madcap idea. You will find it lacking neither amusement nor denouement.
Already I have put forth the casual observation that from Paris to the
third-precinct police-station in Washington is several thousand miles.
V
THE PLOT THICKENS
At dinner that night I met my hero face to face for the first time in
eight years, and for all his calling me a duffer (I learned of this
only recently), he was mighty glad to see me, slapped me on the back
and threw his arm across my shoulder. And why shouldn't he have been
glad? We had been boys together, played hooky many a school-time
afternoon, gone over the same fishing grounds, plunged into the same
swimming-holes, and smoked our first cigar in the rear of my father's
barn; and it is the recollection of such things that cements all the
more strongly friendship in man and man. We recalled a thousand
episodes and escapades, the lickings we got, and the lickings others
got in our stead, the pretty school-teacher whom we swore to wed when
we grew up. Nobody else had a chance to get a word in edgewise. But
Nancy laughed aloud at times. She had been a witness to many of these
long-ago pranks.
"What! you are not going to the ball?" I asked, observing that he wore
only a dinner-coat and a pair of morocco slippers.
"No ball for me. Just as soon as you people hie forth, off comes this
b'iled shirt, and I shall probably meander around the house in my new
silk pajamas. I shall read a little from Homer--Jack, let me have the
key to that locked case; I've an idea that there must be some robust
old, merry old tales hidden there--and smoke a few pipes."
"But you are not going to leave Mrs. Warburton and your sister to come
home without escort?" I expostulated.
"Where the deuce are you two men going?" Robert asked, surprised.
Somehow, I seemed to catch a joyful rather than a sorrowful note in his
tones.
"An important conference at midnight, and heaven only knows how long it
may last," said Jack. "I wish you would go along, Bob."
"He can't go now, anyhow," said the pretty little wife. "He has got to
stay now, whether he will or no. William will see to it that we women
get home all right,"--and she busied herself with the salad dishes.
Suddenly I caught Robert's eye, and we stared hard at each other.
"Chuck, you old pirate," he said presently, "what do you mean by coming
around and making love to my sister, and getting her to promise to
marry you? You know you aren't good enough for her."
I confess to no small embarrassment. "I--I know it!"
"What do you mean by it, then?"
"Why--er--that is--Confound you, Bob, _I_ couldn't help it, and
besides, I didn't _want_ to help it! And if you want to have it out--"
"Oh, pshaw! You know just as well as I do that it is against the law to
hit a man that wears glasses. We'll call it quits if you'll promise
that in the days to come you'll let me hang around your hymeneal shack
once in a while."
"Why, if you put it that way!"--and we were laughing and shaking hands
again across the table, much to the relief of all concerned.
Dear Nan! I'm not afraid to let the whole world see how much I love
you. For where exists man's strength if not in the pride of his love?
"What time does the kid get to sleep?" asked Robert.
"He ought to be asleep now," said Mrs. W. "We shall not reach the
embassy until after ten. We have a reception first, and we must leave
cards there. Won't you be lonesome here, Bobby?"
"Not the least in the world;"--and Bobby began to laugh.
"What's the joke?" I asked.
He looked at me sharply, then shook his head. "I'll tell you all about
it to-morrow, Chuck. It's the kind of joke that has to boil a long time
before it gets tender enough to serve."
"I'd give a good deal to know what is going on behind those eyes of
yours, Bob." Nancy's eyes searched him ruthlessly, but she might just
as well have tried to pierce a stone wall. "You have been laughing all
day about something, and I'd like to know what about. It's mischief. I
haven't known you all these years for nothing. Now, don't do anything
silly, Bob."
"Nancy,"--reproachfully--"I am a man almost thirty; I have passed the
Rubicon of cutting up tricks. Go to the ball, you beauty, dance and
revel to your heart's content; your brother Robert will manage to pass
away the evening. Don't forget the key to that private case, Jack,"--as
the women left the table to put the finishing touches to their toilets.
"Here you are," said Jack. "But mind, you must put those books back
just as you found them, and lock the case. They are rare editions."
"With the accent on the _rare_, no doubt."
"I am a student, pure and simple," said Jack, lowering his eyes.
"I wouldn't swear to those adjectives," returned the scalawag. "If I
remember, you had the reputation of being a high-jinks man in your
class at Princeton."
"Sh! Don't you dare to drag forth any of those fool corpses of college,
or out you go, bag and baggage." Jack glanced nervously around the room
and toward the hall.
