One Wonderful Night: A Romance of New York
Mrs. Curtis nodded her complete agreement. She would have sanctioned a
mortgage on her home rather than forego any material part of an
experience which would command the breathless attention of many a
future gathering of matrons and maids in faraway Bloomington.
Lady Hermione received her visitors with a shy cordiality which won
their prompt approval. Aunt Louisa had been perplexed by indecision as
to what she was to say or how she was to act when she met the bride,
but one glance of her keen, motherly eyes at the blushing and timid
girl resolved any doubts on both scores.
"God bless you, my dear!" she said, throwing her arms around Hermione's
neck and kissing her heartily. "Perhaps everything is for the best,
and, anyway, you've married into a family of honest men and true women."
"Ma'am," said Uncle Horace, when his turn came to be introduced,
"strange as it may sound, I know less about my nephew than you
yourself, but if he resembles his father in character as he does in
appearance, you've chosen well, and let me add, ma'am, that _he_ seems
to have made a first-rate selection at sight."
Of course, such congratulations were woefully misplaced, but Hermione
was too well-bred to reveal any cause for disquietude other than the
normal embarrassment any young woman would display in like conditions.
Curtis, too, put in a quiet word which threw light on the situation.
"As I told you a few minutes since, I was not aware that my uncle and
aunt were in New York," he said. "I cannot even guess how they came to
find me so opportunely, and we have hardly been able to say a word to
each other yet, because they were in the thick of the police inquiry
when I met them in my hotel."
"Why, that's the easiest thing," declared Aunt Louisa, rejoicing in a
long-looked-for opportunity to hear her own voice in full volume.
"This young gentleman here," and she nodded at the dismayed Devar,
"told us that he cottoned to your husband, my dear, something
remarkable on board the steamer, so he sent a message by wireless to
the editor of a New York paper, asking him to let America know that one
of her citizens who had won distinction in China was homeward bound,
and the editor circulated a real nice paragraph about it. It quite
took my breath away when Mrs. Harvey, our mayor's wife--such a charming
woman, my dear, and I do hope I may have the pleasure of bringing you
to one of her delightful tea-and-bridge afternoons--said to me on
Monday: 'Surely, Mrs. Curtis, this John Delancy Curtis who is on board
the _Lusitania_ must be a son of that brother of your husband who died
in China some years ago?' and I said: 'What in the world are you
talking about, Mrs. Harvey?' so she showed me the newspaper, and I was
that taken aback that I revoked in the next hand, and the only mean
player we have in the club claimed three tricks 'without,' and went
game, being a woman herself who hasn't chick nor child, but devotes far
too much time and money to toy dogs; anyhow, I couldn't give my mind to
cards any more that day, so off I rushed home and 'phoned Horace, and
here we are, after such a flurry as you never would imagine, what
between packing in a hurry for the trip east, and missing the steamer's
arrival by nearly an hour, and turning up in the Central Hotel just in
time to hear----" Then Aunt Louisa, assuredly at no loss for words,
but remembering in a hazy way the compact made in the vestibule, found
it incumbent on her to break away from the main trend of the narrative,
so she concluded: "Just in time to hear things being said about our
nephew which we felt bound to deny, both for his sake and our own."
Curtis had favored Devar with a questioning scowl when he learnt how
his advent had been heralded in the press, but Devar merely vouchsafed
a brazen wink, and in the next breath Hermione herself became his
unconscious and most persuasive advocate.
"I have been bothering my brains to discover when or where I had seen
Mr. Curtis's name before--before we met to-night," she said, smiling at
the ridiculous vagueness of her own phrase. "Now I remember. I used
to read the newspaper reports about every ship that arrived, and I
noticed that identical paragraph."
"Thank you, Lady Hermione," cried Devar, crowing inwardly over his
friend's discomfiture. "John D. will begin to believe soon what I have
been telling him during the last half-hour--that I am the real _Deus ex
machina_ of the whole business. Why, if it hadn't been for me you two
would never have got married, and this merry party couldn't have
happened!"
A knock at the door caused Hermione to turn with a startled look. Try
as she might, she dreaded every such incident as the preliminary to a
stormy interview with her father.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, ma'am," interposed Uncle Horace blandly,
"this will be a waiter coming to tell us that supper is ready."
As usual, he said the correct thing, and Steingall drew Hermione aside
while the table was being spread for the feast. He lost no time in
coming to the point. His first demand showed that he took nothing for
granted.
"I am bound to speak plainly, your ladyship," he said. "Is the
remarkable story told by Mr. John D. Curtis true?"
"Regarding the marriage?" said Hermione promptly.
"Yes."
"Well, as I do not know what he may have said, you can decide that
matter for yourself after you have heard my version. I am a fugitive
from Paris, where my father was endeavoring to force me into a
detestable union: I am practically a complete stranger in New York: I
had arranged with Monsieur de Courtois to become my husband, under a
clear agreement for money paid that the marriage should serve only as a
shield against my pursuers; he was prevented by some dreadful men from
keeping to-night's appointment, and Mr. Curtis came to me, intending to
break the news somewhat more gently than one might look for otherwise.
