Royal Amethyst/Chapter 5

out into the sunlit streets with a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions making riot in my brain. The clock of the church on Paddington Green struck six. It was not yet five hours since my adventure at Frascati's, and since then event had followed upon event with such rapidity that everything seemed unreal and unnatural.

The thirty-three years of life that lay behind me had never held a day so fully charged with surprises as this. In the morning I had gone without breakfast, and had searched my pockets in vain for a stray copper. I had been turned out by a long-suffering landlady, and had sold my last effects for a few shillings. In despair I had proposed to spend the greater part of my scanty funds in luxurious eating and drinking. Well, if my landlady had not turned me out, I should not have sold all that was left to me; if I had not realized seventeen shillings and sixpence, I should never have gone to Frascati's; if I had not gone to Frascati's, I should not have met Nancy Flynn; and if I had not met Nancy—well, I should not have been engaged in a strange adventure.

Nancy Flynn! How this meeting with her had brought back the atmosphere of the days that had seemed so far off, so utterly lost—the days when I was as simple-hearted as a schoolboy! All the sights and sounds of the shabby little house had come back—Aloysius Flynn, in his threadbare coat; Nancy in her black dress and white pinafore, both always too short for her. Nancy was still the same, although she was now Miss Selma St. Clair, a prima donna of established renown, rich and famous and surrounded by luxury; and she had known me again, though I had not known her.

Besides these thoughts of my old friend, the dark-eyed, gawky child who had grown into a beautiful woman, and had brought all the genius of her father to full flower in the perfection of her own voice, there crowded in upon me thoughts of the woman into whose service I had so strangely entered.

I had begun this adventure in a somewhat cynical, mocking spirit. For the sake of old times—especially after having confessed my misdeeds to her—I would do what I could for Nancy, and through her for her friend; but in the latter's fortunes I felt no interest. This feeling clung to me until Amirel of Amavia appeared, and then it had vanished as if it had never been. For here was a woman, the mere sight of whom had roused instincts and feelings of which I had never thought myself capable of.

I had plunged into all manner of vices and follies before I had really attained manhood. I had been obliged to change from one regiment to another because of my misconduct. I had received sorrowful expostulations and severe sermons from a long-suffering colonel, and had profited by neither. Finally I had turned up drunk on parade, and soon afterward I had learned, in common with the rest of the world, that her majesty had no further need of my services. Since then steadily gone down hill—with the saving grace that I had taught myself not to drink, and had given up gambling. It was a pretty thing, I said to myself, that I should be the traveling companion and personal guardian of such a woman as the Princess Amirel!

But this, after all, was no time for sentiment, or for thought about one's self—it was a time for action. I stood in the Edgware Road for a moment, rapidly revolving matters. Then I climbed upon an omnibus which was going toward Victoria, and rode as far as Stanhope Gate. There was a man living in Stanhope Street whom I wished to see. I had visited him three days before, hoping to borrow five pounds from him, and had met with a curt refusal. I now proposed to visit him again on a somewhat similar errand.

I walked into his rooms unannounced.

“Oh, I say!” he blurted out, before I could speak. “I call this too bad, you know, Hanmer—too bad, upon my word! I told you the other day that I couldn't do anything for you.”

I held up my hand.

“Look here, Prestwick,” I said. “I've got a job.” I drew forth Nancy's hundred pounds. “That's my employer's money.” I put the case and its contents back into my pocket, and with the other hand I produced my own capital. “You see that, too,” I said, holding it in front of his nose. “That's mine—all I've got in the world—four shillings and fourpence. I've just expended twopence on a bus.”

“Well?” he said, puzzled. “What then?”

“Lend me a tweed suit—an old one will do—half a dozen shirts, and a razor.”

He looked at me for a second in something like amazement.

“With pleasure, old chap!” he said suddenly. “You'll want a bag, too,” he added. “Take that—it's had the newness worn off it.”

I packed the bag with the articles I required, and we went back to the sitting room. He looked at me curiously.