"My dear fellow, your wife wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said
against your character. Isn't that right, Chuck? Jack, you are a lucky
dog, if there ever was one. A handsome wife who loves you, a kid, a
fine home, and plenty of horses. I wonder if you married her for her
money?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. He seemed to muse. "Yes, I believe I can do it as
easily as I did fifteen years ago."
"Do what?" I asked.
"Wallop that kid brother of mine. Bob, I hope you'll fall desperately
in love some day, and that you will have a devil of a time winning the
girl. You need something to stir up your vitals. By George! and I hope
she won't have a cent of money."
"Lovable brother, that!" Bob knocked the ash from his cigar and essayed
at laughter which wasn't particularly felicitous. "Supposing I was in
love, new, and that the girl had heaps of money, and all that?"
"_And all that_," mimicked the elder brother. "What does 'and all that'
mean?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"Well, I hope you _are_ in love. It serves you right. You've made more
than one girl's heart ache, you good-looking ruffian!"
Then we switched over to politics, and Robert became an interested
listener. Quarter of an hour later the women returned, and certainly
they made a picture which was most satisfactory to the masculine eye.
Ah, thou eager-fingered Time, that shall, in days to come, wither the
roses in my beauty's cheeks, dim the fire in my beauty's eyes, draw my
beauty's bow-lips inward, tarnish the golden hair, and gnarl the
slender, shapely fingers, little shall I heed you in your passing if
you but leave the heart untouched!
Bob jumped to his feet and kissed them both, a thing I lacked the
courage to do. How pleased they looked! How a woman loves flattery from
those she loves!
Well, William is in front with the carriage; the women are putting on
their cloaks, and I am admiring the luxurious crimson fur-lined garment
which brother Robert had sent to Nancy from Paris. You will see by this
that he was not altogether a thoughtless lad. Good-by, Mr. Robert; I
leave you and your guiding-star to bolt the established orbit; for
after this night the world will never be the same careless,
happy-go-lucky world. The farce has its tragedy, and what tragedy is
free of the ludificatory? Youth must run its course, even as the gay,
wild brook must riot on its way to join the sober river.
I dare say that we hadn't been gone twenty minutes before Robert stole
out to the stables, only to return immediately with a bundle under his
arm and a white felt hat perched rakishly on his head. He was chuckling
audibly to himself.
"It will frighten the girls half to death. A gray horse and a bay; oh,
I won't make any mistake. Let me see; I'll start about twelve o'clock.
That'll get me on the spot just as the boys leave. This is the richest
yet. I'll wager that there will be some tall screaming." He continued
chuckling as he helped himself to his brother's perfectos and fine old
Scotch. I don't know what book he found in the private case; some old
rascal's merry tales, no doubt; for my hero's face was never in repose.
We had left Mrs. Secretary-of-the-Interior's and were entering the red
brick mansion on Connecticut Avenue. Carriages lined both sides of the
street, and mounted police patrolled up and down.
"I do hope Bob will not wake up the baby," said Mrs. W.
"Probably he won't even take the trouble to look at him," replied Jack;
"not if he gets into that private case of mine."
"I can't understand what you men see in those horrid chronicles," Nancy
declared.
"My dear girl," said Jack, "in those days there were no historians;
they were simply story-tellers, and we get our history from these
tales. The tales themselves are not very lofty, I am willing to admit;
but they give us a general idea of the times in which the characters
lived. This is called literature by the wise critics."
"Critics!" said I; "humph! Criticism is always a lazy man's job. When
no two critics think alike, of what use is criticism?"
"Ah, yes; I forgot. That book of essays you wrote got several sound
drubbings. Nevertheless," continued Jack, "what you offer is in the
main true. Time alone is the true critic. Let him put his mark of
approval on your work, and not all the critical words can bury it or
hinder its light. But Time does not pass his opinion till long after
one is dead. The first waltz, dearest, if you think you can stand it.
You mustn't get tired, little mother."
"I am wonderfully strong to-night," said the little mother. "How
beautifully it is arranged!"
"What?" we men asked, looking over the rooms.
"The figures on Mrs. Secretary-of-State's gown. The lace is beautiful.
Your brother. Nan, has very good taste for a man. That cloak of yours
is by far the handsomest thing I have seen to-night; and that bit of
scarf he sent me isn't to be matched."
