CHAPTER XXIV
Bert offered no resistance to the officers of the law. Indeed, after thefirst moment, he showed a kind of relief at his arrest, and went withhis captors almost gladly.
"I knew you'd get me sooner or later," he said, although warned that hiswords would be used against him, "and it's best to get it over. Juliewon't ever forgive me, let alone have anything to do with me, so whathave I got to live for? I can't go on like this; no one could. Still,mind you, I'm not so much to blame as you think, and it's my belief anyone of you chaps would have done the same as I did, in my place."
Bert had always been ready to justify himself.
He was willing enough to confess, to the police, to the prison chaplain,to anyone. He showed, indeed, considerable satisfaction, not to saypride, in the interest his story excited, and was not a little annoyedwith Gimblet when he found there was practically nothing he could tellthe detective of which he was not already aware. Bert did not dilateso much on his love for Julie, the one real thing about him and theinnocent incentive of all his crimes.
It is perhaps best not to give the exact words in which he pouredforth the history of the dark deeds in which he had been concerned,but to offer to the reader a _resume_ of his tale in so far as it wascorroborated by the evidence.
Albert Tremmel's father was a West End dairyman who had the misfortuneto marry above him, as the saying is. He had a small shop in HanoverStreet and carried on a profitable business, but his wife despised itfrom the first, and refused to allow their only child to assist herhusband when he became old enough to do so. She wished him to be aclerk, and, as she had a way of getting what she wanted, young Bert atthe age of eighteen had entered, in that capacity, the office of Messrs.Ennidge and Pring, house and estate agents. He was then, as later, acadaverous, unpleasant-looking youth, with a surly, combative temperand a strongly marked tendency to look on most people as his naturalenemies. This in itself did not bring him friends, and he made mattersworse as often as he could by adopting a dictatorial manner of speechand the habit of pointing out to comparative strangers his opinion thatthey erred in thinking they knew their own business. He would alsomention their duty as another thing they were ignorant of. This line ofconversation he varied by assuring them that if it were true, as theywould have him believe, that they knew both better in any case than hedid, it was still more to be regretted that they should mismanage theone and fail to do the other.
Boys of his own age frankly refused to have anything to do with him, andhe found his most congenial surroundings at a Socialistic Club, whereall the members shared his disapproval of the world in general, anddescanted as much as they pleased on the shameful conduct and characterof those who were not of their own way of thinking. Here all ranks andparts of the community were equally denounced, and if one could hardlyfind words strong enough to censure the attitude of the rich who wishedto retain control of their own wealth, neither could one sufficientlydisplay one's anger and disgust at the behaviour of the poor who showedthemselves so regardless of the socialistic movement as to takebenefits from the capitalist classes. Fond as these young men were ofemploying the words "give" and "take," the meaning generally conveyed bytheir joint use was peculiarly repugnant to them. Take, in their view,should always come first in any case, and a thing taken lost half itsvalue in their eyes if it came as a gift. They would have abolished bothgenerosity and gratitude from a world that can ill afford the loss ofthose virtues.
Bert drank in every tenet of this creed, and revelled in thediscussions and execrations as much as he delighted in the wishy-washysentimentalism. He was an unhealthy, discontented, miserable boy, hishand against every one; and his club was the only place where he felthimself more or less at his ease.
There was, however, one spot which he liked better to be in, and thatwas the household of the Querterots.
He had gone to school with Julie Querterot, for it so happened thatBert's father was a Lancashire man and a Roman Catholic. It is true thatwhen he died, as he did when Bert was only thirteen, the boy's motherimmediately removed him to another school and saw to it that he imbibedher hatred of Rome; but he did not take any more kindly to her ownchurch, and when she herself died five or six years later he was goingpretty much his own way, which was a way devoid of religious beliefof any kind. In spite of this, he never lost touch with his littleschoolfellow; and, as the Querterots dealt at Tremmels' shop and thechildren were always together, the two families became acquainted, anda certain friendship even sprang up between Madame Querterot and Mrs.Tremmels. These ladies drank tea together, and smiled over the devotionof Bert for little Julie. This was in the days when prosperity reignedin both houses.
