"And yet," said Jane to herself, throwing up her chin indignantly, which was a habit of hers, "and yet I'm intelligent and good-looking and well-educated. What more does anyone want?"
According to the Daily Leader, they seemed to want shorthandtypists of vast experience, managers for business houses with a little capital to invest, ladies to share in the profits of poultry farming (here again a little capital was required), and innumerable cooks, housemaids and parlourmaids - particularly parlourmaids.
"I wouldn't mind being a parlourmaid," said Jane to herself. "But there again, no one would take me without experience. I could go somewhere, I dare say, as a Willing Young Girl - but they don't pay willing young girls anything to speak of."
She sighed again, propped the paper up in front of her, and attacked the poached egg with all the vigour of healthy youth.
When the last mouthful had been despatched, she turned the paper and studied the Agony and Personal column while she drank her tea. The Agony column was always the last hope.
Had she but possessed a couple of thousand pounds, the thing would have been easy enough. There were at least seven unique opportunities - all yielding not less than three thousand a year.
Jane's lip curled a little.
"If I had two thousand pounds," she murmured, "it wouldn't be easy to separate from it."
She cast her eyes rapidly down to the bottom of the column and ascended with the ease born of long practice.
There was the lady who gave such wonderful prices for castoff clothing. "Ladies' wardrobes inspected at their own dwellings."
There were the gentlemen who bought ANYTHING - but principally TEETH. There were ladies of title going abroad who would dispose of their furs at a ridiculous figure. There was the distressed clergyman and the hardworking widow, and the disabled officer, all needing sums varying from fifty pounds to two thousand. And then suddenly Jane came to an abrupt halt. She put down her teacup and read the advertisement through again.
"There's a catch in it, of course," she murmured. "There always is a catch in these sort of things. I shall have to be careful. But still -"
The advertisement which so intrigued Jane Cleveland ran as follows:
If a young lady of twenty-five to thirty years of age, eyes dark blue, very fair hair, black lashes and brows, straight nose, slim figure, height five feet seven inches, good mimic and able to speak French, will call at 7 Endersleigh Street, between 5 and 6 P.M., she will hear of something to her advantage.
"Guileless Gwendolen, or why girls go wrong," murmured Jane. "I shall certainly have to be careful. But there are too many specifications, really, for that sort of thing. I wonder now... Let us overhaul the catalogue."
She proceeded to do so.
"Twenty-five to thirty - I'm twenty-six. Eyes dark blue, that's right.
Hair very fair - black lashes and brows - all O.K. Straight nose? Yees - straight enough, anyway. It doesn't hook or turn up. And I've got a slim figure - slim even for nowadays. I'm only five feet six inches - but I could wear high heels. I am a good mimic - nothing wonderful, but I can copy people's voices, and I speak French like an angel or a Frenchwoman. In fact, I'm absolutely the goods. They ought to tumble over themselves with delight when I turn up. Jane Cleveland, go in and win."
Resolutely Jane tore out the advertisement and placed it in her handbag. Then she demanded her bill, with a new briskness in her voice.
At ten minutes to five Jane was reconnoitring in the neighbourhood of Endersleigh Street. Endersleigh Street itself is a small street sandwiched between two larger streets in the neighbourhood of Oxford Circus. It is drab, but respectable.
No. 7 seemed in no way different from the neighbouring houses. It was composed like they were of offices. But looking up at it, it dawned upon Jane for the first time that she was not the only blueeyed, fair-haired, straight-nosed, slim-figured girl of between twenty-five and thirty years of age. London was evidently full of such girls, and forty or fifty of them at least were grouped outside No.7 Endersleigh Street.
"Competition," said Jane. "I'd better join the queue quickly."
She did so, just as three more girls turned the corner of the street.
Others followed them. Jane amused herself by taking stock of her immediate neighbours. In each case she managed to find something wrong - fair eyelashes instead of dark, eyes more grey than blue, fair hair that owed its fairness to art and not to nature, interesting variations in noses, and figures that only an allembracing charity could have described as slim. Jane's spirits rose.
