The Gay Adventure: A Romance
sense of power and desperation. He sometimes fondled it and dreamed of
defending himself against a marauder or a mob. But such demonstrations
took place only when his wife was out.
Robert took the pistol in an unshaking hand and conveyed himself quietly
from the room. He was not in the least frightened now; indeed he was
beginning to enjoy this new sense of being master of the situation.
Quietly he crept down-stairs, as close to the wall as possible to
prevent creaking. At the foot of the stairs he stood still and
listened.... There was no sound. But from the keyhole of the
drawing-room came a little pencil of light. Behind the door was--what?
Robert cocked the pistol, opened the door, and with a little gasp of
triumph said, "Hands up!"
CHAPTER VIII
A TALE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
There were two people in the room as Mr. Hedderwick opened the door, a
man and a lady. The latter, he noted with amazement, was in evening
dress, a light cloak being thrown over it; the former wore the ordinary
morning dress of a man about town, neat, though a little shiny, and on
his head was a top hat. At Robert's command he turned with a violent
start: the lady started, too, but in a moment recovered her composure
and laughed. "Good morning," she said cheerfully: "I can't say this is
an unexpected pleasure, for that would be only a half-truth. And now,
what are you going to do?"
Robert, considerably taken aback at the character of his prisoners and
his own reception, paused a moment before replying. He was breathing a
little noisily from pure excitement, but still he was careful to keep
the pistol at a threatening angle.
"Well," he said slowly, "in the first place I warn you that I shall
shoot if you move----"
"Of course," she agreed brightly, "that would be the most sensible thing
to do. But we have no intention of being so foolish. It seems that you
hold the whip-hand, so--shall we sit down and discuss the situation?"
"By all means," said Robert, gaping. "You will find that armchair the
most comfortable."
She seated herself, and her companion was about to follow suit. But he
checked himself, picked up a gaily-colored rug from the sofa, and with a
smile said, "There is no need for even a jailer to catch cold." He threw
it lightly across to Robert, who caught it with a blush. He wished
foolishly he had put on a collar. Then the man sat down and looked at
the lady as if waiting for instructions. Robert followed his example,
taking care to interpose the table between them in case of a surprise.
"And now," said the lady again, "what are you going to do? Send for a
policeman?"
It was the obvious course, but Robert on a sudden felt that it would be
impossible. When he had valiantly left his bed, seized his weapon and
prepared to capture a burglar or two, he had in mind merely the vision
of an ordinary hooligan. The reality upset him. He needed time to adjust
his ideas.
"I suppose I must," he said apologetically. "I am exceedingly sorry, but
really, you know----"
"Oh, we quite understand," returned Beatrice (for of course it was she
and Lionel) with a frank camaraderie. "It must be a painful position for
you as well as for us. But perhaps, before deciding, you would like to
hear the reason of our visit?"
His eyes brightened; he grasped an idea.
"Excellent!" he said. "I have the satisfaction of having frustrated your
design, and honestly I am not in love with the notion of giving you in
charge. Besides ..." he hesitated as if ashamed, but decided on candor,
"my life is a trifle dull, and if you can tell me a really interesting
tale, well ..."
"Sir, you are a sportsman," observed Lionel; and Beatrice added
persuasively, "A perfect dear!"
"Flattery is useless," he replied. "I don't want that. Tell me a good
tale, and perhaps ..."
"I will tell you all," said Beatrice. "If we were captured I had meant
to keep silence; but your generous offer compels a change of plan. You
shall have a frank truthful----"
"I do not insist on truth," said Robert, stroking his nose, "but it must
be interesting." He stopped, aghast at his own depravity. Then he
laughed gently. "Morality is hard to achieve at this hour. But come! A
good tale!"
Lionel smiled. He had faith in Beatrice as a story-teller, even if he
was a little doubtful of her other qualities. He settled himself on the
sofa, prepared not only to hear but criticize. As for Mr. Hedderwick, he
was so eager that he laid down the revolver on the table and leaned
forward on his elbows. To all appearance he might have been a boy
listening to a true yarn of pirates and savages.
Beatrice, without effort or hesitation, began to speak. A second
Scheherezade, she was fighting for her husband and her own freedom, and
everything conspired to lend her aid. She had a thrilling story to tell
at first hand; she had the dramatic instinct and an appreciative
audience. Not only Mr. Hedderwick but Lionel, too, listened with rapt
attention. The tale lived, as told by her, bearing the stamp of truth
and humor in every syllable her lips uttered. And Lionel, keeping guard
over himself with a loving suspicion, noticed that in no particulars did
she depart from the original version. He cursed himself that any shred
of doubt could still cling about him. Did any cling? Surely not, and
yet.... Pish! it was not merely disloyal--it was ludicrous: the two
stories were identical. Had the first been lies she must now have
betrayed herself.
Not that she told her story in such detail as she had to Lionel: there
was not time for that. The _precis_ of her life and adventures lasted no
more than half an hour: all that mattered was there, but the smaller
details were absent. A touch here, and the kidnaping was painted in a
dozen words; a line there, and she had swept them to Constantinople: a
paragraph depicted Lukos with a master hand--a few vivid sentences
described the flight. Then came the stage, her meeting with Lionel (five
pages to the rescue, the taxi deleted altogether, and three lines to the
dressing-room), and lastly, the treachery of Mizzi. She brought her
story down to the moment of their capture, not forgetting to tell how
they had effected their entrance by means of skeleton keys. "And that is
all," she said at last, drawing a breath of relief.
