HONEYMOONING
Hunterleys saw the Right Honourable Meredith Simpson and Monsieur
Douaille off to Paris early that morning. Then he called round at the
hospital to find that Sidney Roche was out of danger, and went on to the
villa with the good news. On his way back he stayed chatting with the
bank manager until rather later than usual, and afterwards strolled on
to the Terrace, where he looked with some eagerness towards a certain
point in the bay. The _Minnehaha_ had departed. Mr. Grex and his
friends, then, had been set free. Hunterleys returned to the hotel
thoughtfully. At the entrance he came across two or three trunks being
wheeled out, which seemed to him somehow familiar. He stopped to look at
the initials. They were his wife's.
"Is Lady Hunterleys leaving to-day?" he asked the luggage-porter.
"By the evening train, sir," the man announced. "She would have caught
the _Côte d'Azur_ this morning but there was no place on the train."
Hunterleys was perplexed. Some time after luncheon he enquired for Lady
Hunterleys and found that she was not in the hotel. A reception clerk
thought that he had seen her go through on her way to the Sporting Club.
Hunterleys, after some moments of indecision, followed her. He was
puzzled at her impending departure, unable to account for it. The
Draconmeyers, he knew, proposed to stay for another month. He walked
thoughtfully along the private way and climbed the stairs into the Club.
He looked for his wife in her usual place. She was not there. He made a
little promenade of the rooms and eventually he found her amongst the
spectators around the baccarat table. He approached her at once.
"You are not playing?"
She started at the sound of his voice. She was dressed very simply in
travelling clothes, and there were lines under her eyes, as though she
were fatigued.
"No," she admitted, "I am not playing."
"I understood in the hotel," he continued, "that you were leaving
to-day."
"I am going back to England," she announced. "It does not amuse me here
any longer."
He realised at once that something had happened. A curious sense of
excitement stole into his blood.
"If you are not playing here, will you come and sit down for a few
moments?" he invited. "I should like to talk to you."
She followed him without a word. He led the way to one of the divans in
the roulette room.
"Your favourite place," he remarked, "is occupied."
She nodded.
"I have given up playing," she told him.
He looked at her in some surprise. She drew a little breath and kept her
eyes steadily averted.
"You will probably know sometime or other," she continued, "so I will
tell you now. I have lost four thousand pounds to Mr. Draconmeyer. I am
going back to England to realise my own money, so as to be able to pay
him at once."
"You borrowed four thousand pounds from Mr. Draconmeyer?" he repeated
incredulously.
"Yes! It was very foolish, I know, and I have lost every penny of it. I
am not the first woman, I suppose, who has lost her head at Monte
Carlo," she added, a little defiantly.
"Does Mr. Draconmeyer know that you are leaving?" he asked.
"Not yet," she answered, after a moment's hesitation. "I had an
interview with him yesterday and I realised at once that the money must
be paid, and without delay. I realised, too, that it was better I should
leave Monte Carlo and break off my association with these people for the
present."
In a sense it was a sordid story, yet to Hunterleys her words sounded
like music.
"I am very pleased indeed," he said quietly, "that you feel like that.
Draconmeyer is not a man to whom I should like my wife to owe money for
a moment longer than was absolutely necessary."
"Your estimate of him was correct," she confessed slowly. "I am sorry,
Henry."
He rose suddenly to his feet. An inspiration had seized him.
"Come," he declared, "we will pay Draconmeyer back without sending you
home to sell your securities. Come and stand with me."
She looked at him in amazement.
"Henry!" she exclaimed. "You are not going to play? Don't! Take my
advice and don't!"
He laughed.
"We'll see," he replied confidently. "You wouldn't believe that I was a
fatalist, would you? I am, though. Everything that I had hoped for seems
to be happening to-day. You have found out Draconmeyer, we have
checkmated Mr. Grex, I have drunk the health of Felicia and David
Briston--"
"Felicia and David Briston?" she interrupted quickly. "What do you
mean?"
"You knew, of course, that they were engaged?" he explained. "I called
round at the villa this morning, after I had been to the hospital, and
found them busy fixing the wedding day."
She looked at him vaguely.
"Engaged?" she murmured. "Why, I thought--"
A spot of colour suddenly burned in her cheeks. She was beginning to
understand. It was Draconmeyer who had put those ideas into her head.