"I believe I've got as good an all-around chance as anyone," she murmured to herself. "I wonder what it's all about? A beauty chorus, I hope."
The queue was moving slowly but steadily forward. Presently a second stream of girls began, issuing from inside the house. Some of them tossed their heads, some of them smirked.
"Rejected," said Jane with glee. "I hope to goodness they won't be full up before I get in."
And still the queue of girls moved forward. There were anxious glances in tiny mirrors, and a frenzied powdering of noses.
Lipsticks were brandished freely.
"I wish I had a smarter hat," said Jane to herself sadly.
At last it was her turn. Inside the door of the house was a glass door at one side, with the legend Messrs Cuthbertsons inscribed on it. It was through this glass door that the applicants were passing one by one. Jane's turn came. She drew a deep breath and entered.
Inside was an outer office, obviously intended for clerks. At the end was another glass door. Jane was directed to pass through this, and did so. She found herself in a smaller room. There was a big desk in it, and behind the desk was a keen-eyed man of middle age with a thick, rather foreign-looking moustache. His glance swept over Jane, then he pointed to a door on the left.
"Wait in there, please," he said crisply.
Jane obeyed. The apartment she entered was already occupied.
Five girls sat there, all very upright and all glaring at each other. It was clear to Jane that she had been included among the likely candidates, and her spirits rose. Nevertheless, she was forced to admit that these five girls were equally eligible with herself as far as the terms of the advertisement went.
The time passed. Streams of girls were evidently passing through the inner office. Most of them were dismissed through another door giving on the corridor, but every now and then a recruit arrived to swell the select assembly. At half-past six there were fourteen girls assembled there.
Jane heard a murmur of voices from the inner office, and then the foreign-looking gentleman, whom she had nicknamed in her mind "the Colonel" owing to the military character of his moustaches, appeared in the doorway.
"I will see you ladies one at a time, if you please," he announced.
"In the order in which you arrived, please."
Jane was, of course, the sixth on the list. Twenty minutes elapsed before she was called in. "The Colonel" was standing with his hands behind his back. He put her through a rapid catechism, tested her knowledge of French, and measured her height.
"It is possible, mademoiselle," he Said in French, "that you may suit. I do not know. But it is possible."
"What is this post, may I ask?" said Jane bluntly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"That I cannot tell you as yet. If you are chosen - then you shall know."
"This seems very mysterious," objected Jane. "I couldn't possibly take up anything without knowing all about it. Is it connected with the stage, may I ask?"
"The stage? Indeed, no."
"Oh!" said Jane, rather taken aback.
He was looking at her keenly.
"You have intelligence, yes? And discretion?"
"I've quantities of intelligence and discretion," said Jane calmly.
"What about the pay?"
"The pay will amount to two thousand pounds - for a fortnight's work."
"Oh!" said Jane faintly.
She was too taken ab
ack by the magnificence of the sum named to recover all at once.
The Colonel resumed speaking.
"One other young lady I have already selected. You and she are equally suitable. There may be others I have not yet seen. I will give you instructions as to your further proceedings. You know Harridge's Hotel?"
Jane gasped. Who in England did not know Harridge's Hotel, that famous hostelry situated modestly in a bystreet of Mayfair, where notabilities and royalties arrived and departed as a matter of course? Only this morning Jane had read of the arrival of the Grand Duchess Pauline of Ostrova. She had come over to open a big bazaar in aid of Russian refugees, and was, of course, staying at Harridge's.
"Yes," said Jane, in answer to the Colonel's question.
"Very good. Go there. Ask for Count Streptitch. Send up your card - you have a card?"
Jane produced one. The Colonel took it from her and inscribed in the corner a minute P. He handed the card back to her.
"That ensures that the count will see you. He will understand that you come from me. The final decision lies with him - and another. If he considers you suitable, he will explain matters to you, and you can accept or decline his proposal. Is that satisfactory?"
