CHAPTER VII

The sledge occupied by this well-matched couple might have been used

by Pompadour, in the days when the finances of France were melting in

the furnace of Versailles. The basketwork body of a swan, gilded and

painted and elegantly fragile, rested delicately on slim steel

runners, and glided over the frozen snow in the rear of two spirited

black ponies. These, harnessed in the Russian fashion, with a paucity

of trappings and many tiny silver bells, sprang forward, under Lady

Jim's skilful guidance, as though they were rioting in a spring

meadow. She and her companion were snugly wrapped in an opossum rug,

which Leah, rather vulgarly, despised as a cheap article. Her mink

cloak, with the snowy ermine scarf drawn through the shoulder cape in

the latest fashion, had cost nearly ten times the amount, and Leah

wore it with the proud consciousness that she owed no money for it. It

was an early-winter present from Lady Frith, and she had accepted it

on the generous ground that its cut and rich brown colour became her

better than they would have suited the dowdy, insignificant

Marchioness. But the little woman never knew that Lady Jim's

good-nature had prevailed to this extent. She had thought to give

Leah pleasure.

Demetrius, muffled in Muscovite sables, sat contentedly by this Tauric

Diana, wondering why he had been graciously invited to drive with the

goddess, after a hurried luncheon. The two were tête-à-tête, for the

groom had been dispensed with as out of keeping with the novel

vehicle. The excuse was artistic. Nevertheless, Demetrius suspected

other reasons for the absence of an eavesdropping servant. What these

might be he hoped to hear from Lady Jim.

But as yet she showed no disposition to speak frankly, for the

Russian, in Jim's picturesque speech, was a gentleman to be handled

"with the gloves on." Jim himself had impressed this on Leah, before

he sat down to spell out _The Woman in White_. Needless to say, this

unusual effort to improve what Jim was pleased to term his mind bored

him extremely. "Not a word about racin'," grumbled Jim, skipping page

after page. Still, as Leah pointed out the necessity of poaching on

the domain of fiction, Jim sat at his lesson like a good little boy,

and his wife drove out with her proposed victim. That the irony of

fate might change the victim into a possible tyrant did not occur to

Leah at the moment.

All the same, she was careful not to commit herself too hastily, and

for two miles talked society-journal paragraphs with an assiduity at

once boring and perplexing to Demetrius. Even when the sledge slipped,

silent and ghost-like, over an Arctic waste, and they were alone to

babble secrets to a frosty sky, Leah showed no disposition to come to

the point. She wished Demetrius to question her, and then, by seeing

into his mind, she could be guided as to the most selfishly-successful

way of making up her own. But the doctor guessed her reason for this

diplomatic silence, and knowing what a shameless capacity she had for

word-twisting and for slipping out of untenable positions, he gave her

no opportunity to overlook his hand. It was certainly, as he

reflected, a game of skill, but what the precise style of game might

be Demetrius could not guess. However, one thing was certain; this

game, like all others, was being played for money. On Lady Jim's part,

that is. Demetrius shuffled his cards for the stake of love, and so,

having Leah Kaimes for an antagonist, lost at the outset. A game

between a man and a woman, on amatory grounds, is always unequal. The

one in earnest invariably loses.

"Does this remind you of the steppes?" asked Leah, waving her whip

towards a desert of snow and ice. The polite conversation was still

much in evidence.

"Somewhat, madame; but I cannot remember sledging across any steppe in

such charming company."

"Ah! You have never driven Mademoiselle Aksakoff, then?"

"It is a pleasure yet to come."

"In Russia?"

"Why not? She may induce her father to make my peace with the Czar."

"You would be pleased?"

Demetrius shrugged his spare shoulders, and replied in the evasive

manner which characterised this conversation on the part of both.

"I am well content with England," he remarked calmly. "Many people are

pleasant, and all agreeable. Also, the Duke pays me well--too well,

considering he is my solitary patient."

"I never knew a physician to quarrel with his fees before," laughed

Lady Jim, flicking the ponies lightly; "and you have another patient,

I understand--Mr. Kaimes said something about it."

"The young priest--ah, yes. He was at the gates with that most

adorable young lady, whom I presume he will marry. Your Anglican

priests, like our Greek popes, have that freedom, have they not?"

"You do not answer my question."

"Ah, pardon, madame," said the doctor, with an apologetic smile and

his hands palm to palm. "Yes--it is so. I have another patient, a

peasant--one Harold Garth," he pronounced the name uncommonly clearly.

"How well you speak English, Monsieur Demetrius! So many foreigners

over-emphasise their 'h's', and slur their 'r's.'"

"We Russians have a capacity for tongues. I know five languages."