Her heart gave a little leap.
"Henry!" she whispered.
He was already at the table, however. He changed five mille notes
deliberately, counted his plaques and turned to her.
"I am going to play on your principle," he declared. "I have always
thought it an interesting one. See, the last number was twenty-two. I am
going to back twenty and all the _carrés_."
He covered the board around number twenty. There were a few minutes of
suspense, then the click as the ball fell into the little space.
"_Vingt-huit, noir, passe et pair!_" the croupier announced.
Hunterleys' stake was swept away. He only smiled.
"Our numbers are going to turn up," he insisted cheerfully. "I am
certain of it now. Do you know that this is the first time I have played
since I have been in Monte Carlo?"
She watched him half in fear. This time he staked on twenty-nine, with
the maximum _en plein_ and all the _carrés_ and _chevaux_. Again the few
moments of suspense, the click of the ball, the croupier's voice.
_"Vingt-neuf, noir, impair et passe!"_
She clutched at his arm.
"Henry!" she gasped.
He laughed.
"Open your bag," he directed. "We'll soon fill it."
He left his stake untouched. Thirty-one turned up. He won two _carrés_
and let the table go once without staking. Ten was the next number.
Immediately he placed the maximum on number fourteen, _carrés_ and
_chevaux_. Again the pause, again the croupier's voice.
_"Quatorze rouge, pair et manque!"_
Hunterleys showed no exultation and scarcely any surprise. He gathered
in his winnings and repeated his stake. This time he won one of his
_carrés_. The next time _quatorze_ turned up again. For half-an-hour he
continued, following his few chosen numbers according to the run of the
table. At the end of that time Violet's satchel was full and he was
beginning to collect mille notes for his plaques. He made a little
calculation in his mind and decided that he must already have won more
than the necessary amount.
"Our last stake," he remarked coolly.
The preceding number had been twenty-six. He placed the maximum on
twenty-nine, the _carrés_, _chevaux_, the column, colour and last dozen.
He felt Violet's fingers clutching his arm. There was a little buzz of
excitement all round the table as the croupier announced the number.
_"Vingt-neuf noir, impair et passe!..."_
They took their winnings into the anteroom beyond, where Hunterleys
ordered tea. There was a little flush in Violet's cheeks. They counted
the money. There was nearly five thousand pounds.
"Henry!" she exclaimed. "I think that that last coup was the most
marvellous win I ever saw!"
"A most opportune one, at any rate," he replied grimly. "Look who is
coming."
Draconmeyer had entered the room, and was peering everywhere as though
in search of some one. He suddenly caught sight of them, hesitated for a
moment and then approached. He addressed himself to Violet.
"I have just seen Linda," he said. "She is broken-hearted at the thought
of your departure."
"I am sorry to leave her," Violet replied, "but I feel that I have
stayed quite long enough in Monte Carlo. By the bye, Mr. Draconmeyer,
there is that little affair of the money you were kind enough to advance
to me."
Draconmeyer stood quite still. He looked from husband to wife.
"Four thousand pounds, my wife tells me," Hunterleys remarked coolly, as
he began to count out the notes. "It is very good of you indeed to have
acted as my wife's banker. Do you mind being paid now? Our movements are
a little uncertain and it will save the trouble of sending you a
cheque."
Draconmeyer laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh, nor was it in the
least mirthful.
"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "I had forgotten that little matter. As you
will, certainly."
He accepted the notes and stuffed them into his pocket.
"By the bye," he continued, "I think that I ought to congratulate you,
Sir Henry. That last little affair of yours was wonderfully
stage-managed. Your country owes you more than it is ever likely to pay.
You have succeeded, at any rate, in delaying the inevitable."
"I trust," Hunterleys enquired politely, "that you were not detained
upon the yacht for very long?"
"We landed at the Villa at twelve o'clock this morning," Draconmeyer
replied. "You know, of course, of the little surprise our young American
friend had prepared for Mr. Grex?"
Hunterleys shook his head.
"I have heard nothing definite."
"He was married to the daughter of the Grand Duke Augustus at midday at
Nice," Draconmeyer announced. "His Serene Highness received a telephone
message only a short time ago."
Violet gave a little cry. She leaned across the table eagerly.
"You mean that they have eloped?"
Draconmeyer assented.
