by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXI. THE CIGARETTES FROM BUENOS AYRES
Sir Lucien's intervention proved successful. Kazmah's charges becamemore modest, and Rita no longer found it necessary to deprive herself ofhats and dresses in order to obtain drugs. But, nevertheless, these werenot the halcyon days of old. She was now surrounded by spies. It wasnecessary to resort to all kinds of subterfuge in order to cover herexpenditures at the establishment in old Bond Street. Her husband neverquestioned her outlay, but on the other hand it was expedient to bearmed against the possibility of his doing so, and Rita's debts wereaccumulating formidably.
Then there was Margaret Halley to consider. Rita had never hithertogiven her confidence to anyone who was not addicted to the samepractices as herself, and she frequently experienced embarrassmentbeneath the grave scrutiny of Margaret's watchful eyes. In another thisattitude of gentle disapproval would have been irritating, but Ritaloved and admired Margaret, and suffered accordingly.
As for Sir Lucien, she had ceased to understand him. An impalpablebarrier seemed to have arisen between them. The inner man had becameinaccessible. Her mind was not subtle enough to grasp the realexplanation of this change in her old lover. Being based upon wrongpremises, her inferences were necessarily wide of the truth, and shebelieved that Sir Lucien was jealous of Margaret's cousin, Quentin Gray.
Gray met Rita at Margaret Halley's flat shortly after he had returnedhome from service in the East, and he immediately conceived a violentinfatuation for this pretty friend of his cousin's. In this respect hisconduct was in no way peculiar. Few men were proof against the seductiveMrs. Monte Irvin, not because she designedly encouraged admiration, butbecause she was one of those fortunately rare characters who inspireit without conscious effort. Her appeal to men was sweetly feminine andquite lacking in that self-assertive and masculine "take me or leave me"attitude which characterizes some of the beauties of today. There wasnothing abstract about her delicate loveliness, yet her charm was notwholly physical. Many women disliked her.
At dance, theatre, and concert Quentin Gray played the doting cavalier;and Rita, who was used to at least one such adoring attendant, acceptedhis homage without demur. Monte Irvin returned to civil life, but Ritashowed no disposition to dispense with her new admirer. Both Gray andSir Lucien had become frequent visitors at Prince's Gate, and Irvin, whounderstood his wife's character up to a point, made them his friends.
Shortly after Monte Irvin's return Sir Lucien taxed Rita again with herincreasing subjection to drugs. She was in a particularly gay humor,as the supplies from Kazmah had been regular, and she laughingly fencedwith him when he reminded her of her declared intention to reform whenher husband should return.
"You are really as bad as Margaret," she declared. "There is nothing thematter with me. You talk of 'curing' me as though I were ill. Physician,heal thyself."
The sardonic smile momentarily showed upon Pyne's face, and:
"I know when and where to pull up, Rita," he said. "A woman never knowsthis. If I were deprived of opium tomorrow I could get along withoutit."
"I have given up opium," replied Rita. "It's too much trouble, and thelast time Mollie and I went--"
She paused, glancing quickly at Sir Lucien.
"Go on," he said grimly. "I know you have been to Sin Sin Wa's. Whathappened the last time?"
"Well," continued Rita hurriedly, "Monte seemed to be vaguelysuspicious. Besides, Mrs. Sin charged me most preposterously. I reallycannot afford it, Lucy."
"I am glad you cannot. But what I was about to say was this: Suppose youwere to be deprived, not of 'chard', but of cocaine and veronal, do youknow what would happen to you?"
"Oh!" whispered Rita, "why will you persist in trying to frighten me! Iam not going to be deprived of them."
"I persist, dear, because I want you to try, gradually, to depend lessupon drugs, so that if the worst should happen you would have a chance."
Rita stood up and faced him, biting her lip.
"Lucy," she said, "do you mean that Kazmah--"
"I mean that anything might happen, Rita. After all, we do possess apolice service in London, and one day there might be an accident. Kazmahhas certain influence, but it may be withdrawn. Rita, won't you try?"
She was watching him closely, and now the pupils of her beautiful eyesbecame dilated.
"You know something," she said slowly, "which you are keeping from me."
He laughed and turned aside.
"I know that I am compelled to leave England again, Rita, for a time;and I should be a happier man if I knew that you were not so utterlydependent upon Kazmah."
"Oh, Lucy, are you going away again?"
"I must. But I shall not be absent long, I hope."
Rita sank down upon the settee from which she had risen, and was silentfor some time; then:
"I will try, Lucy," she promised. "I will go to Margaret Halley, as sheis always asking me to do."
"Good girl," said Pyne quietly. "It is just a question of making theeffort, Rita. You will succeed, with Margaret's help."
A short time later Sir Lucien left England, but throughout the last weekthat he remained in London Rita spent a great part of every day in hiscompany. She had latterly begun to experience an odd kind of remorsefor her treatment of the inscrutably reserved baronet. His earlierintentions she had not forgotten, but she had long ago forgiven them,and now she often felt sorry for this man whom she had deliberately usedas a stepping-stone to fortune.
Gray was quite unable to conceal his jealousy. He seemed to think thathe had a proprietary right to Mrs. Monte Irvin's society, and duringthe week preceding Sir Lucien's departure Gray came perilously near tomaking himself ridiculous on more than one occasion.
One night, on leaving a theatre, Rita suggested to Pyne that they shouldproceed to a supper club for an hour. "It will be like old times," shesaid.
"But your husband is expecting you," protested Sir Lucien.
"Let's ring him up and ask him to join us. He won't, but he cannot verywell object then."
