‘I should not advise a wig,’ said Logotheti gravely, ‘certainly not one of that dye.’
‘You know, and you are a friend. When I feel rested we will go to Paris, and you shall take me to all the richest shops and tell them in French what I want. Will you?’
‘I shall do all I can to help you,’ answered the Greek, wondering what would happen if his friends met him piloting a lovely barbarian about between the smartest linendraper’s and the most fashionable dressmaker’s establishment in the Rue de la Paix.
They had watched the sun set, and the clear twilight glow was in the cloudless sky and on the violet sea. Not a sound disturbed the stillness, except the smooth wash of the water along the yacht’s side. At her leisurely three-quarters speed the engines ran noiselessly and the twin screws turned well below the water-line in the flat calm. The watch below was at supper, and the captain was just then working a sunset amplitude in the chart-room to make quite sure of his deviation on the new course; for he was a careful navigator, and had a proper contempt for any master who trusted another man’s adjustment of his compasses.
Baraka drew one end of her veil round her throat and across her mouth and over to the other side of her face, so that her features were covered almost as by a real yashmak. The action was well-nigh unconscious, for until she had left Constantinople she had never gone with her face uncovered, except for a short time, of necessity, after she had begun her long journey, almost without clothes to cover her, not to speak of a veil. But the sensation of being screened from men’s sight came back pleasantly as she stood there; for the Greek was much more like her own people than the French or English, and he spoke her language, and to be with him was not like being with Mr. Van Torp, or walking in the streets of London and Paris.
The veil brought back suddenly the sense of real power that the Eastern woman has, and of real security in her perpetual disguise, which every man must respect on pain of being torn to pieces by his fellows. Reams of trash have been written about the inferior position of women in the East; but there, more than anywhere else in the world, they rule and have their will. Their domination there never had a parallel in Europe but once, and that was in the heyday of the Second French Empire, when a great nation was almost destroyed to please a score of smart women.
Veiled as she was, Baraka turned to Logotheti, who started slightly and then laughed; for he had not been watching her, and the effect of the improvised yashmak was sudden and striking. He made the Oriental salutation in three movements, touching his heart, his lips, and his forehead with his right hand.
‘Peace be with you, Hanum Effendim!’ he said, as if he were greeting a Turkish lady who had just appeared beside him.
‘Peace, Effendim,’ answered Baraka, with a light little laugh; but after a moment she went on, and her voice had changed. ‘It is like Constantinople,’ she said, ‘and I am happy here — and it is a pity.’
Logotheti thought he heard her sigh softly behind her veil, and she drew it still more closely to her face with her little ungloved hand, and rested one elbow on the rail, gazing out at the twilight glow. In all his recollections of many seas, Logotheti did not remember such a clear and peaceful evening; there was a spell on the ocean, and it was not the sullen, disquieting calm that often comes before a West Indian cyclone or an ocean storm, but rather that fair sleep that sometimes falls upon the sea and lasts many days, making men wonder idly whether the weather will ever break again.
The two dined on deck, with shaded lights, but screened from the draught of the ship’s way. The evening was cool, and the little maid had dressed Baraka in a way that much disturbed her, for her taper arms were bare to the elbows, and the pretty little ready-made French dress was open at her ivory neck, and the skirt fitted so closely that she almost fancied herself in man’s clothes again. But on her head she would only wear the large veil, confined by a bit of gold cord, and she drew one fold under her chin, and threw it over the opposite shoulder, to be quite covered; and she was glad when she felt cold, and could wrap herself in the wide travelling cloak they had bought for her, and yet not seem to do anything contrary to the customs of a real Feringhi lady.
“The two dined on deck.”
CHAPTER XI
LADY MAUD FOUND Mr. Van Torp waiting for her at the Bayreuth station.
‘You don’t mean to say you’ve come right through?’ he inquired, looking at her with admiration as he grasped her hand. ‘You’re as fresh as paint!’
‘That’s rather a dangerous thing to say to a woman nowadays,’ she answered in her rippling voice. ‘But mine won’t come off. How is Margaret?’
Her tone changed as she asked the question.
‘She showed me your letter about Logo,’ answered her friend without heeding the question, and watching her face to see if she were surprised.
She got into the carriage he had brought, and he stood by the door waiting for the porter, who was getting her luggage. She had no maid with her.
‘I’m glad you have told me,’ she answered, ‘though I wish she had not. You probably think that when I wrote that letter I remembered what you said to me in London about giving me money for my poor women.’
‘No,’ said Van Torp thoughtfully, ‘I don’t believe I do think so. It was like me to make the offer, Maud. It was like the sort of man I’ve been, and you’ve known me. But it wouldn’t have been like you to accept it. It wasn’t exactly low-down of me to say what I did, but it’s so precious like low-down that I wouldn’t say it again, and I suppose I’m sorry. That’s all.’
His rough hand was on the side of the little open carriage. She touched it lightly with her gloved fingers and withdrew them instantly, for the porter was coming with her not very voluminous luggage.
‘Thank you,’ she said quickly. ‘I understood, and I understand now.’
