The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories

by George Barr McCutcheon

  He delivered a telegram and kindly vouchsafed the information that it was from New York.

  Mr. Blithers experienced a queer sinking of the heart as he gazed at the envelope. Something warned him that if he opened it in the presence of the messenger he would say something that a young boy ought not to hear.

  “It’s from Maud,” said the obliging boy, beaming good-nature. It cost him a quarter, that bit of gentility, for Mr. Blithers at once said something that a messenger boy ought to hear, and ordered Jackson to go ahead.

  It was from Maud and it said: “I shall stay in town a few days longer. It is delightfully cool here. Dear old Miranda is at the Ritz with me and we are having a fine spree. Don’t worry about money. I find I have a staggering balance in the bank. The cashier showed me where I had made a mistake in subtraction of an even ten thousand. I was amazed to find what a big difference a little figure makes. Have made no definite plans but will write Mother tonight. Please give my love to the Prince. Have you seen today’s Town Truth? Or worse, has he seen it? Your loving daughter, Maud.”

  The butler was sure it was apoplexy, but the chauffeur, out of a wide experience, announced, behind his hand, that he would be all right the instant the words ceased to stick in his throat. And he was right. Mr. Blithers was all right. Not even the chauffeur had seen him when he was more so.

  A little later on, after he had cooled off to a quite considerable extent, Mr. Blithers lighted a cigar and sat down in the hall outside his wife’s bed-chamber door. She was having her beauty nap. Not even he possessed the temerity to break in upon that. He sat and listened for the first sound that would indicate the appeasement of beauty, occasionally hitching his chair a trifle nearer to the door in the agony of impatience. By the time Jackson returned from the village with word that a copy of Town Truth was not to be had until the next day, he was so close to the door that if any one had happened to stick a hat pin through the keyhole at precisely the right instant it would have punctured his left ear with appalling results.

  “What are we going to do about it?” he demanded three minutes after entering the chamber. His wife was prostrate on the luxurious couch from which she had failed to arise when he burst in upon her with the telegram in his hand.

  “Oh, the foolish child,” she moaned. “If she only knew how adorable he is she wouldn’t be acting in this perfectly absurd manner. Every girl who was here last night is madly in love with him. Why must Maud be so obstinate?”

  Mr. Blithers was very careful not to mention his roadside experience with the Prince, and you may be sure that he said nothing about his proposition to the young man. He merely declared, with a vast bitterness in his soul, that the Prince was coming to dinner, but what the deuce was the use?

  “She ought to be soundly—spoken to,” said he, breaking the sentence with a hasty gulp. “Now, Lou, there’s just one thing to do. I must go to New York on the midnight train and get her. That woman was all right as a tutor, but hanged if I like to see a daughter of mine traipsing around New York with a school teacher. She—”

  “You forget that she has retired on a competence. She is not in active employment. Will. You forget that she is one of the Van Valkens.”

  “There you go, talking about good old families again. Why is it that so blamed many of your fine old blue stockings are hunting jobs—”

  “Now don’t be vulgar, Will,” she cut in. “Maud is quite safe with Miranda, and you know it perfectly well, so don’t talk like that. I think it would be a fearful mistake for you to go to New York. She would never forgive you and, what is more to the point, she wouldn’t budge a step if you tried to bully her into coming home with you. You know it quite as well as I do.”

  He groaned. “Give me a chance to think, Lou. Just half a chance, that’s all I ask. I’ll work out some—”

  “Wait until her letter comes. We’ll see what she has to say. Perhaps she intends coming home tomorrow, who can tell? This may be a pose on her part. Give her free rein and she will not pull against the bit. It may surprise her into doing the sensible thing if we calmly ignore her altogether. I’ve been thinking it over, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we’ll be doing the wisest thing in the world if we pay absolutely no attention to her.”

  “By George, I believe you’ve hit it, Lou! She’ll be looking for a letter or telegram from me and she’ll not receive a word, eh? She’ll be expecting us to beg her to come back and all the while we just sit tight and say not a word. We’ll fool her, by thunder. By tomorrow afternoon she’ll be so curious to know what’s got into us that she’ll come home on a run. You’re right. It takes a thief to catch a thief,—which is another way of saying that it takes a woman to understand a woman. We’ll sit tight and let Maud worry for a day or two. It will do her good.”