As a result they presently found themselves descending a broad carpetedstairway. From the rooms below arose the strains of an American melody.Dancing was in progress, or, rather, one of those orgiastic ceremonieswhich passed for dancing during this pagan period. Just by the foot ofthe stairs they paused and surveyed the scene.
"Why," said Rita, "there is Quentin--glaring insanely, silly boy."
"Do you see whom he is with?" asked Sir Lucien.
"Mollie Gretna."
"But I mean the woman sitting down."
Rita stood on tiptoe, trying to obtain a view, and suddenly:
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Mrs. Sin!"
The dance at that moment concluding, they crossed the floor and joinedthe party. Mrs. Sin greeted them with one of her rapid, mirthlesssmiles. She was wearing a gown noticeable, but not for quantity, even inthat semi-draped assembly. Mollie Gretna giggled rapturously. But Gray'sswiftly changing color betrayed a mood which he tried in vain to concealby his manner. Having exchanged a few words with the new arrivals, heevidently realized that he could not trust himself to remain longer,and:
"Now I must be off," he said awkwardly. "I have anappointment--important business. Good night, everybody."
He turned away and hurried from the room. Rita flushed slightly andexchanged a glance with Sir Lucien. Mrs. Sin, who had been watchingthe three intently, did not fail to perceive this glance. Mollie Gretnacharacteristically said a silly thing.
"Oh!" she cried. "I wonder whatever is the matter with him! He looks asthough he had gone mad!"
"It is perhaps his heart," said Mrs. Sin harshly, and she raised herbold dark eyes to Sir Lucien's face.
"Oh, please don't talk about hearts," cried Rita, willfullymisunderstanding. "Monte has a weak heart, and it frightens me."
"So?" murmured Mrs. Sin. "Poor fellow."
"I think a weak heart is most romantic," declared Mollie Gretna.
But Gray's behavior had cast a shadow upon the par
ty which even Mollie'sempty light-hearted chatter was powerless to dispel, and when, shortlyafter midnight, Sir Lucien drove Rita home to Prince's Gate, they werevery silent throughout the journey. Just before the car reached thehouse:
"Where does Mrs. Sin live?" asked Rita, although it was not of Mrs. Sinthat she had been thinking.
"In Limehouse, I believe," replied Sir Lucien; "at The House. But Ifancy she has rooms somewhere in town also."
He stayed only a few minutes at Prince's Gate, and as the car returnedalong Piccadilly, Sir Lucien, glancing upward towards the windows of atall block of chambers facing the Green Park, observed a light in one ofthem. Acting upon a sudden impulse, he raised the speaking-tube.
"Pull up, Fraser," he directed.
The chauffeur stopped the car and Sir Lucien alighted, glancing at theclock inside as he did so, and smiling at his own quixotic behavior.He entered an imposing doorway and rang one of the bells. There was aninterval of two minutes or so, when the door opened and a man lookedout.
"Is that you, Willis?" asked Pyne.
"Oh, I beg pardon, Sir Lucien. I didn't know you in the dark."
"Has Mr. Gray retired yet?"
"Not yet. Will you please follow me, Sir Lucien. The stairway lights areoff."
A few moments later Sir Lucien was shown into the apartment of Gray'swhich oddly combined the atmosphere of a gymnasium with that of astudy. Gray, wearing a dressing-gown and having a pipe in his mouth,was standing up to receive his visitor, his face rather pale and theexpression of his lips at variance with that in his eyes. But:
"Hello, Pyne," he said quietly. "Anything wrong--or have you just lookedin for a smoke?"
Sir Lucien smiled a trifle sadly.
"I wanted a chat, Gray," he replied. "I'm leaving town tomorrow, or Ishould not have intruded at such an unearthly hour."
"No intrusion," muttered Gray; "try the armchair, no, the big one. It'smore comfortable." He raised his voice: "Willis, bring some fluid!"
Sir Lucien sat down, and from the pocket of his dinner jacket took out aplain brown packet of cigarettes and selected one.
"Here," said Gray, "have a cigar!"
"No, thanks," replied Pyne. "I rarely smoke anything but these."
"Never seen that kind of packet before," declared Gray. "What brand arethey?"
"No particular brand. They are imported from Buenos Ayres, I believe."
Willis having brought in a tray of refreshments and departed again, SirLucien came at once to the point.
"I really called, Gray," he said, "to clear up any misunderstandingthere may be in regard to Rita Irvin."
Quentin Gray looked up suddenly when he heard Rita's name, and:
"What misunderstanding?" he asked.
"Regarding the nature of my friendship with her," answered Sir Luciencoolly. "Now, I am going to speak quite bluntly, Gray, because I likeRita and I respect her. I also like and respect Monte Irvin; and I don'twant you, or anybody else, to think that Rita and I are, or ever havebeen, anything more than pals. I have known her long enough to havelearned that she sails straight, and has always sailed straight.Now--listen, Gray, please. You embarrassed me tonight, old chap, and youembarrassed Rita. It was unnecessary." He paused, and then added slowly:"She is as sacred to me, Gray, as she is to you--and we are both friendsof Monte Irvin."
For a moment Quentin Gray's fiery temper flickered up, as his heightenedcolor showed, but the coolness of the older and cleverer man prevailed.Gray laughed, stood up, and held out his hand.
"You're right, Pyne!" he said. "But she's damn pretty!" He uttered aloud sigh. "If only she were not married!"
Sir Lucien gripped the outstretched hand, but his answering smile hadmuch pathos in it.
"If only she were not, Gray," he echoed.
He took his departure shortly afterwards, absently leaving a brownpacket of cigarettes upon the table. It was an accident. Yet there werefew, when the truth respecting Sir Lucien Pyne became known, who did notbelieve it to have been a deliberate act, designed to lure Quentin Grayinto the path of the poppy.