"Can you tell the truth in any one of them?" asked Lady Jim, rather

rudely; but then she wished to make him lose his temper, in the hope

of breaking down his reserve. But love had not yet blinded Demetrius,

and he became offensively gentle.

"To you, madame, I always speak the truth."

"I take you at your word," said Lady Jim, smartly. "Why did you leave

Russia, Monsieur Demetrius?"

"Madame, I come of a princely family, but for the sake of humanity I

practised my profession in Moscow. A dear friend of mine foolishly

joined the Anarchists, and an order was issued for his arrest.

Fortunately, the official who signed the warrant was my patient, and I

chanced to be with him when the paper was brought for his signature.

He laid it aside for the moment, and I saw my friend's name. I

therefore gave my patient a drug, which made him sleep for twenty-four

hours, so that he could not sign. Meanwhile, my friend escaped--it

matters not how--but he escaped, with my help. Through a rival doctor,

my use of the drug to aid my friend became known, and I was accused of

conspiring also. The governor of Moscow was enraged, and ordered my

arrest in my friend's place. The prospect of Siberia was not pleasant,

so I crossed the frontier after many delightful adventures, with the

recital of which I shall not trouble you. Behold me, therefore, in

your free country, madame, no longer a subject of the Czar, but your

devoted slave."

He told the story, without preamble or excuse, in an unemotional and

level voice, though all the time he wondered why Lady Jim desired to

hear it. She gave him no explanation. "And if you go back to Russia?"

she asked carelessly.

"I fear I shall never go back, madame."

"Who knows? Mademoiselle Aksakoff might----"

"Precisely, madame. She might, and, with small encouragement, she

would. But her gaining of my pardon would assuredly lead to a marriage

of gratitude."

"That would be no sacrifice."

"To many--no. To myself--madame, it is impossible!"

"Can you not make your peace without her influence?"

"Alas, no, madame. The Grand Duke was furious at my share in my

friend's escape. He would give much to capture me, and should I set

foot on the Continent"--he shrugged his shoulders significantly; "but

the Third Section has no power in your land of liberty."

"The Third Section?"

"If it pleases madame better, the secret police. No; unless I marry

Mademoiselle Aksakoff, of whom I admit my unworthiness, I must remain

in exile--but it has many compensations," he added, bowing his head

courteously to Lady Jim's profile.

"Quite so," she assented, scarcely heeding the compliment; then added

thoughtfully, "You are a daring man, Monsieur Demetrius."

"Daring, when necessary, madame. But I confess to a love of ease."

Leah swung her ponies round a curve with careless dexterity. "It is

not probable that any one will invite you to leave your lotus-eating,

monsieur. Thank you for the story."

"It is at your service, madame."

Lady Jim hesitated. "You do not ask me why I requested you to relate

it," she said at last.

"Your wish is a command. A command is never questioned."

"I might wish you to do something that you might question."

"Ah, no--believe me!"

"Don't jump in the dark," said Leah, with a hard little laugh; "by the

way, this woman, for whom you ventured so much----"

"It was a man, madame."

"David and Jonathan in Crim Tartary, I suppose. They say," she gave a

conscious laugh, "that a man would venture farther for a woman than

for one of his own sex. You, I resume, are an exception."

"Madame, one does some things for friendship, but all things for

love."

Leah glanced at the pale face beside her with a smile, and saw that

the dark eyes were full of fire, "You are romantic."

"As is every man, when he loves, madame."

"I understand--Mademoiselle Aksakoff."

"You penetrate my thoughts admirably."

Lady Jim relieved her feelings by using the whip on the obedient

ponies. Demetrius was clever and suspicious; also, as his story

assured her, he was daring, clear-headed, and might be dangerous. If

she gave this man a hold over her, he might be, and probably would be,

unscrupulous enough to use his power. Moreover, Lionel had not yet

asked the Duke, and there was always the chance that the money could

be obtained without the necessity of plotting. Leah had taken the

doctor for this delightful drive with the intention of speaking

plainly; but his skilful use of words made her cautious. She was too

clever a woman to build her tower without reckoning the expense.

Demetrius watched her with keen, questioning eyes and a perfectly

impassive face, but he learned nothing. Lady Jim was quite as Oriental

as himself in masking her emotions. Nevertheless, he guessed that the

interest displayed in his past involved more than the satisfying of an

idle curiosity. She wanted money--he was certain of that. But unless

she intended to sell him to the Third Section, he could not conceive

why she had forced his confidence. The enigma irritated him, though he

paid a silent tribute to the diplomatic powers of this charming

Englishwoman. But, cool and cautious as he was, her next speech nearly

reduced him to the necessity of speaking plainly, although he regarded

candour as a greater sin than making love to another man's wife.

