V
EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING
The Princess turned toward the door, for a step could be heard in thecorridor.
"Before that official returns we must have a plan. I thought it outwhile you were behind the door. But, perhaps, it will be too hard atask for you."
"I'll try it. Anything to get out of here! And I would like to knowwhat it is you want me to do for you--what about the ghost?"
"I will tell you in good time. Just now for your escape. It is gettinglate, and the hours are speeding past. You are in a hopeless trap here.Now, my trunk..."
"What about it?"
"I am sending it on board the _Mauretania_ at six o'clock, and no onecould possibly suspect."
Jarvis turned to study this curious vehicle of transportation. It was astrong, well-built piece of baggage, indeed; but to be cooped up in it,at the mercy of baggageman and truckman, hoisters and stewards--thethought was staggering.
"You're joking," he began, but she resolutely shook her wealth of hair.
"It's the only chance, and a daring one at that. I am jeopardizing myown safety by assisting you. Surely, if life is so uncertain for you atbest, you cannot lose by a trial."
Jarvis stooped over it, and began lifting out the trays, to study thequestionable roominess of the interior.
"What about these?" he asked, and as he spoke a locket dropped to thefloor. The girl darted forward to pick it up, and Jarvis observed itfor the first time. Her solicitude seemed unusual to the Kentuckian.
"Did I break something?"
"No. It's nothing. I mean, it's all right. It's just a locket. I brokeit myself yesterday, on purpose. It means a great deal to me, andperhaps to you. Some day you may know the reason why ... Shall we sendthe trays to the steamer by messenger?"
Jarvis thought for an instant. Here was such an utterly improbablemethod of escape, such a strange new twirl in his whirlpool ofadventure, that he had to find his bearings.
"I have it now," he explained. "You had better telephone--we must havesomeone we can trust implicitly."
The Princess crossed toward the desk telephone on the small table byher bed, and looked at him inquiringly.
"Ask the operator to connect you with the Hotel Belmont. That's justacross the street. My room is 417. Rusty, my servant, is there. He iswaiting for some word from me, as he knew the possibilities when I metJim Marcum. He can be counted on till Judgment Day and then a few hoursafterwards! Tell him to come here at once--mention my first name only,with no other explanation--that will bring him and give no other clewto an outsider. You never can tell about a telephone. But fortunately,I registered there under a different name. Try it now."
The girl had the receiver off the hook. After a short delay she wastalking directly with the faithful servitor, whose trembling voicebetokened his anxiety. But Rusty was too sage to ask too manyquestions--he had served in affairs of delicacy before this.
"Hello--is this Mr. Rusty?... Yes? Well, listen carefully. You are tocome right over to the Manhattan Hotel across the street and a bellboywill be waiting for you at the desk. He is to bring you up to room1121."
Jarvis interrupted: "Tell him to keep his mouth shut!"
The Princess balked at the colloquialism.
"And--and--don't talk to anyone ... What's that?... Oh, yes.'_Warren._'... There, he'll be coming over immediately."
Jarvis, the executive, was now in action.
He had emptied the trunk as she was talking, tossing out fascinatingfeminine mysteries of lace and silks, with a nonchalance which broughta twinkle into the dark eyes. He turned again.
"Hurry, now--call up the clerk downstairs. Tell them to look out forRusty and send him up here."
More delicate symphonies of Parisian architecture were thrown on thefloor, and Warren had taken out his pocket-knife.
"Hello, hello," called the Princess. "I'm expecting a man."
"A colored man," was Warren's parenthesis.
"Yes,... a colored man ... to get some bundles. He will come right tothe desk ... please send him up at once ... It is very important."
The Princess observed Jarvis' attempt to bore a hole in the side of thetrunk. He was laboring diligently, until the blade snapped.
"Confound it!"
"Why are you doing that?"
"I must breathe, you know ... Now, how can I cut a hole in the blessedthing?" He scratched his forehead in a quandary.
The Princess brought him her shears from the dresser. In a few minuteshe had made two openings which seemed to satisfy him, but it had beenno easy task.
"What time does the boat sail?"
"Nine o'clock."
"Good. That will give Rusty time to get aboard with these trays and mybaggage. Let me see, it is a quarter of six now--how quickly the dawnhas slipped in!"
There was a knock on the outer door, and Jarvis again disappearedbehind the bathroom portal, with instinctive caution.
At a call from the Princess, the door opened after she had slid backthe upper bolt. The girl stepped back abashed at the appearance of theexcited negro. Rusty rolled his eyes, suspiciously taking in thecontents of the room.
"Whar's Marse Warren?" and his voice was hoarse. Jarvis stepped intoview. "Lawd bless you, Marse Warren. I done thought dat Marcum got youdis time."
"Never mind what you thought. Help me wrap up these trays. We sail forEurope in two hours."
Rusty gasped, shot another big-eyed look at the beautiful girl and thenat his master.
"Two hours--good Lawd!--you mean WE?"
The Princess was holding out a steamer rug in silence.
"Yes, Rusty, you and I. Here, give me a hand with this rug," and withthe aid of his servant he made a quick job of the bundling. "Now, takethese--with our baggage from the Belmont--to the steamship _Mauretania_of the Cunard line. Buy accommodations.... Mind, you won't see me untilafter we get out to sea. You stay in your stateroom and sit tight untilyou hear from me."
He took out his wallet.
"You understand now? Cunard line. You can find it some way--just take ataxi, and get there as fast as you can. The clerk at the hotel will getthe tickets over the telephone, and you can pay him when you settle forthe whole bill, with that other money I gave you. Now, get hold of thismoney, and keep hold of it. No gin now, Rusty!"
