A Rude Awakening.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVII, Issue 74, 28 March 1914, Page 10

A Rude Awakening.

By BASIL TOZER. (All Rights Reserved.)

I^i was nearly noon. In the great vestibule of the Honoria Hotel visitors and; their friends sprawled in softly cushioned armchairs and upon the broad, luxurious settees. A tall, graceful, beautifully-dressed \ woman entered by the plate-glass, re- j volVmg door, looked about her through ■ a gold lorgnette for a moment or two, •then walked slowly across the vestibule , in the direction of the manager's office. • "I want," she said, as the manager j came forward, " the best suite of rooms ..you. can give me." Her voice was a deep contralto, soft, almost sonorous. She spoke with » 1 slightly foreign accent. J "Certainly, madam," he replied with V alacrity, impressed by her grande dame . air. " You will need them on the first j floor I take it?" "Oh, yes, on the first floor." A big ledger lay open before him. Ha 1 "turned over the leaves. " We have only five vacant rooms en . suite on the first floor," he said — "two ..large bedrooms, a dressing-room, a ! drawing-room, and a dining-room. I take it you are not alone, madam?" " No/ she answered. "My husband, "* Sir Henry Topping, will arrive at six. In addition a room will be required r for his valet, and one for my maid. They must be close at hand." "Certainly, m'Lady." "And now tell me," she continued, glancing at the clock above his head, "how soon can I have lunch?" "At once, if you desire it, rWLady." "1 should like it as soon as possible," she said.' " I will 1 order it now., and then look at the rooms to i see .if they will suit me." The manager signalled to a passing waiter. "Bring a menu here, and look sharp !" he ordered ' peremptorily. She selected her lunch with care. It was to consist of caviare, petite marnTtte, salmon with sauce tartare, quails en casserole, peches Melba, and dessert. •She- would drink,, she said, a half -bottle ■ {CPol Roger, not iced. ■\An hour later she came again into We office. £.;'"l'w*h," she said, "you would telephone Tot me to the best fur shop you ' ;^ow, ,and" tell them to send come furs 'Sere fojf me to try on— jackets and ,isoles, v also some muffsr And will yoa . fesy they , must bo the very best they Jjave? ' I don't want anything — cheap. tRW. understand?" sf"'Quifce ? m'Lady," the manager ank#ered, growing' obsequious., !??' You .see," me w,ent on, "we are iff / ifec^wri. only "for a day or two, and I have toy much 'to do to.-day. If they will eend Kie fuTsaW-lefc me see, if js- now just . fyitdT I—well,'1 — well,' say at 4 o'clock, I will ■ib4>h,6fe then to look 'at them." i\y '1 will telflpfeone at once, m'Lady." .^Shfe gawe'lm;theT'partic*lats. Tbe furs were to be finest' Russian sables, come White' fox, some Siberian black fox, only jj&qked skins, and. for. a choice, a few. gljoles and muffs of cleverly mingled furs <~seal with itfe' blackness' eiihanced . by fiiunmings of tailless ermine, and so on. It s&§med that she was particular as to the ijjhade^, too, — particular to the poiift df< •Sastidiousness. The white' fox must be Ss[, a peculiar snowiness; the black (<tx flfttist 1 possess that wonderful glistening j&feen upon its surface- where the light JSJSnkee it that proclaims the best skins ; S ermine -musfb* the finest aJid soffcpiweurabie for nione-y, ' Above all, raremvßJb hot' feel heavy when tforh., she ctisfij&d', *h* ~ssiA,.- to- wear -,aay<ig tha£M®t<;?h«avy imA seemed W %c manager '.w^nt to. the telephone, jjhd in a few minutes returned. He had ,jtfboken to tbe controller at Holland's jwar House in Regent-street, he said,and *tT|te goods would be brdught to the hotel, on approval, at 4 o'clock punctually. .- I] "That is good of you. I am vWy 'much obliged," Lady Topping said with j»' charming smile. "And now willyoiicall me a. taxi?" - • ' , was nearly five whfen she returned 'v> the' hotel. Two of Messrs. Holland's 3>|prcs6ntatrves were awaiting -her, with jav'-eral largq boxes. ifi'Slhe went up -in 'the- lift, and a little 34fcer the representatives of the famous 3^6r Hou.4e, a gentletna'n in a frock coat •and a' tall, graceful gift dT«ssed in hlack «lk, Were shown into her aitting-room. ;-Lady Topping tried on, to begin with, £ lur jacket, then some sable coats which tired almost iky Eef feet. , Bdt/they' ndt please her. Facing the long SJlrror, she surveyed her handsome pre§ffe/with one, stole after another 'flung >ut/ her S^kralders,; ' ' btrt? hands thrust t';ifito omV enormous muff, then into 3^osreT. '• <* y-r, ' < . V^'f' think,'.' >she said 'at last, "these 1 Save on may do, though I do not really Bke.'ihem, They -are not quite what I ' jl^pect^d you would send. What is the 4&ic&'6f these?" 