"Perfectly satisfactory," said Jane.
"So far," she murmured to herself as she emerged into the street, "I can't see the catch. And yet, there must be one. There's no such thing as money for nothing. It must be crime! There's nothing else left."
Her spirits rose. In moderation Jane did not object to crime. The papers had been full lately of the exploits of various girl bandits.
Jane had seriously thought of becoming one if all else failed.
She entered the exclusive portals of Harridge's with slight trepidation. More than ever, she wished that she had a new hat.
But she walked bravely up to the bureau and produced her card and asked for Count Streptitch without a shade of hesitation in her manner. She fancied that the clerk looked at her rather curiously.
He took the card, however, and gave it to a small page boy with some low-voiced instructions which Jane did not catch. Presently the page returned, and Jane was invited to accompany him. They went up in the lift and along a corridor to some big double doors where the page knocked. A moment later Jane found herself in a big room, facing a tall thin man with a fair beard, who was holding her card in a languid white hand.
"Miss Jane Cleveland," he read slowly. "I am Count Streptitch."
His lips parted suddenly in what was presumably intended to be a smile, disclosing two rows of white even teeth. But no effect of merriment was obtained.
"I understand that you applied in answer to our advertisement," continued the count. "The good Colonel Kranin sent you on here."
"He was a colonel," thought Jane, pleased with her perspicacity, but she merely bowed her head.
"You will pardon me if I ask you a few questions?"
He did not wait for a reply, but proceeded to put Jane through a catechism very similar to that of Colonel Kranin. Her replies seemed to satisfy him. He nodded his head once or twice.
"I will ask you now, mademoiselle, to walk to the door and back again slowly."
"Perhaps they want me to be a mannequin," thought Jane as she complied. "But they wouldn't pay two thousand pounds to a mannequin. Still, I suppose I'd better not ask questions yet awhile."
Count Streptitch was frowning. He tapped on the table with his white fingers. Suddenly he rose, and opening the door of an adjoining room, he spoke to someone inside. He returned to his seat, and a short middle-aged lady came through the door, closing it behind her. She was plump and extremely ugly, but had nevertheless the air of being a person of importance.
"Well, Anna Michaelovna," said the count. "What do you think of her?"
The lady looked Jane up and down much as though the girl had been a waxwork at a show. She made no pretence of any greeting.
"She might do," she said at length. "Of actual likeness in the real sense of the word, there is very little. But the figure and the colouring are very good, better than any of the others. What do you think of it, Feodor Alexandrovitch?"
"I agree with you, Anna Michaelovna."
"Does she speak French?"
"Her French is excellent."
Jane felt more and more of a dummy. Neither of these strange people appeared to remember that she was a human being.
"But will she be discreet?" asked the lady, frowning heavily at the girl.
"This is the Princess Poporensky," said Count Streptitch to Jane in French. "She asks whether you can be discreet?"
Jane addressed her reply to the princess.
"Until I have had the position explained to me, I can hardly make promises."
"It is just what she says there, the little one," remarked the lady. "I think she is intelligent, Feodor Alexandrovitch - more intelligent than the others. Tell me, little one, have you also courage?"
"I don't know," said Jane, puzzled. "I don't particularly like being hurt, but I can bear it."
"Ah! That is not what I mean. You do not mind danger, no?"
"Oh!" said Jane. "Danger! That's all right. I like danger."
"And you are poor? You would like to earn much money?"
"Try me," said Jane with something approaching enthusiasm.
Count Streptitch and Princess Poporensky exchanged glances.
Then, simultaneously, they nodded.
"Shall I explain matters, Anna Michaelovna?" the former asked.
The princess shook her head.
"Her Highness wishes to do that herself."
"It is unnecessary - and unwise."
"Nevertheless those are her commands. I was to bring the girl in as soon as you had done with her."
Streptitch shrugged his shoulders. Clearly he was not pleased.