"Poor boy!" sighed Nancy. "I wonder if he'll be lonely. It's a shame to
leave him home the very first night."
"Why didn't he come, then?" Mrs. W. shrugged her polished shoulders.
"Oh, my cigars and Scotch are fairly comforting," put in Jack,
complacently. "Besides, Jane Isn't at all bad looking,"--winking at me.
"What do you say, Charlie?"
But Charlie had no time to answer. The gray-haired, gray-whiskered
ambassador was bowing pleasantly to us. A dozen notable military and
naval attaches nodded; and we passed on to the ball-room, where the
orchestra was playing _A Summer Night in Munich_. In a moment Jack and
his wife were lost in the maze of gleaming shoulders and white linen.
It was a picture such as few men, once having witnessed it, can forget.
Here were the great men in the great world: this man was an old
rear-admiral, destined to become the nation's hero soon; there, a
famous general, of long and splendid service; celebrated statesmen,
diplomats, financiers; a noted English duke; a scion of the Hapsburg
family; an intimate of the German kaiser; a swart Jap; a Chinaman with
his peacock feather; tens of men whose lightest word was listened to by
the four ends of the world; representatives of all the great kingdoms
and states. The President and his handsome wife had just left as we
came, so we missed that formality, which detracts from the pleasures of
the ball-room.
"Who is that handsome young fellow over there, standing at the side of
the Russian ambassador's wife?" asked Nancy, pressing my arm.
"Where? Oh, he's Count Karloff (or something which sounds like it), a
wealthy Russian, in some way connected with the Russian government; a
diplomat and a capital fellow, they say. I have never met him. ...
Hello! there's a stunning girl right next to him that I haven't seen
before. ... Where are you going?"
Nancy had dropped my arm and was gliding kitty-corner fashion, across
the floor. Presently she and the stunning girl had saluted each other
after the impulsive fashion of American girls, and were playing
cat-in-the-cradle, to the amusement of those foreigners nearest. A nod,
and I was threading my way to Nancy's side.
"Isn't it glorious?" she began. "This is Miss Annesley, Charlie; Betty,
Mr. Henderson." Miss Annesley looked mildly curious at Nan, who
suddenly flushed. "We are to be married in the spring," she explained
shyly; and I dare say that there was a diffident expression on my own
face.
Miss Annesley gave me her hand, smiling. "You are a very fortunate man,
Mr. Henderson."
"Not the shadow of a doubt!" Miss Annesley, I frankly admitted on the
spot, was, next to Nancy, the handsomest girl I ever saw; and as I
thought of Mr. Robert in his den at home, I sincerely pitied him. I was
willing to advance the statement that had he known, a pair of crutches
would not have kept him away from No. 1300 Connecticut Avenue.
I found three chairs, and we sat down. There was, for me, very little
opportunity to talk. Women always have so much to say to each other,
even when they haven't seen each other within twenty-four hours. From
time to time Miss Annesley glanced at me, and I am positive that Nancy
was extolling my charms. It was rather embarrassing, and I was balling
my gloves up in a most dreadful fashion. As they seldom addressed a
word to me, I soon became absorbed in the passing scene. I was
presently aroused, however.
"Mr. Henderson, Count Karloff," Miss Annesley was saying. (Karloff is a
name of my own choosing. I haven't the remotest idea if it means
anything in the Russian language. I hope not.)
"Charmed!" The count's r's were very pleasantly rolled. I could see by
the way his gaze roved from Miss Annesley to Nancy that he was puzzled
to decide which came the nearer to his ideal of womanhood.
I found him a most engaging fellow, surprisingly well-informed on
American topics. I credit myself with being a fairly good reader of
faces, and, reading his as he bent it in Miss Annesley's direction, I
began to worry about Mr. Robert's course of true love. Here was a man
who possessed a title, was handsome, rich, and of assured social
position: it would take an extraordinary American girl to look coldly
upon his attentions. By and by the two left us, Miss Annesley promising
to call on Nancy.
"And where are you staying, Betty?"
"Father and I have taken Senator Blank's house in Chevy Chase for the
winter. My horses are already in the stables. Do you ride?"
"I do."
"Then we shall have some great times together."
"Be sure to call. I want you to meet my brother."
"I believe I have," replied Miss Annesley.
"I mean my younger brother, a lieutenant in the Army."
"Oh, then you have two brothers?"
"Yes," said Nancy.
"The dance is dying, Mademoiselle," said the count in French.
