The Primadonna

by F. Marion Crawford

  CHAPTER V

  Mr. Van Torp arrived in London alone, with one small valise, for hehad sent his man with his luggage to the place in Derbyshire. AtEuston a porter got him a hansom, and he bargained with the cabman totake him and his valise to the Temple for eighteenpence, a sum which,he explained, allowed sixpence for the valise, as the distance couldnot by any means be made out to be more than two miles.

  Such close economy was to be expected from a millionaire, travellingincognito; what was more surprising was that, when the cab stoppedbefore a door in Hare Court and Mr. Van Torp received his valise fromthe roof of the vehicle, he gave the man half-a-crown, and said it was'all right.'

  'Now, my man,' he observed, 'you've not only got an extra shilling,to which you had no claim whatever, but you've had the pleasure of asurprise which you could not have bought for that money.'

  The cabman grinned as he touched his hat and drove away, and Mr. VanTorp took his valise in one hand and his umbrella in the other andwent up the dark stairs. He went up four flights without stoppingto take breath, and without so much as glancing at any of the namespainted in white letters on the small black boards beside the doors onthe right and left of each landing.

  The fourth floor was the last, and though the name on the left hadevidently been there a number of years, for the white lettering was ofthe tint of a yellow fog, it was still quite clear and legible.

  MR.I. BAMBERGER.

  That was the name, but the millionaire did not look at it any morethan he had looked at the others lower down. He knew them all byheart. He dropped his valise, took a small key from his pocket, openedthe door, picked up his valise again, and, as neither hand was free,he shut the door with his heel as he passed in, and it slammed behindhim, sending dismal echoes down the empty staircase.

  The entry was almost quite dark, for it was past six o'clock in theafternoon, late in March, and the sky was overcast; but there wasstill light enough to see in the large room on the left into which Mr.Van Torp carried his things.

  It was a dingy place, poorly furnished, but some one had dusted thetable, the mantelpiece, and the small bookcase, and the fire was laidin the grate, while a bright copper kettle stood on a movable hob. Mr.Van Torp struck a match and lighted the kindling before he took offhis overcoat, and in a few minutes a cheerful blaze dispelled thegathering gloom. He went to a small old-fashioned cupboard in a cornerand brought from it a chipped cup and saucer, a brown teapot, and acheap japanned tea-caddy, all of which he set on the table; and assoon as the fire burned brightly, he pushed the movable hob round withhis foot till the kettle was over the flame of the coals. Then he tookoff his overcoat and sat down in the shabby easy-chair by the hearth,to wait till the water boiled.

  His proceedings, his manner, and his expression would have surprisedthe people who had been his fellow-passengers on the _Leofric_, andwho imagined Mr. Van Torp driving to an Olympian mansion, somewherebetween Constitution Hill and Sloane Square, to be received at his owndoor by gravely obsequious footmen in plush, and to drink ImperialChinese tea from cups of Old Saxe, or Bleu du Roi, or Capo di Monte.

  Paul Griggs, having tea and a pipe in a quiet little hotel in ClargesStreet, would have been much surprised if he could have seen Rufus VanTorp lighting a fire for himself in that dingy room in Hare Court.Madame Margarita da Cordova, waiting for an expected visitor in herown sitting-room, in her own pretty house in Norfolk Crescent, wouldhave been very much surprised indeed. The sight would have plunged herinto even greater uncertainty as to the man's real character, and itis not unlikely that she would have taken his mysterious retreat to beanother link in the chain of evidence against him which already seemedso convincing. She might naturally have wondered, too, what he hadfelt when he had seen that board beside the door, and she could hardlyhave believed that he had gone in without so much as glancing at theyellowish letters that formed the name of Bamberger.

  But he seemed quite at home where he was, and not at all uncomfortableas he sat before the fire, watching the spout of the kettle, hiselbows on the arms of the easy-chair and his hands raised before him,with the finger-tips pressed against each other, in the attitudewhich, with most men, means that they are considering the two sides ofa question that is interesting without being very important.

  Perhaps a thoughtful observer would have noticed at once that therehad been no letters waiting for him when he had arrived, and wouldhave inferred either that he did not mean to stay at the roomstwenty-four hours, or that, if he did, he had not chosen to let anyone know where he was.

  Presently it occurred to him that there was no longer any light inthe room except from the fire, and he rose and lit the gas. Theincandescent light sent a raw glare into the farthest corners of thelarge room, and just then a tiny wreath of white steam issued from thespout of the kettle. This did not escape Mr. Van Torp's watchful eye,but instead of making tea at once he looked at his watch, after whichhe crossed the room to the window and stood thoughtfully gazingthrough the panes at the fast disappearing outlines of the roofs andchimney-pots which made up the view when there was daylight outside.He did not pull down the shade before he turned back to the fire,perhaps because no one could possibly look in.