"All Monte Carlo will be talking about it to-morrow," he declared. "The
Grand Duke has been doing all he can to get it hushed up, but it is
useless. I will not detain you any longer. I see that you are about to
have tea."
"We shall meet, perhaps, in London?" Hunterleys remarked, as Draconmeyer
prepared to depart.
Draconmeyer shook his head.
"I think not," he replied. "The doctors have advised me that the climate
of England is bad for my wife's health, and I feel that my own work
there is finished. I have received an offer to go out to South America
for a time. Very likely I shall accept."
He passed on with a final bow. Violet looked across their table and her
eyes shone.
"It seems like a fairy tale, Henry," she whispered. "You don't know what
a load on my mind that money has been, and how I was growing to detest
Mr. Draconmeyer."
He smiled.
"I was rather hating the beast myself," he admitted. "Tell me, what are
your plans, really?"
"I hadn't made any," she confessed, "except to get away as quickly as I
could."
He leaned a little across the table.
"Elopements are rather in the fashion," he said. "What do you think?
Couldn't we have a little dinner at Ciro's and catch the last train to
Nice; have a look at Richard and his wife and then go on to Cannes, and
make our way back to England later?"
She looked at him and his face grew younger. There was something in her
eyes which reminded him of the days which for so many weary months he
had been striving to forget.
"Henry," she murmured, "I have been very foolish. If you can trust me
once more, I think I can promise that I'll never be half so idiotic
again."
He rose to his feet blithely.
"It has been my fault just as much," he declared, "and the fault of
circumstances. I couldn't tell you the whole truth, but there has been a
villainous conspiracy going on here. Draconmeyer, Selingman, and the
Grand Duke were all in it and I have been working like a slave. Now it's
all over, finished this morning on Richard's yacht. We've done what we
could. I'm a free lance now and we'll spend the holidays together."
She gave him her fingers across the table and he held them firmly in
his. Then she, too, rose and they passed out together. There was a
wonderful change in Hunterleys. He seemed to have grown years younger.
"Come," he exclaimed, "they call this the City of Pleasure, but these
are the first happy moments I have spent in it. We'll gamble in
five-franc pieces for an hour or so. Then we'll go back to the hotel and
have our trunks sent down to the station, dine at Ciro's and wire
Richard. Where are you going to stake your money?"
"I think I shall begin with number twenty-nine," she laughed.
* * * * *
They lunched with Richard and his wife, a few days later, at the Casino
at Cannes. The change in the two young people was most impressive.
Fedora had lost the dignified aloofness of Monte Carlo. She seemed as
though she had found her girlhood. She was brilliantly, supremely happy.
Richard, on the other hand, was more serious. He took Hunterleys on one
side as they waited for the cars.
"We are on our way to Biarritz," he said, "by easy stages. The yacht
will meet us there and we are going to sail at once for America."
"Fedora doesn't mind?" Hunterleys asked.
"Not in the least," Richard declared exultantly. "She knows what my duty
is, and, Hunterleys, I am going to try and do it. The people over there
may need a lot of convincing, but they are going to hear the truth from
me and have it drummed into them. It's going to be 'Wake up, America!'
as well as 'Wake up, England!'"
"Stick at it, Richard," Hunterleys advised. "Don't mind a little
discouragement. Men who see the truth and aren't afraid to keep on
calling attention to it, get laughed at a great deal. People speak of
them tolerantly, listen to what they say, doubt its reasonableness and
put it at the back of their heads, but in the end it does good. Your
people and mine are slow to believe and slow to understand, but the
truth sinks in if one proclaims it often enough and loudly enough. We
are going through it in our own country just now, with regard to
National Service, for one thing. Here come your cars. You travel in
state, Richard."
The young man laughed good-naturedly.
"There's nothing in life which I could give her that Fedora sha'n't
have," he asserted. "We spent the first two days absolutely alone. Now
her maid and my man come along with the luggage in the heavy car, and we
take the little racer. Jolly hard work they have to keep anywhere near
us, I can tell you. Say, may I make a rather impertinent remark, Sir
Henry?"
"You have earned the right to say anything to me you choose," Hunterleys
replied. "Go ahead."
"Why, it's only this," Richard continued, a little awkwardly. "I have
never seen Lady Hunterleys look half so ripping, and you seem years
younger."
Hunterleys smiled.