"Not quite all," said Mr. Hedderwick with rounded eyes. "Lord! what a
tale! what a life! Compared with this ..."--his eyes wandered
discontentedly round the room, and he did not finish the sentence. "But
go on--go on! Tell me why you hid the papers here."
"Partly by chance, partly design. I meant to hide them in a stranger's
house, thinking they would be safest there. One evening as I walked
this way I saw a machine in front of your door. It was a vacuum cleaner!
That decided me. It meant that after they had finished there was no
likelihood of your carpets being lifted for some time."
"My carpets!" gasped Robert. "What the----"
"Oh, do _wait_!" said Beatrice pettishly; and he collapsed, as was only
fitting. "I came next day and the cleaner had gone. During the morning I
made discreet inquiries as to your habits and mode of life. In the
evening I hired a cab, drove to Kensington to put any possible trackers
off the scent, changed into another cab and drove back here. At
seven-thirty I called. You were out, and your wife said you would not be
back for at least half an hour. I asked if I might wait, as my business
was important. She hesitated, but consented, my sables being a guarantee
that I had not come with any designs on your plate.
"However, to my disgust she insisted on remaining in the room and
discussing trivialities. Of course, as long as she remained I was
helpless, and my well-meant hints were disregarded. I was in despair;
but presently the cook burst in with a woeful tale of a scorched
petticoat, and the situation was saved. Your wife darted out to survey
the damage, and the next moment my precious papers were hidden beneath
the carpet.
"Mrs. Hedderwick returned within a very few minutes, full of apologies
and (I fear) regrets that she had left the room. I did not prolong my
visit. On the plea that I could not wait further, and promising to call
again, I managed to escape. If you wish for proof, look under the carpet
beneath your chair."
Mr. Hedderwick sprang up like an eager schoolboy. He seized the poker,
inserted it under the carpet, and with a crackling wrench prized up a
yard or two. With trembling fingers he tore it back still farther, and
then his face fell. He stood up, a disappointed man. "There is nothing
here," he said accusingly. "This is an anticlimax to a capital tale."
Lionel did not move, but his face darkened. During the recital he had
felt a warm glow of faith pervade his whole being, a glow that was not
diminished by the contemplation of Beatrice. By the time she had
finished he was a devout adherent, and now the shock of disillusion
swung him back once more to the certainty of doubt. He did not speak,
but his eyes sought hers in a question he could not put into words. The
lady alone seemed unembarrassed. She gave a regretful sigh.
"There is no anticlimax," she said. "Rather it is the thickening of the
plot. Of course they have been taken by Mizzi. Has she been there
recently--yesterday?"
"Not that I know of," he returned blankly. "It's possible, I suppose ...
anyhow, it's not a bad idea for ... for a story, but...."
"I see you disbelieve still," said Beatrice with a calm disdain. "I had
no idea men could be so stupid. I suppose there is nothing for it but to
wake Mrs. Hedderwick and ask her."
The churchwarden sat down suddenly, as if his knees had given way. "Wake
Mrs. Hedderwick!" he repeated in a ghastly voice: "wake my wife! Oh, no!
It is impossible--quite out of the question!"
"Not at all. She will know whether any one has called here, and in
justice to my veracity you must ask her. I insist! Remember our freedom
is at stake."
Mr. Hedderwick rose, pale but determined.
"I beg your pardon," he said politely. "Will you please go at once? I
have not the least intention of prosecuting, and I swear that I believe
your story. Only will you _please_ go at once?"
Lionel chuckled, amused and grateful.
"This is hardly fair, sir," he said. "You forget that we want
information as to where those papers may have gone. If your wife could
tell us whether any one has called and what his or her appearance----"
"No, no!" quavered the unhappy Robert. "I can not consent! You must find
out elsewhere. I can not have my wife roused! I--I would not have her
here for a thousand pounds!"
"Indeed, Robert!" said a deep voice from the door. The churchwarden
leaped round in a trice. He saw his wife, in the majesty of a
dressing-gown, a poker in her right hand, standing in the doorway. His
bowels turned to water. "Alicia!" he groaned.
"Yes," she said with a pleasurable severity. "What does this mean?" Her
eye roved austerely and there was a dead silence. Robert was temporarily
annihilated, Beatrice serenely impassive, Lionel amusedly dividing his
attention between the two ladies. Presently Mrs. Hedderwick's brow
cleared, as if a light had dawned upon her. She began to speak again in
a voice that was almost cheerful. "I see!" she said: "it is a new idea,
Robert. I suppose these are some of your friends, and this is a kind of
breakfast party. I am very sorry that you did not give me earlier
warning, or I would have had the dining-room ready. My husband," she
said, turning confidentially to Beatrice, "is a man, and naturally does
not realize that bacon can not be fried in a moment, and that eggs will
not cook themselves. Toast, again, needs a little care; and coffee I
always say is worthless unless one looks after it one's self."