THE SPLENDID SILENCE.

Clutha Leader, Volume XXXIX, Issue 57, 28 February 1913, Page 7

THE SPLENDID SILENCE.

ALICE MAUD MEADOWS. Author of "A Million of Money," "The Dukedom of Portsea, ! '' ' The House at tha Corner," "I Charge You Both," "One Life Between," Etc.

CHAPTER IX. Mr Clarkenwell was thinking of returning to his beautifully appointed L me at Hampstead. He had had a very »usy afternoon and evening, transforming ordinary folk—very dinary, some of them—into knights, warriors, monks, pierrots— in fact, into «H sorts and conditions of men. It ff as the night of a fancy-dress ball at (Went Garden, and the services of the S reat perruquier and theatrical costumier had been in very great reflUest. He was a keen, clever-faced nian, with a quantity of waving hair; his eyes were blue, and looked as tlioug" to the day of his death he ™uld never require glasses; he was neither short nor tall, but squarely built, muscular, and alert —in fact, eve ry inch a man. He looked slightly fatigued, and glanced now and then ,t a handsome antique clock that tick(d away time, lives, sorrow, happiness, aily and uersistently on an ebony cabjjrt. Then he touched a bell, which M s almost immediately answered by a smart youth iu a neat livery. "There is only one more appointoent, Graham, I" think,?" Mr Clarkenjjell said. "\>s, sir—Lord Wenmouthshue — Edward the Black Prince in the armor of a Crusader.'' "He's late." "Yes, sir—half an hour. His lordshio said he might be." Mr Clarkenwell's expression conveyed regret, surprise and impatience. "It's a pity,'' he said. "I shall have some difficulty in turning him into a Plantaganet, Graham, His features are not sympathetic to that period—a retrousse nose and a badly cut mouth do not suit that line. Why will all the plain men insist upon being Romeos, and the undersized Goliaths?" The smart youth shook his head. "Goodness only knows, sir," he answered —"only, of course, we do not see ourselves as others see us. But you won't find any difficulty in making a Black Prince of him, or, if you do, you'll overcome it. I never knew you "make a failure yet.'' Mr Clarkenwell smiled. "It's very kind of you to say so, Graham," he said, "and to a certain extent I think you are right. With the aid of my little box of pigments"—touching a walnut case full of paints—"my stains and my artificial hair, I do not think I ever have made a downright failure, though there is a very great difference j from escaping a failure to makinc a| stupendous success; .and *itk regard | to Lord Wenmouthshire, I am afraid • 1 shall only arrive at something like the picture of the great Prince by the skin of my teeth." . j The youth smiled. "Even supposing j that sliould be so, sir," he said—."what j you would almost consider a failure j anv other man would look upon as a tremendous success. There is only one man in the world who can touch vou in Tour art, and that is Vixen. Do tou remember Lady Trunton. who weighed 14 stone, stood over six feet in height, stout in proportion, and would go to the Grosvenor Ball as Elaine the Lily Maid ? You actually I fixed her up so that, instead of the whole ballroom turning away to hide a smile when she entered the room, more than one was heard to exclaim, •How sweet! Elaine to the life!" Mr Clarkenwell permitted himself a gentle laugh. "She gave me a good deal of trouble," he said, "but fortunately she was tall; and silken draperies over silken tights go a long way to tone down even a stout figure. Lady Trunton was really not at all impossible, and she had no fads of her own as to how she should be costumed. I can generally get along fairly well if I have a free hand. I Was that a ring?" "I think it was, sir. I'll see, but it cannot be Lord Wenmouthshire—he invariably breaks the bell-pull." He hurried from the room, and Mr Clarkenwell sat listening. The ring at the bell had been a very timid one. That was nothing unusual, many folk were nervous who visited Mr Clarkenwell for the first time. Elderly and once beautiful women who had lost their charm for the opposite sex and who wished their youth and loveliness renewed, blase old beaux who no longer attracted women who would perhaps at one time have loved them—some came themselves, some sent their maids or valets, but generally a personal visit was required' by Mr Clerkenwelk and thus, as a rule, his clients came after dusk, and their ring was timid. Mr Clarkenwell always protested, and protested truly, that he could teach the art of a lifetime in a single lesson, or 10 lessons, but he could at least demonstrate his art to his clients upon them personally before a looking-glass, and he could instruct them as to which washes, lotions, and pigments suited their particular state of natural dilapidation best, and show them in what order and how to apply them. The smart youth returned in a moment. "A lady to see you, sir," he said. "She said you did not know her, and Mv/dd not give her name." Mr Clarkenwell waved his hand airilv. "Not at all necessary that she should," he said. "Show the lady in, Graham. If Lord Wenmouthshire comes, he must wait."

