"Grimshaw"s just gone out."
"You are quite sure he"s gone?
"Certainly. He just now pa.s.sed me."
"Thank you. I--I was afraid he might be waiting down below."
He continued sneaking down the stairs, as if a weight had been taken off his mind. I had expected better things of Crookshanks. But perhaps those three girls of his have knocked the heart all out of him.
Unannounced I entered the Princess Margaretta"s sitting-room. I wanted to take her unawares. I took her unawares. Quite a dramatic little scene seemed to be taking place within. Old Douglas and Mr Macbride appeared to be indulging in that kind of conversation in which one does not care to indulge in the presence of a lady.
When the Princess saw who had come in with me, she came dashing forward. She gave a little cry of joy.
"Oh, Jimmy!" She actually threw herself upon his breast in the presence of us all. "You dear, I"m so glad you"ve come. I"m tired to death of being the Princess Margaretta."
The little grocer seemed to be as happy as a king when he had her in his arms, as though he asked for nothing more.
Macbride declared that he had suspected something of the truth all through. But I doubt it. She had been "playing" at being the Princess Margaretta--to think of that minx"s brazen impudence! Every one got back his own again. I even got back the contents of my purse. But when he was presented with the bill at the hotel that grocer must have stared.
To my mind Beachington has never been the same since the incident of the Princess Margaretta.
IX
THE END OF HIS HOLIDAY
CHAPTER I
"That"s a fine girl!"
The lady thus tersely referred to by Mr Harry Davison was followed into the room by a gentleman who was as noticeable as herself. As they searched for a vacant seat they were attended by the glances of the breakfasters. Chance had it that they found an unoccupied table which was close to that at which Mr Davison was seated. Mr Lintorn finished his breakfast, eating it steadily through, while Mr Davison, eating nothing, stared at the lady. Having discussed the meal, Mr Lintorn, fitting his eyegla.s.s into its place, eyed the new-comers.
"I thought so."
"Thought what?"
Mr Lintorn paused before replying. He rose from his chair. An odd smile was on his face.
"They"re some people I knew in the Riviera."
With a little nod to his friend, he moved towards the new arrivals.
Left alone, Mr Davison observed Mr Lintorn"s proceedings with surprise. He thought he perceived that that gentleman was not received with too effusive a welcome. It pleased Mr Davison to perceive it. But Mr Lintorn seemed in no way discomposed. Breakfasters finished and rose and went, but he stayed on. Mr Davison stayed too. He got up at last and began to walk about the room, lingering once or twice in the vicinity of the little table. Still Mr Lintorn declined to take the hint. In the end he had the courage of despair.
"Er, excuse me, Lintorn: er--"
There he ceased. He was Nottinghamshire born and bred, a handsome, sunny-faced lad scarcely out of his teens, with the flush of health upon his cheeks; but a.s.surance was not his strongest point. Scarcely had he opened his mouth than he was overwhelmed by the fear that he was making an a.s.s of himself. He became a ruby. Then the young lady did an extraordinary thing; she helped him over the stile.
"Mr Lintorn," she spoke English with quite a charming accent, "will you not permit us to know your friend?"
It was said with such a pretty little air that the request was robbed of singularity. Mr Lintorn, to whom, indeed, the proposition seemed a little unexpected, acceded to the lady"s wishes.
"M. de Fontanes, Mdlle. de Fontanes, permit me to introduce to you Mr Davison."
Mr Davison"s awkwardness continued, although the lady was so gracious.
Perhaps her exceeding graciousness only increased his sense of awkwardness; it is so with some of us when the gra.s.s is green. They left the hotel together, this quartet; together they even wandered on the sands. Behind, the old gentleman with Mr Lintorn; in front, mademoiselle with Mr Davison. Under these circ.u.mstances, despite his awkwardness, Mr Davison seemed to enjoy himself, for when they parted he turned to Mr Lintorn.
"Lintorn, she"s a G.o.ddess!"
Mr Lintorn, through his eyegla.s.s, surveyed his friend. Then he lit a cigarette. Then he pointed to a lady, who could boast of some sixteen stone of solid figure.
"Another G.o.ddess," he observed.
"That monstrosity!"
"Perhaps some people do prefer them lean."
"Lean? You call Mdlle. de Fontanes lean? Why, she"s as graceful as a sylph!"
"I shouldn"t be surprised. What is a sylph?"
"Did you see such eyes?"
"Yes; often."
"Where?"
"In other people"s heads."
"Lintorn, you"re a brute!"
On that they parted. They joined forces again at dinner. Afterwards they went to the Casino. There was a little ball that night. The place was crowded. M. de Fontanes and his daughter were there. Mdlle. de Fontanes behaved towards Mr Davison like an old-time friend. She danced with him, not once nor twice, but three times running; and, oddly enough, between the dances they lost her father. Looking for him occupied a considerable amount of time; and still they could not find him. At the end of the search the young lady was compelled to seat herself while Mr Davison procured her an ice. As he was engaged in doing so, someone touched him on the shoulder. It was Mr Lintorn.
"Take care," he said, his hand upon the other"s arm.
"What do you mean?" asked Mr Davison. He was heated with pleasure and excitement. Mr Lintorn eyed him fixedly.
"Take care; you"re spilling that ice."
The fact was correctly stated. Mr Davison was holding the plate in such a manner that the half-melted ma.s.s was dripping over the edge.
Still it was scarcely necessary to stop him in order to tell him that; the more especially as it was the stoppage which was the cause of the ice being spilt.
Mr Davison saw Mdlle. de Fontanes home. Under the circ.u.mstances he could scarcely help it. When a lady is alone--we need not lay stress on such incidentals as youth and beauty--where is the man who would not proffer her his escort through the perils of the midnight streets?
The night was fine, the breeze was warm; they lingered first in the gardens of the _etabliss.e.m.e.nt_ to look upon the sea. Then they strolled gently through the Boulogne streets. They had told each other tales--unspoken tales--by the time they reached the Rue des Anges, but perhaps she understood his tale better than he did hers.
The lady paused. She addressed her cavalier,--