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(Harvard University)
Popular Novels by Fergus Hume
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THE SECRET PASSAGE
The Albany Evening Journal says: "Fully as interesting as his former books, and keeps one guessing to the end. The story begins with the murder of an old lady, with no apparent cause for the crime, and in unraveling the mystery the author is very clever in hiding the real criminal. A pleasing romance runs through the book, which adds to the interest."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE YELLOW HOLLY
The Philadelphia Public Ledger says: "'The Yellow Holly' outdoes any of his earlier stories. It is one of those tales that the average reader of fiction of this sort thinks he knows all about after he has read the first few chapters. Those who have become admirers of Mr. Hume cannot afford to miss 'The Yellow Holly.'"
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
A COIN OF EDWARD VII.
The Philadelphia Item says: "This book is quite up to the level of the high standard which Mr. Hume has set for himself in 'The Mystery of a Hansom Cab' and 'The Rainbow Feather.' It is a brilliant, stirring adventure, showing the author's prodigious inventiveness, his well of imagination never running dry."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE PAGAN'S CUP
The Nashville American says: "The plot is intricate with mystery and probability neatly dovetailed and the solution is a series of surprises skillfully retarded to whet the interest of the reader. It is excellently written and the denouement so skillfully concealed that one's interest and curiosity are kept on edge till the very last. It will certainly be a popular book with a very large class of readers."
12mo, Cloth bound, $1.25
THE MANDARIN'S FAN
The Nashville American says: "The book is most attractive and thoroughly novel in plot and construction. The mystery of the curious fan, and its being the key to such wealth and power is decidedly original and unique. Nearly every character in the book seems possible of accusation. It is just the sort of plot in which Hume is at his best. It is a complex tangle, full of splendid climaxes. Few authors have a charm equal to that of Mr. Hume's mystery tales."
12mo, Cloth bound, $ 1.25
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
LADY JIM of
CURZON STREET
A Novel
By
FERGUS HUME
Author of
"The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," "A Coin of Edward VII,"
"The Pagan's Cup," "The Yellow Holly," "The Red Window,"
"The Mandarin's Fan," "The Secret Passage," etc.
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1906, BY
G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
Issued March, 1906
Lady Jim of
Curzon Street
LADY JIM OF CURZON STREET
"We're on the rocks this time, Leah, smashin' for all we're worth. How we can win clear beats me."
With hands which had never earned a shilling thrust into pockets empty even of that coin, Jim Kaimes stretched out his long legs and surveyed his neat boots as he made this cryptic speech. His habit of expressing himself in a parabolic fashion was confusing to his friends. But five years of marital squabbling had schooled his wife into ready comprehension, and she usually responded without comment. On this occasion, however, the subject under discussion irritated even her healthy nerves, and she replied irrelevantly.
"Really, Jim, I wish you would talk English."
"Huh! Never knew I was talking Choctaw."
"You might be, for all the sense an ordinary person can make of it."
"Ah-a-a!" said Jim, with the clumsy affection of a bear; "but you're not an ordinary person, Leah. I'm the common or garden ass, that can't straighten things. Now you can."
"For want of a husband I suppose I must."
"Come now, Leah. Am I not your husband?"
"Oh yes!" she answered, with a flick of her handkerchief across a pair of scornful lips: "my husband, not a husband."
"What's the difference?"
"As if I could waste time in explaining. We have more serious matters to talk about than your want of brains."
"Serious enough," assented the man, sulkily; "but you know how to deal with trouble, Leah."
"I ought to," retorted his wife, with a shrug, "considering the experience I have had since marrying you. I wish I hadn't."
"So do I," confessed Jim; then mended his speech with a dim sense of having overstepped the mark: "No, by Jupiter, I don't mean that. You an' I get on very well, considerin' each swings on a private hook. You are not a bad sort, Leah, and I'm a--a--a--well, you know what I am."
"Not a diplomatist, certainly. Isn't this praise a trifle obvious? You don't mean it, do you?"
She looked at him wistfully, but her candid husband soon stopped any sentimental illusions she may have momentarily entertained. "Oh yes, I mean it in a sort of way. An' good temper on both sides will help us to push through the business quicker."
"You mean the Bankruptcy Court," snapped his wife.
"Perhaps I mean the Divorce Court," was his tart reply, but she was quite ready with an answer.
"On your own part, then; you can't say a word against me."
"Who said I could? You've got the one virtue that gives its name to the rest, and think yourself an angel."
"I had your assurance that I was an angel--once."
"No doubt. It's the sort of thing a man has to say to the woman he is engaged to."
"And never says to the woman he is married to!"
"Marriage isn't all honey, Leah, and----"
"Heavens!" Lady Jim addressed the ceiling; "as if I required telling. But compared with other women, Jim, I am not----"
"I never said you were," interrupted Kaimes, crossly. "I'd screw your neck if you went on like other women."
"Upon my word, Jim, I would admire you more if you did attempt something of that sort."
"Sorry I can't oblige you; but I'm a gentleman and bear an honoured name."
"An honoured name!"
"Sneerin' won't alter facts, Leah. The name of Kaimes has always been honoured----"
"Till you dragged it through the mud," interrupted Leah, in her turn. "The old Duke is all right, and Frith's a kind man, if somewhat dull. But you--oh heavens! to think that such a Saul should be amongst the prophets."
Jim, not understanding the scriptural allusion, thought he was being chaffed, a liberty which his bovine pride resented by two minutes of sulky silence. Moreover, he dreaded his wife's formidable tongue, the lash of which could cut through even his tough hide.
"How are we goin' to get through the business at this rate?" was his next contribution to the conversation. "You don't remember that I've to meet a fellow at the club to see about a bet. An' I haven't got one shillin' to rattle against another," declared Jim, pathetically.
"Well," was the sharp reply, "I have to shop this afternoon with but one miserable sovereign in my purse."
