A Fatal Dose. Fred M. White
was the most striking of the many striking personalities in the house.
“Who is she. Jack?” the first man in the stalls asked. “I don’t recollect ever seeing her before. Still, my two years in South Africa make a difference, of course. That woman is not a creature of yesterday, I am certain.”
“To be candid, my dear fellow, I can’t tell you much about her,” the second man said. “These people seem to arrive in a most extraordinary fashion. One day they are not so much as heard of, the next you have to confess yourself out of it if you don’t know Mrs. this or Madam that. All I know is that the lady in the box calls herself Marsh—Mrs. Eleanor Marsh. She is understood to be the widow of a rich Virginian of good family, and she floats on the very crest of the wave. She was introduced into Society by the Duchess of Daventry, which ought to be good enough for a humble individual like myself.”
“She certainly looks a thoroughbred,” the first man went on. “I never saw a woman carry herself with a more superb air, and yet there is something about her a little suggestive of the hawk—you know what I mean.”
“Say, rather, of the falcon,” the other man laughed. “No, I can’t introduce you to her because I have not the pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance. Your old chum, Philip Hardy, is the most likely man to apply to. They are great chums, and I should not wonder if Hardy married her.”
“What has Philip got to live upon, then?”
“Oh, haven’t you heard? But I forgot you have been outside the pale of civilization for two years. Phil’s uncle Raymond and his two sons came to grief in a yachting accident last September, and naturally our lucky friend dropped in for the Raymond share of the business. He is quite a rich man now, and a very big catch. But I am rather sorry to see him mixed up with the fair Eleanor Marsh. There is something about her I do not like, though I could not explain what it is.”
“I think I understand,” the other said. “But what has become of Lena Grey? In the old days we always thought that Phil and Lena would make a match of it.”
“It is just a toss up,” the first speaker said. “Between ourselves, if Philip Hardy gives Lena the cold shoulder now he will be treating her very badly. Last night, however, I heard that everything was going smoothly once more. And, by Jove, there they are in the second row of the stalls. How happy the little girl looks. I should be very sorry if anything happened to give her pain.”
Apparently the brilliant creature in the box had also made out the figures of Philip Hardy and Lena Grey in the stalls. For a moment a frown contracted her brows, then her face resumed its serenity. Presently the curtain fell for the last time, the actor made the inevitable speech, and the gay audience began to file out. In the vestibule, Philip Hardy awaited his carriage. By his side stood Lena Grey, her pretty face smiling and happy under the silk hood. By-and-bye a magnificent creature, with a gorgeous opera cloak, swooped down upon them and held out her hand.
“This is Mrs. Marsh,” Hardy exclaimed. “A wonderfully successful evening, don’t you think?”
“Very,” Mrs. Marsh responded. “Now, don’t forget that you have promised to come round to my little supper party to-night. I cannot believe that I am so soon forgotten.”
A shade of sadness came over the face of Lena Grey, though the look of happiness was not quite dimmed in her eyes. On the contrary, her companion seemed to be pleased about something.
“What do you take me for?” he laughed. “I should be less than mortal had I overlooked an honour like that; but you will forgive me if I do not stay long. I have promised to see Miss Grey as far as Mrs. Marryat’s reception, and then to take her on to Lexington House. It isn’t much good going to Lexington House for the next hour or more,”
“That will fit in beautifully with my arrangements,” Mrs. Marsh said, “seeing that I myself am going to the big function. I have told my guests that the supper party must be over by one o’clock; therefore, I shall expect to see you at Courtville Square before mid-night.”
With a bow and a flashing smile, Mrs. Marsh swept on to her electric brougham, which was standing awaiting her in front of the portico. She was one of those fortunate women who never appear to have to wait for anything. Unconsciously, everybody gave way to her, and no one seemed inclined to quarrel with the fact that her conveyance blocked the way. A distinguished general gave her his arm, rejoiced to be able to do this brilliant creature even so small a service. Her voice floated high and gay as she thanked him; humbler people turned and nudged one another, and whispered that this was the rich and famous Mrs. Marsh whom Society delighted to honour.
Nevertheless, the smile faded from her face, and her features became harsh and almost haggard as she lounged back in the shadow. She wondered what all her superficial friends would say if they knew the truth. She had had her enemies, too, but these she had conquered by sheer force of character. Two years ago she had been unknown to the great world of London, and now she had reached the top of the shimmering flood by sheer fascination and audacity. Yet “All that glitters is not gold,” and this brilliant creature was dross to the core.
“Not that they need ever know,” she told herself cynically, “what a sham and a fraud it all is. Here am I, posing as a woman of wealth, when I am up to my eyes in debt and difficulty, when even the bare necessaries of life are paid for by a fraud. And that little wretch of a Monkwell knows it, too. I could see that by the insolent familiarity of his manner yesterday. Why could not I have left him alone? Why did I pretend to him that he had found a soft spot in my heart? Well, it is all done now and cannot be helped. At any rate, I must get out of Monkwell’s power as soon as possible. If I could only lay my hands upon those diamonds of Philip Hardy’s! If I could only have anticipated events by a few hours! I can see clearly what has happened. Hardy has thought fit to do his obvious duty and has already proposed to Lena Grey, or I am altogether mistaken. The symptoms in her face to-night were too eloquent to admit of any doubt. I am very sorry; I don’t want to trample upon the poor girl’s feelings, but seeing that she has come between me and my interests, she must go. It will involve deceit and fraud, I know, but in this cruel world of ours the weak must always go to the wall. Within a week from now the world must know that I am the affianced wife of Philip Hardy, and then I need have no more fear of creditors. With a husband like that—rich, clever, and ambitious—there is no telling how far one might go. It is no use worrying about it any more now. I have more important matters to occupy my attention.”
The brougham drew up before the imposing set of mansions where Eleanor Marsh had her flat. The trimmest of French maids awaited her in the hall. A discreet, inscrutable-looking butler came forward and desired to know if his mistress would care to look at the supper table before she changed her dress.
“My good Robert—of course I can leave everything to you,” she said with a smile. Like most women of her class, she always commanded the full loyalty of her servants. “You have never made a mistake yet, and I am sure you are not going to make one now. I must go and change my dress at once.”
A magnificent costume, the latest creation of a confiding French modiste, lay in all its tinsel glory on the bed. Presently, Eleanor Marsh stood admiring herself before the long cheval glass, conscious that she never looked better in her life.
“Madame is superb,” the maid said. “She is arrayed for conquest.”
“Yes,” Eleanor smiled. “The conquest of my life.”
II. — PLAYING THE FISH
“FORTUNE favours the brave” was a maxim that Eleanor Marsh had acted on all her life, generally with distinct success. This audacity, in the course of three or four years, had dragged her from the obscurity of a country gamekeeper’s cottage to a small situation in town, and afterwards she acquired further knowledge of life in a West End tobacconist’s shop. Always clever and imitative, and a consummate actress, she had had some opportunity here of learning of the ways of Society.