It was different after Mrs. Tremmels' death, when Bert discovered thatthe business, of which he had never been allowed to learn the details,was on the verge of bankruptcy, Mrs. Tremmels having conducted it sinceher husband's death with an eye more to her own aggrandisement than toprofit. She had opened two large branches and started milk carts drawnby Shetland ponies; and, having no capital, had borrowed money to do it.Custom under her management had fallen off; the branches had had to beclosed; the smart ponies sold; and, at the time of her death, she couldno longer find the interest on the borrowed money and the mortgageeswere at the point of foreclosing.
Bert, who spent half his evenings in advocating the redistributionof wealth, did not at all enter into the spirit of the thing when hefound himself quietly set on one side while his own wealth, that is tosay, the competency to which he had always believed himself heir, wasredistributed without anyone consulting him. He took it very ill indeed,and said things about his dead mother which would have brought him hisdismissal from the office if they had come to the ears of either Mr.Ennidge or Mr. Pring. He had been in their employment about a year whenshe died, and had done fairly well in it, for he was not a bad worker,nor even without intelligence of a kind. Still, he only kept his postby the skin of his teeth, for he had been in the office more than longenough for Mr. Pring to take a violent dislike to him, and if it hadnot been for the extremely kind heart of Mr. Ennidge, who argued thathe could not dismiss the youth to whom Fortune had already dealt sosevere a blow, Bert would have been sacked a dozen times a week. Hehad, however, no idea of this, and considered himself indispensable andmiserably underpaid.
He certainly was not paid a great deal, though more than he was worthto Mr. Pring, at all events, and Madame Querterot ceased abruptly toinvite him to her house. He continued, however, to visit it from time totime, and a couple more years went by without further event. Then camethe sudden and tragic failure of the Querterots. Eugene Querterot shothimself; and in the fallen state of their fortunes the two impoverishedwomen he left behind him were glad of any friend who stood by them. Thesudden dropping off of their old acquaintances created a new bond ofsympathy between them and the young man, and when they moved to Pimlicoand he was the only person who ever went to see them, he received a muchwarmer welcome, at all events from the mother, than he had lately grownto expect.
Gradually he went more and more often, until he formed the habit ofdropping in at least every other evening. He had always been fond ofJulie, and perhaps of no one else in the world, since he had shownlittle affection for his parents; now, as he saw her with increasingfrequency, his feelings for her became more intense, till every dayhe seemed to see in her new and more entrancing perfections, and evenhis enthusiasms for Socialism faded under the continual protest ofher aversion to it. He admitted to himself with a kind of thrill ofself-defiance that Julie was so clever, so sensible, so wonderfullyreasonable and clear-sighted, that her opinion on any subject couldnot be despised, and it became more and more plain to him that if shethought badly of Socialism that doctrine would find difficulty inretaining his complete loyalty. To be short, by the time she reachedher eighteenth birthday Bert was head over ears in love with the girl,and had scarcely a thought in which she did not predominate. MadameQuerterot watched it all from beneath her heavy eyelids. She saidnothing, but th
e idea that here was one who in time might be useful toher crept into her brain and took deep root there as the weeks went by.
Julie was pious and devout. It was about this time that she began tospeak about entering a religious sisterhood, but the storm of reproachand upbraiding that this desire provoked in her mother caused her torelinquish the idea for the time being, and, more particularly, not totalk of it any more. The only visible effect of the suggestion was thatMadame Querterot welcomed Bert more effusively than usual, and now ofteninvited him to stay to supper.
It may be judged how readily he accepted, and these evenings werecertainly the happiest hours in his life. He used to come early and helpJulie to lay the table, and sometimes even to prepare the meal; and ifher sleeve chanced to brush against his shoulder as she stooped overthe fire or reached up to a shelf he would be reduced to a state ofspeechless ecstasy, which Madame Querterot found a pleasant change fromthe usual aggressive torrent of his talk.
In spite of her quiet and demure ways, Julie had a girlish fondnessfor dress and finery, and the offerings that from time to time Bertlaid at her feet, of gloves and trinkets, were a great source ofinnocent pleasure to her. There was a time when he sallied forth fromhis lodgings armed with the savings of months, and the intention ofbuying a ring, which he should present to her accompanied by a speech heprepared for the occasion, in which the secret of his heart was to beimparted, together with the request that the ring should be a token oftheir engagement. But his courage failed him at the jeweller's counter;he felt suddenly a conviction, amounting to a certainty, that Juliewould refuse; and, rather than risk knowing the worst, he abandoned hisproject and spent his hoardings on a brooch which he himself did notreally admire, and which Julie, when she received it, thought hideous.The only person who was pleased was the jeweller, who had had the thingin his shop two years and simply loathed the sight of it.
