"I suppose that's it," he sighed. "I fancy she's handsome, too, when she hasn't been rained upon."
We were half way up the slope when he announced nervously that all of my dry clothing was in the closet off my bedroom and could not be got at under any circumstance.
"But," he said, "I have laid out my best frock coat and trousers for you, and a complete change of linen. You are quite welcome to anything I possess, Mr. Smart. I think if you take a couple of rolls at the bottom of the trousers, they'll be presentable. The coat may be a little long for you, but—"
My loud laughter cut him short.
"It's the best I could do," he said in an aggrieved voice.
I had a secret hope that the Countess would be in the courtyard to welcome me, but I was disappointed. Old Gretel met me and wept over me, as if I was not already sufficiently moist. The chef came running out to say that breakfast would be ready for me when I desired it; Blatchford felt of my coat sleeve and told me that I was quite wet; Hawkes had two large, steaming toddies waiting for us in the vestibule, apparently fearing that we could get no farther without the aid of a stimulant. But there was no sign of a single Titus.
Later I ventured forth in Poopendyke's best suit of clothes—the one he uses when he passes the plate on Sundays in far-away Yonkers. It smelled of moth-balls, but it was gloriously dry, so why carp! We sneaked down the corridor past my own bedroom door and stole into the study.
Just inside the door, I stopped in amazement. The Countess was sound asleep in my big armchair, a forlorn but lovely thing in a pink peignoir. Her rumpled brown hair nestled in the angle of the chair; her hands drooped listlessly at her sides; dark lashes lay upon the soft white cheeks; her lips were parted ever so slightly, and her bosom rose and fell in the long swell of perfect repose.
Poopendyke clutched me by the arm and drew me toward the door, or I might have stood there transfixed for heaven knows how long.
"She's asleep," he whispered.
It was the second time in twelve hours that some one had intimated that I was blind.
CHAPTER XVI — I INDULGE IN PLAIN LANGUAGE
The door creaked villainously. The gaunt, ecclesiastical tails of my borrowed frock coat were on the verge of being safely outside with me when she cried out. Whereupon I swiftly transposed myself, and stuck my head through the half-open door.
"Oh, it's you!" she cried, in a quavery voice. She was leaning forward in the chair, her eyes wide open and eager.
I advanced into the room. A look of doubt sprang into her face. She stared for a moment and then rather piteously rubbed her eyes.
"Yes, it is I," said I, spreading my arms in such a way that my hands emerged from the confines of Poopendyke's sleeves. (Upon my word, I had no idea that he was so much longer than I!) "It is still I, Countess, despite the shrinkage."
"The shrinkage?" she murmured, slowly sliding out of the chair. As she unbent her cramped leg, she made a little grimace of pain, but smiled as she limped toward me, her hand extended.
"Yes, I always shrink when I get wet," I explained, resorting to facetiousness.
Then I bent over her hand and kissed it. As I neglected to release it at once, the cuff of Poopendyke's best coat slid down over our two hands, completely enveloping them. It was too much for me to stand. I squeezed her hand with painful fervour, and then released it in trepidation.
"Poopendyke goes to church in it," I said vaguely, leaving her to guess what it was that Poopendyke went to church in, or, perhaps, knowing what I meant, how I happened to be in it for the time being. "You've been crying!"
Her eyes were red and suspiciously moist.
As she met my concerned gaze, a wavering, whimsical smile crept into her face.
"It has been a disgustingly wet night," she said. "Oh, you don't know how happy I am to see you standing here once more, safe and sound, and—and amiable. I expected you to glower and growl and—"
"On a bright, glorious, sunshiny morning like this?" I cried. "Never! I prefer to be graciously refulgent. Our troubles are behind us."
"How good you are." After a moment's careful, scrutiny of my face: "I can see the traces of very black thoughts, Mr. Smart,—and recent ones."
"They were black until I came into this room," I confessed. "Now they are rose-tinted."
She bent her slender body a little toward me and the red seemed to leap back into her lips as if propelled by magic. Resolutely I put my awkward, ungainly arms behind my back, and straightened my figure. I was curiously impressed by the discovery that I was very, very tall and she very much smaller than my memory recorded. Of course, I had no means of knowing that she was in bedroom slippers and not in the customary high-heeled boots that gave her an inch and a half of false stature.
"Your mother is here," I remarked hurriedly.
She glanced toward my bedroom door.
"Oh, what a night!" she sighed. "I did all that I could to keep her out of your bed. It was useless. I did cry, Mr. Smart. I know you must hate all of us."
I laughed. "'Love thy neighbour as thyself,'" I quoted. "You are my neighbour, Countess; don't forget that. And it so happens that your mother is also my neighbour at present, and your brothers too. Have you any cousins and aunts?"
"I can't understand how any one can be so good-natured as you," she sighed.
The crown of her head was on a level with my shoulder. Her eyes were lowered; a faint line of distress grew between them. For a minute I stared down at the brown crest of her head, an almost ungovernable impulse pounding away at my sense of discretion. I do take credit unto myself for being strong enough to resist that opportunity to make an everlasting idiot of myself. I knew, even then, that if a similar attack ever came upon me again I should not be able to withstand it. It was too much to expect of mortal man. Angels might survive the test, but not wingless man.
All this time she was staring rather pensively at the second button from the top of Poopendyke's coat, and so prolonged and earnest was her gaze that I looked down in some concern, at the same time permitting myself to make a nervous, jerky and quite involuntary digital examination of the aforesaid button. She looked up with a nervous little laugh.
