CHAPTER VI--JUST AU REVOIR
The great audience caught its breath and hopefully returned attention tothe affairs of the French actress who so had shocked and fascinated themat the first act's end. Stripped almost to the waist, the daring andtuneful Zaza had left them. More conventionally, not to say comfortablyclad, she reappeared.
Pape, as deficient in French as in appreciation of opera arias, appliedhimself hopefully at first to getting the gist of the piece, but soonconcluded that he must be clear "off trail in his lingo."
Out in Montana, the most meteoric stage luminary never would think ofsinging a perfectly good wife and mother into handing over husband andfather merely because his eyes had gone sort of blinky star-gazing ather. No. Such a translation didn't sound reasonable at all; was quitetoo raw for the range. Better give his ears to the music and buy aHoyle-translated libretto to-morrow.
Settling back in his chair, Pape allowed his gaze and mind toconcentrate, after a habit acquired of late in Central Park, upon thenearby. She had an expressive profile, the young woman whom he hadself-selected. If facial traits had real connection with character, thatprotruding chin, although curved too youthfully to do justice to itsjoints, suggested that she would not retreat unless punished beyond herstrength. If young Irene only would take one good look at her cousin'schin she must give up in any contest between them.
But then, Irene's mental eye was on herself. To her, evidently, allother women were more or less becoming backgrounds.
That she should be so near him, Jane; that he actually should get--oh,it wasn't imagination--the fragrance of her hair; yet that he should beso far away! ... She'd be annoyed and he must not do it, but he felttempted to train his hired glasses on her, as she had trained hers onhim only a few minutes since. He'd have liked again to draw her eyesclose to his through their lensed aid and study out the answer to thatteasing question--did she or did she not know that she didn't know him?
One thing was clear in the semi-gloom. Her neck and shoulders and backlooked more like marble than he'd have supposed live flesh could look.And her lines were lovely--not too padded over to conceal the shoulderblades, yet smooth. Above the narrow part of the V of silver lace, asmall, dark dot emphasized her whiteness. Was it a freckle or a mole?
Another than himself seemed interested to know. The handsome Mr. Harfordwas leaning forward, elbows on knees and chin cupped in hand, his eyesclosed, his lips almost touching the beauty spot. Had he given up to thewelling wail of Zaza's attempt to out-sing conventions or was hisattention, too, on that tantalizing mark?
Whether or no, Pape felt at the moment that he must prevent the imminentcontact if he did not live to do anything else in life. He, too, leanedforward. But his eyes did not close. They remained wide open, accuratelygauging the distance between a pair of sacrilegious mustached lipsand----
Tragedy was temporarily averted or, as it turned out, supplanted. Anusher appeared between the curtains; in subdued tones asked for MissLauderdale; held up a square, white envelope.
Jane arose and passed into the cloak room. Mills Harford followed her.Pape in turn, followed him. Observing the girl closely as she tore openthe envelope and read the enclosure, he saw alarm on her face; saw thesudden tension of her figure; saw her lips lengthen into a thin line.
"Chauffeur brought it. He is waiting down stairs for an answer," theusher advised her.
"Tell him," she said, "that I'll come at once."
The usher bowed and vanished.
"Anything wrong, Jane?" Harford asked.
"I can't stay for the last act. Aunt Helene has been--has sent for me."
As if fearful lest he should insist upon knowing the contents of hernote, she crumpled it in one hand; with the other reached for a brocadedcape that hung on one side of the mirrored rack; allowed him toanticipate her and lay it about her shoulders.
"I'll go with you," said he.
"No." She paused in her start toward the corridor and glanced into hisface uncertainly. "Tamo is waiting with the car. You must see the operaout. The Farrar probably has thrills and thrills saved for the_finale_."
"Not for me--without you. Of course I'll go with you, dear."
The ardor of the handsome chap's last pronouncement seemed to decideher.
"Of course you won't." She shook his hand from her shoulder as ifoffended. "You are giving this party. You owe it to the Allens to stay.Explain to Irene and the rest that I----"
"At least let me put you into the car."
"No." Positively, she snapped this time. "I don't need you. I don't wantyou, to be frank. You're coming up to the house to supper, all of you.Perhaps then I'll explain."
"You'll explain on the way up--now."
Harford looked to have made up his mind; looked angry. He took her elbowrather forcefully and started with her into the corridor.
On the sill she stopped and faced him defiantly. "I won't explain untiland unless I wish to. You can't use that tone with me, Mills, successfulas you may have found it with others. Mr. Pape is going to put me intothe car."
And lo, the Westerner found himself by her side, _his_ hand at herelbow. He had felt electrified by her summons. Although not once had sheglanced toward where he stood just outside the curtains, uncertainwhether to advance or retreat, she apparently had been keen to hispresence and had felt his readiness to serve.