Equally clearly he had no intention of disobeying the edict. He turned to Jane.
"The Princess Poporensky will present you to Her Highness the Grand Duchess Pauline. Do not be alarmed."
Jane was not in the least alarmed. She was delighted at the idea of being presented to a real live grand duchess. There was nothing of the Socialist about Jane. For the moment she had even ceased to worry about her hat.
The Princess Poporensky led the way, waddling along with a gait that she managed to invest with a certain dignity in spite of adverse circumstances. They passed through the adjoining room, which was a kind of antechamber, and the princess knocked upon a door in the farther wall. A voice from inside replied and the princess opened the door and passed in, Jane close upon her heels.
"Let me present to you, madame," said the princess in a solemn voice, "Miss Jane Cleveland."
A young woman who had been sitting in a big armchair at the other end of the room jumped up and ran forward.
She stared fixedly at Jane for a minute or two, and then laughed merrily.
"But this is splendid, Anna," she cried. "I never imagined we should succeed so well. Come, let us see ourselves side by side."
Taking Jane's arm, she drew the girl across the room, pausing before a full-length mirror which hung on the wall.
"You see?" she cried delightedly. "It is a perfect match!"
Already, with her first glance at the Grand Duchess Pauline, Jane had begun to understand. The Grand Duchess was a young woman perhaps a year or two older than Jane. She had the same shade of fair hair, and the same slim figure. She was, perhaps, a shade taller. Now that they stood side by side, the likeness was very apparent. Detail for detail, the colouring was almost exactly the same.
The Grand Duchess clapped her hands. She seemed an extremely cheerful young woman.
"Nothing could be better," she declared. "You must congratulate Feodor Alexandrovitch for me, Anna. He has indeed done well."
"As yet, madame," murmured the princess in a low voice, "this young woman does not know what is required of her."
"True," said the Grand Duchess, becoming somewhat calmer in manner. "I forgot. Well, I will enli
ghten her. Leave us together, Anna Michaelovna."
"But, madame -"
"Leave us alone, I say."
She stamped her foot angrily. With considerable reluctance Anna Michaelovna left the room. The Grand Duchess sat down and motioned to Jane to do the same.
"They are tiresome, these old women," remarked Pauline. "But one has to have them. Anna Michaelovna is better than most. Now, then, Miss - ah, yes, Miss Jane Cleveland. I like the name. I like you too. You are sympathetic. I can tell at once if people are sympathetic."
"That's very clever of you, ma'am," said Jane, speaking for the first time.
"I am clever," said Pauline calmly. "Come now, I will explain things to you. Not that there is much to explain. You know the history of Ostrova. Practically all of my family are dead - massacred by the Communists. I am, perhaps, the last of my line. I am a woman, I cannot sit upon the throne. You think they would let me be. But no, wherever I go, attempts are made to assassinate me. Absurd, is it not? These vodka-soaked brutes never have any sense of proportion."
"I see," said Jane, feeling that something was required of her.
"For the most part I live in retirement - where I can take precautions, but now and then I have to take part in public ceremonies. While I am here, for instance, I have to attend several semi-public functions. Also in Paris on my way back. I have an estate in Hungary, you know. The sport there is magnificent."
"Is it really?" said Jane.
"Superb. I adore sport. Also - I ought not to tell you this, but I shall because your face is so sympathetic - there are plans being made there - very quietly, you understand. Altogether it is very important that I should not be assassinated during the next two weeks."
"But surely the police -" began Jane.
"The police? Oh, yes, they are very good, I believe. And we too we have our spies. It is possible that I shall be forewarned when the attempt is to take place. But then, again, I might not."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I begin to understand," said Jane slowly. "You want me to take your place?"
"Only on certain occasions," said the Grand Duchess eagerly.
"You must be somewhere at hand, you understand? I may require you twice, three times, four times in the next fortnight. Each time it will be upon the occasion of some public function. Naturally in intimacy of any kind, you could not represent me."
Short Stories Page 121