"I shall have to sew one on right there for poor Mr. Poopendyke," she said, poking her finger into the empty buttonhole. "You dear bachelors!"
Then she turned swiftly away from me, and glided over to the big armchair, from the depths of which she fished a small velvet bag. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at me.
"Please look the other way," she said. Without waiting for me to do so, she took out a little gold box, a powder puff, and a stick of lip rouge. Crossing to the small Florentine mirror that hung near my desk, she proceeded, before my startled eyes, to repair the slight—and to me unnoticeable—damage that had been done to her complexion before the sun came up.
"Woman works in a mysterious way, my friend, her wonders to perform," she paraphrased calmly.
"No matter how transcendently beautiful woman may be, she always does that sort of thing to herself, I take it," said I.
"She does," said the Countess with conviction. She surveyed herself critically. "There! And now I am ready to accept an invitation to breakfast. I am disgustingly hungry."
"And so am I!" I cried with enthusiasm. "Hurray! You shall eat Poopendyke's breakfast, just to penalise him for failing in his duties as host during my unavoidable—"
"Quite impossible," she said. "He has already eaten it."
"He has?"
"At half-past six, I believe. He announced at that ungodly hour that if he couldn't have his coffee the first thing in the morning he would be in for a headache all day. He suggested that I take a little nap and have breakfast with you—if you succeeded in surviving the night."
"Oh, I see," said I slowly. "He knew all the time that you were napping in that chair, eh?"
"You shall not scold him!"
"I shall do even worse than that. I shall pension him for life."
She appeared thoughtful. A little frown' of annoyance clouded her brow.
"He promised faithfully to arouse me the instant you were sighted on the opposite side of the river. I made him stand in the window with a field glass. No, on second thought, I shall scold him. If he had come to the door and shouted, you wouldn't have caught me in this odious dressing-gown. Helene—"
"It is most fascinating," I cried. "Adorable! I love flimsy, pink things. They're so intimate. And Poopendyke knows it, bless his ingenuous old soul."
I surprised a queer little gleam of inquiry in her eyes. It flickered for a second and died out.
"Do you really consider him an ingenuous old soul?" she asked. And I thought there was something rather metallic in her voice. I might have replied with intelligence if she had given me a chance, but for some reason she chose to drop the subject. "You must be famished, and I am dying to hear about your experiences. You must not omit a single detail. I—"
There came a gentle, discreet knocking on the half-open door. I started, somewhat guiltily.
"Come!"
Blatchford poked his irreproachable visage through the aperture and then gravely swung the door wide open.
"Breakfast is served, sir,—your ladyship. I beg pardon."
I have never seen him stand so faultlessly rigid. As we passed him on the way out a mean desire came over me to tread on his toes, just as an experiment. I wondered if he would change expression. But somehow I felt that he would say "Thank you, sir," and there would be no satisfaction in knowing that he had had all his pains for nothing.
I shall never forget that enchanted breakfast—never! Not that I can recall even vaguely what we had to eat, or who served it, or how much of the naked truth I related to her in describing the events of the night; I can only declare that it was a singularly light-hearted affair.
At half-past one o'clock I was received by Mrs. Titus in my own study. The Countess came down from her eerie abode to officiate at the ceremonious function—if it may be so styled—and I was agreeably surprised to find my new guest in a most amiable frame of mind. True, she looked me over with what seemed to me an unnecessarily and perfectly frank stare of curiosity, but, on sober reflection, I did not hold it against her. I was still draped in Poopendyke's garments.
At first sight I suppose she couldn't quite help putting me down as one of those literary freaks who typify intellect without intelligence.
As for her two sons, they made no effort to disguise their amazement. (I have a shocking notion that the vowel u might be substituted for the a in that word without loss of integrity!)
The elder of the two young men, Colingraft Titus, who being in the business with his father in New York was permitted to travel most of the time so that he couldn't interfere with it, was taller than I, and an extremely handsome chap to boot. He was twenty-six. The younger, Jasper, Jr., was nineteen, short and slight of build, with the merriest eyes I've ever seen. I didn't in the least mind the grin he bestowed upon me—and preserved with staunch fidelity throughout the whole interview,—but I resented the supercilious, lordly scorn of his elder brother.
Jasper, I learned, was enduring a protracted leave of absence from Yale; the hiatus between his freshman and sophomore years already covered a period of sixteen months, and he had a tutor who appreciated the buttery side of his crust.
Mrs. Titus, after thanking me warmly—and I think sincerely—for all that I had done for Aline, apologised in a perfunctory sort of way for having kept me out of my bed all night, and hoped that I wouldn't catch cold or have an attack of rheumatism.
I soon awoke to the fact that she was in the habit of centralising attention. The usually volatile Countess became subdued and repressed in her presence; the big son and the little one were respectfully quiescent; I confess to a certain embarrassment myself.
She was a handsome woman with a young figure, a good complexion, clear eyes, wavy brown hair, and a rich, low voice perfectly modulated. No doubt she was nearing fifty but thirty-five would have been your guess, provided you were a bachelor. A bachelor learns something about women every day of his life, but not so much that he cannot be surprised the day after.
I endeavoured to set her mind at rest by politely reminding her that I couldn't have slept in the bed any way, having been out all night, and she smilingly assured me that it was a relief to find a literary man who wasn't forever saying flat stupid things.
I took them over the castle—that is, a part of the castle. Mrs. Titus wouldn't climb stairs. She confessed to banting, but drew the line at anything more exhausting. I fear I was too palpably relieved when she declined to go higher than the second story.