Their last glance at Harford showed his face auburn as his hair. Theyhurried down the grand stairway, passed the regal doorman and queriedthe resplendent starter. His signal brought the Sturgis limousine,parked on Broadway in consideration of the emergency call. The driver, aJapanese, was alone on the seat in front.
Jane had not volunteered one word on the way down, and Pape was mindfulto profit by the recent demonstration of her resentment of inquiries.Now, however, he began to fear that she had forgotten his existenceentirely. A nod from her kept the chauffeur from scrambling out. She letherself into the car and tried the inside catch of the door as if tomake sure that she was well shut in--alone.
But Pape's habit of initiative overruled his caution. He had fracturedtoo many rules of convention to-night to be intimidated at this vitalmoment. With the same sweep of the hand he demanded a moment more of thedriver and pulled open the door.
"Of course I'm going along, Jane dear," said he.
She gasped from shock of his impudence; a long moment stared at him;then, with a flash of the same temper she had shown Mills, returned himvalue received.
"Of course you're not, Peter dar-rling."
"Why not?"
Stubbornly he placed his shiny, large, hurting right foot on therunning-board.
"Because you're not a possible person. You're quite impossible." Andwith the waspish exclamation she leaned out, took him by the coat lapelsand literally pushed him out of her way. "I know that I don't know youat all. Did you think you had deceived me for one instant? I am not inthe habit of scraping acquaintance with strangers, even at grand opera."
"But--but----" he began stammered protest.
"It was partly my fault to-night. I did stare at you," she continuedhurriedly. "You looked so different from the regular run of men in blackand white. Maybe my curiosity did invite you and you showed nerve that Ilearned to like out West by accepting. I couldn't be such a poor sportas to turn you down before the rest. But it's time now for the good-bywe _didn't_ say in the Yellowstone." She turned to the speaking tube."Ready, Tamo. And don't mind the speed limit getting home."
From the decision of her voice, the man from Montana knew that she meantwhat she said. Never had he found it necessary to force his presenceupon a woman. He stepped aside, heard the door pulled to with a slam;watched the heavy machine roll away. Its purr did not soothe him.
"Not good-by. Just _au revoir_, as Zaza'd say."
That was all he had managed to reply to her. In his memory it soundedsimpering as the refrain of some silly song. He hadn't played much of apart, compared to hers. What an opponent she would make at stud poker,holding to the last c
ard! She was a credit to his judgment, this firstwoman of his independent self-selection.... Good-by? The word she hadused was too final--too downright Montanan. Although far from alinguist, as had been impressed upon him during his late jaunt overseas,he had learned from the French people to prefer the pleasanterpossibilities of their substitute--of _au revoir_.
As to when and where he should see her again--The shrug of his shoulderssaid plainly as words, "_Quien sabe_?" The lift of his hair in thestreet breeze caused him to realize his bare-headed state. A thought ofthe precipitation with which he had left both hat and coat on hishundred-fifty-simoleon hook brought a flash of Irene and the outragedglance she had cast toward his departure. She had said that she "doted"on all Westerners. Perhaps if he returned to the Harford box on thelegitimate errand of bidding his new acquaintances a ceremoniousgood-night she might come to dote on him enough in the course of anotherhalf hour or so to invite him to that supper which----
In the vacuum left by the sudden withdrawal of the evening's chiefdistraction, he gave up for a moment to his pedal agony. He'd a heaprather return at once to his hotel, where he could take off his newshoes. At least he could loosen the buttons of the patent pincers. Thishe stooped to do, but never did.
Lying beside the curb to which, from his stand in the street, he hadlifted the more painful foot, was something that interestedhim--something small, white, crumpled. The overbearing Miss Lauderdalemust have dropped it in her violent effort to shove him from therunning-board. Had her flash of fury toward him been as sincere as ithad sounded? Had she left him the note, whether consciously or sub, byway of suggestion? Under urge of such undeveloped possibilities, Papestrode to the nearest light and smoothed out the crumpled sheet. It borean engraved address in the eight-hundreds of Fifth Avenue, and read:
_Jane_, dear:--Have just discovered the wall-safe open. That antique _tabatiere_ you entrusted to my care is gone. I can't understand, but fear we have been robbed. Don't frighten Irene or the others, but do come home at once. Tamo will be waiting for you with the car. Please hurry.
_Aunt Helene_.
So! She had been robbed of some trinket, the very threat of whose losshad stopped the blood in her veins. Perhaps her predicament was hisopportunity to advance a good start. He had all details of the caseliterally in hand, down to the engraved house address.
Jane had proved herself the honest sort he liked in acknowledging thatfirst, probably involuntary invitation of her eyes. At least it had beenthe invitation of Fate. Was this the second--_her_ second?
Why not find out--_why not_?
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