3,'Bhe stood facing the mirror still. The M*s 'she wore were a magnificent seal*En full-length coat, with stole and .ISaflTof sable. £-|"Ttiat set,- m'Lady, complete, is two tfantlred guineas," the man answered. ..-xShe caused, turning this way and that Before the mirror. •*•• "Yes, I will keep them," she said atJi'st, t in % rather dissatisfied tone. < "vT^ 6 cim send your Ladyship othea'B Jhoald you wish it," the man said ingratiatingly. I have seen enough. I am ■tired: I will writd you a cheque now. 3iet me see, was it pounds, or guineas, 3wi said?" your Ladyship." 'j^-Still wearing the iurs, all but the 4B*uff, she seated herself at the escritoire. JJJhen, ,sk>wJy, she pulled a fat chequebook, out of h&r gold chain-bag. »*'' The man, exchanging a rapid glance !i£ith^is companion, cleared his throat T^ftther, nervously. t ' £ /'I 'fear, your Ladyship," he said rather awkwardly, "our firm as a rule Incepts cheques only from its regular ! .fewtomers. lam exceedingly sorry, W— " P t, Why, of course," Lady Topping inter"that is natural. I was for- { jetting that I—" j i She gave a rippling little laugh. X "Here, I will pay you in notes," she said. She began to fumble in her bag, and the sound of the crackling notes was like music to Messrs Holland's representative, who thought- of his commission. Suddenly she stopped. • "now annoying — how annoying!'' she | exclaimed. "I have less than a hundred pounds here, and some goods will bs delivered that I must pay for. I | wonder if you could call for thfe money at 7 o'clock, or e\en sooner? Sir Henry will be here at six." '"Oh, I am suie our firm will do that with pleasure, m'Lady," the ta'l girl ir. the ' rustljng silk gown replied at | once., Since she > had set eyes on Lady i Topping , she had hardly been able to look'^way. "If you will allow me I j will 'phone our manager now." j "That would bo most kind of you i most kind," Lady Topping answered, j letting her ' dark eyes refet upon the j girl'«. - , j A'jlioment later ehe wan alone w'th the mac. Sha 'talked again »t now of the

furs he was preparing to put back into their boxes. Then she sauntered into her bedroom adjoining, the door of which was open. As he folded and packed the coats and stoles, the man could hear Lady Topping moving in the next room. He had jusl packed the last box, when his companion returned. "All right?' 1 he asked, looking up as she entered. "Oh, yes, Mr. Morgan," she answered. "I knew it would be. He says we had better wait, as Sir Henry Topping is to be here so soon. Where is her ladyship?" Without speaking, Morgan indicated the bedroom door, which stood ajar. Then he seated himself, and prepared to wait. Six o'clock struck. The bedroom door was still ajar. The light within was still switched on. "She's mortal quiet," Morgan murmured at last. He yawned. "Lying down, I shouldn't wonder," i the girl whispered. "Mr. Morgan," she exclaimed suddenly, "isn't she lovely ?" Morgan nodded. "A bit of all right," he aaid under ] his breath. A quarter of an hour passed. Then a ! distant clock chimed half-past cix. "Knock gently at the door." Morgan said, stretching himself. "She may have forgotten. And I'm getting hungry." VShall I?" "Why not? Her ladyship won't mind, I'm sure." The girl stepped 6oftly across tbe thick carpet, and rapped gently on the door. There was no answer. She rapped a little louder. She rapped a third time. Then, emboldened, she pushed the door a little further open, and peeped in. , The room was empty. She turned "to Morgan. "Her ladyship must be in the room beyond," said she. "But the door of that room is shut. What shall Id 6? "Go down to the office, and' ask them to send word up to her ladyship. She's forgotten all about us. Sir Henry was due at six." "Lady Topping?" the manager said, sharply, in answer to her timid enquiry. " What do you want with her?" The girl explained. "Oh, well," he