“It strikes me,” he said slowly and ruminatively, “that this—excuse me, old chap—looks like turning over a new leaf. Look here—will you let me lend you some money?”

“No, thanks,” I answered. “Four shillings will serve me for pocket money for some time.”

“Well, have a drink,” he said.

“No, thanks—not even a drink. Good-by, Prestwick, and thank you. I hope your man puts saddles in the shirts?”

“Best man in London,” he responded. “Well, good-by, Hanmer, and good luck. Look me up when you're in town again, will you?”

Then he shook hands with me for the first time in three years, and I went away, carrying the bag; but before I reached the street I turned back and again climbed the stairs to Prestwick's rooms. He was just coming out of his door as I reached the landing.

“There's one thing more,” I panted. “Lend me a revolver—one that I can depend upon. I can't afford to buy one, you know.”

He turned back in silence, switched on the electric light, unlocked a drawer, and pointed to several weapons on a velvet pad. I looked them over, selected a Smith & Wesson, loaded it carefully, took a handful of cartridges, thanked him, and went away, fully provided for.

This episode had occupied my precious time, and I was obliged to begin spending Nancy's money by taking a hansom to Euston. I had to keep it, too, while I made arrangements, and the man had to drive hard to get me back to the flat by eight o'clock; but I got there to the minute, ready to begin my duties.

Nancy, or her paragon maid, or both, had everything in readiness when I reached the flat, and the trunks were already being placed in a cab at the door. Close by waited a brougham. I found Nancy and the princess attired for their journey and awaiting me in the study, and I immediately asked the question that was uppermost in my thoughts.

“Your jewels, princess?”

She revealed the leather satchel strapped about her waist and shoulders.

“Quite safe, Mr. Hanmer,” she replied.

We went downstairs, Nancy lingering on her threshold to give some parting orders to her small household. The princess and I had reached the sidewalk when I suddenly noticed the absence of Patty Moore, the maid.

“Where is your maid?” I inquired, as Nancy joined us.

“She will meet us at Euston. The poor girl has some relation living near by who is very ill, and she asked permission to run over for an hour,” said Nancy unconcernedly. “We shall find her at the station.”

There were no signs of Patty, however, when we arrived at the train platform. I walked along the train in fruitless search of her; but when I rejoined Nancy and the princess, the girl had just arrived, and was explaining breathlessly that she couldn't get a hansom and had had to run part of the way. Recovering her breath, she took charge of trunks and luggage and marshaled Nancy and the princess to the compartment which I indicated.

I had made arrangements for our railway journey with a view to keeping the princess and her jewels under my own strict surveillance. I reserved three places in a first-class compartment of a corridor car and one place in an adjoining second-class compartment. Next to where the three seats were reserved was a smoking compartment, in case I wanted to smoke.

It was still ten minutes from starting time when the princess and Nancy took their seats. I stood on the platform, looking about me. As I stared idly at the people who came along, Nancy bent toward me from the open door.

“Cosmo!”

I looked up. She was holding out to me a massive silver cigar case.

“That was the last thing I gave my father,” she said. “I wish you to have it—from him. Open it, and tell me if the cigars are good.”

I put the case in my pocket unopened.

Then I remembered that I had no matches, and I hurried down the platform to get some. I had scarcely taken two steps when I was almost knocked over by an excited little individual who was carrying a square knapsack on his shoulders, a painter's canvas under his arm, a Gladstone bag in one hand, and a huge umbrella in the other. His general appearance and attire suggested the species of art cultivated by spectacled young gentlemen who wear long hair, velveteen coats, and enormous ties. He was loudly demanding a seat in a second-class car with his back to the engine, and as he kept dropping his property it required several men to get him safely settled. It happened that his seat was in the compartment in which I had already secured a place for Patty Moore.

I had got my matches, and was walking back, when I caught sight of the tall man whom I had seen reading the names of the tenants in the hall of Nancy's flat. He was strolling alongside the train and looking into every compartment. When he came to the one in which Nancy and the princess were sitting, he paused momentarily as he saw the latter. We met face to face, and I saw that our recognition was mutual.