"It isn't necessary, Mr. Smart," she said sweetly, "to go into the history of the wretched Rothhoefens, as a Cook's interpreter might do. You see, I know the castle quite well—and I have had all the late news from my daughter."
"Of course!" I agreed. "Stupid of me not to remember that you are descended from—"
"Mother isn't half as stuck up about it as you might think, Mr. Smart," interrupted Jasper, Jr., glibly. "She prefers to let people think her ancestors were Dutch instead of merely German. Dutch ancestors are the proper thing in Jew York."
"Jappie," said his mother severely, "how often must I caution you not to speak of New York as Jew York? Some day you will say it to a Jew. One can't be too careful. Heaven alone knows when one is in the presence of a Jew in these days."
"Oh, I'm not Hebraic," said I quickly. "My ancestors were Dutch. They came over with the original skin grafters."
She looked puzzled for a moment. The Countess laughed. Then Jasper saw the point. Colingraft was the last to see it, and then it was too late for him to smile.
We had tea in the loggia and I dined with the family in the Countess's apartment at eight that night. I think Mrs. Titus was rather favourably impressed when she beheld me in my own raiment. Britton had smoothed out my evening clothes until they almost shone, and I managed to carry myself with unusual buoyancy.
Everything went very well that evening. We were all in fine humour and the dinner was an excellent one. I perpetrated but one unhappy blunder. I asked Mrs. Titus if she knew the Riley-Werkheimers and the Rocks-worths in New York.
"Visually," she said succinctly, and I made haste to change the subject. The Countess looked amused, and Colingraft said something about it being more than likely that we did not have any mutual acquaintances in New York. His sister came to my rescue with a very amusing and exaggerated account of my experience with the Riley-Werkheimers and Rocksworths. Jasper was enthusiastic. Something told me that I was going to like him.
My real troubles began the next day—and at the rather unseemly hour of eight o'clock in the morning. Colingraft came down the hall in a bath-gown and slippers, banged on my bedroom door, and wanted to know why the devil he couldn't have hot water for his bath. He was too full-blooded, and all that sort of thing, he said, to take a cold plunge. Moreover, he wasn't used to taking his tub in a tin-cup. (That was his sarcastic way of referring to my portable, handy bath-tub.) I asked him why he didn't ring for Britton, and he said he did but that Britton was assisting Jasper in a wild chase for a bat which had got into the lad's room during the night.
"Thank your lucky stars it didn't get into Mother's room," he said surlily. I silently thanked them.
He made such a row about his tub that I had to give him the pail of hot water Britton had placed in my bedroom, preparatory to my own bath.
At breakfast Jasper complained about the bats. He couldn't for the life of him see why I didn't have screens in the windows.
Later on Mrs. Titus, who had coffee and toast in her room, joined us in the loggia and announced that the coffee was stone cold. Moreover, she did not like the guest-chamber into which she had been moved by order of the Countess. It was too huge for a bed-chamber, and the iron window shutters creaked all night long.
"But don't you love the view you have of the Danube?" I queried, rather mournfully.
"I don't sit in the window all night, Mr. Smart," she said tartly.
I at once insisted on her resuming possession of my bedroom, and promptly had all of my things moved into the one she had occupied during the night. When the Countess heard of this arrangement she was most indignant. She got me off in a corner and cruelly informed me that I hadn't the vestige of a backbone. She must have said something to her mother, too, for when evening came around I had to move back into my own room, Mrs. Titus sweetly assuring me that under no consideration would she consent to impose upon my good nature and hospitality to such an extent, etc., etc.
During the day, at odd times, Colingraft made lofty suggestions in regard to what could be done with the place to make it more or less inhabitable, and Jasper,—who, by the way, I was beginning to fear I should not like after all,—said he'd just like to have a whack at the thing himself. First thing he'd do would be to turn some of those old, unused rooms into squash and racquet courts, and he'd also put in a swimming-pool and a hot-water plant.
Late in the afternoon, I stole far up into the eastern tower to visit my adorable friend Rosemary. We played house together on the nursery floor and I soon got over my feeling of depression. But even in play I was made to realise that I was not the master of the house. She ruled me with the utmost despotism, but I didn't mind. She permitted me to sip honey from that cunning place in her little neck and managed to call me Unko. My heart grew warm and soft again under the spell of her.
The Countess watched us at play from her seat by the window. She was strangely still and pensive. I had the feeling that she was watching me all the time, and that there was a shadow of anxiety in her lovely eyes. She smiled at our pranks, and yet there was something sad in the smile.
I was young again with Rosemary, and full of glee. She took me out of myself. I forgot the three Tituses and with them many of my woes. Here was a cure for the blues: this gay little kiddie of the unspeakable Tarnowsy!
I lay awake for hours that night, but when I finally went to sleep and heaven knows I needed it!—it was with the soporific resolution to put my house rigidly in order the very next day. I would be polite about it, but very firm. The Titus family (omitting the Countess and Rosemary) was to be favoured with an ultimatum from which there could be no appeal. John Bellamy Smart had decided—with Morpheus smoothing out the wrinkles of perplexity—that he would be master in his own house.
My high resolve flattened itself out a little after the sound sleep I had, and I make no doubt I should have wavered sadly in my purpose had not a crisis arisen to shape my courage for me in a rather emphatic way.
Shortly after breakfast Mrs. Titus came downstairs very smartly gowned for the street. She announced that she was going into the town for an hour or two and asked me to have one of the Schmicks ferry her across the river. There was a famous antique shop there—memory of other days—and she wanted to browse a while in search of brasses and bronzes.
