The San Francisco call. [volume], July 05, 1903, Image 1

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

Image provided by: University of California, Riverside; Riverside, CA

                
He is so tall and strong— taller even
than Noel Brent, whom I used to think
the nnest-lookinff man I had ever | seen
before I knew Maxime and it was a heav
enly rest to lay my head for a moment
on his shoulder, just shutting my eyes,
without speaking a word. I thought then
—for I was so worn In body and soul with
the strain of keeping up — that after death
the best naradlse would be to lean my
head on Maxime's. shoulder, like this, for
two or three hundred years. But even as
the peaceful idea came into my head back
darted remembrance like a stinging adder.
I remembered how little I deserved paxa
e^ise, and how my lover's dear arms would
The touch of his hands gave me
strength and life once more. There . is
something wonderful. in the touch, in the
presence of the human being one loves
best. For a moment one forgets every
thing else; the whole world falls away. I
have flirted with many men— occasionally
because It amused me; oftener because I
had something to gain for political ends;
but I never knew what that blessed feel-
Ing was uutil I met Maxima de Ribau
mont.
As I left the stage at last, having re
turned for five curtain culls at the end
of the first act. I met near my dressing
room men carrying large harps and
crowns and wreaths of flowers which had
been thrown to me on the stage, or sent
round from -the stage door. I hardly
looked at them, for Maxine was there,
too, waiting for me. He had come from,
the box, and he followed Into the boudoir
which, adjoins the dressing-room. There
we, were alone. And I have five minutes
to spare him before I need dress for the
next act.
I felt myself color up under Margot'*
mocking, yet questioning eyes and 1
stammered out my answer like a school
boy caught ln v flagrant mischief.
"I— er— I must— the fact la. I have an
engagement— a business engagement that
I— er— I regret very much I can't break.
And really. I'm afraid I ought to be off
now or I shall be late."
"Surely two or three minutes here or
there can't make very much difference."
said General Gawain. who was celebrated
In his family circle for saying the wrong
thing.
"I— «r— fear they will make rather a
difference In this caae." I blurted out.
hardly knowing myself in my loutish
awkwardness; for usually I am a cool
hand enough, or at least have the nerve
to appear so. Yet now, when I would
have given a finger to control myself. I
went to pieces under the' battery of Mar
mot's eyes. And I knew that I was brick
color, for even General Gawain saw that
something was amiss.
"Ha. haV he laughedi -"Well.- go, my
dear boy. and keep your "business' en
gagement. What a man of business you .
are, to be sure. We all wish you joy of
it."
Somehow I got away, my ears tinsjlinr.
I did not look back, but the last thing I
heard was Margot' a laugh, which, sweet
as it was. went through me like a knife.
It wanted five minutes to 13 . when I
reached the street. Midnight was striking
by the time I was seated in a cab and
driving toward the Rue d'Anjou. I was
late for the appointment after all— only
a few minutes which General Gawain had
Judged so insignificant ; yet what a dif
ference—if I had guessed— they were t»
make for me!
Told by Juliette de Never* -
CHAPTER VIL^." ; V
COWARD CONSCIENCE AND A GAMB
OF BLUFF. ,
How I got through my part on that
awful night I don't know. .
When I first went on the stage, to take
up my cue at the end of the first act,
my. brain was a blank. I could not re
member a single line that I had to say
when I tried to project my mind ahead.
I saw no one on the stage. I did not even
see Maxine de Ribaumont. though X
knew he was in the box: but I seemed to
feel him looking at me. I felt hl3 great
love coming down to my chilled heart
like a warming ray of sunlight. I felt
the Influence of his desire for my success.
For him. I must not fall. I had never
failed, and I would not now.
So it was. though I could not have re
peated a word from nay part before X
went on the stage. I found myself an
swering cue after, cue as I received them.
Applause came surging up to my ears
like a great tidal wave. The ' audience
was mine to do with as I would; yet for
once I feared it. as If it had been a great
tiger purring as It crouched to spring,
for I thought. "What if it knew the thinif
that I had done? What if a voice should
cry out that Juliette dc Nevera had be
trayed France and the ally of France—
that she had stolen the treaty of alliance
and sent it to the enemy— England ! How
those hands which beat themselves to
gether, now to applauding me would itch
to grasp my throat.
