And then, on the very afternoon of the ball, the Countess received atelegram--it was said from St. Petersburg--which necessitated herinstant departure. And she went, in an hour, down to Montreux by thefunicular railway, and was lost to the Beau-Site. This was a blow tothe prestige of the Beau-Site. For the Countess was its chief star, andmoreover much loved by her fellow guests, despite her curious weaknessfor the popinjay, and the mystery of her outings with him.
In the stables Denry saw the Countess's hired sleigh and horse, and inthe sleigh her glowing red cloak. And he had one of his ideas, which heexecuted, although snow was beginning to fall. In ten minutes he andNellie were driving forth, and Nellie in the red cloak held the reins.Denry, in a coachman's furs, sat behind. They whirled past the HotelMetropole. And shortly afterwards, on the wild road towards Attalens,Denry saw a pair of skis scudding as quickly as skis can scud in theirrear. It was astonishing how the sleigh, with all the merry jingle ofits bells, kept that pair of skis at a distance of about a hundredyards. It seemed to invite the skis to overtake it, and then to regretthe invitation and flee further. Up the hills it would crawl, for theskis climbed slowly. Down them it galloped, for the skis slid on theslopes at a dizzy pace. Occasionally a shout came from the skis. Andthe snow fell thicker and thicker. So for four or five miles.Starlight commenced. Then the road made a huge descending curve round ahollowed meadow, and the horse galloped its best. But the skis, makinga straight line down the snow, acquired the speed of an express, andgained on the sleigh one yard in every three. At the bottom, where thecurve met the straight line, was a farmhouse and out-buildings and ahedge and a stone wall and other matters. The sleigh arrived at thepoint first, but only by a trifle. "Mind your toes," Denry muttered tohimself, meaning an injunction to the skis, whose toes were three feetlong. The skis, through the eddying snow, yelled frantically to thesleigh to give room. The skis shot up into the road, and in swervingaside swerved into a snow-laden hedge, and clean over it into thefarmyard, where they stuck themselves up in the air, as skis will whenthe person to whose feet they are attached is lying prone. The door ofthe farmhouse opened and a woman appeared.
She saw the skis at her doorstep. She heard the sleigh-bells, but thesleigh had already vanished into the dusk.
"Well, that was a bit of a lark, that was, Countess!" said Denry toNellie. "That will be something to talk about. We 'd better drive homethrough Corsier, and quick too! It'll be quite dark soon."
"Supposing he's dead?" Nellie breathed, aghast, reining in the horse.
"Not he!" said Denry. "I saw him beginning to sit up."
"But how will he get home?"
"It looks a very nice farmhouse," said Denry. "I should think he 'd besorry to leave it."
VI
When Denry entered the dining-room of the Beau-Site, which had beencleared for the ball, his costume drew attention not so much by itssplendour or ingenuity as by its peculiarity. He wore a shortChinese-shaped jacket, which his wife had made out of blue linen, and aflat Chinese hat to match, which they had constructed together on abasis of cardboard. But his thighs were enclosed in a pair of absurdlyample riding breeches of an impressive check and cut to a comicexaggeration of the English pattern. He had bought the cloth for theseat the tailor's in Montreux. Below them were very tight leggings, alsoEnglish. In reply to a question as to what or whom he supposed himselfto represent he replied:
"A Captain of Chinese cavalry, of course."
And he put an eyeglass into his left eye and stared about.
Now it had been understood that Nellie was to appear as Lady Jane Grey.But she appeared as Little Red Riding Hood, wearing over her frock theforgotten cloak of the Countess Ruhl.
Instantly he saw her, Denry hurried towards her, with a movement of thelegs and a flourish of the eyeglass in his left hand which powerfullysuggested a figure familiar to every member of the company. There waslaughter. People saw that the idea was immensely funny and clever, andthe laughter ran about like fire. At the same time some persons were notquite sure whether Denry had not lapsed a little from the finest tastein this caricature. And all of them were secretly afraid that theuncomfortable might happen when Captain Deverax arrived.
However, Captain Deverax did not arrive. The party from the Metropolecame with the news that he had not been seen at the hotel for dinner; itwas assumed that he had been to Montreux and missed the funicular back.
"Our two stars simultaneously eclipsed!" said Denry, as the Clutterbucks(representing all the history of England) stared at him curiously.
"Why?" exclaimed the Clutterbuck cousin. "Who 's the other?"
"The Countess," said Denry. "She went this afternoon--three o'clock."
And all the Metropole party fell into grief.
"It's a world of coincidences," said Denry, with emphasis.
"You don't mean to insinuate," said Mrs. Clutterbuck, with a nervouslaugh, "that Captain Deverax has--er--gone after the Countess?"
"Oh, no!" said Denry with unction. "Such a thought never entered myhead."
"I think you 're a very strange man, Mr. Machin," retorted Mrs.Clutterbuck, hostile and not a bit reassured. "May one ask what thatcostume is supposed to be?"
"A Captain of Chinese cavalry," said Denry, lifting his eyeglass.