  Maud’s continued absence was explained to Prince Robin that evening, not by the volcanic Mr. Blithers but by his practised and adroit better-half who had no compunction in ascribing it to the alarming condition of a very dear friend in New York,—one of the Van Valkens, you know.

  “Maud is so tender-hearted, so loyal, so really sweet about her friends, that nothing in the world could have induced her to leave this dear friend, don’t you know.”

  “I am extremely sorry not to have met your daughter,” said Robin very politely.

  “Oh, but she will be here in a day or two, Prince.”

  “Unfortunately, we are leaving tomorrow, Mrs. Blithers.”

  “Tomorrow?” murmured Mrs. Blithers, aghast.

  “I received a cablegram today advising me to return to Edelweiss at once. We are obliged to cut short a very charming visit with Mr. and Mrs. King and to give up the trip to Washington. Lieutenant Dank left for New York this afternoon to exchange our reservations for the first ship that we can—”

  “What’s this?” demanded Mr. Blithers, abruptly withdrawing his attention from Count Quinnox who was in the middle of a sentence when the interruption came. They were on the point of going out to dinner. “What’s this?”

  “The Prince says that he is leaving tomorrow—”

  “Nonsense!” exploded Mr. Blithers, with no effort toward geniality. “He doesn’t mean it. Why,—why, we haven’t signed a single agreement—”

  “Fortunately it isn’t necessary for me to sign anything, Mr. Blithers,” broke in Robin hastily. “The papers are to be signed by the Minister of Finance, and afterwards my signature is attached in approval. Isn’t that true, Count Quinnox?”

  “I daresay Mr. Blithers understands the situation perfectly,” said the Count.

  Mr. Blithers looked blank. He did understand the situation, that was the worst of it. He knew that although the cabinet had sanctioned the loan by cable, completing the transaction so far as it could be completed at this time, it was still necessary for the Minister of Finance to sign the agreement under the royal seal of Graustark.

  “Of course I understand it,” he said bluntly. “Still I had it in mind to ask the Prince to put his signature to a sort of preliminary document which would at least assure me that he would sign the final agreement when the time comes. That’s only fair, isn’t it?”

  “Quite fair, Mr. Blithers. The Prince will sign such an article tomorrow or the next day at your office in the city. Pray have no uneasiness, sir. It shall be as you wish. By the way, I understood that your solicitor—your lawyer, I should say,—was to be here this evening. It had occurred to me that he might draw up the statement,—if Mrs. Blithers will forgive us in our haste—”

  “He couldn’t get here,” said Mr. Blithers, and no more. He was thinking too intently of something more important. “What’s turned up?”

  “Turned up, Mr. Blithers?”

  “Yes—in Groostock. What’s taking you off in such a hurry?”

  “The Prince has been away for nearly six months,” said the Count, as if that explained everything.

  “Was it necessary to cable for him to come home?” persisted the financier.

  “Graustark
and Dawsbergen are endeavouring to form an alliance, Mr. Blithers, and Prince Robin’s presence at the capitol is very much to be desired in connection with the project.”

  “What kind of an alliance?”

  The Count looked bored. “An alliance prescribed for the general improvement of the two races, I should say, Mr. Blithers.” He smiled. “It would in no way impair the credit of Graustark, however. It is what you might really describe as a family secret, if you will pardon my flippancy.”

  The butler announced dinner.

  “Wait for a couple of days. Prince, and I’ll send you down to New York by special train,” said Mr. Blithers.

  “Thank you. It is splendid of you. I daresay everything will depend on Dank’s success in—”

  “Crawford,” said Mr. Blithers to the butler, “ask Mr. Davis to look up the sailings for next week and let me know at once, will you?” Turning to the Prince, he went on: “We can wire down tonight and engage passage for next week. Davis is my secretary. I’ll have him attend to everything. And now let’s forget our troubles.”