Still. I went on. An actress can always
go on— till she breaks. I think thut she
cannot be bent like other women; ah, I
envy the other women who are not skilled
to hide things. It seems to me that they
must suffer less. . ; .V,
tn the season," hreke fa Lady Oairata,
looking smilingly at the traveling clothes
which I still wore. "1 think, Margot. 1*
you and Marlon and I join your uncle In
asking Mr. Brent to stay and drink suc
cess to the motor-car deal that he won't
refuse."
She was the kindest woman on earth;
but If she had deliberately tried to clothe
her. Invitation in the terms most em
barrassing to me, she could not have
chosen her words better.
¦ Cptjyrtrbt. 19 °2. by th» National Fraaa A.«*aey.
•v". (Second and Final Installment.)
.-' - (TnM by Noel Brent.)
V'^Yt *\ ilEN I say "risk." I merely
! : V A J mean the risk that the men I
--\J\/. going In chase of might
't . r r- turn out to be the wrong ones,
_;• .' ' .' • . for the description I had ob
•iaincCfTom their driver was not accurate
•"enough Jo give the real sense of security. I
- .^eti^fs. as lie had taken them out to
!JS>'iii!Ty.' th<^ distance was so great that if
¦fcistaken 1 should V>e wasting a good deal
jbf t-Snio on the wrong tark.
V -tl.wc.v cr. 1 could think of no better
jila^'. and aft*>r vain inquiries concerning
iJind^Jr-Kized Englishmen who might have
¦fSrivsn awav from the Gare du Nord
khsBe. I got into the cab and started for
.^.euiJIy.
. ; TT^je lior^e was tired, and we did - not
.Ji*<?epi:up as good a pace as I should have
¦Hk.<pjd. ' However, we arrived at the
"suburb at last, and turning into a quiet
.Street. 1 stopped before a large house with
iNsfhtfs in alrm-st ail of the numerous win
"tf-© W0. ¦• "
•'.t'toM my drivrr to wait: end running
.JJtJ- the s-trps of the porcli. rang the bell,
GHf'che man s*>r\ant who came to the
.doi-'fl Inquired if thrre Kngli^h genUe
mfn; hwd lately arrivt^J. H«r replied that
'•iXifBJf, had. at.d wore dining. The house,
.it aprwiifd. was a pension, and the pen
¦*-irrn'naircs e^eri now about finishing their
.d)nncrs. Would mor.cicur wait? It would
•Tjot: be many minutes.
:" "Slipping a <-ouple oT francs into his
¦¦Han<J»' I requested that I might, as* I was
"•iji-« .hurry, be shown Into the dining-
V.obrn' without malting. If the birds I
*»:i-5t'*Hj to f-att'h wtp really here, ihrre
¦¦wwiJd . tr \ptf chance M their f^rap'ng
TPf-if I took them-by surprise in the midst
"of -.a nieal. At lfas*. they could not get
;away: without my r^-ognizing: them, and
¦¦jifiv'tn what »ou!fl com*- next, the moment
'•lii^lf rrruEt d«^.-i<Je.
1 ; tftec- two franco settled the question. I
'¦*r«us': uirfiered into the d'nlng-room with
•^Dut.' •b'tinsr annomw'd and my eyes
"thf'long tattle with a quiok glance. I taw
iieVfral men -who w*>ro unmistakably Eln
jiJiVh,-. but ! did not &ee my companions
.cfithe train.
'Standing. in thp doorway. 1 inquired of
fny guidr- which were the gentlemen who
Jiarf .' arrived that evening. He point«=d'
-oi/t'-and adr)*-*! that though they had
.crfy' come to-day from England thpy
wefie old patrons, well kn^^'n at the
house.
I. ha-d' com*, then, on a wil<i-goos«» chase
-^-or at- least it looked lik^ it. Still, T
"¦would not be satisfied until the driver
fc/ELO"" been brought unobtrusively to the
dopf to identify his three fares. This
•was accomplished after an argument and
parting'with fn more francs.