Nevertheless, the dance was a remarkable success, and little by littleeven the sternest adherents of absent Captain Deverax deigned to beamused by Denry's Chinese gestures. Also, Denry led the cotillon, andwas thereafter greatly applauded by the Beau-Site. The visitors agreedamong themselves that, considering that his name was not Deverax, Denryacquitted himself honourably. Later he went to the bureau, andreturning, whispered to his wife:
"It's all right. He's come back safe."
"How do you know?"
"I 've just telephoned to ask."
Denry's subsequent humour was wildly gay. And for some reason whichnobody could comprehend he put a sling round his left arm. His effortsto insert the eyeglass into his left eye with his right hand wereinsistently ludicrous and became a sure source of laughter for allbeholders. When the Metropole party were getting into their sleighs togo home--it had ceased snowing--Denry was still trying to insert hiseyeglass into his left eye with his right hand, to the universal joy.
VII
But the joy of the night was feeble in comparison with the violent joyof the next morning. Denry was wandering, apparently aimless, betweenthe finish of the tobogganing track and the portals of the Metropole.The snowfall had repaired the defects of the worn track, but it neededto be flattened down by use, and a number of conscientious "lugeurs"were flattening it by frequent descents, which grew faster at eachrepetition. Other holiday makers were idling about in the sunshine. Apage-boy of the Metropole departed in the direction of the Beau-Sitewith a note in his hand.
At length--the hour was nearing eleven--Captain Deverax, languid, puthis head out of the Metropole and sniffled the air. Finding the airsufferable, he came forth on to the steps. His left arm was in a sling.He was wearing the new knickerbockers which he had ordered at Montreux,and which were of precisely the same vast check as had ornamentedDenry's legs on the previous night.
"Hullo!" said Denry sympathetically. "What's this?"
The Captain needed sympathy.
"Ski-ing yesterday afternoon," said he, with a little laugh. "Has n'tthe Countess told any of you?"
"No," said Denry. "Not a word."
The Captain seemed to pause a moment.
"Yes," said he. "A trifling accident. I was ski-ing with the Countess.That is, I was ski-ing and she was in her sleigh."
"Then this is why you did n't turn up at the dance?"
"Yes," said the Captain.
"Well," said Denry. "I hope it's not serious. I can tell you one thing,the cotillon was a most fearful frost without you." The Captain seemedgrateful.
They strolled together towards the track.
The first group of people that caught sight of the Captain with hischecked legs and his arm in a sling began to smile. Observing thissmile, and fancying himself deceived, the Captain attempted to put hiseyeglass into his left eye with his right hand, and regularly failed.His efforts towards this feat changed the smiles to enormous laughter.
"I dare say it's awfully funny," said he. "But what can a fellow do withone arm in a sling?"
The laughter was merely intensified. And the group, growing as lugeafter luge arrived at the end of the track, seemed to give itself up tomirth, to the exclusion of even a proper curiosity about the nature ofthe Captain's damage. Each fresh attempt to put the eyeglass to his eyewas coal on the crackling fire. The Clutterbucks alone seemed glum.
"What on earth is the joke?" Denry asked primly. "Captain Deverax cameto grief late yesterday afternoon, ski-ing with the Countess Ruhl.That's why he did n't turn up last night. By the way, where was it,Captain?"
"On the mountain, near Attalens," Deverax answered gloomily. "Happilythere was a farmhouse near--it was almost dark."
"With the Countess?" demanded a young impulsive schoolgirl.
"You did say the Countess, didn't you?" Denry asked.
"Why, certainly," said the Captain testily.
"Well," said the schoolgirl with the nonchalant thoughtless cruelty ofyouth, "considering that we all saw the Countess off in the funicular atthree o'clock I don't see how you could have been ski-ing with her whenit was nearly dark." And the child turned up the hill with her luge,leaving her elders to unknot the situation.
"Oh, yes!" said Denry. "I forgot to tell you that the Countess leftyesterday after lunch."
At the same moment the page-boy, reappearing, touched his cap and placeda note in the Captain's only free hand.
"Could n't deliver it, Sir. The Comtesse left early yesterdayafternoon."
Convicted of imaginary adventure with noble ladies, the Captain made hisretreat, muttering, back to the hotel. At lunch Denry related the exactcircumstances to a delighted table, and the exact circumstances soonreached the Clutterbuck faction at the Metropole. On the following daythe Clutterbuck faction and Captain Deverax (now fully enlightened) leftMont Pridoux for some paradise unknown. If murderous thoughts couldkill, Denry would have lain dead. But he survived to go with about halfthe Beau-Site guests to the funicular station to wish the Clutterbucks apleasant journey. The Captain might have challenged him to a duel, buta haughty and icy ceremoniousness was deemed the best treatment forDenry. "Never show a wound" must have been the Captain's motto.
The Beau-Site had scored effectively. And, now that its rival had losteleven clients by one single train, it beat the Metropole even in vulgarnumbers.
Denry had an embryo of a conscience somewhere, and Nellie's was fullydeveloped.
"Well," said Denry, in reply to Nellie's conscience, "it serves himright for making me look a fool over that Geneva business. And besides,I can't stand uppishness, and I won't. I 'm from the Five Towns, I am."