Lord Jim opened his sleepy blue eyes. "I say, you couldn't----?"
"No," said his wife, decisively. "I couldn't and I wouldn't, and I can't and I shan't. Perhaps you'll read the paper and let me think."
"All right," said Kaimes, reaching for the Sporting Times. "I want to see the bettin' on Podaskas."
"Betting will be your ruin."
"Has been," corrected Jim, chuckling; then reverted to his early metaphor: "We're on the rocks this time, Leah, and no mistake."
His wife cast a look of scorn on the pink-and-white face she had once thought handsome. And, indeed, Kaimes was good-looking in a heavy Saxon way. Tall and muscular, with the strength of a bull and the manners of a bear, he was precisely the sort of brutal athlete to attract women. They flocked round him like bees, and gave him more honey than was good for him. He accepted their endearments with the complacent vanity of an egotist, and took little trouble to please even the prettiest, whereupon he was adored the more.
Leah, with her elbows on the breakfast-table, stared at Jim's well-brushed head bending over the pink sheets, and asked herself, for the hundredth time, why she had married him. Physically he resembled a splendid Hercules, but in another sense the likeness was not a speaking one. He satisfied her eyes, and in no other way gave her pleasure. When he talked, he babbled vainly about himself and his doings, to the exclusion of any topic likely to interest other people. Possessed of that easy good-nature which refuses nothing, which costs nothing, Jim Kaimes was looked upon as "a good fellow," a title which covers a multitude of the minor sins. Jim would have been meritorious as a cave-man, and pre-historically perfect. As a civilised being he left very much to be desired.
The subject was neither agreeable nor inexhaustible, and Leah rose with a shrug of her shapely shoulders. Jim looked up.
"Well?" he asked encouragingly.
"Nothing!" said his wife, curtly, and moved to the window.
Here she leaned against the sash and looked at the narrow grey street which was such a good address to impress tradesmen, and so expensive to live in. Not that the question of rent troubled the pair. They paid none, and would have been as much insulted, if visited on quarter-day, as an Irish tenant. The Duke of Pentland at the time of their marriage had presented them with the furnished "10, Curzon Street," but hampered with certain restrictions. They could not sell it, or even mortgage it, nor could money be raised on the furniture. The Duke paid all rates and taxes, and saw to all repairs. Beyond dwelling in this very desirable residence, and calling it publicly their home, Lord and Lady Jim had no interest in it whatsoever. Both thought it was ridiculous that they could not turn the Curzon Street house into money, when they needed ready cash so badly.
And life was so hard to people of their standing and tastes. Leah came of a bankrupt family, and had brought nothing to Jim but her own clever, beautiful self. She considered the two thousand a year which the Duke allowed his second son opulence, until she learned what delightful things money could buy. Then Jim used a large amount of the quarterly payments on his own account, and tradesmen would not give her the delightful things without money. She certainly had bills in nearly every shop in Bond Street and out of it, but even bills had to be paid in the long run. The post brought a good many, and brought also lawyers' letters, not pleasant to read. Between them, this happy pair had mortgaged their income, and the money they had obtained was all gone. Now they had no income and many bills. What was to be done? This problem Jim had set Leah to solve, but clever as she knew herself to be, the solution was beyond her.
"Can't you borrow, Jim?" she asked, turning gloomily from the window.
"Perhaps a fiver," was the prompt response; "every one's as mean as mean. I've tried 'em all. And you?"
Leah shook her head.
"Twenty pounds, for all my asking."
"There's your godmother, old Lady Canvey," suggested Jim. "She's as rich as Dives."
"And, like Dives, won't give a penny to this Lazarus. She smiles, and talks epigrams, and preaches, but as to helping----" Leah shrugged her shoulders again.
The action drew her husband's attention to a very magnificent figure which was loudly admired. Jim had admired it himself before he had got used to seeing it in the breakfast-room. Now it struck him that this attraction might be turned into money.
"You're a ripping woman in the way of looks," he said, throwing down the newspaper; "if you went on the stage--eh?"
"As the fairy queen?" inquired his wife, scornfully: "that's about all I'm suited for. I know the things I can't do, Jim, and acting is one. Besides, think of what the Duke would say."
Jim yawned, and lighted a cigarette.
"He can't say more than he has said," he remarked, lazily. "'Sides, I never go to hear him preach, now."
"No; you send me."
"Why not? The Duke loves a pretty woman. You can twist him round your little finger."
"I can't twist any money out of him," said Lady Jim, irritably.
"More's the pity. We're on the rocks----"
"You've said that twice already."
"An' I'll say it again and again and again," snapped Jim. "You don't seem to realise the hole we're in."
"Don't I?" she queried, with an emotion she would never have shown in society. "I realise that I have one sovereign; and you----?"
"Only a fiver I intend to borrow from a sure man," said Jim; "but I say, what's to be done?"
"We must go through the court."
"What's the use of that? It'll only settle our debts. We want ready money. I don't care a straw about the tradesmen. Can't we let this house?"
"No; the Duke says we can live in it as long as we like, but if we leave he'll take it back again."
"It's like giving a boy half a crown and telling him not to spend it," said Kaimes, looking round. "If we only could! It's a jolly sort of room this, and we'd get a good rent for the house."
The room was indeed pretty, being decorated in a Pompadour manner. Its walls were adorned with white paper, sprinkled with bunches of roses tied with fluttering blue ribbons, and the carpet bore the same dainty design. The furniture was of white wood, upholstered in brocade, also diversified with roses and azure streamers. There were many delicate water-colour pictures, a grate and fire-irons of polished brass, and electric lights in rose-tinted globes. Even the grey December light streaming in through the two windows could not make the apartment look anything but clean, and delicate, and dainty, and delightful. It was an ideal nest for a young couple. But this one had outlived the honeymoon, and cared very little for the ideal.
"A very pretty room," said Jim, again; "and you're the prettiest thing in it, Leah."
