C. N. Williamson & A. N. Williamson: 30+ Murder Mysteries & Adventure Novels (Illustrated). Charles Norris Williamson
"If you don't know already, I mean where you're concerned."
"You're very kind to me."
"Kind? Yes, I am very 'kind.' A man has to be abnormally 'kind' to want to look after a girl like you."
"How bitterly you speak!" I exclaimed, hardly understanding him.
"I feel bitter sometimes. Do you wonder? But for heaven's sake, don't let's talk of me. Let's talk of something pleasant. Would you care to do a little sight-seeing in Clermont-Ferrand, if your shopping doesn't take us too long?"
I assured him that it would not take ten minutes; and it didn't take more. I saved a franc on the transaction, too, which would console her ladyship if I got back a few minutes late; and with that thought in my mind, I abandoned myself to the joy of the expedition. We went to the Petrifying Fountain, and inspected its strange menagerie of stone animals; we made a dash into the Cathedral where St. Louis was married, and looked at the beautiful thirteenth-century glass in the windows, and the strange frescoes; we rushed in and out of Notre Dame du Port, stopping on the way in the Place where the first Crusade was proclaimed, and to gaze at the house and statue of Pascal. Jack would squander some of his extremely hard earned money on a box of the burnt almonds for which Clermont-Ferrand is celebrated; and when we had seen everything I dared stop to see, he ran the car to Montferrand, to show me some ancient and wonderful houses, famous all over France. Eventually he threatened to spin me out to Royat, but I pleaded the certainty that Lady Turnour would wish to change into her smartest tea-gown for "feef oclocky" and that I must be there to assist at the ceremony.
So we turned castleward, with all the speed the law allows, if not a little more; and I arrived with a pair of red stockings, cheap high-heeled slippers, a franc in change, and a queer presentiment of dangerous things to happen.
Chapter XXVIII
Although a good many neighbours were coming to the Château de Roquemartine to look on at the servants' ball, they were all to drive or motor over in their ordinary dinner dress; it was only the servants themselves who were to "make toilettes."
Lady Turnour, however, who regretted having missed the smart ball for the great world, given a few nights before, determined that people should be forced to appreciate her wealth and position; and the wardrobe of Solomon in all his glory could hardly have produced anything to exceed her gold tissue, diamanté.
When I had squeezed, and poked, and pushed her into it, and was bejewelling her, Sir Samuel came, as usual, to have his white cravat tied by me. Bertie, too, appeared, dressed for dinner, and watched me with silent amusement as I performed my evening duty for his stepfather.
"Pretty gorgeous, aren't you?" he remarked to Lady Turnour; but she was flattered rather than annoyed by the criticism, and sailed away good-natured, leaving me to gather up the few jewels of her collection which she had discarded. Lately I had been trusted with her treasures, and felt the responsibility disagreeably, especially as my mistress—when she remembered it—counted everything ostentatiously over, after relieving me of my charge.
To-night I had just begun picking up the brooches, bracelets, diamond stars, coronets and bursting suns which illuminated the dressing-table firmament, when Bertie walked in again, through the door that he had left ajar.
"I came back because my necktie's a failure," said he. "My man must be in love, I should think. Probably with you! Anyhow, something's the matter; his fingers are all thumbs. But you turned out my old governor rippin'ly. You'll do me, won't you?"
As he spoke, he untied his cravat, and produced another.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know how to do that kind of tie."
"What—what?" he stared. "It's just the same as the governor's—only a little better. Come along, there's a dear." He had pushed the door to; now he shut it.
I walked to the other end of the room, and began folding a blouse. "You'd better give your valet another trial," I said. "I'm not a valet. I'm Lady Turnour's maid."
"She's in luck to get you."
"I'm engaged to wait upon her."
"You are stiff! You do the governor's tie."
"Sir Samuel's very kind to me."
"Well, I'll be kind, too. I'd like nothing better. I'll be a lot kinder than he'd dare to be. I say, I've got a present for you—something rippin', that you'll like. You can wear it at the ball to-night, but you'd better not tell anyone who gave it to you—what? You shall have it for tyin' my necktie. Now, don't you call that 'kind'?"
I stopped folding the blouse, and increased my height by at least an inch. "No," I said, "I call it impertinent, and I shall be obliged if you will leave Lady Turnour's room. That's the only thing you can do for me."
"By Jove!" said Bertie. "What theatre were you at before you took to lady's maidin'?"
To this I deigned no answer.
"Anyhow, you're a rippin' little actress."
Silence.
"And a pretty girl. As pretty as they make 'em."
I invented a new kind of sigh, a cross between a snarl and a moan.
"Tell me, what's the mystery? There is a mystery about you, you know. Not a bit of good tryin' to deceive me.... You might as well own up. I can keep a secret as well as the next one."
A tapping of my foot. A slamming of a wardrobe door, which was able to squeak furiously without loss of dignity.
"What were you before my lady took you on?... Look here, if you don't answer, I shall begin to think the secret's got to do with those." And he pointed to the dressing table, where the jewels still lay. He even put out his hand and took up the bursting sun. (How I sympathized with it for bursting!) "Worth somethin'—what?"
"You can think whatever you like," I flashed at him, "if only you'll go out of this room."
"Pity your chauffeur isn't at hand for you to run to," Bertie half sneered, half laughed, for he was keeping his hateful, teasing good nature. "And by the way, talkin' of him, since you're such a little prude, I'll just warn you in a friendly way to look out for that chap. You don't know his history—what? I'm sure the governor doesn't."
"Sir Samuel knows he can drive, and that he's a gentleman," said I, with meaning emphasis.
"Well, I've warned you," replied Bertie, injured. "You may see which one of us is really your friend, before you're out of this galley. But if you want to be a good and happy little girl, you'd best be nice to me. I shall find out all about you, you know."
That was his exit speech; and the only way in which I could adequately express my opinion of it was to bang the door on his back.
The ball was in a huge vault of a room which had once been a granary. The stone floor had been worn smooth by many feet and several centuries, and the blank gray walls were brightened with drapery of flags, yards of coloured cotton, paper flowers and evergreens, arranged with an effect which none save Latin hands could have given. Dinner above and below stairs was early, and before ten the guests began to assemble in the ballroom. All the servant-world had dined in ball costume, excepting Jack and myself, and it was only at the last minute that the cricket hopped upstairs and wriggled into its neatly reduced lobster shell.
I had visions of my brother lurking gloomily yet observantly in obscure corners, ready at any moment for a sortie in my defence; but when I sneaked, sidled, and slid into the ballroom, making myself as small as possible that I might pass unobserved in spite of my sensational redness, I had a surprise. Near the door stood the chauffeur in evening dress, out-princing and out-duking every prince and duke among the Marquise de Roquemartine's guests. And I, who hadn't even