It was soon after this that the great plan, of which Madame Querterothad had the elements incubating in her mind for a long while, washatched, and presented itself to her in a complete and material form.She knew from the first that she could not carry it out alone; and,casting over in her thoughts for the help she required, saw in Bert atool made ready to her hand. When she broached her idea to him she hadher design prepared, down to every detail.
It was on the night when he had treated the two women to the theatre, ashas been related in an early page of this narrative. Madame Querterotbegan by telling the young man that she would never allow her daughterto marry one so poor as himself, and added quickly that she knew ofa way by which he could attain both money and the assistance of herinfluence exerted on his behalf with Julie. Having excited his curiosityand his hopes she bound him to secrecy and disclosed her purpose to him.
"It is yourself who gave me the good idea," she assured him. "It is yoursocialistic teaching, is it not, to take from the rich? they have morethan is reasonable, those others!"
They were walking up and down before the little house in Pimlico wherethe Querterots lived in these days of poverty; Julie had left them andgone to bed; the glimmer of a candle came from behind a blind in theroom upstairs.
"Of course they have," Bert grunted. "But it's no use your thinking youcan take their money from them without further legislation. What pricethe police?"
"Ah, the police," sighed Madame Querterot, "if only they would notmeddle in what is not their affair! But, look you, there are caseswhich are exceptional. There are cases which ought to receive immediateattention, which cry out for treatment of the most drastic. If the lawis slow--and I grant you that the law has great need of alteration--whena matter is exceptionally urgent, I say, the good citizen must take itin his own hands to see justice done. And if while we render a serviceto humanity we do so with profit to ourselves, it is clear that the endsof justice are doubly served."
Bert could not help agreeing with these excellent precepts. Indeed,Madame Querterot's air of supernatural wisdom would have impressed themost sceptical.
"It is not enough to talk, one must demonstrate one's faith in a theory.By the means I shall propose you can prove how well Socialism will workin practice; for here will the poor, as represented by us, be madericher, and yet the rich person who will have changed our fortunesneed scarcely feel any deprivation. You remember my talking to you atsupper-time about a lady, a very wealthy lady, one of my clientele?"
"Yes," said Bert. "A Jewess, wasn't it?"
"It is true. A Jewess! And have not the Jews for centuries ground thebones of the poor? Who more fitted to be the first to contribute some oftheir ill-gotten gains in return? Should they not be obliged to restoresome of that money which they never earned?"
"I daresay," assented Bert; "but I wish you'd hurry up and let's seewhat you're getting at, that's all."
"Eh bien! This woman, this Jewess, is enormously rich, as I tell you.And what does she do with her money? My friend, she covers herself withdiamonds! It is those diamonds which I propose to myself to deprive herof."
"What, steal them?" Bert's tone was troubled, although in his heart hehad known from the first whither her talk drifted.
"Steal! What a word." Impossible to convey the contempt of MadameQuerterot's tone. "Is it right then, that she should be permitted tohave so much when others starve? Is it right that she should flaunt herjewels in the face of the hungry poor?"
Madame Querterot, who had a good memory, went on to quote phrase afterphrase she had at various times heard fall from Bert's own lips. Shepoured his favourite catchwords into his ears, and strengthened themwith arguments of her own. She painted the robbery she designed insuch glowing colours that you would have thought, to hear her, thatit was a sacrifice she was going to make for the good of humanity.She passed imperceptibly to picturing the delight of Julie when sheshould be presented with one of the less easily identified jewels, tothe readiness with which, at the advice and with the glad consent ofher mother, she would accept the heart and hand of the prosperous andenriched Albert, to the happiness of the young couple ensconced intheir charming house, surrounded by motors, gramophones, champagne; infine, all the luxuries due to a girl of Julie's perfections. MadameQuerterot did not stop till she came to her own prospective joys, hergrandchildren climbing on her knee. It was enough for the blushingand intoxicated Bert. He surrendered, agreed to all she proposed,put himself entirely under her directions, and these his prospectivemother-in-law willingly proceeded to give him.