  But he poured a little hot water into the teapot, to scald it, andwent to the cupboard and got another cup and saucer, and an oldtobacco-tin of which the dingy label was half torn off, and whichbetrayed by a rattling noise that it contained lumps of sugar. Theimaginary thoughtful observer already mentioned would have inferredfrom all this that Mr. Van Torp had resolved to put off making teauntil some one came to share it with him, and that the some onemight take sugar, though he himself did not; and further, as it wasextremely improbable, on the face of it, that an afternoon visitorshould look in by a mere chance, in the hope of finding some one inMr. Isidore Bamberger's usually deserted rooms, on the fourth floor ofa dark building in Hare Court, the observer would suppose that Mr. VanTorp was expecting some one to come and see him just at that hour,though he had only landed in Liverpool that day, and would have beenstill at sea if the weather had been rough or foggy.

  All this might have still further interested Paul Griggs, and wouldcertainly have seemed suspicious to Margaret, if she could have knownabout it.

  Five minutes passed, and ten, and the kettle was boiling furiously,and sending out a long jet of steam over the not very shapely toes ofMr. Van Torp's boots, as he leaned back with his feet on the fender.He looked at his watch again and apparently gave up the idea ofwaiting any longer, for he rose and poured out the hot water from theteapot into one of the cups, as a preparatory measure, and took offthe lid to put in the tea. But just as he had opened the caddy, hepaused and listened. The door of the room leading to the entry wasajar, and as he stood by the table he had heard footsteps on thestairs, still far down, but mounting steadily.

  He went to the outer door and listened. There was no doubt thatsomebody was coming up; any one not deaf could have heard the sound.It was more strange that Mr. Van Torp should recognise the step,for the rooms on the other side of the landing were occupied, and astranger would have thought it quite possible that the person whowas coming up should be going there. But Mr. Van Torp evidently knewbetter, for he opened his door noiselessly and stood waiting toreceive the visitor. The staircase below was dimly lighted by gas, butthere was none at the upper landing, and in a few seconds a dark formappeared, casting a tall shadow upwards against the dingy white paintof the wall. The figure mounted steadily and came directly to the opendoor--a lady in a long black cloak that quite hid her dress. She woreno hat, but her head was altogether covered by one of those thingswhich are neither hoods nor mantillas nor veils, but which serve womenfor any of the three, according to weather and circumstances. Thepeculiarity of the one the lady wore was that it cast a deep shadowover her face.

  'Come in,' said Mr. Van Torp, withdrawing into the entry to make way.

  She entered and went on directly to the sitting-room, while he shutthe outer door. Then he followed her, and shut
the second door behindhim. She was standing before the fire spreading her gloved hands tothe blaze, as if she were cold. The gloves were white, and they fittedvery perfectly. As he came near, she turned and held out one hand.

  'All right?' he inquired, shaking it heartily, as if it had been aman's.

  A sweet low voice answered him.

  'Yes--all right,' it said, as if nothing could ever be wrong withits possessor. 'But you?' it asked directly afterwards, in a tone ofsympathetic anxiety.

  'I? Oh--well--' Mr. Van Torp's incomplete answer might have meantanything, except that he too was 'all right.'

  'Yes,' said the lady gravely. 'I read the telegram the next day. Didyou get my cable? I did not think you would sail.'

  'Yes, I got your cable. Thank you. Well--I did sail, you see. Take offyour things. The water's boiling and we'll have tea in a minute.'

  The lady undid the fastening at her throat so that the fur-lined cloakopened and slipped a little on her white shoulders. She held it inplace with one hand, and with the other she carefully turned back thelace hood from her face, so as not to disarrange her hair. Mr. VanTorp was making tea, and he looked up at her over the teapot.

  'I dressed for dinner,' she said, explaining.

  'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp, looking at her, 'I should think you did!'

  There was real admiration in his tone, though it was distinctlyreluctant.

  'I thought it would save half an hour and give us more time together,'said the lady simply.

  She sat down in the shabby easy-chair, and as she did so the cloakslipped and lay about her waist, and she gathered one side of it overher knees. Her gown was of black velvet, without so much as a bit oflace, except at the sleeves, and the only ornament she wore was ashort string of very perfect pearls clasped round her handsome youngthroat.

  She was handsome, to say the least. If tired ghosts of departedbarristers were haunting the dingy room in Hare Court that night, theymust have blinked and quivered for sheer pleasure at what they saw,for Mr. Van Torp's visitor was a very fine creature to look at; and ifghosts can hear, they heard that her voice was sweet and low, like anevening breeze and flowing water in a garden, even in the Garden ofEden.