They drove slowly up the Bahnhofstrasse, through the dull little town, that looks so thoroughly conscious of its ancient respectability as having once been the ‘Residenz’ of a Duke of Würtemburg, and of its vast importance as the headquarters of Richard Wagner’s representatives on earth.
‘See here,’ said Mr. Van Torp. ‘I’ve almost persuaded them all to run down to Venice, and I want to know why you won’t come too?’
‘Venice?’ Lady Maud was surprised. ‘It’s as hot as Tophet now, and full of mosquitoes. Why in the world do you want to take them there?’
‘Well,’ answered the American, taking plenty of time over the monosyllable, ‘I didn’t exactly mean to stay there more than a few minutes. I’ve bought a pretty nice yacht since I saw you, and she’s there, eating her head off, and I thought you might all come along with me on her and go home that way, or somewhere.’
‘I had no idea you had a yacht!’ Lady Maud smiled. ‘What it is to have the Bank of England in your pocket! Where did you get her, and what is her name? I love yachts!’
Van Torp explained.
‘I forget what she was called,’ he said in conclusion, ‘but I changed her name. It’s Lancashire Lass now.’
‘The dear old mare you rode that night! How nice of you! It’s a horse’s name, of course, but that doesn’t matter. I’m so glad you chose it. I shall never forget how you looked when you galloped off bareback in your evening clothes with no hat!’
‘I don’t know how I looked,’ said Van Torp gravely. ‘But I know quite well how I felt. I felt in a hurry. Now, what I want you to decide right away is whether you’ll come, provided they will — for I don’t suppose you and I could go mooning around in the yacht by ourselves.’
‘And I don’t suppose,’ returned Lady Maud, mimicking him ever so little, ‘that if “they” decide not to come, you will have time for a long cruise.’
‘Now that’s not fair,’ objected the American. ‘I didn’t intend to put it in that way. Anyhow, will you come if they do? That’s the point.’
‘Really, it depends a little on who “they” are. Do you mean only Margaret and that nice old friend of hers — Mrs
. Patmore, isn’t she? I never met her.’
‘Rushmore,’ said Van Torp, correcting her.
‘It’s the same thing,’ said Lady Maud vaguely, for she was trying to make up her mind quickly.
‘You don’t know her,’ replied her friend. ‘That’s the reason why you say it’s the same thing. Nothing’s the same as Mrs. Rushmore.’
‘Is she very dreadful?’ asked Lady Maud, in some apprehension.
‘Dreadful? No! She’s very sweet, I think. One of those real, old-fashioned, well-educated New York ladies, and refined right down to the ground. There’s only one thing — —’
He stopped, trying to find words to express the one thing.
‘What is it? All you say about her sounds very nice — —’
‘She’s got the celebrity habit.’
‘Lions?’ suggested Lady Maud, who understood him.
‘Yes,’ he assented, ‘she’s a dandy after lions. She likes them for breakfast, dinner, and tea, with a sandwich thrown in between times. She likes them to talk to, and to look at, and to tell about. That’s just a habit, I suppose, like chewing gum, but she’ll never get over it at her age. She’s got to have a party of some kind every other minute, even here, or she’s uneasy at night. But I’m bound to say, with all truth, she does it well. She’s a perfect lady, and she always says the right thing and does the right thing. Besides, we’re great friends, she and I. We get on beautifully.’
‘You’re a celebrity,’ observed Lady Maud.
‘So’s Miss Donne, and a much bigger one. So’s Logo, for that matter, but she doesn’t think a great deal of Greeks. You’re a sort of celebrity, too, and she’s perfectly delighted you’re coming, because you’re “Lady” Maud, and a Russian countess into the bargain. Then there’s that other Russian — not that you’re one, but you understand — Kralinsky is his name, Count Kralinsky. Ever hear that name?’
‘Never. It sounds Polish.’
‘He might be anything. Sometimes I’m absolutely sure he’s a man I used to know out West when I was on the ranch, and then again there’s something quite different about him. Something about his legs or his eyes, I can’t tell which. I don’t quite make him out. There’s one thing, though. He’s the Kralinsky I bought your ruby from in New York a month ago, and he doesn’t deny it, though I don’t remember that he was a Count then. He seemed glad to see me again, but he doesn’t seem to talk much about selling rubies now. Perhaps he’s got through that, as the camel said to the eye of the needle.’
‘Eh? What?’ Lady Maud laughed.
‘Oh, nothing. I guess it’s out of the Bible, or something. I’ll tell you all about him by and by. He’s going away this afternoon, but he’s promised to join us in Venice for a trip, because Mrs. Rushmore finds him so attractive. He seems to know everybody intimately, all over the world. I’d like you to see him. Here we are, and there’s Miss Donne waiting for you on the steps. I wish we’d had a longer ride together.’
They reached the hotel, and Van Torp went off promptly, leaving Margaret to take Lady Maud upstairs and introduce her to Mrs. Rushmore.
An hour later the two young women were together in Margaret’s room, while Potts was unpacking for Lady Maud in the one that had been secured for her in spite of all sorts of difficulties.