replied, "you will have to wait. Her ladyship isn't in yet." " Isn't in? What do you mean?" " What I say, of course. Her ladyship went out close on an hour ago." Suddenly the girl started. A horrible suspicion had flashed into her mind. " Went—" She gasped. "Tell me," she exclaimed, turning deadly pale, 'has Sir Henry come?" ' " No. .We expect s him at ' any moment." She seized the manager's arm. "" Had — was she wearing furs — a long seal coat— '- with a stole and muff?" ' " Now I think of it, she was. I saw her come down the • staircase. .'What is wrong with you, girl?" But already she had turned her back on him and was rushing up the stairs. "Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan!" she screamed, as she burst into the room she had just left. " She is gone ! Gone !" -He sprang to 'his feet. For an instant he seemed to' totter. . "Gone?">h.e echoed, looking ' dazed. " My God !" Together they hurried down into the office, taking th.eir boxes with them. For the'fifst moment th». manager was indignstnt. Suddenly, he grew serious. t "1 must enquire into' this," he exolaihied, greatly agitated. ' " Wait here, both of jspu."" TJiey waited. 1 , ;Two ftours later they Mete waiting, still. When midnight struck,' "iik'dj' Topping" had not come back, nor had "Sir Henry" arrived. Information was given to the police early on the following day. The terrible mental tension from which "'Lady Topping," no.v Contessa d'Olignac1 — or db she called herself — had suffered for weeks, seemed to bt> passing at last. _ > '•What an existence hers had been, she .reflected one morning, + avo years aftier the incident at the Honoria Hotel., Her ' thoughts drifted back to the days when, a girl in her seventeenth year, she had, carefully planned^and deliberately carried out tne robbery of a diamond tiara and a string of pearls from the rich lady whose maid she was. A fellowseryant had been arrested, convicted, and ' sent to penal servitude. " 'C'est , le premier pas gui coute.' How true that is," she said aloud. Then she went on thinking. The pearls and the diamonds — how well she remembered them — she had succeeded in" disposing of singly, and in twos and threes, at intervals of time. Her second theft, six months later, had ba;n on a larger seale — and equally successful. Then she had grown ambitious. Assuming a fictitious titio, she had begun to- travel. From one European capital to another she had moved, her beauty, her extraordinary personality, and her apparent wealth, bunging her, everywhere, troops of friends, and opening many doors. Perhaps her biggest coup, she reflected, had been that one at Baron de Rubinstein's chateau near Versailles, when she had been his guest. The jewellery she had stolen that night had been valired at £70,000, and fof a week aftei wards her sorrowing host had made her his confidante, and she had tried to comfort him. Never, for a moment, had suspicion fallen upon her. Eight years of duplicity and hypocrisy. Eight years of crime concealed with almost fiendish cleverness. And then. . . Then love — desperate, passionate, love, for the tall, handsome, exquisitely refined young Englishman whose acquaintance she had made on the Riviera three months previously, the man she was to marry to-day. God ! He must never know the kind of woman she had been — "had been," for already she had entirely changed her life, and never, never as long as she lived, she had told heiself again and again, would she go back to it, or, if possible, think of it. Those awful years would be, must be, buried with the past as though they had never been. And how he loved her! The thought of it quickened her pulse.- Yet she wondered if his love cpuld be equal to her own in its intensity. How noble he was — how frank — a man of unblemished integrity. Ah ! He must never know. He could never know. For now she was quite another woman, a different entity. She had become so soon after she had met him for th^ first time. He had asked her often to 1 - come with him to England. Her reply had always been the same : "My darling, wait till we are married. I want — I don't know why — not to go to England till we are man and wife. A foolish fancy? Perhaps. And yet "But there, don't let's talk of it. Indulge my little whim, this one whim, and . . . flarling, we will spend our honeymoon in England." And, being a lover, he had humoured her. "Conteßsa, voila- l'automobile gui arrive!" The kind-hearterl middle-aged Frenchwortfcn, who for several months hftd been maid to the Countess, had re-entered the rc>«n where the bride wag p.utting on her