  She was handsome, and she was young; and above all she had thefreshness, the uncontaminated bloom, the subdued brilliancy ofnature's most perfect growing things. It was in the deep clear eyes,in the satin sheen of her bare shoulders under the sordid gaslight; itwas in the strong smooth lips, delicately shaded from salmon colour tothe faintest peach-blossom; it was in the firm oval of her face, inthe well-modelled ear, the straight throat and the curving neck; itwas in her graceful attitude; it was everywhere. 'No doubt,' theghosts might have said, 'there are more beautiful women in Englandthan this one, but surely there is none more like a thoroughbred and aDerby winner!'

  'You take sugar, don't you?' asked Mr. Van Torp, having got the lidoff the old tobacco-tin with some difficulty, for it had developed aninclination to rust since it had last been moved.

  'One lump, please,' said the thoroughbred, looking at the fire.

  'I thought I remembered,' observed the millionaire. 'The tea's good,'he added, 'and you'll have to excuse the cup. And there's no cream.'

  'I'll excuse anything,' said the lady, 'I'm so glad to be here!'

  'Well, I'm glad to see you too,' said Mr. Van Torp, giving her thecup. 'Crackers? I'll see if there're any in the cupboard. I forgot.'

  He went to the corner again and found a small tin of biscuits, whichhe opened and examined under gaslight.

  'Mouldy,' he observed. 'Weevils in them, too. Sorry. Does it mattermuch?'

  'Nothing matters,' answered the lady, sweet and low. 'But why do youput them away if they are bad? It would be better to burn them and bedone with it.'

  He was taking the box back to the cupboard.

  'I suppose you're right,' he said reluctantly. 'But it always seemswicked to burn bread, doesn't it?'

  'Not when it's weevilly,' replied the thoroughbred, after sipping thehot tea.

  He emptied the contents of the tin upon the coal fire, and the roompresently began to smell of mouldy toast.

  'Besides,' he said, 'it's cruel to burn weevils, I suppose. If I'dthought of that, I'd have left them alone. It's too late now. They'redone for, poor beasts! I'm sorry. I don't like to kill things.'

  He stared thoughtfully at the already charred remains of theholocaust, and shook his head a little. The lady sipped her tea andlooked at him quietly, perhaps affectionately, but he did not see her.

  'You think I'm rather silly sometimes, don't you?' he asked, stillgazing at the fire.

  'No,' she answered at once. 'It's never silly to be kind, even toweevils.'

  'Thank you for thinking so,' said Mr. Van Torp, in an oddly humbletone, and he began to drink his own tea.

  If Margaret Donne could have suddenly found herself perched among thechimney-pots on the opposite roof, and if she had then looked at hisface through the window, she would have wondered why she had ever felta perfectly irrational terror of him. It was quite plain that the ladyin black velvet had no such impression.

  'You need not be so meek,' she said, smiling.

  She did not laugh often, but sometimes there was a ripple in her freshvoice that would turn a man's head. Mr. Van Torp looked at her in arather dull way.

  'I believe I feel meek when I'm with you. Especially just now.'

  He swallowed the rest of his tea at a gulp, set the cup on the table,and folded his hands loosely together, his elbows resting on hisknees; in this attitude he leaned forward and looked at the burningcoals. Again his companion watched his hard face with affectionateinterest.

  'Tell me just how it happened,' she said. 'I mean, if it will help youat all to talk about it.'

  'Yes. You always help me,' he answered, and then paused. 'I think Ishould like to tell you the whole thing,' he added after an instant.'Somehow, I never tell anybody much about myself.'

  'I know.'

  She bent her handsome head in assent. Just then it would have beenvery hard to guess what the relations were between the oddly assortedpair, as they sat a little apart from each other before the grate.Mr. Van Torp was silent now, as if he were making up his mind how tobegin.

  In the pause, the lady quietly held out her hand towards him. He sawwithout turning further, and he stretched out his own. She took itgently, and then, without warning, she leaned very far forward, bentover it and touched it with her lips. He started and drew it backhastily. It was as if the leaf of a flower had settled upon it, andhad hovered an instant, and fluttered away in a breath of soft air.

  'Please don't!' he cried, almost roughly. 'There's nothing to thank mefor. I've often told you so.'

  But the lady was already leaning back in the old easy-chair again asif she had done nothing at all unusual.

  'It wasn't for myself,' she said. 'It was for all the others, who willnever know.'

  'Well, I'd rather not,' he answered. 'It's not worth all that. Now,see here! I'm going to tell you as near as I can what happened, andwhen you know you can make up your mind. You never saw but one side ofme anyhow, but you've got to see the other sooner or later. No, I knowwhat you're going to say--all that about a dual nature, and Jekyll andHyde, and all the rest of it. That may be true for nervous people, butI'm not nervous. Not at all. I never was. What I know is, there aretwo sides to everybody, and one's always the business side. The othermay be anything. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. Sometimesit cares for a woman, sometimes it's a collector of art things,Babylonian glass, and Etruscan toys and prehistoric dolls. It maygamble, or drink, or teach a Sunday school, or read Dante, or shoot,or fish, or anything that's of no use. But one side's always thebusiness side. That's certain.'

