Lady Maude's Mania

“May – may I have ’em, Tom, my boy?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, old gentleman,” said Tom. “Mamma really is ill now, and won’t interfere, and if it gives you a few twinges of the gout, hang it all, it will be a counter irritant.”

This was after Lady Barmouth had been assisted off to bed.

“Hold up, my little lassie,” Tom said, pressing Tryphie’s hand. “Hang me if you aren’t the only one left with a head upon your shoulders. You must help me all you can.”

“I will, Tom,” she said, returning the pressure; and he felt that any one else’s pretensions from that moment were cast to the winds.

“One moment,” whispered Tom, as Lady Barmouth was moaning on the stairs, half-way up the first flight of which she was seated, with her head resting on Justine’s shoulder. “You think there’s no mistake – Maude has bolted?”

“Yes, I have been to her room, and she has taken her little Russia bag.”

“But you don’t believe this absurd nonsense that they have got hold of?”

“I can’t, Tom,” she said; “but she has been very strange in her ways for some time past.”

“Enough to make her,” said Tom. “The old lady would drive me mad if she had her own way with me. There, be off and get her upstairs to bed while I see what’s to be done.”

Tryphie went up, and Tom entered the dining-room, developing an amount of firmness and authority that startled the butler into a state of abnormal activity.

“Now, Robbins,” he said, “look here: of course you know this absurd statement that has been going round the house, and that it’s all nonsense.”

“Well, my lord,” said, the butler, “Lady Maude has encouraged that sort of man about the place lately.”

“Confound you for a big pompous, out-of-livery fool!” cried Tom, bringing his hand down with a crash upon the table. “There, fetch all the servants in, quick.”

Robbins stared, and felt disposed to give notice to leave upon the spot, but Tom’s way mastered him, and, feeling “all of a work,” as he confided afterwards to the cook, he hurried out, and soon after the whole staff was assembled in the dining-room, Justine having been fetched from her ladyship’s side.

“Now then,” cried Tom, opening his informal court. “Who knows anything about this?”

“Please, m’lord,” said Henry, the snub-nosed little foot page, florid with buttons, and fat from stolen sweets, “I see a man playing the organ outside to-night.”

“So you did yesterday, and the day before.”

“Yes, m’lord,” said the boy, eagerly; “and I heard somebody go out.”

“Did you?” said Tom, politely. “Now, look here, my boy! If you dare to open that mouth of yours and get chattering to people this monstrous piece of nonsense, I’ll – I’ll, hang me, I’ll cut your ears off.”

The boy ducked and held one arm up, as if he expected to be attacked at once, and ended by taking refuge behind his best friend and greatest enemy – to wit, the cook.

“Speak, some of you, will you?” cried Tom. “Did any one see my sister go out?”

“If you please, my lord,” said the housemaid, “if I may make so bold – ”

“Yes,” said Tom, with sarcastic politeness, “you may make so bold. Now go on.”

“Well, I’m sure,” muttered the woman. “Well, my lord, I was going upstairs to-night, and I heard my young mistress sobbing bitterly in her room.”

“Well,” said Tom, “and you stopped to listen.”

“Which I wouldn’t bemean myself to do anything of the kind,” said the woman with a toss of the head; “but certainly she was crying, and soon after I was a-leaning out of the second floor window, it being very ’ot indoors, as we’ve been a good deal ’arrissed lately by her ladyship.”

“Go on,” cried Tom, impatiently.

“Which I am, my lord, as fast as I can,” cried the woman; “and there was that tall handsome Italian gentleman, as cook thinks is a furrin’ nobleman in disguise, playing on his hinstrument.”

“Yes,” said Tom, sarcastically.

“And all of a sudden he stops, and I see him go into the portico.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Tom.

“And then there was a lot of whispering.”

“Yes, yes,” said Tom; “oh, yes, of course.”

“And that’s all, my lord, only my young mistress wasn’t in the room when I came back.”

“Now then, all of you,” cried Tom, “once for all, this absurd rumour is one of the most ridiculous – What’s that you say?” he cried sharply, as he heard a whisper.

“I was saying to Ma’amselle Justine that my young lady was always encouraging them men about, my lord,” said the housemaid, “and that if I’d been one of the spying sort I might have seen her.”

“Poor thing,” said the cook, loudly. “She has been drove to it. I have a heart of my own.”

“Silence!” roared Tom. “How dare you? Here, has any one else got anything to say? You? Oh yes, you are my sister’s maid.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Dolly Preen, spitefully.

“Well, what do you know?”

“I know that my mistress was always listening at first to that dreadful Italian,” said Dolly.

“No, no – you, you,” cried Justine.