  A great deal was said by her parents about Maud’s unfortunate detention in the city. Both of them were decidedly upset by the sudden change in the Prince’s plans. Once under pretext of whispering to Crawford about the wine, Mr. Blithers succeeded in transmitting a question to his wife. She shook her head in reply, and he sighed audibly. He had asked if she thought he’d better take the midnight train.

  Mr. Davis found that there were a dozen ships sailing the next week, but nothing came of it, for the Prince resolutely declared he would be obliged to take the first available steamer.

  “We shall go down tomorrow,” he said, and even Mr. Blithers subsided. He looked to his wife in desperation. She failed him for the first time in her life. Her eyes were absolutely messageless.

  “I’ll go down with you,” he said, and then gave his wife a look of defiance.

  The next morning brought Maud’s letter to her mother. It said: “Dearest Mother: I enclose the cutting from Town Truth. You may see for yourself what a sickening thing it is. The whole world knows by this time that the ball was a joke—a horrible joke. Everybody knows that you are trying to hand me over to Prince Robin neatly wrapped up in bank notes. And everybody knows that he is laughing at us, and he isn’t alone in his mirth either. What must the Truxton Kings think of us? I can’t bear the thought of meeting that pretty, clever woman face to face. I know I should die of mortification, for, of course, she must believe that I am dying to marry anything on earth that has a title and a pair of legs. Somehow I don’t blame you and dad. You really love me, I know, and you want to give me the best that the world affords. But why, oh why, can’t you let me choose for myself? I don’t object to having a title, but I do object to having a husband that I don’t want and who certainly could not, by any chance, want me. You think that I am in love with Channie Scoville. Well, I’m not. I am very fond of him, that’s all, and if it came to a pinch I would marry him in preference to any prince on the globe. Today I met a couple of girls who were at the ball. They told me that the Prince is adorable. They are really quite mad about him, and one of them had the nerve to ask what it was going to cost dad to land him. Town Truth says he is to cost ten millions! Well, you may just tell dad that I’ll help him to practice economy. He needn’t pay a nickle for my husband—when I get him. The world is small. It may be that I shall come upon this same Prince Charming some place before it is too late, and fall in love with him all of a heap. Loads of silly girls do fall in love with fairy princes, and I’m just as silly as the rest of them. Ever since I was a little kiddie I’ve dreamed of marrying a real, lace-and-gold Prince, the kind Miranda used to read about in the story books. But I also dreamed that he loved me. There’s the rub, you see. How could any prince love a girl who set out to buy him with a lot of silly millions? It’s not to be expected. I know it is done in the best society, but I should want my prince to be happy instead of merely comfortable. I should want both of us to live happy ever afterwards.

  “So, dearest mother, I am going abroad to forget. Miranda is going with me and we sail next Saturday on the Jupiter I think. We haven’t got our suite, but Mr. Bliss says he is sure he can arrange it for me. If we can’t get one on the Jupiter, we’ll take some other boat that is just as inconspicuous. You see, I want to go on a ship that isn’t likely to be packed with people I know, for it is my intention to travel incog, as they say in the books. No one shall stare at me and say: ‘There is that Maud Blithers we were reading about in Town Truth—and all the other papers this week. Her father is going to buy a prince for her.’

  “I know dad will be perfectly furious, but I’m going or die, one or the other. Now it won’t do a bit of good to try to stop me, dearest. The best thing for you and dad to do is to come down at once and say goodbye to me—but you are not to go to the steamer! Never! Please, please come, for I love you both and I do so want you to love me. Come tomorrow and kiss your horrid, horrid, disappointing, loathsome daughter—and forgive her, too.”

  Mr. Blithers was equal to the occasion. His varying emotions manifested themselves with peculiar vividness during the reading of the letter by his tearful wife. At the outset he was frankly humble and contrite; he felt bitterly aggrieved over the unhappy position in which they innocently had placed their cherished idol. Then came the deep breath of relief over the apparent casting away of young Scoville, followed by an angry snort when Maud repeated the remark of her girl friend. His dismay was pathetic while Mrs. Blithers was fairly gasping out Maud’s determination to go abroad, but before she reached the concluding sentences of the extraordinary missive, he was himself again. As a matter of fact, he was almost jubilant. He slapped his knee with resounding force and uttered an ejaculation that caused his wife to stare at him as if the very worst had happened: he was a chuckling lunatic!