  Mr. Van Torp paused, and looked at his companion's empty cup. Seeingthat he was going to get up in order to give her more, she herselfrose quickly and did it for herself. He sat still and watched her,probably because the business side of his nature judged that he couldbe of no
use. The fur-lined cloak was now lying in the easy-chair, andthere was nothing to break the sweeping lines of the black velvet fromher dazzling shoulders to her waist, to her knee, to her feet. Mr. VanTorp watched her in silence, till she sat down again.

  'You know me well enough to understand that,' he said, going on. 'Myoutside's my business side, and that's what matters most. Now theplain truth is this. My engagement to Miss Bamberger was just abusiness affair. Bamberger thought of it first, and suggested it tome, and he asked her if she'd mind being engaged to me for a fewweeks; and she said she wouldn't provided she wasn't expected to marryme. That was fair and square, anyway, on both sides. Wasn't it?'

  'It depends on why you did it,' said the lady, going to the pointdirectly.

  'That was the business side,' answered her companion. 'You see, a bigthing like the Nickel Trust always has a lot of enemies, besides aheap of people who want to get some of it cheap. This time they puttheir heads together and got up one of the usual stories. You see,Isidore H. Bamberger is the president and I only appear as a director,though most of it's mine. So they got up a story that he was operatingon his own account to get behind me, and that we were going to quarrelover it, and there was going to be a slump, and people began tobelieve it. It wasn't any use talking to the papers. We soon foundthat out. Sometimes the public won't believe anything it's told, andsometimes it swallows faster than you can feed to it. I don't knowwhy, though I've had a pretty long experience, but I generally do knowwhich state it's in. I feel it. That's what's called business ability.It's like fishing. Any old fisherman can judge in half an hour whetherthe fish are going to bite all day or not. If he's wrong once, he'llbe right a hundred times. Well, I felt talking was no good, and so didBamberger, and the shares began to go down before the storm. If thebig slump had come there'd have been a heap of money lost. I don't saywe didn't let the shares drop a couple of points further than theyneeded to, and Bamberger bought any of it that happened to be lyingaround, and the more he bought the quicker it wanted to godown, because people said there was going to be trouble and aninvestigation. But if we'd gone on, lots of people would have beenruined, and yet we didn't just see how to stop it sharp, tillBamberger started his scheme. Do you understand all that?'

  The lady nodded gravely.

  'You make it clear,' she said.

  'Well, I thought it was a good scheme,' continued her companion,'and as the girl said she didn't mind, we told we were engaged. Thatsettled things pretty quick. The shares went up again in forty-eighthours, and as we'd bought for cash we made the points, and the otherpeople were short and lost. But when everything was all right again wegot tired of being engaged, Miss Bamberger and I; and besides, therewas a young fellow she'd a fancy for, and he kept writing to her thathe'd kill himself, and that made her nervous, you see, and she said ifit went on another day she knew she'd have appendicitis or something.So we were going to announce that the engagement was broken. And thevery night before--'

  He paused. Not a muscle of the hard face moved, there was not a changein the expression of the tremendous mouth, there was not a tremor inthe tone; but the man kept his eyes steadily on the fire.

  'Oh, well, she's dead now, poor thing,' he said presently. 'And that'swhat I wanted to tell you. I suppose it's not a very pretty story, isit? But I'll tell you one thing. Though we made a little by the turnof the market, we saved a heap of small fry from losing all they'd putin. If we'd let the slump come and then bought we should have made apile; but then we might have had difficulty in getting the stock up toanywhere near par again for some time.'

  'Besides,' said the lady quietly, 'you would not have ruined all thoselittle people if you could help it.'

  'You think I wouldn't?' He turned his eyes to her now.

  'I'm sure you would not,' said the lady with perfect confidence.

  'I don't know, I'm sure,' answered Mr. Van Torp in a doubtful tone.'Perhaps I wouldn't. But it would only have been business if I had.It's not as if Bamberger and I had started a story on purpose aboutour quarrelling in order to make things go down. I draw the linethere. That's downright dishonest, I call it. But if we'd just letthings slide and taken advantage of what happened, it would only havebeen business after all. Except for that doubt about getting backto par,' he added, as an afterthought. 'But then I should have feltwhether it was safe or not.'

  'Then why did you not let things slide, as you call it?'

  'I don't know, I'm sure. Maybe I was soft-hearted. We don't alwaysknow why we do things in business. There's a great deal more in theweather where big money is moving than you might think. For instance,there was never a great revolution in winter. But as for making peoplelose their money, those who can't keep it ought not to have it.They're a danger to society, and half the time it's they who upset themarket by acting like lunatics. They get a lot of sentimental pitysometimes, those people; but after all, if they didn't try to cut inwithout capital, and play the game without knowing the rules, businesswould be much steadier and there would be fewer panics. They're thepeople who get frightened and run, not we. The fact is, they oughtnever to have been there. That's why I believe in big things myself.'