I looked at her, aghast. I recognised the crisis, but for a moment was unable to marshal my powers of resistance. Noting my consternation, she calmly assured me that there wouldn't be the least danger of detection, as she was going to be heavily veiled and very cautious.
"My dear Mrs. Titus," I murmured in my dismay, "it isn't to be considered. I am sure you won't persist in this when I tell you that Tarnowsy's agents are sure to see you and—"
She laughed. "Tarnowsy's agents! Why should they be here?"
"They seem to be everywhere."
"I can assure you there is none within fifty miles of Schloss Rothhoefen. Our men are in the city. Four of them preceded me. This morning I had Mr. Bangs telephone to the hotel where the chief operative is staying—in the guise of an American tourist, and he does it very cleverly for an Englishman, too,—and he assures me that there is absolutely no danger. Even Mr. Bangs is satisfied."
"I am forced to say that I am by no means satisfied that it is a safe or wise thing to do, Mrs. Titus," I said, with more firmness than I thought I possessed.
She raised her delicate eyebrows in a most exasperating well-bred, admonitory way.
"I am quite sure, Mr. Smart, that Dillingham is a perfectly trustworthy detective, and—"
"But why take the slightest risk?"
"It is necessary for me to see Dillingham, that is the long and short of it," she said coldly. "One can't discuss things over a telephone, you know. Mr. Bangs understands. And, by the way, Mr. Smart, I have taken the liberty of calling up the central office of the telephone company to ask if they can run an extension wire to my dressing-room. I hope you do not mind."
"Not in the least. I should have thought of it myself."
"You have so much to think of, poor man. And now will you be good enough to have Hawkes order the man to row me across the—"
"I am very sorry, Mrs. Titus," said I firmly, "but I fear I must declare myself. I cannot permit you to go into the town to-day."
She was thunderstruck. "Are you in earnest?" she cried, after searching my face rather intently for a moment.
"Unhappily, yes. Will you let me explain—"
"The idea!" she exclaimed as she drew herself to her full height and withered me with a look of surpassing scorn. "Am I to regard myself as a prisoner, Mr. Smart?"
"Oh, I beg of you, Mrs. Titus—" I began miserably.
"Please answer my question."
Her tone cut me like the lash of a whip. My choler rose.
"I do not choose to regard myself as a jailer. My only object in opposing this—"
"I have never known anything so absurd." Two bright red spots appeared in her cheeks. "Your attitude is most extraordinary. However, I shall go to the city this morning, Mr. Smart. Pray give me the credit of having sense enough to—Ah, Colingraft."
The two sons approached from the breakfast-room, where they had been enjoying a ten o'clock chop. Colingraft, noting his mother's attire, accelerated his speed and was soon beside us.
"Going out, Mother?" he enquired, flicking the ash from his cigarette.
"If Mr. Smart will be good enough to withdraw his opposition," she said icily.
He gave me a sharp look. "What's up?"
"Mrs. Titus doesn't seem to realise the risk she runs in—"
"Risk? Do you suppose, Mr. Smart, I would jeopardise my daughter's—"
"What's up?" repeated Colingraft insistently.
"Mr. Smart calmly informs me that I am not to go into the city."
"I don't see that Mr. Smart has anything to say about it," said her son coolly. "If he—" He paused, glaring.
I looked him squarely in the eye. If he had possessed the acumen of a pollywog he would have seen that my Dutch was up.
"One moment, Mr. Titus," I said, setting my jaw. "I have this to say about it. You are guests in my house. We are jointly interested in the effort to protect the Countess Tarnowsy. I consider it to be the height of imprudence for any member of your family to venture into the city, now or at any time during her stay in this castle. I happen to know that Tarnowsy is having me watched for some purpose or other. I don't think he suspects that the Countess is here, but I greatly fear that he believes I am interested in her cause. He suspects me. You have heard of our recent encounter. He knows my position pretty well by this time. Mrs. Titus says that the man Dillingham assures her there is no danger. Well, I can only say that Dillingham is a fool, and I don't purpose having my own safety threatened by—"
"Your safety?" exclaimed he. "I like that! What have you got to be afraid of?"
"You seem to forget that I am harbouring a fugitive from justice," I said flatly.
Mrs. Titus gasped. "How dare you—" "The Countess Tarnowsy is wanted by the authorities for kidnapping, and I think you know the facts quite as well as I do," I went on harshly. "God knows I am doing my best to protect her. I am risking more than you seem to appreciate. If she is found here, my position isn't likely to be an enviable one. I am not thinking solely of myself, believe me, but after all I contend that I have a right to assert myself in a crisis that may affect me vitally. I trust you will see my position and act accordingly,—with consideration, if nothing else."
Mrs. Titus did not take her eyes off mine while I was speaking. There was an expression of utter amazement in them. No one had ever opposed her before in just this way, I gathered. She didn't know what to make of it.
"I fear you exaggerate the extent of your peril, Mr. Smart," she said drily. "Of course, I have no desire to put you in jeopardy, but it seems to me—"
"Leaving me out of the case altogether, don't you think it is a bit unfair to the Countess?" I asked in some heat. "She doesn't want to go to jail."
"Jail?" she cried angrily.
"That's no way to speak about—" began Colingraft furiously.
