The Red Rat's Daughter by Guy Boothby (books to read in your 20s .txt) 📕

had used a brush and pencil in. He was wise enough, however, not to say so. He changed the conversation, therefore, by informing her that he had wintered in Petersburg, remarking at the same time that he had hoped to have had the pleasure of meeting her there.

"You will never meet me in Petersburg," she answered, her face changing colour as she spoke. "You do not know, perhaps, why I say this. But I assure you, you will never meet me or mine within the Czar's dominions."

Browne would have given all he possessed in the world not to have given utterance to that foolish speech. He apologised immediately, and with a sincerity that made her at once take pity on him.

"Please do not feel so sorry for what you said," she replied. "It was impossible for you to know that you had transgressed. The truth is, my family are supposed to be very dangerous persons. I do not think, with one exception, we are more so than our neighbours; but, as the law now stands, we are prohibited. Whether it will ever be different I cannot say. That is enough, however, about myself. Let us talk of something else."

She had seated herself in a low chair opposite him, with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her hand. Browne glanced at her, and remembered that he had once carried her in his arms for upwards of a mile. At this thought such a thrill went through him that his teacup, which he had placed on a table beside him, trembled in its saucer. Unable to trust himself any further in that direction, he talked of London, of the weather, of anything that occurred to him; curiously enough, however, he did not mention his proposed departure for the Mediterranean on the morrow. In his heart he had an uneasy feeling that he had no right to be where he was. But when he thought of the foggy street outside, and realised how comfortable this room was, with its easy chairs, its polished floor, on which the firelight danced and played, to say nothing of the girl seated opposite him, he could not summon up sufficient courage to say good-bye.

"How strange it seems," she said at last--"does it not?--that you and I should be sitting here like this! I had no idea, when we bade each other good-bye in Norway, that we should ever meet again."

"I felt certain of it," Browne replied, but he failed to add why he was so sure. "Is it settled how long you remain in England?"

"I do not think so," she answered. "We may be here some weeks; we may be only a few days. It all depends upon Madame Bernstein."

"Upon Madame Bernstein?" he said, with some surprise.

"Yes," she answered; "she makes our arrangements. You have no idea how busy she is."

Browne certainly had no idea upon that point, and up to that moment he was not sure that he was at all interested; now, however, since it appeared that madame controlled the girl's movements, she became a matter of overwhelming importance to him.

For more than an hour they continued to chat; then Browne rose to bid her good-bye.

"Would you think me intrusive if I were to call upon you again?" he asked as he took her hand.

"Do so by all means, if you like," she answered, with charming frankness. "I shall be very glad to see you."

Then an idea occurred to him--an idea so magnificent, so delightful, that it almost took his breath away.

"Would you think me impertinent if I inquired how you and Madame Bernstein amuse yourselves in the evenings? Have you been to any theatres or to the opera?"

The girl shook her head. "I have never been inside a theatre in London," she replied.

"Then perhaps I might be able to persuade you to let me take you to one," he answered. "I might write to Madame Bernstein and arrange an evening. Would she care about it, do you think?"

"I am sure she would," she answered. "And I know that I should enjoy it immensely. It is very kind of you to ask us."

"It is very kind of you to promise to come," he said gratefully. "Then I will arrange it for to-morrow night if possible. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," she answered, and held out her little hand to him for the second time.

When the front door had closed behind him and he was fairly out in the foggy street once more, Browne set off along the pavement on his return journey, swinging his umbrella and whistling like a schoolboy. To a crusty old bachelor his state of mind would have appeared inexplicable. There was no sort of doubt about it, however, that he was happy; he walked as if he were treading on air. It was a good suggestion, that one about the theatre, he said to himself, and he would take care that they enjoyed themselves. He would endeavour to obtain the best box at the opera; they were playing _Lohengrin_ at the time, he remembered. He would send one of his own carriages to meet them, and it should take them home again. Then a still more brilliant idea occurred to him. Why should he not arrange a nice little dinner at some restaurant first? Not one of your flash dining-places but a quiet, comfortable little place--Lallemand's, for instance, where the cooking is irreproachable, the wine and waiting faultless, and the company who frequent it beyond suspicion. And yet another notion, and as it occurred to him he laughed aloud in the public street.