  He paused, having apparently reached the end of his subject.

  'Were you with the poor girl when she died?' asked the lady presently.

  'No. She'd dined with a party and was in their box, and they were thelast people who saw her. You read about the explosion. She boltedfrom the box in the dark, I was told, and as she couldn't be foundafterwards they concluded she had rushed out and taken a cab home. Itseemed natural, I suppose.'

  'Who found her at last?'

  'A man called Griggs--the author, you know. He carried her to themanager's room, still alive. They got a doctor, and as she wantedto see a woman, they sent for Cordova, the singer, from herdressing-room, and the girl died in her arms. They said it was heartfailure, from shock.'

  'It was very sad.'

  'I'm sorry for poor Bamberger,' said Mr. Van Torp thoughtfully. 'Shewas his only child, and he doted on her. I never saw a man so cut upas he looked. I wanted to stay, but he said the mere sight of me drovehim crazy, poor fellow, and as I had business over here and my passagewas taken, I just sailed. Sometimes the kindest thing one can do isto get out. So I did. But I'm very sorry for him. I wish I could doanything to make it easier for him. It was nobody's fault, I suppose,though I do think the people she was with might have prevented herfrom rushing out in the dark.'

  'They were frightened themselves. How could any one be blamed for herdeath?'

  'Exactly. But if any one could be made responsible, I know Bambergerwould do for him in some way. He's a resentful sort of man if any onedoes him an injury. Blood for blood is Bamberger's motto, every time.One thing I'm sure of. He'll run down whoever was responsible forthat explosion, and he'll do for him, whoever he is, if it costs onemillion to get a conviction. I wouldn't like to be the fellow!'

  'I can understand wishing to be revenged for the death of one's onlychild,' said the lady thoughtfully. 'Cannot you?'

  The American turned his hard face to her.

  'Yes,' he said, 'I can. It's only human, after all.'

  She sighed and looked into the fire. She was married, but she waschildless, and that was a constant regret to her. Mr. Van Torp knew itand understood.

  'To change the subject,' he said cheerfully, 'I suppose you needmoney, don't you?'

  'Oh yes! Indeed I do!'

  Her momentary sadness had already disappeared, and there was almost aripple in her tone again as she answered.

  'How much?' asked the millionaire smiling.

  She shook her head and smiled too; and as she met his eyes shesettled herself and leaned far back in the shabby easy-chair. She waswonderfully graceful and good to look at in her easy attitude.

  'I'm afraid to tell you how much!' She shook her head again, as sheanswered.

  'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp in an encouraging tone, 'I've brought somecash in my pocket, and if it isn't enough I'll get you som
e moreto-morrow. But I won't give you a cheque. It's too compromising. Ithought of that before I left New York, so I brought some Englishnotes from there.'

  'How thoughtful you always are for me!'

  'It's not much to do for a woman one likes. But I'm sorry if I'vebrought too little. Here it is, anyway.'

  He produced a large and well-worn pocket-book, and took from it asmall envelope, which he handed to her.

  'Tell me how much more you'll need,' he said, 'and I'll give it toyou to-morrow. I'll put the notes between the pages of a new book andleave it at your door. He wouldn't open a package that was addressedto you from a bookseller's, would he?'

  'No,' answered the lady, her expression changing a little, 'I think hedraws the line at the bookseller.'

  'You see, this was meant for you,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'There are yourinitials on it.'

  She glanced at the envelope, and saw that it was marked in pencil withthe letters M.L. in one corner.

  'Thank you,' she said, but she did not open it.

  'You'd better count the notes,' suggested the millionaire. 'I'm opento making mistakes myself.'

  The lady took from the envelope a thin flat package of new Bank ofEngland notes, folded together in four. Without separating them sheglanced carelessly at the first, which was for a hundred pounds, andthen counted the others by the edges. She counted four after thefirst, and Mr. Van Torp watched her face with evident amusement.

  'You need more than that, don't you?' he asked, when she had finished.

  'A little more, perhaps,' she said quietly, though she could not quiteconceal her disappointment, as she folded the notes and slipped theminto the envelope again. 'But I shall try to make this last. Thank youvery much.'

  'I like you,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'You're the real thing. They'd callyou a chief's daughter in the South Seas. But I'm not so mean as allthat. I only thought you might need a little cash at once. That'sall.'

  A loud knocking at the outer door prevented the lady from answering.

  She looked at Mr. Van Torp in surprise.

  'What's that?' she asked, rather anxiously.

  'I don't know,' he answered. 'He couldn't guess that you were here,could he?'