I broke in rashly. "If you please, Mr. Titus, be good enough to keep your temper. I have no desire to appear harsh and arbitrary, but I can see that it is necessary to speak plainly. There isn't anything in the world I will not do to help you and the Countess in this unfortunate business, Mrs. Titus. I hope you believe me when I say as much. I am her friend; I want to be yours if you will let me. But I reserve the right to say what shall be and what shall not be done as long as you are under my roof. Just a moment, Mr. Titus! I think we are quite agreed that your sister is to depart from here on the fourteenth of the month. I am to be her escort, so to speak, for a considerable distance, in company with Mr. Bangs. Well, it must be clearly understood that not one of you is to show his or her face outside these walls until after that journey is over. That's plain-speaking, isn't it?"
"I shall go where I please, and I'll go to the town to-day—" roared Colingraft, getting no farther for the reason that his mother, seeing that I was desperately in earnest, gave vent to a little cry of alarm and clutched her big son by the shoulder. She begged him to listen to reason!
"Reason!" he gasped.
"If you—or any of you—put a foot outside these walls," I declared, "you will not be allowed to re-enter. That's flat!"
"By cricky!" fell in fervent admiration from the lips of Jasper, Jr. I glanced at his beaming, astonished face. He positively was grinning! "Good for you! You're a wonder, Mr. Smart! By cricky! And you're dead right. We're darn fools!"
"Jasper!" gasped Mrs. Titus.
"Good for you, Jasper!" I cried warmly, and took the hand he proffered.
"Colingraft, please take me to my room," murmured the mother. "I—I feel faint. Send for Aline. Ask Mr. Bangs to come to me at once."
I bowed stiffly. "I am sorry, Mrs. Titus, to have been so harsh, so assertive—"
She held up both hands. "I never was so spoken to in all my life, Mr. Smart. I shall not forget it to my dying day."
She walked away from me, her pretty head held high and her chin suspiciously aquiver. Colingraft hastened after her, but not without giving me a stare in which rage and wonder struggled for the mastery.
I ran my hand over my moist brow.
"Gee!" said Jasper, Jr. "You've corked her all right, all right." He followed me into the study and I couldn't get rid of him for hours.
Later in the forenoon the Countess, with a queer little smile on her lips, told me that her mother considered me the most wonderful, the most forceful character she had ever encountered. I brightened up at that.
But Colingraft was not yet through with me.
CHAPTER XVII — I SEE TO THE BOTTOM OF THINGS
He sought me out just before luncheon. I was in the courtyard, listening patiently to Jasper Jr.'s theories and suggestions concerning the restoration of the entire facade of the castle, and what he'd do if he were in my place. Strange to say, I was considerably entertained; he was not at all offensive; on the contrary, he offered his ideas in a pleasantly ingenuous way, always supplementing them with some such salve as: "Don't you think so, Mr. Smart?" or "I'm sure you have thought of it yourself," or "Isn't that your idea, too?" or "You've done wonders with the joint, old man."
Colingraft came directly up to where we were standing. There was trouble in his eye.
"See here, Mr. Smart," he began austerely. "I've got something to say to you, and I'm not the sort to put it off. I appreciate what you've done for Aline and all that sort of thing, but your manner to-day has been intolerable, and we've got to come to an understanding."
I eyed him closely. "I suppose you're about to suggest that one or the other of us must—evacuate—get out, so to speak," said I.
"Don't talk rubbish. You've got my mother bawling her eyes out upstairs, and wishing she were dead. You've got to come off this high horse of yours. You've got to apologise to her, and damned quick, at that. Understand?"
"Nothing will give me greater joy than to offer her my most abject apology, Mr. Titus, unless it would be her unqualified forgiveness."
"You'll have to withdraw everything you said."
"I'll withdraw everything except my ultimatum in respect to her putting a foot outside these walls. That still stands."
"I beg to differ with you."
"You may beg till you're black in the face," said I coolly.
He swallowed hard. His face twitched, and his hands were clenched.
"You are pretty much of a mucker, Mr. Smart," he said, between his teeth. "I'm sorry my sister has fallen into your hands. The worst of it is, she seems satisfied with everything you do. Good Lord! What she can see in you is beyond my comprehension. Protection! Why you couldn't protect her from the assault of a chicken."
"Are you trying to insult me, Mr. Titus?"
"You couldn't resent it if I were. There never was an author with enough moral backbone to—"
"Wait! You are her brother. I don't want to have trouble with you. But if you keep on in this strain, Mr. Titus, I shall be compelled to thresh you soundly."
He fairly gasped. "Th—thresh me!" he choked out. Then he advanced.
Much to his surprise—and, strangely enough, not to my own—I failed to retreat. Instead, I extended my left fist with considerable abruptness and precision and he landed on his back.
I experienced a sensation of unholy joy. Up to that moment I had wondered whether I could do it with my left hand.
I looked at Jasper, Jr. He was staring at me in utter bewilderment.
"Good Lord! You—you've knocked him down!"
"I didn't think I could do it," said I hazily.
He sprang to his brother's side, and assisted him to a sitting posture.
"Right to the jaw," shouted Jasper, with a strange enthusiasm.
"Left," I corrected him.
Colingraft gazed about him in a stupid, vacant fashion for a moment, and then allowed his glazed eyes to rest upon me. He sat rather limply, I thought.
"Are you hurt, Colly?" cried Jasper, Jr.
A sickly grin, more of surprise than shame, stole over Colingraft's face. He put his hand to his jaw; then to the back of his head.
"By Jove!" he murmured. "I—I didn't think he had it in him. Let me get up!"
Jasper, Jr. was discreet. "Better let well enough alone, old—"
"I intend to," said Colingraft, as he struggled to his feet.
For a moment he faced me, uncertainly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Titus," said I calmly.