Tfyere was Tiothing to do but go back
wfi.ence I had come. I did so, furious
with ns'iself and with th*> driver, whom
I now thought more wily "than stupid. He
had done his b*-vt tu convince me that his
three Knglish farep were my three En
glish "friends." although when I came
Ho-eee'ihem I found that their appear
ance-did not tally with the details of de
scription- I hid drawn from him. When
I "had asked: "Was the little one fair?"
t>c..'ha.& emphatically said "Y«»s." He
•fc.id alto assented when I had inquired if
crie 'of the tall men was dark and the
©rtier marked with wnallpox. But F could
dp nothing but anathematize him la
Frciich.and curtail his tip.
?jf wrnt back to the railway station and
CUPtrtioTi^d morr porters and cabmen un
av^-tlingly. Vtt the little man must have
r<"ie away in a cab. I argued to myself.
l 'as7he wm burdened with far too much
Jkigirag-e to walk. Since I could learn
'd}6%hing of him or the other two— and^
d«LRed .' riot, because of Ix»rd Reckworth
and; Juliette de Nevers, apply to the po
llc*. * I determined to consult a private
deiective-^-a man whose actions I might
inyself more or less control by paying
•fCrj .'an'ci . to whom I need only tell as
iaiititi of the truth as I chose.
, • I 'ireturned to my hotel, inquired of the
«nfriaBer'where.I could find the best prl
'vate'detective in Paris, got the address
•prone and drove. to it. Fortunately (as
•I "thaugnt .then, all unconscious of the
Wb-in which I was Industriously tangling
*p»'6*lf). "Monsieur . Paul Dubols was at
b"ome and able to receive me.
. I. was £hown into a plain but neat little
roobi^ and b<gan to tell my story as I
hkd '.'arranged it for the cars of the de
teeiiv^ on my way. to the house. First I
Introduced : myself by the name which I
had" given at the Elysee Palace Hotel.
¦Tfis seemed beet, as the manager had
sent, me" to Monsieur ' Dubols. and com
plications might arise if I became Noel
"Brent instead of James Guest. Besides,
as. tfejern' was much to conceal, James
Quvt teemed "the right man for the oc
casion. ' '¦'¦/¦¦ -'
1 said' "thai T had reason to ,x»lieve I
had "b«e"n robbed of an article which was
of Immense value to tne. but as It was
the gift of a lady who must not on any
ax^ofcnt' be brought Into. the case, I did
pot' wlvt • to apply to the Paris police.
A*!^ that\j would ask Monsieur Dubois to
.use-bib -great skill In doing for me was
to discover "as soon as possible tne where
abouts ' of the Fupposed thief, whom I
would- <*P!»rribe. I said that we had trav
•leti- CoiTetlif-r, mentioned the incidents on
tt* 'gangway and on the railway station,
and; cxWained that I had been ignorant
cf.mjr # l«Es until after arrivlnj- at the
hotel. - # # ¦;-- .\-_
'DuboUt 'put various questions and I an
vweced : Qlcia-^whea J chose. When he .
-Then In rapid aneeeaaloa will fol
¦'jte'w <bM tbrilltna- new American
¦ eVei. "The Master of Applebr.** by
Francta Lmai "Crlttenden." by
.John Fox Jr.t "The Two VanreTels."
fey. booth Tarklna-ton. whose famona
fcorel. "The Gentleman from Indi
ana,** has Jnat been concluded In
these paces; "The TnrnplUe House,*'
W-T F«rcra* Hame. etc ete.
. In •ffnrirtK (hla book, vrhlob ha«
joti.lv4-r«aUj bfrn described •¦ **the
«rf«( America! oovrl." The Sandar
¦< nil «-r«»at«-d a writable JoarnallMtc
for there ban never been
«Hit<-« • book which drain irlth
'¦hodern life In both the Rait and
t.<be 'A\>»t la >acb a •tronsr. terse.
•ib'r'Mllpir manner as M Tbe Spender***
4«ri. K baa been aptly described
¦¦ttit t "tattl »t new method." p*r
-V«p<' snare beeaaea ft r*T*aU, tn an
"•b«e)*tr!r «nt«n« war, why Amer
. fem : U the a-reat nonr-mUUe aa
'Yioa' ol the earth, than far tbe fa«
einjttlna: love theme tbat 'p^rvadea
*ft» : >Tbe Spenders** tn tbla form
i«r(li . ' be tremendously popular.