She looked at him scornfully, and then glanced around. "I hate all this frippery" she said contemptuously. "Something more massive would suit me better."
"Well, you are a kind of Cleopatra, y' know."
If Jim's historical knowledge had been more accurate, he would have made a better comparison. Cleopatra, according to the latest discoveries, was small, foxy-haired, and dainty. She would have suited this Watteau-like room to perfection. But Lady Jim was as tall as any daughter of the gods, and bore herself after the imperial style of Juno, Queen of Olympus. Her hair was of a deep red, and she had a great quantity, as those who saw her pose in charity tableaux knew very well. Leah possessed the creamy complexion which usually goes with such hair, and a pair of large blue eyes, out of which her soul had never peered. They were hard eyes, shallow as those of a bird, and surveyed the world and its denizens with the inquiring expression of a cat on the look-out for titbits. Her lips were thin, and covered admirably white and regular teeth. It was a clever face, and beautiful in its serene immobility. Those who did not like Lady Jim called her a cat; but she was more like a sleek, dangerous pantheress, and woe to the victim who came under her claws. Yet she could purr very prettily on occasions.
"Well, Jim," she said more graciously, for she was sufficiently a woman to be pleased with her husband's grudging compliments. "Now that you have finished saying sweet things, what next?"
"This business. We're on the----"
"Jim, if you say that again I'll leave you to get out of the trouble yourself. You're my husband. Think of something."
"I can't--unless it's the insurance."
"The insurance," said Leah, thoughtfully; "twenty thousand pounds, isn't it, Jim?"
Her husband nodded. "Old Jarvey Peel, my godfather, had my life insured when I was a child, and arranged that his heirs should pay up the money every year to keep it in force. Then there's accumulations of sorts. I don't understand these stale things myself, Leah, but I know that there's over twenty thousand."
"Can't you raise money on it?"
"No; the old man arranged that I should lose it if I tried that game. Lord," said Jim, with disgust, "if I could have raised money I should have got rid of it, ages ago."
"But how does it benefit you?" asked his wife, curiously; "if the money is paid when you are dead, you won't have any fun. But I"--her eyes gleamed.
"Oh no, you don't," snapped Jim, not at all pleased at this hint; "you'd like to turn me into cash in that way, I know. But it so happens that the twenty thousand, and whatever additions may have come, will be paid to me when I'm sixty. Much fun in that, when I shan't have teeth to crack nuts."
"You're over thirty now, Jim."
"Thirty-five, and you're only five years younger; so when we get the cash at sixty there won't be any enjoyment left for either of us."
"Thirty-five from sixty," murmured Lady Jim. "Leaves how much, Jim?"
"Twenty-five," replied Kaimes, after wrinkling his brow and communing with his none too quick brain. "Beastly long time to wait."
Leah nodded. "There's no chance of your getting it sooner?"
"Not the slightest. I can't get a cent on it, and I can't sell it, and I can't use it in any way. Jarvey Peel was a silly old ass. Died worth no end of coin, and didn't leave me a penny."
"But if you died, Jim?"
"Drop it," retorted Kaimes, who did not at all relish the suggestion.
"Well, but supposing you did?" insisted Leah.
"Then I 'spose the money would be paid to you," said Jim, kicking the hearth-rug with a gloomy face; "but don't you make any mistake, Leah. I'm goin' to live right on to sixty and handle the money. I can't do much at that age, but I'll try hard to get through the lot before I slip off."
"And what about me?"
"Oh, you must look after yourself," said Jim, heartlessly; "but if you can think of some scheme to get the cash now, I'll give you half--there now. There's nothing mean about me."
"What's the use of talking rubbish?" said Lady Jim, crossly; "you won't die."
"Not to oblige you, my dear, so don't think it."
"Then don't let us talk any more of the impossible."
"Is it impossible?" asked Kaimes, cunningly.
Leah looked at him with wide, bright eyes. "What is it?" she asked.
"I might pretend to die, you know," said Jim, looking at her very directly; "then the cash 'ud be paid to you, and we could share."
"But it's ridiculous," cried Leah, raising her eyebrows; "you would have to give up your position and disappear."
"Who cares? You know I never stop longer in England than I can help. As to my position, it's all debts and duns, and squabbling with you. Oh, I'd give up the whole thing for the money!"
"You never think of me."
"Got enough to do to think of myself," grumbled Kaimes; "'sides, you don't care for me. As a widow you could have lots of fun on--on, say--five thousand."
"That's right, Jim, take the lion's share to yourself."
"Well, shouldn't I be paying the largest price for getting the cash?"
Leah shrugged her shoulders again. "There would be very little sacrifice in it so far as you are concerned," she said. "You've been three times to South America since we were married, and I presume with this money you would go there again."
"I'd go out of your life for ever."
"Oh, well," she said coolly; "I could show my respect to your memory by wearing a widow's dress. I expect I should look rather nice in a cap."
Lord Jim was rather disgusted. Little as he loved his wife, he expected her to be devotedly attached to him, and her ready acquiescence in his disappearance annoyed him greatly.
"You've got no heart."
"How clever of you to guess that! I gave it to you five years ago."
"And took it back before the honeymoon was over."
"Well, you see, Jim, you are so careless a man that I could not think of leaving the only heart I possess in your hands. Besides, so many women have given you their hearts that I thought you might confuse the lot."
Lord Jim did not like this banter, and said so in a few forcible words. Then he moved to the door, casting a disgusted look at a pile of bills on Leah's side of the table.
"What about this truck?"
"Oh, we'll pay them out of your insurance," laughed Lady Jim.
"Not much. I'm not going to disappear and give up everything for the benefit of a lot of measly tradesmen."
"I wish you wouldn't dangle grapes out of my reach," said his wife, pettishly; "you know it's not to be done."
Jim plunged forward, and, gathering up the mass of papers, threw them into the fire. "Pay them in this way, then," said he, enraged.