"You—you are a wonder!" fell from his lips. "I'm not a coward, Mr. Smart. I've boxed a good deal in my time, but—by Jove, I never had a jolt like that."
He turned abruptly and left us. We followed him slowly toward the steps. At the bottom he stopped and faced me again.
"You're a better man than I thought," he said. "If you'll bury the hatchet, so will I. I take back what I said to you, not because I'm afraid of you, but because I respect you. What say? Will you shake hands?"
The surly, arrogant expression was gone from his face. In its place was a puzzled, somewhat inquiring look.
"No hard feeling on my part," I cried gladly. We shook hands. Jasper, Jr. slapped me on the back. "It's a most distressing, atavistic habit I'm getting into, knocking people down without rhyme or reason."
"I daresay you had reason," muttered Colingraft. "I got what was coming to me." An eager light crept into his handsome eyes. "By Jove, we can get in some corking work with the gloves while I'm here. I box quite a bit at home, and I miss it travelling about like this. What say to a half-hour or so every day? I have the gloves in one of my trunks. I'm getting horribly seedy. I need stirring up."
"Charmed, I'm sure," I said, assuming an enthusiasm I did not feel. Put on the gloves with this strapping, skillful boxer? Not I! I was firmly resolved to stop while my record was good. In a scientific clash with the gloves he would soon find out what a miserable duffer I was.
"And Jappy, here, is no slouch. He's as shifty as the dickens."
"The shiftier the better," said I, with great aplomb. Jasper, Jr., stuck out his chest modestly, and said: "Oh, piffle, Colly." But just the same I hadn't the least doubt in my mind that Jasper could "put it all over me." It was a rather sickening admission, though strictly private.
We made our way to my study, where I mildly suggested that we refrain from mentioning our little encounter to Mrs. Titus or the Countess. I thought Colingraft was especially pleased with the idea. We swore secrecy.
"I've always been regarded as a peaceful, harmless grub," I explained, still somewhat bewildered by the feat I had performed, and considerably shaken by the fear that I was degenerating into a positive ruffian. "You will believe me, I hope, when I declare that I was merely acting in self-defence when I—"
He actually laughed. "Don't apologise." He could not resist the impulse to blurt out once more: "By Jove, I didn't think you could do it."
"With my left hand, too," I said wonderingly. Catching myself up, I hastily changed the subject.
A little later on, as Colingraft left the room, slyly feeling of his jaw, Jasper, Jr. whispered to me excitedly: "You've got him eating out of your hand, old top."
Things were coming to a pretty pass, said I to myself when I was all alone. It certainly is a pretty pass when one knocks down the ex-husband and the brother of the woman he loves, and quite without the least suspicion of an inherited pugnacity.
I had a little note from the Countess that afternoon, ceremoniously delivered by Helene Marie Louise Antoinette. It read as follows:
"You did Colingraft a very good turn when you laid him low this morning. He is tiresomely interested in his prowess as a box-maker, or a boxster, or whatever it is in athletic parlance. He has been like a lamb all afternoon and he really can't get over the way you whacked him. (Is whack the word?) At first he was as mum as could be about it, but I think he really felt relieved when I told him I had seen the whole affair from a window in my hall. You see it gave him a chance to explain how you got in the whack, and I have been obliged to listen to intermittent lectures on the manly art of self-defence all afternoon, first from him, then from Jappy. I have a headache, and no means of defence. He admits that he deserved it, but I am not surprised. Colly is a sporting chap. He hasn't a mean drop of blood in his body. You have made a friend of him. So please don't feel that I hold a grudge against you for what you did. The funny part of it all is that mamma quite agrees with him. She says he deserved it! Mamma is wonderful, really, when it comes to a pinch. She has given up all thought of 'putting a foot outside the castle.' Can you have luncheon with us to-morrow? Would it be too much trouble if we were to have it in the loggia? I am just mad to get out-of-doors if only for an hour or two in that walled-in spot. Mr. Poopendyke has been perfectly lovely. He came up this morning to tell me that you haven't sneezed at all and there isn't the remotest chance now that you will have a cold. It seems he was afraid you might. You must have a very rugged constitution. Britton told Blake that most men would have died from exposure if they had been put in your place. How good you are to me.
"ALINE T."
"P. S.—I may come down to see you this evening."
I shall skip over the rather uninteresting events of the next two or three days. Nothing of consequence happened, unless you are willing to consider important two perfectly blissful nights of sleep on my part. Also, I had the pleasure of taking the Countess "out walking" in my courtyard, to use a colloquialism: once in the warm, sweet sunshine, again 'neath the glow of a radiant moon. She had not been outside the castle walls, literally, in more than five weeks, and the colour leaped back into her cheeks with a rush that delighted me. I may mention in passing that I paid particular attention to her suggestion concerning my dilapidated, gone-to-seed garden, although I had been bored to extinction by Jasper, Jr. when he undertook to enlighten me horticulturally. She agreed to come forth every day and assist me in building the poor thing up; propping it, so to speak.
As for Mrs. Titus, that really engaging lady made life so easy for me that I wondered why I had ever been apprehensive. She was quite wonderful when "it came to a pinch." I began to understand a good many things about her, chief among them being her unvoiced theories on matrimony. While she did not actually commit herself, I had no difficulty in ascertaining that, from her point of view, marriages are not made in heaven, and that a properly arranged divorce is a great deal less terrestrial than it is commonly supposed to be. She believed in matrimony as a trial and divorce as a reward, or something to that effect.