She explained to him first at some length the character of Mrs.Vanderstein, and the means by which she hoped to play upon her weakness.
"There is," said she, "a young Prince--the Prince Felipe of Targona--nowin London and staying at Fianti's Hotel in Grosvenor Street, which issituated just opposite to the house of this Jewess. It so happenedto-day, as I was in the midst of my massaging, that she jumped up andran to the window to see this young man pass, and I also looked out. Nowby some chance the Prince, as he drove by, happened to lift his headand look straight into Mrs. Vanderstein's face. It was a most luckyoccurrence, and I could not have hoped for anything so providential toarrive. One would say, indeed, that it is an omen for me, a mandate tocarry out my plan. Mrs. Vanderstein was delighted at this encounter ofthe eyes, and did not disguise her pleasure. Well, see how simple is nowmy part. I have in the shop some tortoise-shell combs, purchased at aridiculous price by that poor Eugene when we first started in businesshere in London. They are very beautiful, of the finest workmanship,exquisitely and intricately carved, but of a pattern antiquated and_demode_. We have never been able to sell them.
"Now see, I shall take those combs, and present myself at Fianti'swith a petition that I may see the Princess of Targona, mother ofPrince Felipe. For her I have a story that my husband was of Targona,and that the combs also come from that country. I shall offer them toHer Highness as a present from a humble and expatriated subject, andsay that my late husband refused to part with them out of patriotism,and, when everything else he possessed had to be sold, clung always tothe only objects he
had left to remind him of his beloved Targona. Itis quite probable that the Princess will be affected by this touchinghistory. She may even make me a present; but that is by the way. Whatis really of importance is that I should be left alone in one of theapartments occupied by the Royal party for a few minutes. If I canmanage that--and I think you may have confidence that I will do so--Ishall obtain some pieces of the Prince's notepaper on which his royaldevice or monogram is certainly engraved; at all events it will bearsome distinguishing mark, and it will go hard if a few sheets of it donot find their way into my bag.
"The next step will be easy. I shall issue from the hotel at a momentwhen I have ascertained, by peeping from a window, that Mrs. Vandersteinis on her balcony, where at a certain hour she very often goes to watersome flowers she has there. She will see me pass; and, as she is verycurious about all that goes on at Fianti's, she will remark on theincident. I shall tell her that I have been called by the Prince ofTargona, who has fallen madly in love with her at first sight. You maythink she will not believe this, but trust me to make it plausible;and she will be readier to credit such an idea than you imagine, forin the first place all beautiful women are ready to believe that theirattractions are irresistible--and she is beautiful, this Jewess, notunlike what I was myself when I was younger--and in the second place,Mrs. Vanderstein is of a nature romantic to the point of ridicule, andis always, I am convinced, fabricating for herself stories of heroes andprinces, with herself for the heroine of these fables.
"How do I know, you ask me? I tell you I know. I am a judge ofcharacter; I have an aptitude for that. Eh bien! I shall convince theJewess that she is adored by a reigning Prince, with frenzy, withdevotion, with passion; that he thinks of nothing but her; that he wouldput his hand in the fire for her sake, that he is ready to abdicate histhrone, to give up the government of his country. In short, that hewishes to marry her, and that if she will not listen to his addresseshe has nothing further to live for in this world. What is perhaps theweak point in my tale is the idea that Prince Felipe should have chosento make a confidante of myself, but, believe me, my dear Bert, I shallmake even that appear not unnatural, and, as a matter of fact, strangerthings are done every day. All this will take time, I do not know howlong--days, perhaps weeks. I must find out how long the Prince stays inLondon," added Madame Querterot, more to herself than to her companion.
It was the one thing she had forgotten.
"I shall write her letters on the Royal notepaper, and as she will sendthe answers by my hand, I shall know their contents and be able to replyto them without arousing any suspicions on her part. In his impassionedepistles the Prince will beg for an interview; he will lament theobstacles that prevent his seeing her either at the hotel or in her ownresidence, and he will finally, I am sure, persuade her to meet himfor the purpose of making his acquaintance, in a house which he willindicate.