"I wish I could," sighed Leah, wearily, and looked at herself in the mirror. "Do stop worrying me, Jim. I'm getting to look quite old. Are you going out?"
"Yes. We've wasted an hour in talking about nothing. We're on the rocks, I tell you."
"And so," said Lady Jim, calmly, "you end where you began."
Jim looked up to heaven. "And this is a wife!" said he, plaintively.
"And this," she mocked, laying her hand on his shoulder, "is a probable bankrupt!"
"Not me. I'll clear out first to South America."
"Leave the insurance money to me, Jim," called Leah, as he banged the door. "Twenty thousand pounds," she soliloquised--"it's worth trying for. But I might as well cry for the moon;" and she sighed, the sigh of selfishness, unexpectedly thwarted.
Lord And Lady Jim Kaimes were regarded as a most agreeable couple, and utilised this reputation to live on their friends. The husband was an admirable shot, a daring and judicious polo-player, and his skill at cards was as notable as his dexterity in golfing. Consequently, he was much in request, and benefited largely in free board and lodging. He was good-looking, which pleased the women, and good-natured, which satisfied the men. In wrestling and boxing Jim could more than hold his own, and always paid his gambling debts, even at the cost of allowing tradesmen to threaten legal proceedings. Thus, according to modern ideas, he was an honourable man and a good all-round sportsman, a credit to the British aristocracy and a pleasure to his numerous friends. "These be thy gods, O Israel!" A clergyman once preached on this text in Jim's accidental hearing, but Jim did not know what he meant.
The wife was a general favourite with the men, but women fought rather shy of her. She thought too much of herself, they said, and dressed altogether too well; and, moreover, never gave even the most bitter-tongued female a chance of talking scandal in connection with the honoured name to which Jim had called her attention. However, feminine artfulness led one and all to conceal this dislike, and Lady Jim received as much kissing and as many sweet words and invitations as her vain, hungry soul desired. She saw through the wiles of her own sex clearly, and knew that in nine cases out of ten the woman who kissed would have preferred to bite. But they knew that Lady Jim knew, and Lady Jim knew that they knew she knew, so everything went well. As to what was said behind her back Lady Jim cared not a snap of her fingers, and if any rival dared to attack her openly she was quite able to use a particularly venomous tongue, the safeguard against calumny which Nature had given her. And it must be said that she never went out of her way to harm any one: her position was that of a passive resister. As she pathetically observed, she was a contented woman, if only permitted to have her own way.
Certainly the women had cause to complain of Lady Jim's gowns, which were far beyond the ordinary female intellect in cut and fashion, in new material and up-to-date trimmings. She added her own ingenuity and taste to the creations of the dressmaker, and the result was always such a triumph as to lead the rest of her sex to doubt if Providence existed. It would have been even more aggravating than it was, had it been known that Lady Jim paid next to nothing for her gowns, and advertised the dressmaker instead of settling the bill. But Leah did not make this fact public. She was content to use her magnificent figure and good looks, and her popularity in society, to save a lean purse, and therefore was daily and nightly clad in the purple and fine linen which wrung envious tears from other women's eyes. Sometimes Lady Jim, fascinating a society-paper editor, would utilise his columns and circulation to advertise deserving tradesmen: while from these, in return, she exacted tangible gratitude in the welcome shape of gloves, handkerchiefs, scents, and similar needful if expensive commodities. Lady Jim never signed her name to these literary efforts, but they drew custom to the shop and filled her wardrobe with what she wanted at the moment, so she was not ambitious to be known as an authoress. Even Jim never knew how his wife, as he put it, "contrived the tip-top;" and privately thought that the age of miracles was not yet past, when Leah could make something out of nothing.
For five years, more or less, Lady Jim had been clothed as the lilies of the field, and had been supplied with nutriment by the lineal descendants of Elijah's ravens; but now things were coming to a crisis. The long lane down which she had marched as Solomon-in-all-his-glory was about to take a turning, and Lady Jim did not relish the new route. It led to second-rate lodgings at home or abroad, to the lack of frocks and a diminution of other women's envy, to the loss of a thousand and one luxuries which had become necessaries, and to a self-denying ordinance of which she did not approve. Something must be done to prevent the necessity of turning down this penurious alley, but when Lady Jim set out on her shopping excursion she did not very well see how she could avoid the almost inevitable.
Needless to say, Leah had a trifle more in her purse than the one sovereign she had admitted the existence of to Jim. To be precise, she possessed ten pounds, and that had to last a week as pocket-money. She felt very hard up as she stepped into her motor-car and whirled down the street. Had she possessed the lamp of Aladdin she would have made its slave bankrupt; and to think that seven days of desiring pretty things should be supported on ten pounds! The beggar at the gate of Dives could not have been poorer.
But there was no sign of penury on the surface. The unpaid sables Lady Jim wore were the best that the animal could give; the fur rug over her feet had cost enough to keep a poor family for six months in food and fire, though she, or rather Jim, was being dunned for the payment of that; the motor-car was one of the best and newest, and Lady Jim drove it with the reckless speed of a woman who thinks the world was created so that she should play Juggernaut. Having plenty of courage, and a love for playing with death, Leah was a daring and skilful driver. Before now she had swept round a corner with two wheels beating the air. But she had not as yet crushed any one under the said wheels, and she ascribed this luck to her peacock's feather. Like all who have small belief in the Deity, Lady Jim was superstitious in a small way. Her fetish was a peacock's feather, and so long as she had one about her, nothing, so she averred, could possibly go wrong. There was one now thrust into the left-hand lamp of the car, and the panels were painted with the same feathers, until they resembled the tail of Juno's favourite bird. Lady Jim might forget to go to church, or to say her prayers, or to thank God, but she never forgot the necessary peacock's feather which was to ensure prosperity and safety. She was reported to make genuflections before a shrine of this sort, but the report was probably exaggerated. No one knew what kind of a Baal she worshipped, but it is ridiculous to say that she did not adore at least one, for she was, in her way, a very religious woman.