WatrV for It and see.
.' ViThat.ts ane «f the beet feature*
•f Tke lu«»r Call»e literary palter.
Ten-- net e>n!y vet tbe v*tt lateat
*4srretla by tb« moat famou wrltera
in. "<b« world, bnt yan rret them
'qnlelc There mrm not lena- waits
between Installments and no Inter
n/tnable series of "Continued l» •¦'
i»e *t" rntch line*.
\ I npHE Spenders," by Harry
•.".. JL: Leon Wilson, begins in
the Next Sunday Call.
"People j don't usually have engage
ments at midnight, even In Paris, except
This recollection threw a lurid light
upon Lady | Gawain's determination > to
bring Margot to France, and the "pick
ing up of the great motor car. expert" at
Boulogne.' But, in spite of all this and
my reasons for wishing Margot to be
anywhere rather than here at this hour. I
could not h^lp rejoicing in the sight of
her. and especially in. that blush.
"It's a good wind that blows us all to
gether here," said General Gawain. in his
hearty, but rather absent-minded way.
"Sit down with us and have some
supper."
"Mr. Brent has Just finished his supper,
don't you ««e, Uncle Robert," remarked
Margot. hastily. - .
"What does that matter?" retorted the
old officer.' "Can't he eat another, or if
he can't do that, what's to prevent him
from sitting with us while we eat ours?"
"Perhaps he has some delightful en
gagement." Margot suggested, looking at
me with subdued malice, which I could
not help fancying was mingled with wist
ful ness. - ' .
Marlon Sitgreaves) do her best to make ft
match. -_ : '-'¦'/¦
."I haven't yet recovered from my own
surprise at being here," laughed Lady
Gawain. a plump, kindly, delightful crea
ture who didn't mind in the least being
over fifty. "My husband found himself
obliged to come to France on important
business— that is, there's" a wonderful
motor-car for sale that he wants to look
at. I didn't see why I shouldn't get a
little fun out of the expedition as I was
ipvited to join, so I flew up. fo my broth
er's and literally carried Margot and Mar
lon oft by force. We caught the 2:30 train
for Boulogue— such a rush as it was!—
picked up Captain Menzlee. who id a great
motor-car expert, and here we are. ready
for business to-morrow morning. I sup
pose you are stopping In the hotel, aren't
your*
"Yes," I answered, and looked -again at
Margrot She had not a glance for me.
but ehe was blushing beautifully. At least,
I thought. It was a good omen that ehe
should have consented to come to France
to-day. Of course, the could not have
known at what hotel I meant to stop, and
even if she had she would probably have
tried to persuade the Gawains to go to
another. Still the very fact that, after
what had passed in the morning, she; was
willing to breathe the air of Paris with
me was something. She must have
known that we might meet, and she had
been willing to run the risk. •
I hardly needed the small comfort to be
pot from this reflection; for the moment
Lady Gawain mentioned the. name of
Captain Menzies I remembered something
which Miss Sltgreaves had said to me not
long ago. She had "told me " that there
was a Captain Menzies. a godson of Lady
Ga wain's, - of whom aunt waa
always talking to her. They had never
met, but when he came back from South
Africa. Lady Gawain would (according to
"I am even more surprised to -see you
than you can poEs'bly be to eee me." I
said to Lady Gawain and* at Margot.
And I was wondering for all I was worth
who could be the new man with them.
H« was a good-looking chap, like a sol
dier, and he stood close to Margot. I was
vilely jealous of him— for one bears of
hearts being caught In the rebound, and
Instead of doing something to regain my
lost position beforp any one lese had a
chance to step In and render it untenable,
1 should only be obl'ged presently to
make matters worse— If they could, be
worse.
But at least I had one moment to spare
— or to steal— from that grim fate, and I
resolved to make ' the most cf it.