"There will be three of us," he said, "and the chaperon will need an escort. By Jove! Jimmy called me mad, did he? Well, I'll be revenged on him. _He shall sit beside Madame Bernstein_."


CHAPTER V


If Browne had ever looked forward to anything in his life, he did to the dinner-party he had arranged for the evening following his visit to the studio in the German Park Road. On more than one occasion he had entertained royalty at his house in Park Lane, and at various times he had invited London society to functions which, for magnificence and completeness, had scarcely ever been equalled and never excelled. Upon none of these affairs, however, had he bestowed half so much care and attention as he did upon the dinner which it is now my duty to describe. Having written the formal invitation, he posted it himself; after which he drove to the restaurant which was to be honoured with Katherine Petrovitch's presence, and interviewed the proprietor in his own sanctum.

"Remember, Alphonse," he said to that delightful little man, "good as the others have been, this must be the very best dinner you have ever arranged for me. It must not be long, nor must it be in the least degree heavy. You know my taste in wine, and I give you _carte blanche_ to ransack London for what you consider necessary in the way of rarities. Reserve 'No. 6' for me, if it is not already engaged; and make it look as nice as you possibly can. I will send the flowers from my house, and my own man shall arrange them."

Alphonse chuckled and rubbed his hands. This was just the sort of order he delighted to receive.

"Ver' good; it shall be done, M'sieu Browne," he said, bowing and spreading his hands apart in his customary fashion when pleased. "I have made you many, many dinners before, but I give you the word of Alphonse that this shall be the best of all. _Ma foi!_ but I will give you a dinner zat for its betterment you cannot get in England. Ze cost I will----"

"Never mind the cost," answered the reckless young man; "remember, it must be the best in every way. Nothing short of that will do."

"I will satisfy you, m'sieu; never fear that. It is my honour. Perhaps it is royalty zat you have to come to my house?"

"It is nothing of the sort," Browne replied scornfully. "I am asking two ladies and one gentleman."

Alphonse's face expressed his surprise. It looked as if his beautiful dinner was likely to be wasted.

Having arranged the hour and certain other minor details, Browne returned to his cab once more, and drove off in search of Jimmy Foote. It was some time before he found him, and, when he did, a considerable period elapsed before he could obtain speech with him. Jimmy was at the Welter Club, playing black pool with two or three youths of his own type. From the manner in which their silver was changing hands, it certainly looked as if that accomplished young gentleman was finding his time very fully taken up, picking half-crowns off the rim of the table, placing them in his pocket, and paying them out again.

"Hullo, Browne!" said Bellingham of the Blues, after the black ball had disappeared into the top pocket and while the marker was spotting it again. "Are you coming in?"

"Not if I know it," said Browne, shaking his head. "Judging from the anxious expression upon Jimmy's face, things are getting a little too hot with you all."

At the end of the next round, the latter retired from the game, and, putting his arm through that of his friend, led him to the smoking-room on the other side of the hall.

"I hope you have calmed down, old fellow," said Jimmy as they seated themselves near the fire. "To what do I owe the honour of seeing you here to-night?"

"I want you to do me a favour," Browne returned, a little nervously, for he was afraid of what Jimmy would say when he knew everything.

"Anything you like in the world, old man," said the latter. "You have only to ask. There is nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Nothing at all," replied Browne. "Rather the other way round, I fancy. The fact of the matter is, I have asked two ladies to dine with me to-morrow evening at Lallemand's, and to go to the Opera afterwards. I want you to make one of the party."

"The young lady is the painter of that charming Norwegian picture," said Jimmy, with imperturbable gravity, "and the other is her chaperon."

"How on earth did you know it?" asked Browne, blushing like a schoolboy, for the simple reason that he thought his secret was discovered.

"It's very plain that you never knew I was a wizard," returned his companion, with a laugh. "You old duffer; put two and two together for yourself--that is to say, if you have any brains left to do it with. In the first place, did you not yesterday afternoon invite me to accompany you on a delightful yachting trip to the Mediterranean? You were tired of England, you said, and I gathered from your remarks that you were counting the hours until you could say 'good-bye' to her. We went for a walk, and as we passed up Waterloo Place I happened to show you a picture. You turned as white as a sheet at once, and immediately dived into the shop, bidding me