Lady Jim raced her car out of Curzon Street, down Park Lane, and into Piccadilly, where she amused herself with dodging nervous people and shaving the wheels of vehicles drawn by humble quadrupeds. The chauffeur sat grimly silent, expecting an almost certain spill, with the calm of a fatalist. He knew it would come some day, in spite of his mistress's skilful driving, but he neither worried nor remonstrated. He was paid for a silent tongue and healthy nerves, and if his life was insured rather heavily, considering his profession, that was no one's business but his wife's, and she had already decided how to spend the insurance money. But the woman need not have been so sure of such good fortune. Lady Jim did not mind hurting other people, but she had an uncommonly good notion of how to preserve the only neck she possessed.
When the car reached Bond Street, Lady Jim, who was as calm as though she had finished a donkey-ride, stepped down and entered a jeweller's shop. Lately she had paid a trifle off his bill, and thought herself entitled to double the gross amount. The jeweller, knowing the Duke of Pentland had fifty thousand a year, and that Lady Jim was too pretty a daughter-in-law not to get her own way with so gay an old nobleman, did not object to his customer's purchases. If Lady Jim could not pay the Duke would, so she was permitted to take away several objects for which she had no use. Then she went to select some new hats, and look at the latest thing in frocks. A call at certain other establishments resulted in the car being heaped with expensive trifles for Christmas presents. Afterwards the car whirled into Oxford Street, returned to Piccadilly, and stopped every now and then like a bird of prey. At some shops she was received with sickly smiles; at others, which she favoured for the first time with her custom, with rejoicing grins: but out of every place Lady Jim walked calmly, with a shopman in the rear bringing parcels to increase the baggage on the car. She achieved the whole afternoon's work without once opening her purse. Could Rothschild have financed things better?
At five o'clock, with lighted lamps and unabated speed, Lady Jim drove her machine to Berkeley Square, and, leaving the chauffeur to choke and shiver in the damp fog, walked into a dull-looking house to see her godmother, Lady Canvey. She wished to ask the advice of that kindly, shrewd old pagan, and was not at all pleased when she found the Rev. Lionel Kaimes, trying to lead Lady Canvey in the right way. He had been trying to guide her heavenward for the last year, but the bright-eyed old dame still danced along the primrose path with nimble feet and an appreciation of the agreeable people who were dancing along with her to perdition.
"Well, my dear," said Lady Canvey, submitting her withered cheek to a conventional kiss. "Lionel, here, has been speaking of the devil, and you appear. There's some truth in proverbs, it seems."
"Oh, Lady Canvey," sighed a soft voice at the old pagan's elbow.
"I forgot, Leah, this is my 'Philip you-are-but-mortal' companion. You have not met her before, and I don't think you'll seek her company again. She's not quite your sort, my dear, not quite your sort. Joan, come and show yourself."
In response to this order a slim, tall girl, with a serious face, came forward shyly, and put out a timid hand. She was plainly dressed in a black stuff gown, without colour or ornament. Her hands and feet were slim and small; she had wavy brown hair twisted into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and the features of her somewhat pale face were delicately shaped. On the whole an uncommonly pretty girl, Lady Jim decided, after taking in all this at a glance, but less seriousness and brighter smiles would improve her looks. She was like Pygmalion's statue before the goddess had flushed its cold whiteness with rosy blood.
"How are you?" asked Leah, nodding in a friendly way, but without shaking hands. "You are one of Lady Canvey's discoveries, I suppose."
"My discovery," put in Lionel, cheerfully, and with a proud glance at the white-rose beauty of the girl. "Lady Canvey wanted a companion, and I brought her----"
"One of Fra Angelico's saints," finished Lady Jim, who was honest enough to confess inwardly that this ethereal loveliness was most attractive.
"Quite so," chuckled Lady Canvey, arranging many costly rings on a pair of knuckly hands. "Lionel knows how I enjoy the company of a saint."
"You must put up with a sinner for the time being," said Lady Jim, good-humouredly. "I have come to talk business."
"That means you intend to worry me," grumbled Lady Canvey, with a sharp glance from under her bushy eyebrows. "I hate being worried and bored."
"Oh, I shan't bore you."
"Yes, you will. Other people's affairs always bore me. I am not like his reverence here," and she waved her ebony cane towards the young curate, who laughed cheerfully.
"I admit there is some lack of resemblance," assented Lady Jim, dryly.
Then she looked from the young man to the old woman. Lionel was her husband's cousin, and should death make a clean sweep of the Duke, and Frith and Jim, he would inherit the title and the fifty thousand a year which Lady Jim coveted. This possibility, which it must be admitted was sufficiently remote, did not make Leah love the young man any the more. Besides, he was what she called "goody-goody," which meant that he had entered the service of his Master for use and not for show. As the curate of an exacting vicar in a Lambeth parish, he grubbed amongst the dirty poor, and dispensed soup, soap, shelter, and salvation. Rarely did Lionel come to the West End, as his task lay amongst the poor and lowly; but when he did venture into high places he always called on Lady Canvey, who had an odd kind of affection for him. "He's misguided, but genuine, my love," said the pagan, "and moreover, he amuses me!" which last statement amply accounted for the favour with which the old lady regarded him. Lionel was rather like Jim, tall and muscular and handsome. But his face had an intelligent look which Leah had never beheld in the dull visage of her husband, and his blue eyes had the bright, calm gaze of one whose faith is certain. He affected the usual clerical garb, but being only twenty-five, and boyish at that, his face wore a genial, cheerful, unworried expression, which made most people open their hearts. Like a doctor, a clergyman must have a good bedside manner, and this Lionel possessed. Moreover, his heart was kindly, and he was quick to observe the snubbed and neglected. This feeling drew him towards Joan, who had retreated, colouring painfully, when Lady Jim substituted a nod for a handshake. The girl was busy with a silver teapot, egg-shell china, and hot cakes, and presently handed a cup to the visitor. Lady Jim took it somewhat absently, and having satisfied herself with Lionel's looks and personality, turned her eyes on Lady Canvey.