My opinion seemed to carry considerable weight with her. For a day or two after our somewhat sanguinary encounter, she was prone to start—even to jump slightly—when I addressed myself to her with unintentional directness. She soon got over that, however.
We were discussing Aline's unfortunate venture into the state of matrimony and I, feeling temporarily august and superior, managed to say the wrong thing and in doing so put myself in a position from which I could not recede without loss of dignity. If my memory serves me correctly I remarked, with some asperity, that marriages of that kind never turned out well for any one except the bridegroom.
She looked at me coldly. "I am afraid, Mr. Smart, that you have been putting some very bad notions into my daughter's head," she said.
"Bad notions?" I murmured.
"She has developed certain pronounced and rather extraordinary views concerning the nobility as the result of your—ah—argument, I may say."
"I'm very sorry. I know one or two exceedingly nice noblemen, and I've no doubt there are a great many more. She must have misunderstood me. I wasn't running down the nobility, Mrs. Titus. I was merely questioning the advisability of elevating it in the way we Americans sometimes do."
"You did not put it so adroitly in discussing the practice with Aline," she said quickly. "Granted that her own marriage was a mistake,—a dreadful mistake,—it does not follow that all international matches are failures. I would just as soon be unhappily married to a duke as to a dry-goods merchant, Mr. Smart."
"But not at the same price, Mrs. Titus," I remarked.
She smiled. "A husband is dear at any price."
"I shouldn't put it just that way," I protested. "A good American husband is a necessity, not a luxury."
"Well, to go back to what I started to say, Aline is very bitter about matrimony as viewed from my point of view. I am sorry to say I attribute her attitude to your excellent counselling."
"You flatter me. I was under the impression she took her lessons of Tarnowsy."
"Granted. But Tarnowsy was unfit. Why tar all of them with the same stick? There are good noblemen, you'll admit."
"But they don't need rehabilitation."
"Aline, I fear, will never risk another experiment. It's rather calamitous, isn't it? When one stops to consider her youth, beauty and all the happiness there may be—"
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Titus, but I think your fears are groundless."
"What do you mean?"
"The Countess will marry again. I am not betraying a secret, because she has intimated as much to my secretary as well as to me. I take it that as soon as this unhappy affair is settled, she will be free to reveal the true state of her feelings toward—" I stopped, somewhat dismayed by my garrulous turn.
"Toward whom?" she fairly snapped.
"I don't know," I replied truthfully—and, I fear, lugubriously.
"Good heaven!" she cried, starting up from the bench on which we were sitting in the loggia. There was a queer expression in her eyes. "Hasn't—hasn't she ever hinted at—hasn't she mentioned any one at all?"
"Not to me."
Mrs. Titus was agitated, I could see that very plainly. A thoughtful frown appeared on her smooth brow, and a gleam of anxiety sprang into her eyes.
"I am sure that she has had no opportunity to—" She did not complete the sentence, in which there was a primary note of perplexity and wonder.
It grilled me to discover that she did not even so much as take me into consideration.
"You mean since the—er—divorce?" I inquired.
"She has been in seclusion all of the time. She has seen no man,—that is to say, no man for whom she could possibly entertain a—But, of course, you are mistaken in your impression, Mr. Smart. There is absolutely nothing in what you say."
"A former sweetheart, antedating her marriage," I suggested hopelessly.
"She has no sweetheart. Of that I am positive," said she with conviction.
"She must have had an army of admirers. They were legion after her marriage, I may be pardoned for reminding you."
She started. "Has she never mentioned Lord Amberdale to you?" she asked.
"Amberdale?" I repeated, with a queer sinking of the heart. "No, Mrs. Titus. An Englishman?"
She was mistress of herself once more. In a very degage manner she informed me that his lordship, a most attractive and honourable young Englishman, had been one of Aline's warmest friends at the time of the divorce proceedings. But, of course, there was nothing in that! They had been good friends for years, nothing more, and he was a perfect dear.
But she couldn't fool me. I could see that there was something working at the back of her mind, but whether she was distressed or gratified I was not by way of knowing.
"I've never heard her mention Lord Amberdale," said I.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Had I but known, the mere fact that the Countess had not spoken of his lordship provided her experienced mother with an excellent reason for believing that there was something between them. She abruptly brought the conversation to a close and left me, saying that she was off for her beauty nap.
Alone, I soon became a prey to certain disquieting thoughts. Summed up, they resolved themselves into a condition of certainty which admitted of but one aspect: the charming Countess was in love with Amberdale. And the shocking part of it all was that she was in love with him prior to her separation from Tarnowsy! I felt a cold perspiration start out all over my body as this condition forced itself upon me. He was the man; he had been the man from the beginning. My heart was like lead for the rest of the day, and, very curiously, for a leaden thing it was subject to pain.
Just before dinner, Britton, after inspecting me out of the corner of his eye for some time, advised me to try a little brandy.
"You look seedy, sir," he said with concern in his voice. "A cold setting in perhaps, sir."
I tried the brandy, but not because I thought I was taking a cold. Somehow it warmed me up. There is virtue in good spirits.
The Countess was abroad very early the next morning. I discovered her in the courtyard, giving directions to Max and Rudolph who were doing some spading in the garden. She looked very bright and fresh and enticing in the light of an early moon, and I was not only pleased but astonished, having been led to believe all my life that a woman, no matter how pretty she may be, appears at her worst when the day is young.
I joined her at once. She gave me a gay, accusing smile.
"What have you been saying to mother?" she demanded, as she shook hands with me. "I thought you were to be trusted."
I flushed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Countess. I—I didn't know it was a secret."