"To tell you the truth, I feel it. You see, years ago, when we started
out for our honeymoon, there was a crisis after the first week and we
had to rush back to England. We seem to have forgotten to ever finish
that honeymoon of ours. We are doing it now."
The two women came down the steps, the cynosure of a good many eyes, the
two most beautiful women in the Casino. Richard helped his wife into her
place, wrapped her up and took the steering wheel.
"Hyères to-night and Marseilles to-morrow," he announced, "Biarritz on
Saturday. We shall stay there for a week, and then--'Wake up, America!'"
The cars glided off. Hunterleys and his wife stood on the steps, waving
their hands.
"Something about those children," Hunterleys declared, as they vanished,
"makes me feel absurdly young. Let's go shopping, Violet. I want to buy
you some flowers and chocolates."
She smiled happily as she took his arm for a moment.
"And then?"
"What would you like to do afterwards?" he asked.
"I think," she replied, leaning towards him, "that I should like to go
to that nice Englishman who lets villas, and find one right at the edge
of the sea, quite hidden, and lock the gates, and give no one our
address, and have you forget for just one month that there was any work
to do in the world, or any one else in it except me."
"Just to make up," he laughed softly.
"Women are like that, you know," she murmured.
"The man's office is this way," Hunterleys said, turning off the main
street.
THE END
* * * * *
E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels
We do not stop to inquire into the measure of his art any more than we
inquire into that of Alexander Dumas. We only realize that here is a
benefactor of tired men and women seeking relaxation.--_Independent_,
New York.
Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo
An amazing revelation of war in the making.
The Vanished Messenger
What resulted when the Powers conspired against England.
A People's Man
How a socialistic leader became involved in international affairs.
The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton
Oppenheim in a new vein--a pure comedy.
The Mischief-Maker
A blending of love, romance, and international intrigue.
The Lighted Way
A mystery story that involves the revolution in Portugal.
Havoc
An engrossing story of love, mystery, and international intrigue.
Peter Ruff and the Double-Four
Deals with a shrewd detective and a mysterious secret society.
The Moving Finger
A mystifying story dealing with a wealthy M. P.'s experiment.
Berenice
A masterly tale of a strong love that is tragic in its outcome.
The Prince of Sinners
An engrossing story of English social and political life.
Anna the Adventuress
A surprising tale of a bold deception.
The Master Mummer
The strange romance of beautiful Isobel de Sorrens.
The Mysterious Mr. Sabin
The ingenious story of a bold international intrigue.
The Yellow Crayon
Mr. Sabin's exciting experiences with a powerful secret society.
A Millionaire of Yesterday
A gripping story of a wealthy West African miner.
The Man and His Kingdom
A dramatic tale of adventure in South America.
The Traitors
A capital romance of love, adventure, and Russian intrigue.
The Betrayal
A thrilling story of treachery in high diplomatic circles.
A Sleeping Memory
The story of an unhappy girl who was deprived of her memory.
Enoch Strone: A Master of Men
A tremendously strong story of a self-made man.
A Maker of History
A daring tale that "explains" a great historical event.
The Malefactor
An amazing story of a strange revenge.
A Lost Leader
A realistic romance woven around a striking personality.
The Great Secret
Unfolds a stupendous international conspiracy.
The Avenger
Unravels the deepest of mysteries with consummate power.
The Long Arm of Mannister
Deals with a wronged man's ingenious revenge.
The Tempting of Tavernake
In which an unromantic Englishman falls in love and learns something
about women.
The Governors
A romance of the intrigues of American finance.
Jeanne of the Marshes
Strange doings at an English house party are here set forth.
As a Man Lives
Discloses the mystery surrounding the fair occupant of a yellow house.
The Illustrious Prince
Exposes a Japanese political intrigue in London.
The Lost Ambassador
A straightforward mystery tale of Paris and London.
A Daughter of the Marionis
A tale of a beautiful Sicilian whose love interfered with her revenge.
The Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown
An ingenious solution of a murder mystery.
The Survivor
A striking story of a young Englishman's uphill fight.
The World's Great Snare
The love romance of a pretty American girl and an English prospector.
Those Other Days
A collection of gripping and vivid stories.
For the Queen
Remarkable stories of diplomatic scandals and political intrigue.
End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo, by E. Phillips Oppenheim