“I fought against it, and mastered it,” said Dolly proudly; “Lady Maude found it too much, I suppose.”

“Well, I never!” ejaculated Mrs Downes.

“Go on,” cried Tom.

“And then she got to dropping notes to him out of the window, my lord.”

“It isn’t true,” cried Tom. “Woman, you ought to be turned out of the house.”

“Oh, it’s true, though,” said Mrs Downes.

“Silence, you silly old meat murdress,” raged Tom.

“Meat what?” cried the cook. “There are times, my lord, when one must speak. I’ve seen a deal in my time, and there’s no doubt about it. We’re all very sorry for you, but we all knows that my young lady’s been drove to go away with that dark young man.”

“It is not true,” said a sharp voice; and Justine stepped forward to the table, with her dark eyes flashing, her white teeth set, so that she cut the words as they came through, and in her excitement and championship of her young mistress becoming exceedingly French. “I say it is not true. You canaille you, vis your silly talk about ze organiste. It is all a lie – a great lie to say such vicked, cruel thing of my dear young lady. Ah, bah! that for you all,” she cried, snapping her fingers, “you big silly fool, all the whole. What, my young mistress go to degrade herself vis one evasion, comme ça! She could it not do. Sare, I am angry – it make me folle to hear you talk. I say it is not true.”

“Damme, you’re a trump, Justine,” cried Tom, excitedly, as he caught her hand and wrung it. “You are right. She would not degrade herself like that.”

“They are so stupide.”

“Yes,” cried Tom; “and mind this – any one who dares to put about such a disgraceful scandal – hallo! who’s this?”

There was a loud ring just then, and the butler looked in a scared way at Tom.

“Well, go and open it,” he said.

The next minute there were voices and steps heard in the hall, and directly after Sir Grantley Wilters came in, followed by a policeman, and a ragged, dirty looking little man, whose toes peeped out in rows from his boots, and who held in his hand a very battered brimless hat, which he kept rubbing when he was not engaged in pulling his forelock to first one servant and then another.

“Oh, here you are,” said Tom, sharply, as the baronet advanced. “She’s gone off with Melton, hasn’t she?”

“N-no,” said the bridegroom elect, dejectedly. “I believe it’s as they say.”

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for,” said Tom, sharply. “Now then, what do you know about it?” he cried to the policeman. “But stop a moment. Here, the whole pack of you, clear out. And mind this – Mademoiselle Justine is right. Thank you, Justine. Go to her ladyship now. I shan’t forget this.”

The Frenchwoman bowed and smiled, and drew her skirts aside as she swept out of the room, while the rest of the servants shuffled out in an awkward fashion, as if every one was eager not to be the last.

“Now then,” cried Tom to the policeman, as the baronet went to the chimney-piece to rest his head upon his hand, “why are you come?”

“This gentleman, sir,” said the constable, nodding his head at Sir Grantley, “asked me to take up the case. Been investigating, and I’ve got some evidence.”

“What is it?” cried Tom.

The constable led the way into the hall, where there was a rush, for the servants had been standing gazing at something near the door.

“Well?” said Tom.

“Thought I’d take a look round, sir,” said the constable, “to see if there was anything in the way of a clue, and I found this.”

He pointed to an oblong chest, covered with green baize, and with a couple of broad leather straps across it.

“Well, it’s an organ,” said Tom.

“Yes, sir,” said the constable nodding. “That’s just about what it is.”

Tom stared at the man, and the man stared at Tom, and then they returned to the dining-room.

“Where was it?” said Tom shortly.

“Just underneath the area steps, sir, close agin the dust-bin,” said the constable.

“Ought to have been in it,” cried Tom, sharply. “Now, who’s this fellow?”

The ragged man, who had been standing on one leg with the foot of the other against his knee, looking like a dilapidated crane, put his foot down and began to make tugs at his hair.

“Beg parding, sir, on’y a poor man, sir. Been pickin’ up a job or two, fetching up kebs and kerridges, sir – party, sir, over at three ’undred and nine, sir. I was a waitin’ about afore the swells began to come, when I sees a big tall man a-hangin’ about, lookin’ as if there was something on, so I goes into the doorway lower down and watches on him.”

“Had he got an organ with him?” said Tom excitedly.

“I heerd one a-playin’ just before, sir, and then I see him a-leaning agin the hairy railings, and arter a bit he seemed to chuck somethin’ up agin the winder and then walks off.”

“Well, go on, my man,” said Tom, eagerly.

“Then I didn’t think no more on it, sir, till all at once I sees a hansom come up and stop at the corner, and this same chap gets out, and that made me feel wild-like and take notice, ’cause it seemed as if I ought to have looked out sharper, and got the job.”