  'Oh no! That's quite out of the question!'

  'Then I'll open the door,' said the millionaire, and he left thesitting-room.

  The lady had not risen, and she still leaned back in her seat. Sheidly tapped the knuckles of her gloved hand with the small envelope.

  The knocking was repeated, she heard the outer door opened, and thesound of voices followed directly.

  'Oh!' Mr. Van Torp exclaimed in a tone of contemptuous surprise, 'it'syou, is it? Well, I'm busy just now. I can't see you till to-morrow.'

  'My business will not keep till to-morrow,' answered an oily voice ina slightly foreign accent.

  At the very first syllables the lady rose quickly to her feet, andresting one hand on the table she leant forward in the direction ofthe door, with an expression that was at once eager and anxious, andyet quite fearless.

  'What you call your business is going to wait my convenience,' saidMr. Van Torp. 'You'll find me here to-morrow morning until eleveno'clock.'

  From the sounds the lady judged that the American now attempted toshut the door in his visitor's face, but that he was hindered and thata scuffle followed.

  'Hold him!' cried the oily voice in a tone of command. 'Bring him in!Lock the door!'

  It was clear enough that the visitor had not come alone, and that Mr.Van Torp had been overpowered. The lady bit her salmon-coloured lipangrily and contemptuously.

  A moment later a tall heavily-built man with thick fair hair, a longmoustache, and shifty blue eyes, rushed into the room and did not stoptill there was only the small table between him and the lady.

  'I've caught you! What have you to say?' he asked.

  'To you? Nothing!'

  She deliberately turned her back on her husband, rested one elbow onthe mantelpiece and set one foot upon the low fender, drawing upher velvet gown over her instep. But a moment later she heard otherfootsteps in the room, and turned her head to see Mr. Van Torp enterthe room between two big men who were evidently ex-policemen. Themillionaire, having failed to shut the door in the face of the threemen, had been too wise to attempt any further resistance.

  The fair man glanced down at the table and saw the envelope with hiswife's initials lying beside the tea things. She had dropped it therewhen she had risen to her feet at the sound of his voice. He snatchedit away as soon as he saw the pencilled letters on it, and in a momenthe had taken out the notes and was looking over them.

  'I should like you to remember this, please,' he said, addressing thetwo men who had accompanied him. 'This envelope is addressed to mywife, under her initials, in the handwriting of Mr. Van Torp. AmI right in taking it for your handwriting?' he inquired, in adisagreeably polite tone, and turning towards the millionaire.

  'You are,' answered the American, in a perfectly colourless voice andwithout moving a muscle. 'That's my writing.'

  'And this envelope,' continued the husband, holding up the notesbefore the men, 'contains notes to the amount of four thousand onehundred pounds.'

  'Five hundred pounds, you mean,' said the lady coldly.

  'See for yourself!' retorted the fair man, raising his eyebrows andholding out the notes.

  'That's correct,' said Mr. Van Torp, smiling and looking at the lady.'Four thousand one hundred. Only the first one was for a hundred, andthe rest were thousands. I meant it for a little surprise, you see.'

  'Oh, how kind! How dear and kind!' cried the lady gratefully, and withamazing disregard of her husband's presence.

  The two ex-policemen had not expected anything so interesting as this,and their expressions were worthy of study. They had been engaged,through a private agency, to assist and support an injured husband,and afterwards to appear as witnesses of a vulgar clandestine meeting,as they supposed. It was not the first time they had been employed onsuch business, but they did not remember ever having had to deal withtwo persons who exhibited such hardened indifference; and though theincident of the notes was not new to them, they had never been in acase where the amount of cash received by the lady at one time was sovery large.

  'It is needless,' said the fair man, addressing them both, 'to askwhat this money was for.'

  'Yes,' said Mr. Van Torp coolly. 'You needn't bother. But I'll callyour attention to the fact that the notes are not yours, and that I'dlike to see them put back into that envelope and laid on that tablebefore you go. You broke into my house by force anyhow. If you takevaluables away with you, which you found here, it's burglary inEngland, whatever it may be in your country; and if you don't know it,these two professional gentlemen do. So you just do as I tell you, ifyou want to keep out of gaol.'

  The fair man had shown a too evident intention of slipping theenvelope into his own pocket, doubtless to be produced in evidence,but Mr. Van Torp's final argument seemed convincing.

  'I have not the smallest intention of depriving my wife of the priceof my honour, sir. Indeed, I am rather flattered to find that you bothvalue it so highly.'

  Mr. Van Torp's hard face grew harder, and a very singular light cameinto his eyes. He moved forwards till he was close to the fair man.

  'None of that!' he said authoritatively. 'If you say another wordagainst your wife in my hearing I'll make it the last you ever said toanybody. Now you'd better be gone before I telephone for the police.Do you understand?'