The Primadonna was sitting at her toilet-table, turned away from the glass, and Lady Maud occupied the only possible chair there was, a small, low easy-chair, apparently much too small for such a tall woman, but less uncomfortable than it looked.
They exchanged the usual banalities. It was awfully good of Margaret to ask Maud, it was awfully good of Maud to come. The journey had been tolerable, thank you, by taking the Orient Express as far as Stuttgart. Margaret did not compare Maud’s complexion to fresh paint, as Van Torp had done, but to milk and roses; and Maud said with truth that she had never seen Margaret looking better. It was the rest, Margaret said, for she had worked hard.
‘Are you going on Mr. Van Torp’s yacht?’ asked Lady Maud suddenly. ‘He spoke to me about it on the way from the station, and asked me to come, in case you accept.’
‘I don’t know. Will you go if I do? That might make a difference.’
Lady Maud did not answer at once. She wished that she knew how matters had gone between Margaret and Van Torp during the last few days, for she sincerely wished to help him, now that she had made up her mind as to Logotheti’s real character. Nevertheless, her love of fair-play made her feel that the Greek ought to be allowed a chance of retrieving himself.
‘Yes,’ she said at last, ‘I’ll go, on one condition. At least, it’s not a condition, my dear, it’s only a suggestion, though I hate to make one. Don’t think me too awfully cheeky, will you?’
Margaret shook her head, but looked very grave.
‘I feel as if I were getting into a bad scrape,’ she said, ‘and I shall be only too glad of any good advice. Tell me what I had better do.’
‘I must tell you something else first as a continuation of my letter, for all sorts of things happened after I wrote it.’
She told Margaret all that has been already narrated, concerning the news that Baraka had been set at large on Logotheti’s sworn statement that the ruby was not his, and that he had seen it in her possession in Paris; and she told how she had tried to find him at his lodgings, and had failed, and how strangely the leather-faced secretary’s answers had struck her, and how she had seen Baraka’s gloves and stick in Logotheti’s hall; and finally she said she had taken it into her head that Logotheti had spirited away the Tartar girl on his yacht, which, as every one in town had known through the papers, was at Cowes and in commission. For Logotheti, in his evidence, had explained his absence from the Police Court by the fact that he had been off in the Erinna for two days, out of reach of news.
Margaret’s face grew darker as she listened, for she knew Lady Maud too well to doubt but that every word was more than scrupulously true; and the deduction was at least a probable one. She bit her lip as she felt her anger rising again.
‘What do you advise me to do?’ she asked, in a sullen tone.
‘Telegraph to Logo and prepay an answer of twenty words. Telegraph to his rooms in St. James’s Place and at the same time to his house in Paris. Telegraph anything you like that really needs an immediate reply. That’s the important thing. If he does not answer within twenty-four hours — say thirty-six at the most — he is either on his yacht or hiding. Excuse the ugly word, dear — I don’t think of any other. If you are afraid of the servants, I’ll take the message to the telegraph office and send it for you. I suppose you have some way of signing which the clerks don’t recognise — if you sign at all.’
Margaret leaned back in her chair in silence. After a few seconds she turned towards the glass, rested her chin on her folded knuckles, and seemed to be consulting her own reflexion. It is a way some women have. Lady Maud glanced at her from time to time, but said nothing. At last the Primadonna rose with a sweep that upset the light chair behind her, one of those magnificent sweeps that look so well on the stage and are a little too large for a room. She got her blotter and pen from a shelf, brought it back to the toilet-table, picked up the chair in a very quiet and sensible way, as if she had never been on the stage in her life, and sat down to write.
‘I shall take your advice, dear,’ she said, opening the blotter and placing a large sheet of paper in the right position.
Lady Maud rose and went to the window, where she stood looking out while Margaret wrote her message.
‘You needn’t write it out twice,’ she said, without turning round. ‘Just put “duplicate message” and both addresses.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Margaret was already writing. Her message said it was absolutely necessary that she should see Logotheti directly, and bade him answer at once, if he could come to Bayreuth; if important financial affairs hindered him, she herself would return immediately to Paris to see him.
She was careful to write ‘f
inancial’ affairs, for she would not admit that any other consideration could delay his obedience. While she was busy she heard, but scarcely noticed, an unearthly hoot from a big motor car that was passing before the hotel. There must have been something in the way, for the thing hooted again almost at once, and then several times in quick succession, as if a gigantic brazen ass were beginning to bray just under the window. The noises ended in a sort of wild, triumphant howl, with a furious puffing, and the motor took itself off, just as Margaret finished.
She looked up and saw Lady Maud half bent, as if she had been struck; she was clinging with one hand to the flimsy chintz curtain, and her face was as white as a sheet. Margaret started in surprise, and rose to her feet so suddenly that she upset the chair again.
‘What has happened?’ she cried. ‘Are you ill, dear?’
The delicate colour came slowly back to the smooth cheeks, the thoroughbred figure in black drew itself up with elastic dignity, and the hand let go of the curtain.
‘I felt a little faint,’ Lady Maud answered. ‘Did I frighten you? It was nothing, and it’s quite gone, I assure you.’
Complete Works of F Marion Crawford Page 1248