Thv smart youth bowed, went from the iiioin, and'almost immediately ushered a lady into -Mr Clarkenwell's pre-seiK-f. She wax young and beautiful, and as he looked at her he decided that she at all events did not want him u > exercise his art on her face. Probably s;he had come about a fancy costume. The smart boy discreetly retired, and Mr Clarkenwell smiled at his visitor. "You are just in time, madam. I fas about to return to my home. Won't you take a scat, and sajy what ' can do for you?" The stranger sat down. She was Pale, and certainly nervous. "J want Vf »i to make me "up," she said, in a low. unsteady voice, "if that is possible, so that no one in the world, even most intimate friends, will recognise me. I am attending the fancy hall at Covent Garden to-night, and 1 want to go incog. It is vital no one knows me; for it will be plight—broad .daylight—before I leave, so it will be necessary that the effort looks absolutely natural, even by 'Might. If anyone can achieve this W3ult jou can, Is it possible?"

He had hardly seemed to look at her; hut,he had taken in her entire personality at a glance, "Quite possible,'* he answered. "You are a capital subject for a make-up. Tliere is only one difficulty, only one thing that handicaps' roe. Your eyes are very blue, very beautiful, and; pardon, me, your eyebrows and lashes are artificially darkened—artistically, of course," as , his visitor flushed Vividly. "The .general public would perhaps never guess it; but if I change the, rest of your appearance, as I intend, thpugh your eyes will look out of a different face, they will be the same beautiful, noticeable eyes still. If only you had left them as Nature made them, 1 should (have a clean slate to work upon." She' looked vexed. "Every fair woman, almost, darkens her eyebrows and lashes," she said, sharply. "We should look insipid if we did not." He shook his head. "I do not agree with you," he said. "In my opinion fair women lose their individuality by the practice. It makes you all look so much alike. However, that is beside the question; we must get oyer the difficulty of your very beautiful eyes as best we can. As for the rest, there is no difficulty. You dress your hair high and rather elaborately. I see. The transformation I shall adjust will have the hair dressed low, towards the nape of the neck, very simply and artistically. It will be as yearly black as possible without being quite black, because it is very difficult to obtain natural black hair of a silky texture, and dyed hair never lias the beautiful gloss of that colored by Nature. The darkest brown, then, we can obtain, of a texture fine asssil t 1 shall give you —very, very dark brown hair, with just a copper sheen in it." She looked sliglrtly confused, and hesitated before she spoke. "I do not like.the idea of a wig," she said. "That is really what you mean by a transformation, is it not? Could you not stain my own hair?" He looked surprised. "For one night," he said. "Oh, surely that would be a pity, your hair is so beautiful. Of course, I have a stain of the exact color of the transformation I should give you; but it would take you at least three hours, with very diligent washing, to get rid of the stain, and you would scarcely care to keep away from everyone as long as that. I should certainly not recommend the stain." Again the nuiek flush swept the girl's face. "No, of course not," she said.- "I was only thinking a wig would be uncomfortable."