wedding dress — a simule tailor made of silver-grey satiny cloth. * For the wedding was to take place quite privately. The Contessa and her future husband had agrred to that. The ! latter had, indeed, expressed burprisp at her falling so readily in with bis proposal that no friends should be invited. "I hate a great function, and vulgar display," hp had said to her soon after their engagement, "'and I have discovered a tiny, little-known church near the Quarfciei Latin, where I suppose we should be married without our asking anyone Do you mind, dear? You know, my people are 'peucliar.' And you know how they have set their faces against our marriage." "Mind!" she had exclaimed. "But I am quite of your opinion. I detest ostentation." And so it came about that none but necessary witnesses were present at the marriage. As soon as it was over, the couple left for England. "We go to the hotel I chose, don't we, dciiest, not to anj other?" the bride said as she Deslled beside her husband in a taxi which now was threading its way thfough the traffic between Charing Cross and Whi+^hall. He turned and looked down at her. He had noticed a curious tremor in her voice, a sudden catch in her breath "Why, yes,' he answered, "the Westminster Hotel. Is anything the matter, dear?"' He took her hands within his own, and pressed them fondly. "Why— why are you trembling so?" he asked quickly, in a tone of deep anxiety. "How hot your hands are ! And how they throb!" "Oh, it is nothing — the journey, I suppose — but I feel — somehow I feel nervous — frightened — you will naver, never desert me, dearest?" j The taxi had slowed up. To her surpjise, heVJid not ans.ver. Now it turned abruptly to the left. Almost as it did so the woman sprang away from him with a loud Cry. Her hands were handcuffed* Panting for breath, unable to speak, her mouth and thvoat suddenly dried up, she glared at him out of the darkness with blazing eyes. The taxi stopped. They had come to Scotland Yard. "But we are married — married !" she gasped, finding her voice at last. Then, with a screan that was half-hysterical she flung herself upon him, trying with her linked hands to seize him and pull him to her. "I love you 30! I lov« you co!" she cried out pitifully, "you won't — you can't desert me now'— we are married and I love you so!" He endeavoured to avoid her. "Married?" he said coldly.'" "Oh no. That was not a church. It was a church — once. The 'parson' was not a parson. He, and the .registrar, the witnesses, they were- men in my employ. I had to 'marry', you — to prebend to marry you. That seemed the only way to get you back to England and mske possible your arrest. I tried to get you to come over when we were 'engaged,' but-you know how you refused. We could have arTested you in France, of course, but your father was a Frenchman, and c-wing to our Government here, having recently refused to sanction the arrest in England of a certain French criminal, your French Government refused to grant an extradition warrant for your arrest in your native country." With a" moan she sank upon her knees, begging him not to leave heV. Tears streamed down her faco, and sobs shook her voice as ehe clawed him with her handcuffed hands. "Now then, come along!". The door of the taxi stood' openT' 'Outside constables were waiting to receive her. The sharp words seemed to galvanise her. In a single moment her great love had turned into an intense loathing for this man who had treated her so treacherously. She drew herself away from him as though ho were a leper. For an instant her gaze rested upon his, and the fearful hatred in her eyes made him catch hie breath. Then, turning from him contemptuously, she walked proud- 1 ' ly, with head erect, between the officers in charge of her in the direction they indicated. For. many days that look of fearful hatred haunted him. For many days, too, a heartbroken woman's cry of despair rang insistently in his ears, and at night kept sleep away from him — "You won't — you can't desert me! I love you so! I lpve you so!"