"She will consent to all he proposes, or I am much mistaken. It is atthis point, my dear Bert, that your assistance becomes so indispensable.You are a house agent's clerk. I shall require a house; and it is youwho must take it for me, in an assumed name, of course, and without theknowledge of your employers."
"I don't see how that can ever be done," Bert objected.
They were still pacing slowly up and down the dingy street. A policemanat the corner of the road looked at them once or twice, decided theywere harmless, and ceased his attentions. The light in Julie's bedroomwas long since extinguished.
Madame Querterot cleared her throat and began again.
"There will be a gentleman from India, let us say," she resumed, "whowill call at the office at an hour when the two partners are out. Noone will regret this more than yourself, but in their absence you willdo your best to attend to the requirements of the gentleman from India.He will want a house, and he will want it immediately. He will desireto take it by the week and he will be ready to pay a large rent. He issomewhat eccentric, this gentleman, and dislikes meeting strangers.He will tell you to see about getting a charwoman to make the houseready for him, and he will settle then and there on the terms, on theday he is to take possession, and upon every necessary detail. Then,having signed the agreement, he will pay you the first week's rent inadvance--for which I will provide the money--and he will walk out of theoffice. You will tell Mr. Ennidge and Mr. Pring, when they return, aboutthe eccentric gentleman from India, and they will not be suspiciousabout him since there will be the money for the rent."
"Are you going to act being this gentleman you're talking about?" askedBert.
"No," replied Madame Querterot. "He will not exist at all; it is notnecessary that he should ever appear. But it may be very useful that heshould be thought to exist."
"Then who is to sign the lease?"
"You will do that," said the Frenchwoman, "you must begin at once topractise writing with your left hand. Choose a short name--we will callhim Mr. West--and write it over and over again many times on a sheet offoolscap, which you will always burn when you have covered it. Neverforget to burn it, Bert. You will find it quite easy in a few days, andit will not in the least resemble your own hand."
"I don't half like it," Bert commented.
"I promise you it will be all that is most simple. The Indian gentlemanwill ask you personally to meet him at the house on the day he takespossession, and he will tell you to be sure to come yourself, as hedislikes strangers and prefers not to do business with more than oneperson. So you will get the house ready for him and hand him the key andleave him in it. That is all the trouble there will be about the house.Not much to take, for the sake of gaining a fortune and a charming wife,you must admit? The Vanderstein will come to the house to meet PrinceFelipe. She will find us there, masked and unknown to her. We shallrelieve her of her jewels, which I shall have arranged that she willwear; Prince Felipe is so fond of jewellery, it is a perfect passionwith him to see women so adorned! So I shall tell her, and she will notfail to bedeck herself with them. When all is done she may return home;disappointed, I fear; but life is full of disillusions, and the blamewill rest on the eccentric Mr. West from India."
It was all very plausible. Bert could pick no holes in the plan. Hetried to offer one or two objections, but was quickly overruled, andfinally said good night and went home to bed committed to aid and abetMadame Querterot in her purpose to the best of his power.
All went well. Madame Querterot succeeded even beyond her expectations.The Vanderstein, as she called her, was all a flutter of excitement anddelight, and Madame Querterot related to Bert at great length and withhuge enjoyment the scene in which she had embarked upon the hoax, andthe easy gullibility of "la Juive."
"'Figure to yourself,' I said to her, 'that this morning I receive asummons to Fianti's from a lady in waiting on the Princess of Targona!What an honour! You can imagine my excitement! This lady used formerlyto stay much at her country's legation here, in London, and she was inthe habit of making herself _coiffee_ by that poor Eugene. So it appearsthat yesterday she sent for him; but, when they told her that the poordear was no longer on this earth, she had the amiability to seek meout, having heard of all our cruel misfortune, and asked that I shouldpresent myself in his place. To-day, therefore, I attended at the hotel,and had the pleasure of making the _coiffure_ of a charming lady. Maiselle est charmante, cette dame-la! But--and here follows the affair thatis of interest to you, madame--as I left the apartment of the lady inwaiting and was about to descend the staircase, a voice called me back,and, looking round, what was my surprise to perceive no less a personthan His Highness, Prince Felipe, who appeared to be beckoning to me tojoin him in a dark part of the passage.'