"Your arm, Monsieur. _Au revoir,_ Nancy."
"Poor Bobby!" Nancy folded her hands and sighed mournfully. "It appears
to me that his love affair is not going to run very smooth. But isn't
she just beautiful, Charlie? What color, what style!"
"She's a stunner, I'm forced to admit. Bob'll never stand a ghost of a
show against that Russian. He's a great social catch, and is backed by
many kopecks."
"How unfortunate we did not know that she would be here! Bobby would
have met her at his best, and his best is more to my liking than the
count's. He has a way about him that the women like. He's no laggard.
But money ought not to count with Betty. She is worth at least a
quarter of a million. Her mother left all her property to her, and her
father acts only as trustee. Senator Blank's house rents for eight
thousand the season. It's ready furnished, you know, and one of the
handsomest homes in Washington. Besides, I do not trust those
foreigners,"--taking a remarkably abrupt curve, as it were.
[Illustration: "What were you doing off your own box?" "Getting on the
wrong box"--Act I.]
"There's two Bs in your bonnet, Nancy," I laughed.
"Never mind the Bs; let us have the last of this waltz."
This is not my own true story; so I shall bow off and permit my hero to
follow the course of true love, which is about as rough-going a
thoroughfare as the many roads of life have to offer.
VI
THE MAN ON THE BOX
At eleven-thirty he locked up his book and took to his room the
mysterious bundle which he had purloined from the stables. It contained
the complete livery of a groom. The clothes fitted rather snugly,
especially across the shoulders. He stood before the pier-glass, and a
complacent (not to say roguish) smile flitted across his face. The
black half-boots, the white doeskin breeches, the brown brass-buttoned
frock, and the white hat with the brown cockade. ... Well, my word for
it, he was the handsomest jehu Washington ever turned out. With a grin
he touched his hat to the reflection in the glass, and burst out
laughing. His face was as smooth as a baby's, for he had generously
sacrificed his beard.
I can hear him saying to himself: "Lord, but this is a lark! I'll have
to take another Scotch to screw up the edge of my nerve. Won't the boys
laugh when they hear how I stirred the girls' frizzes! We'll have a
little party here when they all get home. It's a good joke."
Mr. Robert did not prove much of a prophet. Many days were to pass ere
he reentered his brother's house.
He stole quietly from the place. He hadn't proceeded more than a block
when he became aware of the fact that he hadn't a penny in his clothes.
This discovery disquieted him, and he half turned about to go back. He
couldn't go back. He had no key.
"Pshaw! I won't need any money;"--and he started off again toward
Connecticut Avenue. He dared not hail a car, and he would not have
dared had he possessed the fare. Some one might recognize him. He
walked briskly for ten minutes. The humor of the escapade appealed to
him greatly, and he had all he could do to smother the frequent bursts
of laughter which surged to his lips. He reached absently for his
cigar-case. No money, no cigars.
"That's bad. Without a cigar I'm likely to get nervous. Scraping off
that beard made me forgetful. Jove! with these fleshings I feel as
self-conscious as an untried chorus girl. These togs can't be very warm
in winter. Ha! that must be the embassy where all those lights are;
carriages. _Allons!_"
To make positive, he stopped a pedestrian.
"Pardon me, sir," he said, touching his hat, "but will you be so kind
as to inform me if yonder is the British embassy?"
"It is, my man," replied the gentleman.
"Thank you, sir."
And each passed on to his affairs.
"Now for William; we must find William, or the joke will be on Robert."
He manoeuvered his way through the congested thoroughfare, searching
the faces of the grooms and footmen. He dodged hither and thither, and
was once brought to a halt by the mounted police.
"Here, you! What d'ye mean by runnin' around like this? Lost yer
carriage, hey? I've a mind to run ye in. Y' know th' rules relatin' th'
leavin' of yer box in times like these. Been takin' a sly nip,
probably, an' they've sent yer hack down a peg. Get a gait on y', now."
Warburton laughed silently as he made for the sidewalk. The first man
he plumped into was William--a very much worried William, too. Robert
could have fallen on his neck for joy. All was plain sailing now.
"I'm very glad to see you, sir," said William. "I was afraid you could
not get them clothes on, sir. I was getting a trifle worried, too.
Here's the carriage number."
Warburton glanced hastily at it and stuffed it into a convenient pocket.
"It's sixteen carriages up, sir; a bay and a gray. You can't miss them.