Upon which singular utterance the incident closed.
CHAPTER XII. THE SUPREME HONOUR
I
Denry was not as regular in his goings and comings as the generality ofbusiness men in the Five Towns; no doubt because he was not by nature abusiness man at all, but an adventurous spirit who happened to be in abusiness which was much too good to leave. He was continually, as theysay there, "up to something" that caused changes in daily habits.Moreover, the Universal Thrift Club (Limited) was so automatic andself-winding that Denry ran no risks in leaving it often to the care ofhis highly-drilled staff. Still, he did usually come home to his teaabout six o'clock of an evening, like the rest, and like the rest hebrought with him a copy of the _Signal_ to glance at during tea.
One afternoon in July he arrived thus upon his waiting wife at MachinHouse, Bleakridge. And she could see that an idea was fermenting in hishead. Nellie understood him. One of the most delightful and reassuringthings about his married life was Nellie's instinctive comprehension ofhim. His mother understood him profoundly. But she understood him in amanner sardonic, slightly malicious, and even hostile. Whereas Nellieunderstood him with her absurd love. According to his mother'sattitude, Denry was guilty till he had proved himself innocent.According to Nellie's, he was always right and always clever in what hedid, until he himself said that he had been wrong and stupid--and notalways then. Nevertheless, his mother was just as ridiculously proud ofhim as Nellie was; but she would have perished on the scaffold ratherthan admit that Denry differed in any detail from the common run ofsons. Mrs. Machin had departed from Machin House, without waiting to beasked. It was characteristic of her that she had returned to BroughamStreet and rented there an out-of-date cottage without a single one ofthe labour-saving contrivances that distinguished the residence whichher son had originally built for her.
It was still delicious for Denry to sit down to tea in the dining-room,that miracle of conveniences, opposite the smile of his wife, which toldhim (_a_) that he was wonderful, (_b_) that she was enchanted to bealive, and (_c_) that he had deserved her particular caressingattentions and would receive them. On the afternoon in July the smiletold him (_d_) that he was possessed by one of his ideas.
"Extraordinary how she tumbles to things!" he reflected.
Nellie's new fox-terrier had come in from the garden through the Frenchwindow, and eaten part of a muffin, and Denry had eaten a muffin and ahalf, before Nellie, straightening herself proudly and putting hershoulders back (a gesture of hers), thought fit to murmur:
"Well, anything thrilling happened to-day?"
Denry opened the green sheet and read:
"Sudden death of Alderman Bloor in London. What price that?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Nellie. "How shocked father will be! They were alwaysrather friendly. By the way, I had a letter from mother this morning.It appears as if Toronto was a sort of paradise. But you can see theold thing prefers Bursley. Father 's had a boil on his neck, just atthe edge of his collar. He says it's because he 's too well. What didMr. Bloor die of?"
"He was in the fashion," said Denry.
"How?"
"Appendicitis, of course. Operation--domino! All over in three days."
"Poor man!" Nellie murmured, trying to feel sad for a change, and notsucceeding. "And he was to have been mayor in November, was n't he?How disappointing for him!"
"I expect he 's got something else to think about," said Denry.
After a pause Nellie asked suddenly:
"Who'll be mayor--now?"
"Well," said Denry, "his Worship, Councillor Barlow, J. P., will beextremely cross if he is n't."
"How horrid!" said Nellie frankly. "And he 's got nobody at all to bemayoress."
"Mrs. Prettyman would be mayoress," said Denry. "When there's no wifeor daughter, it's always a sister if there is one."
"But can you imagine Mrs. Prettyman as mayoress? Why, they say shescrubs her own doorstep--after dark. They ought to make you mayor!"
"Do you fancy yourself as mayoress?" he inquired.
"I should be better than Mrs. Prettyman anyhow!"
"I believe you 'd make an A1 mayoress," said Denry.
"I should be frightfully nervous," she confidentially admitted.
"I doubt it," said he.
The fact was that since her return to Bursley from the honeymoon Nelliewas an altered woman. She had acquired, as it were in a day, to anastonishing extent, what in the Five Towns is called "a nerve."
"I should like to try it," said she.
"One day you 'll have to try it, whether you want to or not."
"When will that be?"
"Don't know. Might be next year but one. Old Barlow 's pretty certainto be chosen for next November. It's looked on as his turn next. I knowthere's been a good bit of talk about me for the year after Barlow. Ofcourse, Bloor's death will advance everything by a year. But even if Icome next after Barlo
w it 'll be too late."
"Too late? Too late for what?"
"I'll tell you," said Denry. "I wanted to be the youngest mayor thatBursley 's ever had. It was only a kind of notion I had, a long timeago. I 'd given it up, because I knew there was no chance, unless Icame before Bloor, which of course I could n't do. Now he 's dead. IfI could upset old Barlow's apple-cart I should just be the youngestmayor by the skin of my teeth. Huskinson, the mayor in 1884, was agedthirty-four and six months. I 've looked it all up this afternoon."
"How lovely if you _could_ be the youngest mayor!"