Outwardly the old dame resembled the godmother of a fairy story, and would have been admirably suited to the pointed cap and scarlet cloak of a professed witch. Yet the remains of beauty lingered about her wrinkled face, recalling exciting Crimean days when she had been a belle. She was small and shrunken and bent, and sometimes her grey head shook with palsy. But her spirit was still vigorous and her brain clear, as could be seen by the steadiness of her piercing black eyes, diamond-bright and clear. She wore a lace cap, a dress of silvery grey satin, and many jewels costly but old-fashioned. Add to these a white China-crape shawl and an ebony cane, and behold the portrait of the lady known as the "cleverest old harridan in town." But that description was given by an enemy. Lady Canvey had a quick brain and a sharp tongue, yet her heart was as kindly as that of Lionel. Perhaps it was this which drew the young and old together.
The room was comfortable, and luxuriously furnished, but with the ugly taste of the Early Victorian epoch. Lady Canvey, now over eighty, clung to the decorations and colours which had been fashionable when she was young, and on stepping into the room Lady Jim felt as though she had slipped back to the time of the Great Exhibition. The motor-car outside, and the old lady in the red velvet armchair, represented widely-severed eras. And even Joan the saint and Lionel the curate seemed alien to the world Lady Jim inhabited. For that world closely resembled the one Noah had fled from into the ark, when the denizens "were eating and drinking and marrying and giving in marriage"--though, to be sure, marriage nowadays, save as a visible sign of respectability, was not much considered.
"Well, godmother," said Lady Jim, thinking to curry favour with this she-Cr[oe]sus by using an approved, if somewhat obsolete, address, "you are looking well."
"Then I'm a living lie," retorted Lady Canvey, grimly. "How can you expect me to look well, when Lionel here has been quoting texts for want of originality?"
"I wanted you to hear the scripture," protested Lionel.
"That's your business," replied Lady Canvey, stirring her tea; "but I can hear the scriptures read when I please by Joan, who has a much sweeter voice than you, young man, as I suppose you think;" and she gave one of her dry chuckles.
The curate reddened, and Joan looked confused. Lady Jim, glancing from one serious face to the other, drew her own conclusions, and murmured something about a "sealed fountain." Lady Canvey, not being versed in biblical imagery, did not understand, but Lionel comprehended on the instant.
"I am glad to hear that you read your Bible, Lady James," he said quickly.
Leah hated to be addressed in this stiff manner; yet it seemed appropriate to the out-of-date room. But she had no desire to quarrel with her godmother's pet in the presence of that opulent lady, so she turned the tables on Lionel by looking shocked. "Of course I do. I am not a pagan."
"Then I must be one," snapped Lady Canvey; "for I wouldn't be you, Leah Kaimes, for the heaven I don't expect to go to."
"Hush! hush!" said Lionel, pained by this flippancy coming from those withered lips.
Lady Jim glanced at her opulent beauty in a dim mirror, framed in tarnished gold, and laughed softly. Her godmother saw the look and was swift to interpret its meaning.
"I was like that once," she said, in rather a quavering voice, "and you'll come to be such as I am, only you'll never wear so well. Oh, what an arm I had!" and she began to weep silently over her lost beauty.
While Lionel and Joan comforted the poor soul, Leah looked sympathetic but gave no assistance. She decided that Lady Canvey was in her dotage, and would be the more easily dealt with on that account. Her one desire, therefore, was to get rid of the two unnecessary people and begin operations at once. She hoped by skilful management to come away with a considerable cheque in Lady Canvey's shaky handwriting. Those drivelling tears meant a weak will, and that, to one of Leah's determination, meant money.
"About this business," she began, when the old woman was again her cheerful, cynical self: "could you spare me ten minutes, godmother?"
"Certainly, my dear. It's all I can spare you."
This was not a promising beginning, but Lady Jim knew she would not walk off with the spoils without a sharp brush for their gaining. She looked at Lionel, and then at the girl, whom she was sure in her own heart the curate loved.
"Have you ever heard Mr. Kaimes talk Chinese metaphysics, Miss Tallentire?" she asked Joan, having possessed herself of the companion's surname.
"No," said Joan, opening her violet eyes widely. "I am not clever enough to understand."
"Ask Mr. Kaimes if he doesn't think you are clever enough."
"Really, Lady James----"
"Lionel," interrupted Lady Canvey, sharply, "go into the conservatory with Joan. She will show you a new dwarf oak which I lately bought. Leah will entertain me. And I'm pretty sure," chuckled she, "that I shall entertain Leah."
"She's going to be nasty," thought Lady Jim, with a charming smile, and continued to smile until the curate and his unsuspecting companion went to see the dwarf oak and to talk Chinese metaphysics, which Leah was certain they would do. Lionel, with a defiant glance at his cousin, and with a colour which made him look unexpectedly handsome, followed Joan out of the stuffy room. When the door was closed, and the fire was unnecessarily poked up, and Lady Canvey was comfortably settled in her chair, after a word or two about the draughts which no one but herself could feel in that close atmosphere, Lady Jim waited patiently for her godmother to begin the battle.
She had not long to wait. Lady Canvey's eyes were bright, and Lady Canvey's spirit reared like a warhorse to plunge down on Leah. She sniffed once or twice, and looked sharply at the beautiful, smiling face. Then she delivered herself of a speech which put Lady Jim's late behaviour in a nutshell.
"Leah," said Lady Canvey, "you're a born cat."
Lady Jim was not at all offended. She made every allowance for the querulous temper of old age, and still smiled.
"I rather like cats myself," she observed casually. "They know what they want."