He turned around, and observed the amused surprise on the face of hisfair companion.
"I beg your pardon.... This is Rusty;--Rusty, this is the Princess ofAragon...."
Rusty bowed.
"Howdy do, Mrs. Princess!"
"There, that will do. Is it all clear for you now?"
"Yassir. I takes everything to the steamboat--getsaccommo--accommo--wall, I knows what you means, Marse Warren, if Icain't spell it. I gets them things for us and Mrs. Princess."
The girl reddened under the beaming smile, but Jarvis quicklyinterceded.
"Not for the Princess; just for us two. What's the name of the boat?"
"The _Mary Tania_!"
"That'll do. Now be off, and don't get left behind."
As Rusty made his exit with the bulky bundle, the Princess smiled:"Good-by, Rusty," and he bobbed his head with a broader grin than everas he disappeared down the corridor toward the elevator.
"Time nearly up," muttered Warren, as he took off his coat. "Pardon thedisrobing--but I'll be more at ease in my shirt-sleeves. It's a stingylittle room to spend three hours in. I'll lie this way, with my headtoward this corner. Remember, this trunk must not go into the hold ofthe ship--have it marked 'Wanted' and 'This End Up.' I'll take theshears along and cut another hole from the inside if it gets toosuffocating."
The girl walked to the table and picked up the revolver, which she heldout.
"You'd better take this, too."
"How do you know you can trust me now?"
There was a veiled irony in her retort, although it was accompanied bya smile: "I don't. I have to take that chance. I have no other choiceat this late hour."
"You must have a pretty good
reason for it in the back of your head.But what about this ghost? I may never hear the sequel. At least giveme some food for thought during my travels in the dark."
"Are you afraid?"
"Lord, no! I merely wanted to know. Well, I'll wait. But, now, honestInjun, as we say down in Kentucky, are you a really, sure-enoughprincess?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Oh, I don't know. Somehow you are not quite like what I thought aprincess would be.... I mean, you're different from the popularconception of a royal person. Your English is so perfect."
"I learned it in an English boarding-school."
"Your informality--for it has been put to a severe test these last fewhours,--your adaptability,--you have more understanding, more sympathy,more heart."
She turned away and tilted a haughty chin.
"In that last respect, sir, you will find me quite like the popularconception."
A knocking on the door interrupted further interchanges on thepeculiarities of royalty. Jarvis clambered inside the vehicle of hisescape, and drew down the lid, with a farewell smile.
"Trunks, lady, for the steamer!" came the voice of the porter, as heresumed his thumping on the door panel.
"Just a minute." The Princess hurriedly bundled up the scatteredgarments, jumbling them upon the bed. She turned the key in the trunkand, with a quick feminine survey of the field for damaging, overlookedevidence, called to her maid.
"Nita, admit the porter."
The servant appeared with surprising promptness. The man pushed in histruck, with the obsequious manner which is a prelude to the smirkingappreciation of a handsome gratuity.
"Have the other trunks gone, my good man?" queried her Serene Highness.
"Yes'm. Last night, mum."
"This trunk goes on a special wagon."
"Yes'm."
At this juncture the house detective appeared at the doorway. Hestopped and looked questioningly at the broken lock. He was alert as aweasel despite his ponderous physique: he fingered it, and studied theevidence of fresh splinters. The Princess continued calmly.
"Have it marked 'Wanted'" (and as she indicated with a jeweled finger),"'This End up with Care.'"
The porter nodded.
"I'll put special stickers on it, mum. You'll find it in your stateroomwhen you get to the steamer. Is that all, mum?"
"Handle it gently, porter."
"Shure, lady and I never smashed one in me life! I'll handle it asrivirintly as if it held the relics of a saint, mum. I'm that carefulin me worruk. So don't worry one little bit, mum."
As he started out with the heavy piece of luggage on his truck, thedetective stopped him sternly.
"Just a minute. How did that lock get broken?"
"_Just a minute. How did that lock get broken?_"]
The Princess felt herself changing color, yet she shrugged hershoulders as she turned away.
Nita suddenly chattered in Spanish to her, and the detective shot asharp glance at the girl.
"What does she say?" he cried. "She knows something about it."
"She says the other porter banged the door before we came in, for itwas that way when she entered to arrange my clothes. I have had mysleep interrupted all night long, and I do not care for any insolencenow."
The detective looked a bit sheepish, but stuck to his inquest.
"When did you come?"
"Yesterday."
"And when do you go away?"
"We sail this morning for Europe."
"Huh," and there was a suggestion of doubt in his grunt. "The policeare making an investigation in the hotel. They would like to have alook at these rooms. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. My maid will show them around."
"What time do you sail? Does this trunk go on board?"
"Yes,--I want it sent on a special wagon, for I fear we will be late.The steamer sails at nine o'clock."
The detective nodded to the porter, who brushed close by the Princesswith his cargo.
"_Bon voyage!_" she said with a smile.
"What's that?" asked the detective.
"I merely called my maid. You're an unusually impertinent andinquisitive man. In my country gentlewomen are shown some degree ofcourtesy, even by hotel servants," she remarked icily.
The detective's ruddy face grew redder.
"Well, I dunno about your country, whatever that is. But in thiscountry, and in this hotel there don't nothin' get by me. That's all.Come on in, boys."
Two bluecoats entered the room, gazed awkwardly about, and walked tothe window to peer down at the street. Then they passed out, notwithout, it must be admitted, an envious glance at the collection ofjewels on the table.
As the door closed behind them, her Serene Highness turned toward Nita,as she relaxed in the chair by the dressing-table.
"You may dress my hair, child. I wonder how the door was broken?"
"Ah, madame," was the guileless response. "_Quien sabe?_"