The bay, being a saddle-horse, is a bit restive in the harness; but all
you have to do is to touch him with the whip. And don't try to push
ahead of your turn, or you will get into trouble with the police. They
are very strict. And don't let them confuse you, sir. The numbers won't
be in rotation. You'll hear one hundred and fifteen, and the next
moment thirty-five, like as not. It's all according as to how the
guests are leaving. Good luck to you, sir, and don't forget to explain
it all thoroughly to Mr. Warburton, sir."
"Don't you worry, William; we'll come out of this with colors flying."
"Very well, sir. I shall hang around till you are safely off,"--and
William disappeared.
Warburton could occasionally hear the faint strains of music. From time
to time the carriage-caller bawled out a number, and the carriage would
roll up under the porte-cochere. Warburton concluded that it would be a
good plan to hunt up his rig. His search did not last long. The bay and
the gray stood only a little way from the gate. The box was vacant, and
he climbed up and gathered the reins. He sat there for some time,
longing intensely for a cigar, a good cigar, such as gentlemen smoked.
"Seventeen!" came hoarsely along on the wings of the night. "Number
seventeen, and lively there!"
Warburton's pulse doubled its beat. His number!
"Skt!" The gray and the bay started forward, took the half-circle and
stopped under the porte-cochere. Warburton recollected that a
fashionable groom never turned his head unless spoken to; so he leveled
his gaze at his horses' ears and waited. But from the very corner of
his eye he caught the glimpse of two women, one of whom was enveloped
in a crimson cloak. He thrilled with exultation. What a joke it was! He
felt the carriage list as the women stepped in. The door slammed to,
and the rare good joke was on the way.
"Off with you!" cried the pompous footman, with an imperious wave of
the hand. "Number ninety-nine!"
"Ninety-nine! Ninety-nine!" bawled the carriage man.
Our jehu turned into the avenue, holding a tolerable rein. He clucked
and lightly touched the horses with the lash. _This_ was true sport;
_this_ was humor, genuine, initiative, unforced. He could imagine the
girls and their fright when he finally slowed down, opened the door,
and kissed them both. Wouldn't they let out a yell, though? His plan
was to drive furiously for half a dozen blocks, zigzag from one side of
the street to the other, taking the corners sharply, and then make for
Scott Circle.
Now, a lad of six can tell the difference between seventeen and
seventy-one. But this astonishing jehu of mine had been conspicuous as
the worst mathematician and the best soldier in his class at West
Point. No more did he remember that he was not in the wild West, and
that here in the East there were laws prohibiting reckless driving.
He drove decently enough till he struck Dupont Circle. From here he
turned into New Hampshire, thinking it to be Rhode Island. Mistake
number two. He had studied the city map, but he was conscious of not
knowing it as well as he should have known it; but, true to his nature,
he trusted to luck.
Aside from all this, he forgot that a woman might appreciate this joke
only when she heard it recounted. To live through it was altogether a
different matter. In an episode like this, a woman's imagination, given
the darkness such as usually fills a carriage at night, becomes a round
of terrors. Every moment is freighted with death or disfigurement. Her
nerves are like the taut strings of a harp in a wintry wind, ready to
snap at any moment; and then, hysteria. With man the play, and only the
play, is the thing.
Snap-crack! The surprised horses, sensitive and quick-tempered as all
highly organized beings are, nearly leaped out of the harness. Never
before had their flanks received a more unwarranted stroke of the lash.
They reared and plunged, and broke into a mad gallop, which was exactly
what the rascal on the box desired. An expert horseman, he gauged the
strength of the animals the moment they bolted, and he knew that they
were his. Once the rubber-tired vehicle slid sidewise on the wet
asphalt, and he heard a stifled scream.
He laughed, and let forth a sounding "whoop," which nowise allayed the
fright of the women inside the carriage. He wheeled into S Street,
scraping the curb as he did so. Pedestrians stopped and stared after
him. A policeman waved his club helplessly, even hopelessly. On, on: to
Warburton's mind this ride was as wild as that which the Bishop of
Vannes took from Belle-Isle to Paris in the useless effort to save
Fouquet from the wrath of Louis XIV, and to anticipate the pregnant
discoveries of one D'Artagnan. The screams were renewed. A hand beat
against the forward window and a muffled but wrathful voice called
forth a command to stop. This voice was immediately drowned by
another's prolonged scream. Our jehu began to find all this very
interesting, very exciting.