"But they don't always get it, my dear," snapped Lady Canvey; adding inconsequently, "when the cat's in the dairy, she's after the cream."
"I don't think that's an original remark," said Leah, languidly, and loosening her furs, for the room really was heated like the conservatory, in which the lovers talked Chinese metaphysics. "Didn't George Eliot say something of the sort?"
"I never knew him," retorted Lady Canvey, wilfully dense. "You and your Chinese metaphysics indeed! I won't have it----"
"Have them," corrected Leah, gently, and unable to resist the opportunity.
Lady Canvey scowled like the fairy Caraboss, and continued, without heeding the impertinence, "Joan is the daughter of Lionel's vicar."
"I see, and he intends to be the vicar's son-in-law."
"What is that to you?"
"News!" expressed Lady Jim, serenely. "I never knew such a prig as Lionel could fall in love."
"His love is the love of an honest man," declared the old dame, striking her crutch on the carpet.
"I hope so, for the sake of his cloth."
"Chinese metaphysics indeed!" grumbled Lady Canvey. "The poor child did not know what you meant."
"She certainly seems to be somewhat dull."
"Dull yourself, Leah. She's a sweet-tempered, good, thoughtful girl."
"Oh, I didn't mean to say she was so dull as all those qualities imply," said Lady Jim, sweetly.
Lady Canvey looked wrathfully round for something to throw at her visitor's head. But the tea-table was too far away, and the old woman prized her cups and saucers. Finally she took refuge in a spiteful speech.
"She's an honest girl."
"I sincerely hope so, seeing she is your companion," replied Leah, not caring to take up so ridiculous a challenge. "When did you start her?"
"Leah!" Lady Canvey thumped the ground again. "Don't talk slang. If you wish to know, although I don't think it is any of your business, Joan Tallentire came to me two months ago, during which time you have not come to see me."
"I was abroad," apologised Lady Jim, stifling a yawn.
"Gambling at Monte Carlo, I'll be bound."
"I did meet Jim there. He lost heavily on the red. I won, and came home with enough to see me through the last month."
"Who were you living on abroad?" asked the old woman, contemptuously.
Lady Jim leaned back and placed her muff-chain between two very red lips.
"Let me think," she murmured, not put out in the least. "Oh, that little dowdy Australian woman, who is trying to get into society on her husband's money, asked me to stop at their villa."
"And you did?"
"For four weeks."
"And borrowed money, I'll be bound."
Lady Jim nodded blandly. "You can't expect me to live with pigs for nothing," she said, with the greatest coolness.
"You'd live with the devil and borrow from him, I believe," cried the exasperated Lady Canvey, glaring.
"I do live with one," assented her god-daughter; "but he's a stony-broke devil."
"More modern flowers of speech!"
"I didn't create the language."
"You can help using it."
"No. People wouldn't understand if I talked like Lady Jane Grey or Elizabeth Fry."
"They were good women."
"But so dull," objected Lady Jim. "Why is it good women are always dull and dowdy?"
"They are getting ready for the next world," mumbled Lady Canvey, solemnly.
"Their outfit can't cost much, then," declared Leah, flippantly; "but aren't we going to talk business? Think of that poor French, sitting in the motor-car all this time."
"You're sorry for him, I'm sure," said the old woman, ironically.
"Horribly," replied Lady Jim, calmly; "but at least the poor creature is cooler than I am. This room is stifling."
"Don't call your fellow-sinner a creature, Leah."
"Ah! Even had I not seen Lionel I could guess he had been with you, godmother. He loves the dirty and disreputable."
"And you love the rich and disreputable."
"That obvious speech is hardly worthy of your reputation," was Lady Jim's reply. Then she crossed her legs, rested her muff on her knee, and protested, "I can't wait here much longer----"
"On account of French?"
"No; but I'm going to dine at the Cecil to-night, with a boy in the Lancers. He's a nice boy."
"And a rich boy?"
"Of course! I don't like boys without money. But this business," she went on hurriedly. "Jim and I are in a hole."
"You ought to be in gaol," was the angry reply.
"That would be a hole," said Leah, good-humouredly; "but you don't want to see Jim and me in the bankruptcy court."
"Why should I bother? It's nothing to do with me!"
"I'm your god-daughter."
"You're a heartless cat," said Lady Canvey, angrily, and with her eyes scintillating like jewels. "It's no use, Leah. I've helped you and that rascal Jim over and over again. Apply to the Duke."
"Oh, we've done that. He won't give us a penny."
"Then ask some of those nice boys you talk of."
Lady Jim sat very upright in her chair, and a becoming colour heightened her beauty.
"I don't ask any men for money," she declared; "you know perfectly well, Lady Canvey, that I am any honest woman."
"And how dull that sounds," chuckled Lady Canvey, turning the tables; "you should be more original, Leah."
"I don't mind going out to dinner with a man," cried Lady Jim, feeling herself much aggrieved, "nor do I mind a box at the theatre, or some gloves or things of that sort, so long as Jim doesn't object.'
"Pooh! Much you care for Jim."
"I do. Jim's got a temper. He told me this very morning he'd screw my neck if I broke loose."
"Then I respect him for saying it," said Lady Canvey, energetically; "and I'd respect him still more if he did it."
"That's what I said to him," retorted Leah, grimly. "All the same, I am straight enough. No one can say a word against me."
"I'm glad to hear it. You have your good points, Leah," observed Lady Canvey, in a more kindly tone; "but you show your worst side to the world. Why not turn over a new leaf?"
"I'm just about to do so, and there's bankruptcy on the other side, unless you help us, dear godmother," she ended coaxingly.
"I won't," was the firm response. "It's like pouring water into a sieve. I've given you and Jim at least five thousand pounds. Where is it, I ask--where?"
"We must pay our bills."
"You ought to, but you don't."
"Money will go."