"Mrs. Vanderstein interrupted me with sparkling eyes. 'Do tell me,'she cried, 'the words that His Highness spoke to you! Sit down, MadameJustine, and tell me every single thing you can remember about it.' Idrew a chair close to the sofa where Mrs. Vanderstein was seated, andI continued my narrative in a confidential undertone. 'I could notimagine what it was that Prince Felipe had to say to
me, but I thoughtfor a moment that possibly his mother required my services, and I wasenchanted at the idea that perhaps I was this day to dress the hairof a Royal personage. But as soon as I drew near, the Prince began toask me questions of which at first I could not understand the purport.Soon, however, I comprehended. "You live in this street?" he asked."No, monsieur," I replied; "I live far from here." "But I saw you," hecried, "I am convinced that it was you I saw!" "When did Your Highnesssee me?" I inquired. I was indeed flattered that he should condescend torecognise me. "I saw you yesterday. You were looking out of the windowof a house opposite this hotel," said he positively. "Ah yes, monsieur,it is true. I was in the house of Mrs. Vanderstein, one of my clients,and we had the good fortune to see you drive past."
"'I began now to see why I was receiving the honour of this interview."Mrs. Vanderstein!" he exclaimed. "Is that then her name? But," headded, "there were two ladies. Which was Mrs. Vanderstein?" "The elderof the two, monsieur, the one whose hair is dark." "It is she," he said."Ah, how beautiful she is! In all my life I have never seen a face thatso haunts my memory. It is the face I have dreamed of all these years.But stay," cried he in a different tone and with a look of despair. "Youcall her Mrs. Vanderstein! Am I to understand then that she is married?No matter, her husband must perish! One of my gentlemen may engage himin a duel. These things can arrange themselves." Such were his words.Ah, madame! one sees that His Highness is not used to opposition.'
"The Vanderstein was transformed. Her eyes flashed with unaccustomedfires. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her breath came alittle quickly. I was astonished at the change. 'She looks ten yearsyounger,' I said to myself. 'Is it the massage that has had an effectafter all?' Aloud I continued my tale. 'I explained to the Prince thatMr. Vanderstein had saved him the trouble of arranging a duel. "Then,"cried he, "there is no obstacle! Except," he added in a different anddepressed tone, "the wishes of my mother, and of the government ofTargona. They are very decided that I must marry for reasons of state,but I have told them again and again that I will not do it. I willabdicate if they like, but I will never marry except in accordance withthe dictates of my heart. And my heart has never before been touched;so that I am sure now that there is but one woman in the world for me.But how am I to meet her? If anyone suspects my feelings, unimaginabledifficulties will be thrown in the way. And how can I ever win theaffections of the beautiful and adorable Mrs. Vanderstein, if I cannoteven imagine a means by which I may make her acquaintance? One thing,however, is sure. Without her I cannot live."
"'Ah, madame,' I said, 'if you could have seen the poor gentleman yourheart would have ached for him. On his face so sad an expression! He hadan air so miserable and disconsolate. One can see that he has a tendernature! In his despair he strode up and down the corridor, gesticulatingwith his hands, and rumpling his hair--which is fine like silk--bytearing at it with his fingers! Again and again he would clap his handto his forehead, or smite himself upon the breast, and, if he abstainedfrom bursting into actual tears, you may be sure it was because therigorous code, which forbids any public display of feeling in personsof Royal blood, would not allow him to show his emotion even in thepresence of so insignificant a person as myself. Ah, the poor young man.I, madame, I, whom he noticed as he would observe your looking-glass oryour boot-lace, felt myself ready to take him in my arms and to embraceand comfort him like a mother.'