“All right; go on,” cried Tom.

“Well, sir, then he goes away and the keb waits and he walks by this here house, and begins whistling this chune as I’ve often heerd them orgin grinders play.”

The man sucked in his cheeks, and whistled three or four bars of the prison song in Trovatore.

“Then, as I kep my hye on him, I sees the front door open quietly, and a lady come out in a long cloak; and she seemed as if she was a-goin’ to faint away, but he kitches her tight, and half runs her along to wheer the keb was a-standin’, and I was ready for him this time, holding my arm over the wheel so as to keep the lady’s dress outer the mud.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Tom, for the man, who had kept on polishing his hat, dropped it and picked it up hastily, to begin repolishing it.

“Well, sir, she was a-cryin’ like one o’clock – in highsteriks like – and he says something to her in a furren languidge, and then, as she gets in he says, ‘Take keer,’ he says, called her by her name, like.”

“Name? What name?” cried Tom, eagerly.

“Well, you see, gov’nor, it sounded like Bella Meer, or Mee-her. ‘Take keer; Bella Mee-her,’ he says just like that.”

“Bella mia,” muttered Tom.

“Yes, sir, that’s it, sir; that were the young lady’s name; and then he jumps in, and I shoves down the apron, and he pokes the trap-door open, and away they goes down the Place like one o’clock.”

“Well?” said Tom.

“That’s about all, gov’nor,” said the man, looking into his dilapidated hat, and then lifting and peeping inside the lining, as if he expected to find some more there.

“No, it ain’t,” said the constable, “come now. He give you something, didn’t he?”

“Well, s’pose he did,” said the man, sulkily; “that ain’t got nothing to do with it, ’ave it? The gent don’t want to rob a pore man of his ’ard earnin’s, do he?”

“What did he give you, my man?” said Tom, eagerly, “There, there, show me. Not that it matters.”

“Yes, sir, excuse me, but it does matter,” said the constable. “Now then, out with it.”

The man thrust his hand very unwillingly into his pocket, and brought out what looked like a small shilling, which was eagerly snatched by Tom.

“Vittoria Emanuele – Lira. Why, constable, it’s an Italian piece!”

“That’s so, sir,” said the constable.

“There, be off with you; there’s half a crown for you,” said Tom. “Constable,” he cried, as the latter closed the door on the walking rag-bag, “quick, not a moment to be lost. That cabman’s number, and as soon as you can.”

“Right, sir; that’s first job,” said the constable. “You’ll be here?”

“Yes, till you come back. Spare no expense to get that number.”

The constable was off almost before the words had left his lips, and as the door closed Tom turned to Sir Grantley, who still stood with his head leaning upon his hand.

“Now then,” he said, “what are you going to do?”

“Don’t know,” was the reply.

“It looks bad,” said Tom, “but I won’t believe it yet.”

“No – poor girl,” said the baronet, sadly – “I’m beginning to think she didn’t care for me, don’t you know.”

Tom stared at him wonderingly.

“Are you going to help me run them down?”

“Yas – no – I don’t know,” said the baronet. “I suppose I ought to shoot that fellow – Belgium or somewhere – if there is a fellow. But I don’t think there is.”

“You don’t?” said Tom.

“No,” said the baronet, slowly.

“But you heard? She must have gone off with somebody. You know what the people think. If it is so, she must be saved at all costs.”

“Yas – of course,” said the baronet, slowly; “but – don’t think it. Poor girl, she was a lady – she couldn’t stoop to it – no – couldn’t – she’d sooner have married me.”

“Wilters,” said Tom, holding out his hand and speaking huskily, “thank you for that. We never liked one another, and I’ve been a confounded cad to you sometimes; but – but – you – you’re a gentleman, Wilters, a true gentleman.”

They shook hands in silence, and then Tom said eagerly —

“You’ll come with me?”

“Yas – no,” said the baronet, quietly. “It’s best not. All been a mistake, poor girl. I’ve been thinking about it all, and it wasn’t likely she’d care for me. Lady Barmouth is very flattering and kind; but I’ve driven your sister away. – I think I’ll go home now.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Tom, quietly.

“It’s very awkward,” continued the baronet, “things have gone so far. But I ought to have known better. Could you – a soda and brandy, Tom – this has shaken me a bit – I’m rather faint.”

The cellaret was open, stimulants having been fetched from it for her ladyship’s use, and Tom hastily poured out some spirit into one of the glasses on the sideboard, and handed it to the baronet.

“Thanks,” he said – “better now; I think I’ll go home;” and bowing quietly to Tom, he slowly left the house.