CHAPTER XX
WHERE IS SHE?
AT mid-day! Where is she? What have they done with her? And who are"they"?
Is it an idiotic joke on the part of that noisy, irrepressible LordFourcastles? Is it for some bet that he has spirited the little heiressaway? Is it perhaps some bit of absurd skylarking got up between himselfand the Honourable Jim?
If there's a chance of this it mustn't go further. I shall have to keepmy mouth shut.
I can't go applying to the police--and then having Miss Million turningup and looking more than foolish! Then scolding her maid for being sucha fool!
That stops my telling anybody else about my fearful anxiety--the messI'm in!
Oh! Won't I tell Million what I think of her and her friends--all ofthem, Fourcastles, the cobra-woman, "London's Love," the gigglingtheatrical girls, and that unscrupulous nouveau-pauvre pirate, theHonourable Jim--as soon as she does condescend to reappear!...
A tap at the door. I fly to open it....
Only one of those little chocolate-liveried London sparrows, the Cecilpage-boys.
He has a large parcel for Miss Million. From Madame Ellen's. (Oh, yes,of course. The blush-rose pink that had to be let out.) Carriageforward.
"Please have it paid and charge it to Miss Million's account," says MissMillion's maid, with great outward composure and an inward tremor.
I've no money. Three-and-six, to be exact. Everything she has is lockedup. What--what am I to do about the bills if she stays away like this?
She seems to have been away a century. Yet it's only half-past twelvenow. In half an hour Mr. Brace will be calling on me for an answer tohis proposal of marriage....
There's another complication!
Oh! Why is life like this? Long dull stretches of nothing at allhappening for years and years. Then, quite suddenly, "a crowded hour"of--No! Not "glorious life" exactly. But one disturbing thing happeningon the top of another, until----
"Ppppring!"
Ah, the telephone again. Perhaps this is some news. The cobra-lady mayhave heard where Miss Million went.... "Yes?"
It wasn't the cobra-lady.
It was the rich, untrustworthy accent of the Honourable James Burke.
Ah! At last! At last! Now, I thought, I should hear something; some hintof Miss Million's whereabouts.
"Yes?" I called eagerly.
"Yes! I know who that is," called the voice--how different, now that Iheard it again, from that of the Mr. J. Burke I rang up earlier, bymistake. "That's the pearl of all ladies'-maids, isn't it? Goodmorning, Miss Lovelace-Smith!"
"Good morning, Mr. Burke," I called back grudgingly. Aggravating youngman! How was I to find out what I wanted to know without possibly givingmy mistress away?
Perhaps he had been sent to ring me up to bring Miss Million's thingsto--wherever the party of them were. I began: "Can I do anything foryou--sir?"
"Certainly. Call me that again!"
"What?" snappishly.
"Call me 'sir' again, just like that," pleaded the Honourable andExasperating Jim. "I never heard any pet name sound so pretty!"
I shook my head furiously at the receiver.
Teasing me like this, when I was deadly serious, and so anxious to getsense out of him for once! Tormenting me from "under cover" of atelephone that didn't allow me to see his face or to know where he was.
I said angrily: "Where are you speaking from?"
"I've paid--I mean I've had to get a trunk-call for these few minutes,so don't let them be spent in squabbling, child," said Mr. Burkesweetly. "I'm in Brighton."
"Brighton----"
Ah! They were all down there probably. That was it! He'd whisked themaway on his coach--on Leo Rosencranz's coach--just as he'd said hewould! At last I'd know----
"Brighton's looking fine this morning," took up the easy, teasing voice."Let me take you down here for a glimpse of the waves and the downs onyour next afternoon out, Miss Maid. Say you will? You've no engagement?"
I began, quite savagely: "Yes, I've----"
"Mr. Brace!" announced one of the chocolate-liveried page-boys at thedoor.
Quickly I turned. And in my silly flurry I was idiotic enough to hang upthe receiver again!
Horrors!
That's done it! I've rung off before I've been able to ask that villain,the Honourable Jim, where I am to ring him up, or ring any of them up,in Brighton!
They may be anywhere there! I've missed my chance of getting them!
Yes; that's done it....
Meanwhile here's this young man who proposed to me on the top of the'bus last night coming in for his answer!
In he came, looking rather tense and nervous.
But after all my adventures of this morning what a relief it was to meto see a friend; a man who wasn't a suspicious waiter or an attendantwho stared, or a teasing incorrigible who exasperated me from the otherside of a telephone!
I don't think I've ever been so glad to see anybody as I was to see Mr.Brace again!
I said "Good morning" most welcomingly. And then I was sorry.
For he caught me by both hands and looked down into my face, while hisown lighted up into the most indescribable joy.
"Beatrice!" he exclaimed. "It's 'Yes,' then? Oh, my dar----"
"Oh, please don't, please don't!" I besought him, snatching my handsaway in sudden horror. "I didn't mean that. It isn't 'Yes'----" He tooka step back, and all the light went out of his face.