"I paused for breath, and Mrs. Vanderstein cried: 'Oh, Madame Justine,is it really possible that he should feel like that after only seeing meonce, and that at a distance?' 'Love at first sight,' I replied, 'is nota thing of which one has never heard; and assuredly he is in love, thispoor Prince Felipe, or I do not know what love is. Several times againhe stopped in front of me, and cried out: "How, how am I to arouse herinterest, gain her respect, above all how can I win her heart, when Ihave no chance of making myself known to her? I cannot hope that shewill be attracted by my personal appearance. With one of her mental andspiritual superiority--as I can see at a glance--my rank and positionwill scarcely avail; it is, then, only by learning the depth andsincerity of my passion, only by realising the fond and tender qualityof my love for her, that she may in time be prevailed on to look notaltogether unfavourably upon my suit." And much more he said of the samekind. As for me, madame, I assured him I would, in a tactful way, conveyto you some hints as to the state of his feelings. He insisted that theyshould be no more than hints, fearing that you would be offended at hismaking of me a messenger; so if I have, in my sympathy, oversteppedthe bounds of discretion, you must judge the fault entirely my own andnot attribute it to any lack of manners on the part of the Prince. Hisintentions are of the most perfect correctness.
"'He questioned me closely as to your way of life, your opinions andhabits. "Ah," he cried, "I see we are made for one another, she andI. You say that she likes to surround herself with pictures, flowers,jewels, and the luxurious things of life. She is fond of music and ofthe arts. Now remark this! I am a collector of paintings and _objetsd'art_. I, too, adore music and roses. I, also, have a passion forprecious stones and personal adornment. Wherein do we differ? _Hein!_It is plain that we have the same tastes, that I shall be _sympathique_to her. Oh, we must meet! Somehow, somewhere I will arrange, if sheconsents, that we should meet. Not here. Impossible! Not at her house. Ishould feel my mother's eye on me. I could not escape observation if Imerely crossed the road. No, neither here nor there, but in some otherplace of which I will consider. In the meanwhile do you, with the utmostdelicacy, sound her feelings as regards myself, and prepare her for afurther expression of my own." I think, madame, that that is all thatpassed between us, but I am to return to Fianti's to-morrow and reportto him whether you appeared displeased.' It seemed that Mrs. Vandersteinwas not displeased. She spoke very little more, but I could see, by thehappy, excited air she wore under her assumed calm, that my words werehaving all the effect I could wish."
All this Madame Querterot retailed with many details to the interestedand amazed Bert, and each succeeding day she had new accounts of hercleverness and success to relate. She wrote impassioned, but eminently"correct" letters on the royal notepaper she had filched in accordancewith her plan, and carried them to Mrs. Vanderstein with a hidden,jeering smile at that lady's glad and confiding acceptance of theirauthenticity.
The night of the gala performance at the opera was fixed on for thedeed, and at their every meeting Madame Querterot repeated to Berther instructions as to the part played by the gentleman from India.She elaborated and filled in her first sketch of his character andbehaviour, till at last the young man almost believed in the realexistence of Mr. West, and certainly knew far more about him than aboutmost of the people with whom he was actually in daily contact, for,as a rule, he was unobservant to the last degree. She saw also to hislearning to write with his left hand, and he was able in a couple ofdays to do this to her satisfaction. By now Bert was as keen aboutthe project as she could have wished. An evening spent at his clubhad strengthened and confirmed his conviction that no one woman had aright to the exclusive enjoyment of so much wealth; and he was now wellassured that he would deserve nothing but commendation for trying toreadjust the scales. There were moments when, for the fraction of anotherwise optimistical second, he beheld a vision of Julie as she wouldlook at him if she ever heard of what was contemplated; and it was avision that caused in him a catching of the breath. But the idea for themost part only hovered in the background of his thoughts, so that, whilehe was always conscious of its neighbourhood, so to speak, he was ablewith an effort to turn away his mental eyes, and to avoid looking it inthe face; and it was then that he would seem to Madame Querterot mosteager, most impatient for the night to arrive.
The house in Scholefield Avenue was taken, and Messrs. Ennidge and Pringshowed themselves only mildly interested in the mythical Mr. West, andthat chiefly on account of his readiness to pay a high rent. Then adifficulty arose; and it was Bert, to his satisfaction and pride, whosuggested a way out of it.
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br /> Madame Querterot met him one evening with an expression of dismay shemade no attempt to conceal.
"There is after all something I have forgotten," she cried. "_Nom d'unnom!_ that I can have been so stupid, so idiot! Listen, it is this. TheJewess must drive from the opera to Scholefield Avenue. But in what? Itis impossible that she should go in her own automobile, and if she takesa taxi we are equally betrayed. _Aie, aie!_ what to do?"