just for a moment she thought that she would reserve her
information for the young man's mother; but on second thoughts the
memory of her wasted time and the sorry trick which she considered Miss
Hepworth had played upon her aroused her indignation. She spoke
impulsively.
"I wished to see your mother, Captain Keith, on a matter of great
privacy."
"Indeed! Then I cannot help you?"
"Yes, and no, sir. I am very much troubled about a matter which
occurred to-day."
"If it is a worry, I would rather you did not tell my mother now."
"Why so, sir?"
"Because she has other things to trouble her: my regiment is ordered
south next week."
"I am sorry and yet glad, sir, to know that you are going to help to
protect your country." Madame half rose, then sat down again. "I
ought to tell some one," she said, as if questioning herself.
"Perhaps I shall do," replied Keith, smiling, and trying to control his
impatience.
"What I have to say, Captain Keith, is in absolute confidence."
"I understand."
"It has to do with Miss Hepworth."
"Miss Hepworth!" cried Keith. He coloured, and an uneasy sensation
visited him. "Then perhaps I had best not hear it," he said.
"Either you or your mother must hear it, sir; and as you are willing to
listen to my confidence, I will give it to you. The fact is, I have
been placed in a most awkward position. I asked Miss Hepworth to call
on me this morning. She came. She owes me money."
Keith made no remark, but waited for madame to proceed. He did not
suppose that Kitty had large private funds at present, and a sum of ten
pounds or so owed to a dressmaker did not seem to him a heinous offence.
"Perhaps I can accommodate you with a cheque," he said. After all, the
woman's story was scarcely worth taking up his time with.
"It is possible that you can do so, Captain Keith; but the matter I
have to speak about means more than a mere cheque. Miss Hepworth has
owed me money for a long time, and to-day I asked her for a cheque.
She said it was out of her power to give it to me. I asked for a
cheque for a large sum. When she refused to accommodate me, I told her
that I could not let her have the dress she had ordered for the ball."
Keith did not reply. A vision rose before his eyes of the pretty face
of his cousin--her sparkling eyes, her tender mouth. She always
dressed well, and she would look, as she herself expressed it, like a
vision on this occasion.
"I should not like Miss Hepworth to be disappointed," he said slowly.
"The thing is graver than just a mere disappointment, sir. Miss
Hepworth could not accommodate me, and I was firm; she left my house
very angry and troubled. She returned within an hour, and said she
would pay me then a hundred pounds in cash."
"A hundred pounds!" cried Keith, thoroughly roused at last. "You don't
mean to tell me that Miss Hepworth owes you more than that?"
"Considerably more, sir. She said she had it in her power to pay me
there and then a hundred pounds; and although I had asked for a hundred
and fifty, I promised to be satisfied with what she gave me, and I gave
her six weeks' grace for the remainder. I also said she should have
the new dress. She took a purse out of her pocket--a Russian leather
purse, marked with initials in silver, 'K.H.' She opened it, and took
from it a hundred pounds in notes and gold. I gave her a receipt, and
she left the house. I was about to put the money into my writing-table
drawer until I could take it to the bank, when I observed a piece of
paper which had fallen on the floor. I took it up, opened it, and read
the address of a lady who is also a customer of mine. The lady's name
was Miss Katherine Hunt, and her address, 24 Child's Gardens,
Bayswater. I thought this a little strange, and instead of tearing up
the paper, put it with the notes and gold in my drawer. In less than
an hour Miss Hunt arrived. She was also going to the fancy ball, and
she wished for a fancy dress immediately. She is a very rich young
lady. Her father is a millionaire. He is the well-known David Hunt,
who has made his fortune with the new sort of free wheel.
"Miss Hunt always pays me in cash for everything she gets. You will
naturally understand, sir, that a hard-worked woman would be glad to
oblige such a customer. She proceeded to order her dress, and finally
put her hand into her pocket to pay for a book of costumes which she
required. She could not find her purse. She then explained to me that
she had gone to her bank that morning and had drawn a hundred pounds in
notes and gold. She concluded that she must have left her purse in a
hansom. Strange to say, she remembered the number of the hansom, and
when she left me, went to Scotland Yard to report on her loss, and if
the purse had not been returned there, to get the authorities to look
up the driver. I got Miss Hunt to describe her purse, and it tallied
in every particular with the purse which Miss Hepworth held in her hand
when she gave me the hundred pounds. Now, sir, that is the story. I
leave you to draw your own conclusions. I do not wish to be the
recipient of stolen goods, and I cannot allow the driver whose number
was 22,461 to get into trouble on account of the matter."
Keith's face had turned very white. After a time he crossed the room.
He and his mother always used the same library for writing in. He took
his keys from his pocket, unlocked an inlaid secretaire, and produced a
cheque book. He filled in a cheque for a hundred pounds and gave it to
madame.
"Will you take this in lieu of the other?" he said. "And will you let
me have the notes and gold? I trust your suspicions are wrong. In any
case, I am obliged to you for not making the matter public."
"Will you tell Mrs. Keith, sir?"
"I have not yet decided what I will do. Try to forget the
circumstance. You are not likely to have anything further to do with
it. This is my affair."
"Certainly, sir. I am sure Miss Hepworth ought to be very much
obliged."
Keith thought for a moment.
"What is the exact amount she owes you?" he asked.
"Three hundred pounds, sir."
"I will give you another cheque for two hundred pounds; I do not wish
Miss Hepworth to be any longer in your debt. And will you kindly, when
you send her dress home, let me have the bill. You will not be
surprised at my acting in this prompt manner when I tell you that Miss
Hepworth is about to become my wife."
"Oh, indeed, sir!" Madame Dupuys dimpled all over her face. She had
not expected to get her troublesome debt cleared so nicely. "I hope,
sir," she said, "that you will not be hard upon the dear young lady. I
regret very much that I should have subjected her to such a temptation."
"Here are your cheques," said Keith, by way of response. "You will
kindly give me a receipt in full."