He heard my sad little explanation, and was sorry for me. As it
happened, he appreciated the real nature of my predicament, and, having
no ties to prevent such a daring step, offered me the protection of his
name until such time as I become my own mistress and am free to secure
a dissolution of the marriage."
"Will you tell me exactly what you mean?" said the detective. His
voice was kindly, and his expression gravely sympathetic, and Hermione
could not read the amused tolerance lurking behind the mask of those
keen eyes.
"I mean that I am yet what lawyers call an infant. In six months I
shall be twenty-one, and the coercion which has been used to force me
into marrying Count Ladislas Vassilan will be no longer possible."
"Do you forfeit an inheritance by refusing to obey Lord Valletort's
wishes?"
"No, unless with respect to my father's estate. My mother was wealthy,
and her money is settled on me most securely."
"In trust?"
"Yes, I have trustees, an English banker and a clergyman."
"But, if they are men of good standing, they ought to have protected
you from undue interference."
"An earl is of good standing, too, in my country, and Count Vassilan
claims royal rank in Hungary. I loathe the man, yet every one of my
friends and relatives urged me to accept him."
"Why?"
"Because he has a chance of obtaining a throne when the
Austro-Hungarian Empire breaks up, and my wealth will help his cause
materially."
Steingall allowed himself to appear surprised.
"Is your income so large, then?" he said.
"Yes, I suppose so. My trustees tell me that I am worth nearly a
hundred thousand a year."
"Dollars?"
"No--pounds sterling."
They were conversing in subdued tones, yet the detective behaved like a
commonplace mortal in giving a rabbit-peep sideways to ascertain if the
girl's astounding statement had been overheard by the others. But the
members of the Curtis family of honest men and true women had withdrawn
purposely to the far side of the room, and Devar was laboring to
convince his friend that he had acted wisely in placarding his name and
fame throughout the United States.
"To your knowledge, Lady Hermione, is any other person in New York
aware that you are several times a millionaire?"
"I think not. Poor Jean de Courtois may have had some notion of the
fact, but I lived so unostentatiously in Paris that he would
necessarily be inclined to minimize the amount of my fortune. Tell me,
Mr. Steingall, do you really think he----"
The detective shook his head, and laughed with official dryness.
"Forgive me, Lady Hermione," he said, "but I must not advance any
theories, at present. Now, as to Count Vassilan--how long have you
known him?"
"About a year."
"Has he been your suitor practically all that time?"
"Yes. The first day we met I was told by my father that I ought to be
proud if he chose me as his wife. So I hated him from the very
beginning."
"You took a dislike to him, I suppose?"
"Yes, an instant and violent dislike. But that is not all. There are
things I cannot mention, though they are the common property of anyone
who has mixed in Parisian society during the past twelve months.
Surely you will be able to find men and women in this great city who
can supply enough of Paris gossip to show you clearly what manner of
man this Hungarian prince really is!"
Hermione's face showed the distress she felt, and Steingall's
disposition was far too generous to permit of any further probing in
this direction when the inquiry gave pain to a young and
innocent-minded girl.
"To-morrow," he said grimly, "I may read several chapters of Count
Vassilan's life. But so much depends on this night's work. At any
minute--certainly within an hour--I shall have news which may be
affected most markedly by some chance hint supplied by you. I want you
to understand, Lady Hermione, that Mr. Curtis's share in the queer
tangle of the past few hours is not so simple or unimportant as you
seem to imagine. I believe he has been actuated by the best of
motives----"
"Oh, yes, I am sure of it," she broke in eagerly. "If I am fated never
to see him again after to-night I shall always remember him as a true
friend and gallant gentleman."
Steingall bit back the words which rose unbidden to his lips. He had
certainly been wallowing in romance since the telephone called him to
the Central Hotel, but even in the pages of fiction he had never found
a more wildly improbable theory than the likelihood of John Delancy
Curtis allowing any consideration short of death to separate him from
such a bride as Lady Hermione within the short space of time she
apparently regarded as the possible span of her married life.
"Ah," he murmured, "if he is wise he will call you to give evidence in
his behalf. Judges exercise a good deal of latitude in these matters."
"But will he be arrested for marrying me? If any wrong has been done
with respect to the marriage license, I am equally to blame," she said
loyally.
Steingall frowned judicially. Their conversation was approaching
perilously near the forbidden topic of de Courtois.
"In law, as in most affairs of life, it does no good to meet trouble
half way, your ladyship," he said. "Now, reverting to the Hungarian
prince--do you remember the names of any persons, of either sex, whom
he associated with in Paris? Of course, such a man would be widely
known in what is called society, but I want you to try and recall some
of his intimate friends."
"I believe you would find his boon companions in certain cafes on the
Grand Boulevard and in the vaudeville theaters on Montmartre; but would
it not help you a little if I told you of his enemies?"
"Most certainly."
"Well, I do happen to know that he is hated most cordially by the
Countess Marie Zapolya, who lives in the Hotel Ritz."
"In Paris?"