  “Immense!” he exclaimed. “Immense!”

  “Oh, Will!” she sobbed.

  “Nothing could be better! Luck is with me, Lou. It always is.”

  “In heaven’s name, what are you saying, Will?”

  “Great Scott, can’t you see? He goes abroad, she goes abroad. See? Same ship. See what I mean? Nothing could be finer. They—”

  “But I do not want my child to go abroad,” wailed the unhappy mother. “I cannot bear—”

  “Stuff and nonsense! Brace up! Grasp the romance. Both of ’em sailing under assumed names. They see each other on deck. Mutual attraction. Love at first sight. Both of ’em. Money no object. There you are. Leave it to me.”

  “Maud is not the kind of girl to take up with a stranger on board—”

  “Don’t glare at me like that! Love finds the way, it doesn’t matter what kind of a girl she is. But listen to me, Lou; we’ve got to be mighty careful that Maud doesn’t suspect that we’re putting up a job on her. She’d balk at the gang-plank and that would be the end of it. She must not know that he is on board. Now, here’s the idea,” and he talked on in a strangely subdued voice for fifteen minutes, his enthusiasm mounting to such heights that she was fairly lifted to the seventh heaven he produced, and, for once in her life, she actually submitted to his bumptious argument without so much as a single protesting word.

  The down train at two-seventeen had on board a most distinguished group of passengers, according to the Pullman conductor whose skilful conniving resulted in the banishment of a few unimportant creatures who had paid for chairs in the observation coach but who had to get out, whether or no, when Mr. Blithers loudly said it was a nuisance having everything on the shady side of the car taken “on a hot day like this.” He surreptitiously informed the conductor that there was a prince in his party, and that highly impressed official at once informed ten other passengers that they had no business in a private car and would have to move up to the car ahead—and rather quickly at that.

  The Prince announced that Lieutenant Dank had secured comfortable cabins on a steamer sailing Saturday, but he did not feel at liberty to men
tion the name of the boat owing to his determination to avoid newspaper men, who no doubt would move heaven and earth for an interview, now that he had become a person of so much importance in the social world. Indeed, his indentity was to be more completely obscured than at any time since he landed on American soil. He thanked Mr. Blithers for his offer to command the “royal suite” on the Jupiter, but declined, volunteering the somewhat curt remark that it was his earnest desire to keep as far away from royalty as possible on the voyage over. (A remark that Mr. Blithers couldn’t quite fathom, then or afterward.)

  Mrs. Blithers’ retort to her husband’s shocked comment on the un-princely appearance of the young man and the wofully ordinary suit of clothes worn by the Count, was sufficiently caustic, and he was silenced—and convinced. Neither of the distinguished foreigners looked the part of a nobleman.

  “I wouldn’t talk about clothes if I were you,” Mrs. Blithers had said on the station platform. “Who would suspect you of being one of the richest men in America?” She sent a disdainful glance at his baggy knees and bulging coat pockets, and for the moment he shrank into the state of being one of the poorest men in America.

  They were surprised and not a little perplexed by the fact that the Prince and his companion arrived at the station quite alone. Neither of the Kings accompanied them. There was, Mrs. Blithers admitted, food for thought in this peculiar omission on the part of the Prince’s late host and hostess, and she would have given a great deal to know what was back of it. The “luggage” was attended to by the admirable Hobbs, there being no sign of a Red Roof servant about the place. Moreover, there seemed to be considerable uneasiness noticeable in the manner of the two foreigners. They appeared to be unnecessarily impatient for the train to arrive, looking at their watches now and again, and frequently sending sharp glances down the village street in the direction of Red Roof. Blithers afterwards remarked that they made him think of a couple of absconding cashiers. The mystery, however, was never explained.