She was not alone, but for an Instant
In which we looked straight into each
other's eyes I saw no one else. There
was only her beautiful face in the world;
but in a few seconds, when I had come
to myself, I heard familiar voices and
realized that Margot was one of the
party. She was with her aunt. Lady
Gawain. and her aunt's husband, General
L*>rd Gawain; her cousin, Marion Slt
greave.*. and e man— a young man«— whom
I had never : 'seen before. And It was
Ix»rd and I^ady Gawain, not my darling
girl, who spoke to me in amazed recog
nition. They were old v friends of mine,
and. in -fact, it was at Lady Gawaln's
house near Marlow that I had first met
the Horn* Secretary's daughter.
"Why. Noel, what. a r surprise!" Lady
Gawain was exclalm'ng. , "Who. would
have thougnfof seeing you here? But one
mets everybody in Paris. W*, are just
in. and wear*:.' starving ;>1th hunger,
aren't we,' Margot. dear?" . .
'•Starving." .echoed Margot.- with as gay
a smile, as if we had, not parted so
miserably' exactly thirteen hours—thir
teen unlucky .hours— ago. I .have always
thought Margtot Revelstoke's ' the - most
divinely lovely smile I ever saw. ¦ A deep
dimple flashes into each, cheek, and her
great eyes turn suddenly into stars. It is
the most bewildering effect imaginable,
and it made my -pulses give a bound to-
night as usual, though 1 knew well that
her heart was not in the smile. She only
wished to eeem exactly the same as ever
before her companions, in whom she had
evidently not confided either our under
standing or the misunderstanding which
had so swiftly followed. As she smiled
phe let me take her hand," and I could
not resist the temptation to press it. But
though I hoped for jtift the faintest, re
sponse, her little fingfrs lay stiffly in my
grasp for the fraction of a second, then
relentlessly freed themselves. She meant
me to see that, no matter how conven
tionalities might force her to behave, she
had not forgotten nor forgiven. I was
horribly unhappy, just at the time— had
all ben well with me— when I ought to
have been the most deliriously ecstatic
fe'low on earth, having won hpr: It did
seem a* If fate were dead against me; for
here Margot had been spirited to me
In some as yet -inexplicable manner; and
while I might have been striving after a
reconciliation, I was imperatively called
by the voice of honor to go somewhere
else — that somewhere else the one place
of all others where Margot would be the
angriest with me for going.
By the time Monsieur Dubols had been
primed with such facts as .1 ventured to
give him It was after 11 o'clock. I could
do nothing more for the moment, end as
I was half famished (I'd bad nothing to
eat since a very light luncheon on the
boat) I returned to my hotel not far off
and had a hasty supper. When I had
finished I knew that the first perform
ance of the new play at the Theater de la
Republique was over, and that If I went
to Juliette de Never*' house In the Ru<
d'Anjoul should find her alone., waiting
for me. eagerly expecting me.
In ordinary circumstances there would
either have been a supper on the stage
with Juliette as hostess, or she would
have taken guests home with her. or 6he
would herself have been the most distin
guished guest somewhere else. But to
night she would have made some excuse
to escape as soon as the play was over,
and eo to her house unattended. 1 waa
as sure of this as that I was alive. \ '
My watch told me that It was a quarter
to 12. In a cab I could reach Juliette's
6treet in seven or eight minutes. I would
leave the vehicle at the corner and go to
the house on foot, as it would not be well
to advertise the fact that Mademoiselle de
Nevcrs was receiving a visit from a young
man at midnight. I rofce from the table,
meaning to leave the hotel at once, when
1 almost ran against the last person on
earth I expected to see— Margot Revel
stoke.
touched en point* which in my opinion
were better left alone. I frankly said that
they had nothing to do with the case. He
looked at me sharply, but did not urge roe
to openness with him. as I bad been
afraid he would. I told him that, as the
man I wanted to find might not remain In
Paris. I should like to have the hunt be
gin at once, and if the fellow should be
unearthed. I would gladly pay him (Du
bois) a hundred pounds.
The detective, still with rather an odd
expression on bis face, promised to do his
best, and to keep his mouth shut. On the
whole. I was pleased with him. He looked
like a person who knew his business, and
could do it with any man. Had It not
been for my solemn promise to the For
eigu Secretary and the danger for Juli
ette. I would gladly have told him every
thing exactly »8 it had happened, begin
ning with my' morning call at Sir Gordon
Itevelstoke's— which now seemed several
years ago. \
BETWEEN TWO FIRES
Sunday Call Literary Section