"Oh, not at all," he answered. "The one I shall give you weighs only a few ounces. Then there is the question of your skin; that is an unusually fair one, even for a fair woman, and with dark hair it would look ghastly. I must stain it, but I will give you a preparation that will bring the stain off in one application, and will not hurt it in the least. Your color is the color of the blush rose. I must nut more red into your cheeks; in fact, I must make a brunette of you." "And you are sure, then,, that no one will recognise me?" "I do not think anyone will recognise vour face. As to your voice, your walk," and the little tricks of manner, 1 cannot sav; but if you will give yourself into m'v hands we will see what we can do, and if the metamorphosis does not satisfy you, welL we must undo our work. 1 ' She looked at him sharply. _ "I can watch the process," she .said, "so that"—laughing nervously—"on any other occasion, if I wished to, I could make the change myself. Of course, 1 never should. He looked at her for the fisvt tune with curiosity, puzzled curiosity. "Certainly," he 'said, "you can watch the process. I shall place you before a looking-glass, as you wish me to do so. At the same time, that will not mve you so good an idea of the difference between your appearance now and then as if you did not watch, because you will see the change being made gradually, and it will not come upon you in the nature of a surprise. Indeed. I do not suppose, until after the ball 'is over and you see yourself in your own mirror "at home, you will really know or realise how greatly you have chanced. Now to get to work. Bv the bye, have you your costume ? 'She looked at him as though she did not understand. "My costume?" she repeated. "Yes ; for the ball." Again she flushed vividly. "Oh, yes, of course," she said, hurriedly. "I have it at home." "May I ask what it is: it will help r.e in the make-up. Or is it a secret?" , , , At the first words she had looked troubled. Then she looked at him. and smiled brilliantly. "From the world at laro-e it is a secret, of course," she said; "but not from you. I am iroing as Sapho. Do you think I shall look the part?"

CHAPTER X. Mr Clarkenwell smiled back at his client. "You do not look like Sapho now," he said, "but you will when 1 have finished with you. Now, if you will take off your hat and sit down before the glass you can watch, everything I do. You are. of course, returning home- for your costume, so I can leave the staining of your neck and arms to you or your maid. Tho process is quite simnle. You must wash them over with the lotion, and the thing is done—your skin will be just a few shades darker. When you wish to remove the stain all you have to do is to wash with another lotion I shall give you." She looked at him eagerly. "Ordinary water, or a shower of rain, for instance, would not have the same effect?" "No effect whatever,' he answered. "But I presume as Sapho you will hardly be out in the rain." She sat down before the glass. "No, I suppose not," she said, carelessly. "Still, I haye played often* in pastoral plays, and no doubt shall agpm, and if I used a stain that ran when rain fell upon my face, and it irivariably does rain during the performance of a pastoral play, it would not contribute to the effectiveness of the performance or my good looks." He drew a small basin towards him, and poured the contents of a fair-sized bottle into it. A pungent, pleasant, sensual perfume filled the room, and somehow made one think of the East, of beautiful, veiled houris., of Turkish harems, and lovely slaves, "What a pleasant scent," the woman said. "Is it the perfume of the stain, or is the stain scented?" "The stain is perfumed," he answered. "It is the scent which was always usicl by Cleopatra, the Serpent of the Old Nile. It has a strange, bewilder-' ing effect upon some people, not so muck; curiously enough, upon those