Very quietly he said: "It's 'No'?"
I hate being "rushed." It seems to me everybody tries to rush me. I hatehaving to give answers on the spur of the moment!
I said: "I don't know what it is! I haven't been thinking about what yousaid!"
That seemed rather an ungracious thing to say to a man who had justoffered one the devotion of his whole life. So I added what was thehonest truth: "I haven't had time to think about it!"
A scowl came over Mr. Brace's fair face. He said in tones of realindignation: "You're as pale as a little ghost this morning. You've beenworking too hard. You've been running yourself off your feet for thatwretched little--for that mistress of yours!"
So true, in one way!
"It's got to stop," said Mr. Reginald Brace firmly. "I won't have youslaving like this. I'm going to take you away out of it all. I'm goingto tell Miss Million so now."
"You can't," I said hastily.
"Why? Isn't she up?" (disgustedly).
"Y--yes, I think so. I mean yes, of course. Only just now she's out."
"When will she be in, Miss Lovelace?"
"I don't know in the very least," I said with perfect truth. "I haven'tthe slightest idea." But I realised that I had better keep any furtherdetails of my mistress's absence to myself.
"There you are, you see. She treats you abominably. A girl like you!"declared the young bank manager wrathfully. "Works you to death, andthen goes off to enjoy herself, without even letting you know how longyou may expect to have to yourself! Shameful! But, look here, MissLovelace, you must leave her. You must marry me. I tell you----"
And what he told me was just what he'd told me the night before, overand over again, about his adoration, his presumption, his leavingnothing in the world undone that could make me happy.... And so on, andso forth. All the things a girl loves to hear. Or would love--providedshe weren't distracted, as I was, by having something else on her mindthe whole time!
I am afraid my answers were fearfully "absent."
Thus:
"No! Of course, I don't find you 'distasteful.' Why should I?" Then tomyself: "I wonder if Mr. Burke may ring me up again presently?"
And:
"No! Of course there isn't anybody else that I care for. I've never seenanybody else!" And again, aside: "How would it be if I rang up everyhotel in Brighton, one after the other, until I came to one that knewsomething about Mr. Burke's party?"
I decided to do this.
T
hen I began to fume impatiently. If only this nice, kind, delightfulyoung man would go and let me get to the telephone!
But there he stood, urging his suit, telling me that he was obliged togo off on business to Paris early that afternoon begging me to let himhave his answer before he had to leave me.
"How long shall you be in Paris?" I asked him.
"A week. Possibly longer. It's such a long, long time----"
"It isn't a long time to give any woman to make up her mind in," I toldhim desperately. I thought all the time: "Supposing Million took it intoher head to stay wherever she is for a week without letting me know?Horrors!"
I went on: "I can't tell you now whether I want to marry you or not.Just at this moment I don't feel I shall ever want to marry anybody! Ifyou take your answer now it'll have to be 'No'!"
So then, of course, he said that he would wait. He would wait until hecame back from Paris, hard as it would be to bear. And then there were alot more kind and flattering things said about "a girl like me" and "theone girl in the world," and all that kind of thing. And then, atlast--at last he went, kissing my hand and saying that he would writeand tell me directly he knew when he was coming to see me again.
He went, and I turned to the telephone. But before I had so much asunhooked the receiver the door of Miss Million's sitting-room openedafter a brief tap, and there stood----
Who but that Power in a frock-coat, the manager of the hotel himself.
"Good morning, Miss," he said to me, with quite an affable nod.
But his eyes, I noticed, were glancing at every detail in the room, atthe telephone book on the floor, at the new novels and magazines on thetable, at the flowers and cushions, at the big carton from MadameEllen's that I had not yet taken into the bedroom, at me and my tiredface. "Your young lady, Miss Million, hasn't returned yet, Iunderstand?"
"No," I said, as lightly as I could. "Miss Million is not yet back."
"Ah! Time off for you, then," said the manager still very pleasantly.But I could not help thinking that there was a look in his eye thatreminded me of that suspicious waiter at the club.
"Easy life, you young ladies have, it seems to me," said the manager."Comfortable quarters here, have you? That's right. How soon do youthink that you may be expecting your young lady back, Miss?"
"Oh, I'm not sure," said I very lightly, but with a curious sinking atmy heart. What was the meaning of the manager's visit? Was he only justlooking in to pass the time of day with the maid of one of his patrons?Or--horrible thought!--did he imagine that there was something not quiteusual about Miss Million?
Had he, too, wondered over our arriving at the hotel with those oldclothes and those new trunks? And now was he keeping an eye on whateverMiss Million meant to do? For all his pleasant manner, he did look asif he thought something about her were distinctly "fishy"!
I said brightly: "She may stay away for a few days."