"In ways it shouldn't go," snapped the old woman, feeling herself mistress of the situation. "Don't talk nonsense to me, Leah. You and that rascal are a couple of spendthrifts. The Duke, bless him, started you both with a good home and a good income, and now----"
"Now we're on the rocks, as Jim cleverly puts it," said Leah, who could not help seeing the humour of the dilemma. "You didn't think Jim was so original, did you, godmother?"
"Leah, you're impossible!"
"I'm sure I don't know why you should say that," remonstrated Lady Jim. "I must keep up my position."
"It's not as if you had been expensively brought up," went on Lady Canvey, unheeding. "Your father was a wasteful pauper, for he got precious little off that estate of his in Buckinghamshire."
"And what he did get went into his own pocket," said Lady Jim, supplementing the family history; "but as my mother was dead, and I was his only daughter, he might have treated me better."
"Geoffrey Wain was like yourself, Leah--a hard-hearted, selfish----"
"Oh, spare me these adjectives," interrupted Lady Jim, rising. "My father is dead, so there's nothing more to say. If you can't help me, at least you needn't call me names."
"I beg your pardon," said Lady Canvey, very politely. "As I don't intend to give you a shilling, I have no right to tell you what I think of your doings. Will you ring the bell, please? I want Joan."
When Lady Canvey took this tone Leah knew well that the case was hopeless. In spite of senile weeping, it appeared that the old woman was not so easily beguiled as might have been expected. There seemed nothing for it but to leave in silence; but remembering how desperate was the position, Lady Jim refrained from ringing the bell and made a last appeal--this time on business grounds.
"If you will give me a thousand pounds for six months," she proposed, "my husband and I will pay it back with interest."
"And the security, my dear?"
"Our joint names," said Leah, with dignity.
"Ring the bell," was all the answer that Lady Canvey vouchsafed to this proposal; "and goodnight, my dear."
Lady Jim recognised that she was beaten, and nothing remained, but to retire with dignity. Pressing the button of the bell, she crossed to Lady Canvey and kissed her withered cheek with a caressing smile. "I am so pleased to see you looking so well," she said gently; "but I see signs of failing in your conversation."
"You won't see any signs of lending," was the grim response. "Oh, here you are, Joan," as that young lady entered the room with Lionel at her heels. "Send these people away, and read me a chapter out of that new novel which came yesterday."
"Goodnight," said Lionel, bending over the old lady, and kissing her hand with the tenderness of a son.
She twitched it away. "There--there--goodnight. Take Leah to that miserable creature who is perishing in her motor-car, and don't make love to her. She is one of those women who are a crown to their husbands."
Lady Jim did not wait to hear the old woman's chuckle as she fired this last shot, but swept out of the room, smiling kindly on Miss Tallentire. The curate followed her, and Leah began to consider what use she could make of him to farther her plans.
"Let me drive you to Lambeth," she said, while arranging her sables at the door.
Lionel laughed. "Lambeth would be shocked to see me arrive at my lodgings in such an up-to-date style," said he, pulling up the collar of his coat. "No, thank you, Lady James. I'll walk for a time, and then take a Westminster Bridge 'bus."
"No, you won't," she contradicted, in an imperious tone. "I wish to talk to you. Come, get in. French, you can go home."
"But the car, my lady?"
"I'll look to that. Do as you're told."
Looking rather apprehensively at the machine, which was humming and shaking in the bitter cold, French touched his cap and moved away. Leah stepped lightly in, and beckoned to Lionel with one hand, while she gripped the steering-wheel with the other.
"Come along."
The curate did not display much eagerness to come. "Is it safe?" he asked; "you've sent the man away."
"Because I want to talk privately with you. Safe!" she echoed in a tone of impatient scorn; "I'd drive a car against Edge himself."
"Oh, very well," said Kaimes, carelessly, and placed himself beside her. He was utterly devoid of fear, and if there was to be a smash, he was not unprepared to enter the next world. Lady Jim gave the wheel a twirl, and the car glided through the square under the grey muffling of the fog. Reckless as she was, Lady Jim had to steer carefully and move slowly, lest she should run into something, for the fog was a trifle thicker than it had been during the afternoon. All the same, her keen eyes could see clearly enough, and she was not at all afraid. Cool under all circumstances, Lady Jim would have hummed a ditty on the streaming bridge of a plunging, bucking tramp-steamer, going down in the bitter North Atlantic weather. Lionel marvelled at her composure, and wondered if even her dear intellect could grasp the meaning of death and its hereafter. But Lady Jim was thinking of this world rather than of the next, and talked of her troubles while steering the car down Piccadilly.
"Jim and I are in a hole about money," she announced abruptly, for there was no need to be diplomatic with this simpleton.
"That is not unusual," murmured Lionel.
She laughed and nodded. "No. We have both a wonderful capacity for getting through cash. Now we've got down to what an American girl called the bed-rock, and we want help."
"I never knew you when you did not want help," said the curate, wondering what was best to say; "and in some ways, your want is very dire."
"Don't preach, Lionel. Money is better than sermons."
"To such as you and Jim, no doubt. But setting aside the spiritual need, a sermon on your extravagance would do you good."
"I'm afraid not," rejoined Lady Jim, putting on the brake for the St. James's Street incline; "it would only go in at one ear and out of the other. When I want sermons I'll come and hear you preach in that dirty little church of yours. Meantime, you must help to get Jim and me out of this scrape."
Lionel was annoyed by her reference to his church, but from experience he knew it was worse than useless to argue with Lady Jim. "I cannot help you," he said stiffly; "you know my small means."
"Bless the man, I don't mean you to put your hand in your pocket. I am quite aware that the clergy are better at asking than at giving."
"You have no right to say that," remonstrated Kaimes, warmly. "We help the poor and needy."
"In that case you have now a chance of practising what you preach."
Lady Jim negotiated Cockspur Street and felt her way along Trafalgar Square in the hope of hitting Whitehall. Only when the car was buzzing down that thoroughfare did Lionel speak.