who come into contact with it. Some say it was this particular perfume and not the woman herself which really made Mary, Anthony her slave, Helen of Troy also is said to have used it; Delilia, Josephine' (wife of Napoleon Bonaparte), and, in fact, many of the most beautiful women of their particular period. In the present day 1 know one society beauty and one great actress who have had kings at their feet, w ho—heaven only knows how! —have obtained a supply of it; for whither it comes is a secret which even I, though I am always able to get a little, do not know. When they fail to obtain it they will most probably cease ,to be the greatly sought-after women that they are." . < , i "Do you sell it?" the woman asked, eagerly.. . Mr Clarkenwell shook his head as ho went on using the strange, .pungentscented stain. . . "No," he answered, "Sometimes, u a client of mine is" particularly anxious .o please at any function—l mean please and attract physically—l have her one drop upon her handkerchief, and I have asked her jokingly to let me know the result. Sometimes 1 have known the woman is losing her bold upon the affections of lover or husband, and 1 have been sorry for tier, for ir.v heart is a very tender, v-ery-svmoathelie one. Of course, I have never asked the resuH; but sometimes 1 have been told it." "And it has been satisfactory r .speaking- eagerly. "Eminently so. 1 have been banked hv highly-placed women for it and for its magic with tears in their eyes. "And yet you will not sell it? "I could not get enough to do self I sold it by the drop I could not do so under 10 guineas for that drop: not because it costs me that in money, but because every time my tiny supply is renewed lives have been risked. Where the perfume comes from I do lot know, but I can give a guess, and if I am right there are terrible dangers in getting it, because it is a secret perfume used to anoint an Eastern god. But if it is very vital to you that you reallv attract and fascinate to-night, 1 will give you one drop. Put that one .Irop upon your handkerchief, and if you were the plainest woman in the World instead of one of the most beautiful, there is not a man living who ■ould resist you." The beautiful woman on whom Mr Clarkenwell was exercising Ids art leant forward and examined her appearance steadily. Her usuallj white skin was just tinted with a delicate brown; it made her large violet eyes look larger and more deeply violet. "There is no one whom I particularly wish to attract to-night," she answered, "so please do not waste the perfume, but give me one drop for some future occasion; if it is possible to put so little in a phial—an attar of roses bottle contains little more than that."

"On some future occasion when you are .yourself, not" —he hesitated slightly, and a curious little smile just trembled round his lips—"not Sapho." She was looking at her own reflection and did not see the smile. "Yes," she returned, "when lam myself, not Sapho. Do vou not think"—she looked at her reflection again—"l am too pale, hough I am brown?" "Much too pale," he answered; "but ve must, so to speak, lay the foundation before we build the house, we must tint the skin to the desired tone before we lay on the color. You will look very striking when my work is done. See how your eyes are thrown up alreadv, and how their color is intensified."

She laughed half excitedly. "Yes," she said, "they are almost as big now, or look so, as saucers. I shall be more beautiful than ever when vou have finished, and I was beautiful before." He smiled at her outspokenness. "You were indeed," he answered, "and 1 would not go so far as to say yon will be more beautiful. More striking, perhaps you will be, but many, as you know," prefer the modest violet to the flaming pomegranate flower!" A quick little sarcastic smile closed her lips and dimpled her cheeks. "You think I look like the modest violet?" she asked. "I do not feel flattered. The perfume of a violet I enjoy, of course, I know none sweeter; but the flower isMiothing to-speak of, so far as rooks are. concerned. I take it as a greater compliment to be compared to the pomegranate bloom. Ah!"—she looked again at herself in the glass, he had been using the hare's foot on her cheeks—"your simile is indeed a good one. How vivid, how full of life I look, and how my eyes shine. Natural I excitement is doing something for m,e i as well as art, and that curious subtle j scent, it excites me. Will the stain you give me be scented?" "Give vou?" he repeated. She did not lift her eyes. "Yes. I shall want you to give me some of ■everything you use, a good supply, so that if I go' abroad—l am fond of foreign travel, and want to attend any fancy dress ball looking" as beautiful as 1 look now—l can do so without troubling you with a letter; and I shall want you to pack the things in a nice little box like this of yours, and label everything. Of course," —this was an afterthought—"if I were in London I should come to you, but I am not always in town."

"Is anyone?" he asked, surveying his work with evident pleasure. "Of course, you can have all th» make-up packed for you. We are in the habit of sending away just such little cases with good strong locks as you require. But the stain for your skin will not be scented. I only use that which is perfumed to-night because, going as you are into a crowded company"— again there seemed a laugh in his voice, a twinkle in. his steel-blue eyes, a slight ripple of mirth round his lips—"l wanted you to judge of its effect upon others. But, as 1 have told you, it is a perfume most difficult to obtain, and I can but be sparing with it. Will you look at me now, please. Your skin is so much darker than your lashes that your lashes can -be darkened yet a little more. But what I shall use for them is not absolutely black. It is an almost imperceptible blue." She laughed. "Blue lashes?" she queried. "Very dark indigo blue—much more effective than dead black, and invariably used by some actresses on the stage—and off. You will notice I put a shade under the eyes first with a pencil—so." (To be continued.)