  The Baron and Mr Bunker discussed their dinner with the relish of approving connoisseurs. Mr Bunker commended the hock, and suggested a second bottle; the Baron praised the entrÉes, and insisted on another helping. The frequent laughter arising from their table excited general remark throughout the room, and already the waiters were whispering to the other guests that this was a German nobleman of royal blood engaged in a diplomatic mission of importance, and his friend a ducal member of the English Cabinet, at present, for reasons of state, incognito. “Bonker!” exclaimed the Baron, “I am in zat frame of head I vant a romance, an adventure” (lowering his voice a little), “mit a beautiful lady, Bonker.” “It must be a romance, Baron?” [pg 86]“A novel, a story to tell to mine frients. In a strange city man expects strange zings.” “Well, I’ll do my best for you, but I confess the provision of romantic adventures is a little outside the programme we’ve arranged.” “Ha, ha! Ve shall see, ve shall see, Bonker!” They arrived at the Corinthian Theatre about the middle of the first act, for, as Mr Bunker explained, it is always well to produce a good first impression, and few more effective means can be devised than working one’s way to the middle of a line of stalls with the play already in progress. Hardly were they seated when the Baron drove his elbow into his friend’s ribs (draped for the night, it may be remarked, with one of the Baron’s spare dress-coats) and exclaimed in an excited whisper, “Next to you, Bonker! Ach, zehr hÜpsch!” Even before this hint Mr Bunker had observed that the lady on the other side of him was possessed of exceptional attractions. For a little time he studied her out of the corners of his eyes. He noticed that the stall on the farther side of her was empty, that she once or twice looked round as though she expected somebody, and that she seemed not altogether unconscious of her new neighbours. He further observed that her face was of a type that is more usually engaged in attack than defence. Then he whispered, “Would you like to know her?” “Ach, yah!” replied the Baron, eagerly. “Bot—can you?” [pg 87]Mr Bunker smiled confidently. A few minutes later he happened to let his programme fall into her lap. “I beg your pardon,” he whispered, softly, and glanced into her eyes with a smile ready. His usual discernment had not failed him. She smiled, and instantly he produced his. A little later her opera-glasses happened to slip from her hand, and though they only slipped slowly, it was no doubt owing to his ready presence of mind that their fall was averted. This time their fingers happened to touch, and they smiled without an apology. He leant towards her, looking, however, at the play. They shared a laugh over a joke that she might have been excused for not understanding; presently a criticism of some situation escaped him inadvertently, and she smiled again; soon after she gave an exclamation and he answered sympathetically, and at the end of the act the curtain came down on an acquaintance already begun. As the lights were turned up, and here and there men began to go out, she again looked at the entrances in some apparent concern, either lest some one should not come in or lest some one should. “He is late,” said Mr Bunker, smiling. She gave a very enticing look of surprise, and consented to smile back before she coyly looked away again. “An erring husband, I presume.” She admitted that it was in fact a husband who had failed her. “But,” she added, “I’m afraid—I mean I expect he’ll [pg 88] Mr Bunker expressed the deepest sympathy with her unfortunate predicament. “He has his ticket, of course?” But it seemed that she had both the tickets with her, an arrangement which he immediately denounced as likely to lead to difficulties when her husband arrived. He further, in the most obliging manner, suggested that he should take the ticket for the other seat to the booking office and leave instructions for its being given to the gentleman on his arrival. The lady gave him a curious little glance that seemed to imply a mixture of doubt as to his motives with confidence in his abilities, and then with many thanks agreed to his suggestion. Mr Bunker took the ticket and rose at once. “That I may be sure you are in good company while I am away,” said he, “permit me to introduce my friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.” And the Baron promptly took his vacant seat. On his return Mr Bunker found his friend wreathed in smiles and engaged in the most animated conversation with the lady, and before the last act was over, he gathered from such scraps of conversation as reached his ears that Rudolph von Blitzenberg had little to learn in one department of a nobleman’s duties. “I wonder where my husband can be,” the lady whispered. “Ach, heed him not, fair lady,” replied the Baron. “Am I not instead of a hosband?” [pg 89]“I’m afraid you’re a very naughty man, Baron.” “Ven I am viz you,” the gallant Baron answered, “I forget myself all bot your charms.” These advances being made in the most dulcet tones of which the nobleman was master, and accompanied by the most enamoured expression, it is not surprising that the lady permitted herself to listen to them with perhaps too ready an ear. What Mr Bunker’s arrangement with the booking clerk had been was never quite clear, but certainly the erring husband failed to make his appearance at all, and at the last fall of the curtain she was easily persuaded to let the Baron escort her home. “I know I ought not, but if a husband deserts one so faithlessly, what can I do?” she said, with a very becoming little shrug of her shoulders and a captivating lift of her eyebrows. “Ah, vat indeed? He desairves not so fair a consort.” “But won’t it be troubling you?” “Trouble? Pleasure and captivation!” “Excuse me, Baron,” said the voice of Mr Bunker at his elbow; “if you will wait here at the door I shall send up a cab.” “Goot!” cried the Baron, “a zouzand zanks!” “I myself,” added Mr Bunker, with a profound bow to the lady, “shall say good night now. The best of luck, Baron!” In a few minutes a hansom drove up, and the Baron, springing in beside his charge, told the man to drive to 602 Eaton Square. “Not too qvickly!” he added, in a stage aside. [pg 90]They reached Trafalgar Square, matters inside going harmoniously as a marriage bell,—almost, in fact, too much suggesting that simile. “Why are we going down Whitehall?” the lady exclaimed, suddenly. “I know not,” replied the Baron, placidly. “Ask him where he is going!” she said. The Baron, as in duty bound, asked, and the reassuring reply, “All right, sir,” came back through the hole in the roof. “I seem to know that man’s voice,” the lady said. “He must have driven me before.” “To me all ze English speak ze same,” replied the Baron. “All bot you, my fairest, viz your sound like a—vat you call?