"Now we'll drive home," said Leah, briskly.

"Ah, but no, madame. This is charming."

"And chilly. I am not a Russian, to revel in snow and ice."

"Madame, the fire in our veins prevents our feeling the disagreeables

of nature. I am no phlegmatic Englishman."

"How interesting," said Leah, indifferently. "I wonder if the cattle

will face this snowstorm."

They were driving straight into a chaos of eddying flakes, and meeting

the sting of bitter sleet dashed in their blinking eyes by the wind.

Demetrius bit his lips, and suppressed his fiery nature with an effort

due to years of training. He could have killed this woman with her

contemptuous indifference and impregnable self-possession. As the

ponies plunged, with tossing heads and jingling bells, into that

Arctic hurricane, he wished that the sledge would overturn, so that he

might extort a word of gratitude by saving her life. But Leah's

courage was as high as his own, and her strength greater, so it was

quite probable that she would be able to look after herself. All he

could do was to unflinchingly face the volleying snow, while Lady Jim

dashed through the hostile elements like Semiramis in her war-chariot.

With a turn of her wrist she prevented the frightened ponies dashing

into a thorny hedge, with another turn swung the light vehicle away

from a dangerous ditch, and then lashed the animals into a headlong

gallop, which ended only when they trembled, with smoking flanks and

drooping heads, before the Firmingham porch. And throughout that

furious, rocking, blinding drive Demetrius sat grimly silent. Lady Jim

was disappointed. It would have been more courageous and amusing had

he made love to her in the jaws of death.

"Quite a Russian adventure," she said, tossing the reins to a groom,

and jumped out, all colour and animation. "I hope you were not afraid,

Monsieur Demetrius," she added unjustly.

"For you," he replied significantly.

With a rosy face and a display of white teeth, Leah faced him on the

steps. "There was no need, I assure you. I can look after myself in

every way."

"I can believe that, madame."

"Then why talk nonsense?"

"To amuse you."

"My good man, I don't want amusement, but help."

Demetrius started forward, impulsively. "Command me."

Lady Jim flung her wraps, her whip, her mink cape, and her gloves into

his arms. "Thanks," she said carelessly, and turned towards the

library, leaving her illegal admirer pale with rage.

She stopped laughing at the remembrance of his wrath when she saw

Lionel studying a book near the window. "Well?" she asked, coming

lightly towards him: "any news?"

"Yes; I have seen the Duke!"

"And he--and he----" her voice died away under stress of emotion.

"He will help you!"

Leah's first feeling was one of relief, and she was almost on the

point of expressing gratitude, but a sudden remembrance that aid from

the Duke meant the retention of Jim as a most undesirable husband,

cooled the warm impulse. She recovered her self-command, and was about

to go into figures, when Mrs. Penworthy with a noisy party bustled

into the room, looking rather tousled and flushed.

"We have been playing 'Hunt the Slipper,'" she announced, in her high,

thin voice, "and Algy found mine three times."

Lady Jim, annoyed at the irruption, glanced at Mrs. Penworthy's feet,

which could scarcely have worn the slippers of Cinderella. "I can

quite believe that," she said sweetly, and left the room smiling.

"What does she mean?" asked Algy, obtusely.

Mrs. Penworthy knew perfectly well what was meant, but was too

feminine to explain, save in a way calculated to mislead her courtier.

This could be done by arousing his egotism.

"She means that you are clever to play the game so well," was her

explanation. "I rather think Lady Jim admires you, Algy."

The youth fondled what he called a moustache. "Rippin' woman, Lady

Jim," said he, taking the speech literally.

"Go and tell her so," snapped Mrs. Penworthy, colouring angrily.

"You wouldn't like it."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," remarked the lady, fervently

hating him for his stupidity, "than to see her dancing on you, as she

does on all men who are foolish enough to make themselves carpets."

"I'm not a carpet."

"No! You're a tame cat."

"Then come and play Puss in the Corner," urged Algy, gaily, and Mrs.

Penworthy consented, as this game had nothing to do with abnormal

slippers.

Leah, pleased at having snubbed Mrs. Penworthy, whom she considered

quite an improper person, went to look for Jim in his room. He was

there, sure enough, lying on the sofa with the novel tossed carelessly

on the floor, and a black pipe between his lips. Evidently he had not

heard the good news.

"Jim," cried Leah, breathlessly, "the Duke will part."

"He has parted," growled Jim, swinging his long legs on to the floor

and producing a cheque. "Look at that."

Lady Jim did. It was for two hundred pounds. "Oh!" She crushed it in

her two hands, as though she were throttling his Grace. "What an

insult!"

Lady Jim of Curzon Street: A Novel · 第 7 / 35 章