  The two ex-policemen employed by a private agency thought the case wasbecoming more and more interesting; but at the same time they weremade vaguely nervous by Mr. Van Torp's attitude.

  'I think you are threatening me,' said the fair man, drawing back astep, and leaving the envelope on the table.

  'No,' answered his adversary, 'I'm warning you off my premises, andif you don't go pretty soon I'll telephone for the police. Is that athreat?'

  The last question was addressed to the two men.
/>
  'No, sir,' answered one of them.

  'It would hardly be to your advantage to have more witnesses of mywife's presence here,' observed the fair man coldly, 'but as I intendto take her home we may as well go at once. Come, Maud! The carriageis waiting.'

  The lady, whose name was now spoken for the first time since she hadentered Mr. Van Torp's lodging, had not moved from the fireplace sinceshe had taken up her position there. Women are as clever as Napoleonor Julius Caesar in selecting strong positions when there is to be anencounter, and a fireplace, with a solid mantelpiece to lean against,to strike, to cry upon or to cling to, is one of the strongest.The enemy is thus reduced to prowling about the room and handlingknick-knacks while he talks, or smashing them if he is of a violentdisposition.

  The lady now leant back against the dingy marble shelf and laid onewhite-gloved arm along it, in an attitude that was positively regal.Her right hand might appropriately have been toying with the orb ofempire on the mantelpiece, and her left, which hung down beside her,might have loosely held the sceptre. Mr. Van Torp, who often boughtlarge pictures, was reminded of one recently offered to him inAmerica, representing an empress. He would have bought the portrait ifthe dealer could have remembered which empress it represented, but thefact that he could not had seemed suspicious to Mr. Van Torp. It wasclearly the man's business to know empresses by sight.

  From her commanding position the Lady Maud refused her husband'sinvitation to go home with him.

  'I shall certainly not go with you,' she said. 'Besides, I'm diningearly at the Turkish Embassy and we are going to the play. You neednot wait for me. I'll take care of myself this evening, thank you.'

  'This is monstrous!' cried the fair man, and with a peculiarlyun-English gesture he thrust his hand into his thick hair.

  The foreigner in despair has always amused the genuine Anglo-Saxon.Lady Maud's lip did not curl contemptuously now, she did not raiseher eyebrows, nor did her eyes flash with scorn. On the contrary,she smiled quite frankly, and the sweet ripple was in her voice, theripple that drove some men almost crazy.

  'You needn't make such a fuss,' she said. 'It's quite absurd, youknow. Mr. Van Torp is an old friend of mine, and you have known himever so long, and he is a man of business. You are, are you not?' sheasked, looking to the American for assent.

  'I'm generally thought to be that,' he answered.

  'Very well. I came here, to Mr. Van Torp's rooms in the Temple,before going to dinner, because I wished to see him about a matter ofbusiness, in what is a place of business. It's all ridiculous nonsenseto talk about having caught me--and worse. That money is for acharity, and I am going to take it before your eyes, and thank Mr. VanTorp for being so splendidly generous. Now go, and take those personswith you, and let me hear no more of this!'

  Thereupon Lady Maud came forward from the mantelpiece and deliberatelytook from the table the envelope which contained four thousand onehundred pounds in new Bank of England notes; and she put it into thebosom of her gown, and smiled pleasantly at her husband.

  Mr. Van Torp watched her with genuine admiration, and when she lookedat him and nodded her thanks again, he unconsciously smiled too, andanswered by a nod of approval.

  The fair-haired foreign gentleman turned to his two ex-policemen withconsiderable dignity.

  'You have heard and seen,' he said impressively. 'I shall expect youto remember all this when you are in the witness-box. Let us go.'He made a sweeping bow to his wife and Mr. Van Torp. 'I wish you anagreeable evening,' he said.

  Thereupon he marched out of the room, followed by his men, who eachmade an awkward bow at nothing in particular before going out. Mr. VanTorp followed them at some distance towards the outer door, judgingthat as they had forced their way in they could probably find theirway out. He did not even go to the outer threshold, for the last ofthe three shut the door behind him.

  When the millionaire came back Lady Maud was seated in the easy-chair,leaning forward and looking thoughtfully into the fire. Assuredly noone would have suspected from her composed face that anything unusualhad happened. She glanced at her friend when he came in, but did notspeak, and he began to walk up and down on the other side of thetable, with his hands behind him.

  'You've got pretty good nerves,' he said presently.

  'Yes,' answered Lady Maud, still watching the coals, 'they really arerather good.'

  A long silence followed, during which she did not move and Mr. VanTorp steadily paced the floor.

  'I didn't tell a fib, either,' she said at last. 'It's charity, in itsway.'

  'Certainly,' assented her friend. 'What isn't either purchase-money orinterest, or taxes, or a bribe, or a loan, or a premium, or a present,or blackmail, must be charity, because it must be something, and itisn't anything else you can name.'