—fiddle, is it?” Though his charmer had serious misgivings regarding their cabman’s topographical knowledge, the Baron’s company proved so absorbing that it was not till they were being rapidly driven over Vauxhall Bridge that she at last took alarm. At first the Baron strove to soothe her by the most approved Teutonic blandishments, but in time he too began to feel concerned, and in a voice like thunder he repeatedly called upon the driver to stop. No reply was vouchsafed, and the pace merely grew the more reckless. “Can’t you catch the reins?” cried the lady, who had got into a terrible fright. The Baron twice essayed the feat, but each time a heavy blow over the knuckles from the butt-end of the whip forced him to desist. The lady burst into tears. [pg 91] “Oh, don’t let him murder me!” sobbed the lady. “Haf cheer, fairest; he shall not vile I am viz you! Gott in himmel, ze rascal! Parbleu und blood! Goddam! Vait till I catch him, hell and blitzen! Haf courage, dear!” “Oh dear, oh dear!” wailed the lady. “I shall never do it again!” They must have covered miles, and still the speed never abated, when suddenly, as they were rounding a sharp corner, the horse slipped on the frost-bound road, and in the twinkling of an eye the Baron and the lady were sitting on opposite sides of their fallen steed, and the cabman was rubbing his head some yards in front. “Teufel!” exclaimed the Baron, rising carefully to his feet. “Ach, mine dearest vun, art thou hurt?” The lady was silent for a moment, as though trying to decide, and then she burst into hysterical laughter. “Ach, zo,” said the Baron, much relieved, “zen vill I see ze cabman.” That individual was still rubbing his head with a rueful air, and the Baron was about to pour forth all his bottled-up indignation, when at the sight of the driver’s face he started back in blank astonishment. “Bonker!” “It is I indeed, my dear Baron,” replied that gentleman, [pg 92] “Bot—bot vat means zis?” gasped the Baron. “I was merely endeavouring to provide the spice of romance you required, besides giving you the opportunity of making the lady’s better acquaintance. Can I do anything more for you, Baron? And you, my dear lady, can I assist you in any way?” Both, speaking at once and with some heat, gave a decidedly affirmative answer. “Where are we?” asked the lady, who hovered between fright and indignation. Mr Bunker shrugged his shoulders. “It would be rash to hazard an opinion,” he replied. “Well!” cried the lady, her indignation quite overcoming her fright. “Do you mean to say you’ve brought us here against our wills and probably got me into dreadful trouble, and you don’t even know where we are?” Mr Bunker looked up at the heavens with a studious air. “One ought to be able to tell something of our whereabouts from one of those stars,” he replied; “but, to tell the truth, I don’t quite know which. In short, madame, it is not from want of goodwill, but merely through ignorance, that I cannot direct you.” The lady turned impatiently to the Baron. “You’ve helped to get me into this mess,” she said, tartly. “What do you propose to do?” [pg 93]“My fairest——” “Don’t!” she interrupted, stamping her foot on the frosty road, and then inconsequently burst into tears. The Baron and Mr Bunker looked at one another. “It is a fine night for a walk, and the cab, I’m afraid, is smashed beyond hope of redemption. Give the lady your arm, Baron; we must eventually arrive somewhere.” There was really nothing else for it, so leaving the horse and cab to be recovered by the first policeman who chanced to pass, they set out on foot. At last, after half an hour’s ramble through the solitudes of South London, a belated cab was hailed and all three got inside. Once on her way home, the lady’s indignation again gave way to fright. “What am I to do? What am I to do?” she wailed. “Oh, whatever will my husband say?” In his most confident and irresistible manner Mr Bunker told her he would make matters all right for her at whatever cost to himself; and so infectious was his assurance, that, when at last they reached Eaton Square, she allowed him to come up to the door of number 602. The Baron prudently remained in the cab, for, as he explained, “My English, he is unsafe.” After a prolonged knocking and ringing the door at length opened, and an irascible-looking, middle-aged gentleman appeared, arrayed in a dressing-gown. “Louisa!” he cried. “What the dev—where on earth have you been? The police are looking for you all over London. And may I venture to ask who this is with you?” [pg 94]Mr Bunker bowed slightly and raised his hat. “My dear sir,” he said, “we found this lady in a lamentable state of intoxication in the Tottenham Court Road, and as I understand you have a kind of reversionary interest in her, we have brought her here. As for you, sir, your appearance is so unprepossessing that I am unable to remain any longer. Good night,” and raising his hat again he entered the cab and drove off, assuring the Baron that matters were satisfactorily arranged. “So you have had your adventure, Baron,” he added, with a smile. For a minute or two the Baron was silent. Then he broke into a cheerful guffaw, “Ha, ha, ha! You are a fonny devil, Bonker! Ach, bot it vas pleasant vile it lasted!” |
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