She looked at me somewhat quizzically for a moment. Then she laughed softly. "It is a secret."
"I hope I haven't got you into bad odour with your—"
"Oh, dear me, no! I'm not in the least worried over what mother may think. I shall do as I please, so there's the end of it."
I swallowed something that seemed to be sticking in my throat. "Then it is true that you are going to marry?"
"Quite," she said succinctly.
I was silent for a moment. "Well, I'm—I'm glad to know it in time," I said, rather more gruffly than was necessary.
She smiled too merrily, I thought. "You must not tell any one else about it, however."
"I can promise that," I said, a sullen rage in my soul. "Devils could not drag it out of me. Rest easy."
It occurred to me afterwards that she laughed rather jerkily, you might say uneasily. At any rate, she turned away and began speaking to Max.
"Have you had your breakfast?" I asked stupidly.
"No."
"Neither have I. Will you join me?"
"Isn't it getting to be a habit?"
"Breakfast or—you?"
"Breakfast and me."
"I confess, my dear Countess, that I like you for breakfast," I said gallantly.
"That is a real tribute," she said demurely, and took her place beside me. Together we crossed the courtyard.
On the steps Colingraft Titus was standing. I uttered an audible groan and winced as if in dire pain.
"What is it?" she cried quickly.
"Rheumatism," I announced, carefully raising my right arm and affecting an expression of torture. I am not a physical coward, kind reader. The fact that young Mr. Titus carried in his hands a set of formidable looking boxing-gloves did not frighten me. Heaven knows, if it would give him any pleasure to slam me about with a pair of gloves, I am not without manliness and pluck enough to endure physical pain and mental humiliation. It was diplomacy, cunning, astuteness,—whatever you may choose to call it,—that stood between me and a friendly encounter with him. Two minutes' time would serve to convince him that he was my master, and then where would I be? Where would be the prestige I had gained? Where my record as a conqueror? "I must have caught cold in my arms and shoulders," I went on, making worse faces than before as I moved the afflicted parts experimentally.
"There!" she exclaimed ruefully. "I knew you would catch cold. Men always do. I'm so sorry."
"It's nothing," I made haste to explain:—"that is, nothing serious. I'll get rid of it in no time at all." I calculated for a minute. "A week or ten days at the most. Good morning, Colingraft."
"Morning. Hello, sis. Well?" He dangled the gloves before my eyes.
My disappointment was quite pathetic. "Tell him," I said to the Countess.
"He's all crippled up with rheumatism, Colly," she said. "Put those ugly things away. We're going in to breakfast."
He tossed the gloves into a corner of the vestibule. I felt a little ashamed of my subterfuge in the face of his earnest expression of concern.
"Tell you what I'll do," he said warmly. "I know how to rub a fellow's muscles—"
"Oh, I have a treasure in Britten," said I, hastily. "Thanks, old man. He will work it out of me. Sorry we can't have a go this morning."
The worst of it all was that he insisted, as a matter of personal education, on coming to my room after breakfast to watch the expert manoeuvres of Britton in kneading the stiffness out of my muscles. He was looking for new ideas, he explained. I first consulted Britton and then resignedly consented to the demonstration.
To my surprise, Britton was something of an expert. I confess that he almost killed me with those strong, iron-like hands of his; if I was not sore when he began with me, I certainly was when he finished. Colingraft was most enthusiastic. He said he'd never seen any one manipulate the muscles so scientifically as Britton, and ventured the opinion that he would not have to repeat the operation often. To myself I said that he wouldn't have to repeat it at all.
We began laying our plans for the fourteenth. Communications arrived from Italy, addressed to me but intended for either the Countess or the rather remote Mr. Bangs, who seemed better qualified to efface himself than any human being I've ever seen. These letters informed us that a yacht—one of three now cruising in the-Mediterranean—would call at an appointed port on such and such a day to take her out to sea. Everything was being arranged on the outside for her escape from the continent, and precision seamed to be the watchword.
Of course I couldn't do a stroke of work on my novel. How could I be expected to devote myself to fiction when fact was staring me in the face so engagingly? We led an idle, dolce far niente life in these days, with an underlying touch of anxiety and excitement that increased as the day for her departure drew near. I confess to a sickening sense of depression that could not be shaken off.
Half of my time was spent in playing with Rosemary. She became dearer to me with each succeeding day. I knew I should miss her tremendously. I should even miss Jinko, who didn't like me but who no longer growled at me. The castle would be a very gloomy, drear place after they were out of it. I found myself wondering how long I would be able to endure the loneliness. Secretly I cherished the idea of selling the place if I could find a lunatic in the market.
An unexpected diversion came one day when, without warning and figuratively out of a clear sky, the Hazzards and the Billy Smiths swooped down upon me. They had come up the river in the power boat for a final September run, and planned to stop over night with me!
They were the last people in the world whom I could turn away from my door. There might have been a chance to put them up for the night and still avoid disclosures, had not circumstance ordered that the Countess and I should be working in the garden at the very moment that brought them pounding at the postern gates. Old Conrad opened the gate in complete ignorance of our presence in the garden. (We happened to be in a somewhat obscure nook and seated upon a stone bench—so he must be held blameless.) The quartette brushed past the old man and I, hearing their chatter, foolishly exposed myself.
I shall not attempt to describe the scene that followed their discovery of the Countess Tarnowsy. Be it said, however, to the credit of Elsie and Betty Billy, the startled refugee was fairly smothered in kisses and tears and almost deafened by the shrill, delighted exclamations that fell from their eager lips. I doubt if there ever was such a sensation before!