  'A present may be a charity,' said Lady Maud, still thoughtful.

  'Yes,' answered Mr. Van Torp. 'It may be, but it isn't always.'

  He walked twice the length of the room before he spoke again.

  'Do you think it's really to be war this time?' he asked, stoppingbeside the table. 'Because if it is, I'll see a lawyer before I go toDerbyshire.'

  Lady Maud looked up with a bright smile. Clearly she had been thinkingof something compared with which the divorce court was a delightfulcontrast.

  'I don't know,' she answered. 'It must come sooner or later, becausehe wants to be free to marry that woman, and as he has not the courageto cut my throat, he must divorce me--if he can!'

  'I've sometimes thought he might take the shorter way,' said Van Torp.

  'He?' Lady Maud almost laughed, but her companion looked grave.

  'There's a thing called homicidal mania,' he said. 'Didn't he shoot aboy in Russia a year ago?'

  'A young man--one of the beaters. But that was an accident.'

  'I'm not so sure. How about that poor dog at the Theobalds' lastSeptember?'

  'He thought the creature was mad,' Lady Maud explained.

  'He knows as well as you do that there's no rabies in the BritishIsles,' objected Mr. Van Torp. 'Count Leven never liked that dog forsome reason, and he shot him the first time he got a chance. He'salways killing things. Some day he'll kill you, I'm afraid.'

  'I don't think so,' answered the lady carelessly. 'If he does, I hopehe'll do it neatly! I should hate to be maimed or mangled.'

  'Do you know it makes me uncomfortable to hear you talk like that? Iwish you wouldn't! You can't deny that your husband's half a lunatic,anyway. He was behaving like one here only a quarter of an hour ago,and it's no use denying it.'

  'But I'm not denying anything!'

  'No, I know you're not,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'If you don't know howcrazy he is, I don't suppose any one else does. But your nerves arebetter than mine, as I told you. The idea of killing anything makesme uncomfortable, and when it comes to thinking that he really mightmurder you some day--well, I can't stand it, that's all! If I didn'tknow that you lock your door at night I shouldn't sleep, sometimes.You do lock it, always, don't you?'

  'Oh yes!'

  'Be sure you do to-night. I wonder whether he is in earnest about thedivorce this time, or whether the whole scene was just bluff, to getmy money.'

  'I don't know,' answered Lady Maud, rising. 'He needs money, Ibelieve, but I'm not sure that he would try to get it just in thatway.'

  'Too bad? Even for him?'

  'Oh dear, no! Too simple! He's a tortuous person.'

  'He tried to pocket those notes with a good deal of directness!'observed Mr. Van Torp.

  'Yes. That was an opportunity that turned up unexpectedly, but hedidn't know it would. How could he? He didn't come here expecting tofind thousands of pounds lying about on the table! It was easy enoughto know that I was here, of course. I couldn't go out of my own houseon foot, in a dinner-gown, and pick up a hansom, could I? I had onecalled and gave the address, and the footman remembered it and told myhusband. There's nothing more foolish than making mysteries and givingthe cabman first one address an
d then another. If Boris is reallygoing to bring a suit, the mere fact that there was no concealment asto where I was going this evening would be strong evidence, wouldn'tit? Evidence he cannot deny, too, since he must have learnt theaddress from the footman, who heard me give it! And people who make nosecret of a meeting are not meeting clandestinely, are they?'

  'You argue that pretty well,' said Mr. Van Torp, smiling.

  'And besides,' rippled Lady Maud's sweet voice, as she shook out thefolds of her black velvet, 'I don't care.'

  Her friend held up the fur-lined cloak and put it over her shoulders.She fastened it at the neck and then turned to the fire for a momentbefore leaving.

  'Rufus,' she said gravely, after a moment's pause, and looking down atthe coals, 'you're an angel.'

  'The others in the game don't think so,' answered Mr. Van Torp.

  'No one was ever so good to a woman as you've been to me,' said Maud.

  And all at once the joyful ring had died away from her voice and therewas another tone in it that was sweet and low too, but sad and tenderand grateful, all at once.

  'There's nothing to thank me for,' answered Mr. Van Torp. 'I've oftentold you so. But I have a good deal of reason to be grateful to youfor all you've given me.'

  'Nonsense!' returned the lady, and the sadness was gone again, butnot all the tenderness. 'I must be going,' she added a moment later,turning away from the fire.

  'I'll take you to the Embassy in a hansom,' said the millionaire,slipping on his overcoat.

  'No. You mustn't do that--we should be sure to meet some one at thedoor. Are you going anywhere in particular? I'll drop you wherever youlike, and then go on. It will give us a few minutes more together.'

  'Goodness knows we don't get too many!'

  'No, indeed!'

  So the two went down the dismal stairs of the house in Hare Courttogether.