"A little change into the country, I expect? Do anybody good this stuffyweather," said the affable manager. "Going down to join her, I expect,aren't you?"
This was a poser, but I answered, I think, naturally enough. I said:"Well, I'm waiting to hear from her first if she wants me!"
And I nodded quite cheerily at the manager as he passed again down thecorridor.
I trust he hadn't even a suspicion of the uneasy anxiety that he hadleft behind him in the heart of Miss Million's maid!
What a perfectly awful day this has been! Quite the most awful that I'veever lived through in all my twenty-three years of life!
I thought it was quite bad enough when all I had to bear was the gnawinganxiety over Million's disappearance, and the suspense of waiting,waiting, waiting for news of her! Living for the sound of the telephonebell ... sitting up here in her room, feeling as if three years hadelapsed between each of my lonely hotel meals ... wondering, wonderingover and over again what in the world became of her since I saw my youngmistress at the Supper Club last night....
But now I've something worse to bear. Something far more appalling hashappened!
I felt a presentiment that something horrible and unforeseen mightoccur, even before the first visit of the manager, with his suspiciousglance, to Miss Million's room.
For I'd wandered downstairs, in my loneliness, to talk to the girl inthe telephone exchange.
She's a bright-eyed, chatty creature who sits there all day under thebig board with the lights that appear and disappear like glowwormstwinkling on a lawn. She always seems to have a cup of tea and a plateof toast at her elbow.
She also seems always to have five minutes for a chat. And she's taken asort of fancy to me; already she's confided to me countless bits ofinformation about the staff and the people who are staying or who havestayed in the hotel.
"The things I've seen since I've been working here would fill a book,"she told me blithely, when I drifted in to find companionship in herlittle room.
"Really, I think that if I'd only got time to sit down and writeeverything I'd come across in the way of the strange stories, and theexperiences, and the different types of queer customers that one hascome in one's way, well! I'd make my fortune. Hall Caine couldn't be init. Excuse me a minute." (This was a telephone interlude.)
"The people you'd never think had anything odd about them," pursued thetelephone girl, "and that turn out to be the Absolute Limit!" (Iwondered, uneasily, if she thought that my absent mistress, MissMillion, belonged to this particular type.)
So I went back to the subject next time I passed the telephone office.(This was after the manager had looked into my room with his kindinquiries after Miss Million.)
"And, really," I said. I can't think what made me, Beatrice Lovelace,feel as guilty as if I were a pickpocket myself. Perhaps it was becauseI had something to hide. Namely, the fact that I was a maid whosemistress had left the hotel without a hint as to her destination or thedate of her return!
"That's a Scotland Yard man that's passing in the hall now," she added,dropping her voice. "No; not the one you're looking at," as I turned toglance at a very broad, light-grey back. "That's another of our Americancousins. Just come. A friend of Mr. Isaac Rattenheimer; have you seenMrs. Rattenheimer when she's going out in the evening? My dear! Thewoman blazes with jewels like a Strand shooting-gallery with lights. Youreally ought to have a look at her.
"Come down into the lounge to-night; pretend you've got some note orsomething for your Miss Million. She'll be coming back to-night, Isuppose?" she said.
"Oh, she may not. It all depends," I said vaguely, but with a desperatecheerfulness.
I left the telephone girl to decide for herself what this mysteriousthing might be that I had said "depended," and I drifted out again intothe vestibule.
Here I passed the young man my friend had called an American cousin. Helooked very American. His shoulders, which were broad enough in allconscience, seemed padded at least two inches broader. And the cut ofhis light-grey tweeds, and the shape of his shoes, and the way he'dparted his sleek, thick, mouse-coloured hair, were all unmistakablyun-English.
As I passed he stared; not rudely, but with a kind of boyish, naiveinterest. I wondered what Miss Million would have thought of him.
She's accustomed to giving me her impressions of every fresh person shesees; talking over each detail of their appearance while I'm doing herhair.... I mean that's what she used to be accustomed to! If only I knewwhen I should do her hair again!
Well, I walked upstairs, and the first hint of coming discomfort met meon our landing. It took the shape of our sandy-haired chamber-maid. Shewas whisking down the corridor, looking flushed and highly indignantover something or other. As I passed her she pulled up for a moment andaddressed me.
"Your turn next, Miss Smith, I suppose!" she sniffed, with the air ofone who feels that (like Job) she does well to be angry. "You'd betterbe getting ready for it!"
"Getting ready for what?" I asked bewilderedly.
But the sandy-haired one, with another little snort, had passed
on.
I think I heard her muttering something about "Never had such a thinghappen before! The ideear!" as she disappeared down the corridor. I waspuzzled as I went back into Miss Million's room, that seems to have beenempty for so long. What did the chamber-maid mean? What "thing" hadhappened? What was I to prepare for? And it was my "turn" for what?
I was soon to know.