Part 26 (1/2)

”You met my friend Lehnhardt last night, did you not?”

”Yes, I did. Quite accidentally. I was waiting in the lounge of the 'Ritz' for a man-friend with whom I had promised to dine when Mr.

Lehnhardt came in and recognized me. My friend had not turned up, so I accepted his invitation to have dinner at Claridge's. This we did, and during the meal he spoke of opium, and I admitted that I was fond of it, for I smoke it sometimes at a girl-friend's at Hampstead. Therefore we agreed to go together to Lung Ching's.”

”He left you there,” I said.

”I know. I certainly did not expect him to go away and leave me in such a place,” said the girl, who was very pretty and not more than twenty, even though addicted to the terrible opium habit. ”But,” she added, ”you will keep my secret--won't you?”

”Most certainly, Miss Hewitt,” was my reply. ”This should serve as a severe lesson to you.”

Then I bade her farewell, and left her in the good hands of the caretaker.

On my return to Jermyn Street the Crown-Prince was in bed, sleeping soundly.

I remember standing at the window of that well-furnished bachelor's sitting-room--for the place was owned by an old German-American merchant, who, I expect, had a shrewd suspicion of the ident.i.ty of the reckless young fellow named Lehnhardt who sometimes, through a well-known firm of house-agents, rented his quarters at a high figure.

The Crown-Prince used eight different names when abroad incognito, Lehnhardt being one of them.

”His Highness is very tired,” the valet declared to me, as he entered the room. ”Before I got him to bed he asked for you. I said you had gone out.”

”And what did he say?”

”Well, Count, all he said was, 'Ah, our dear Heltzendorff is always an early riser. He gets up before I go to bed!'” And the ever-faithful valet laughed grimly. When the Crown-Prince went upon those frequent debauches in the capitals of Europe, his valet always carried with him a certain drug, a secret known to the Chinese, an injection of which at once sobered him, and put both sense and dignity into him. I have seen him in the most extreme state of helpless intoxication at five in the morning, and yet at eight, he having received his injection, I have watched him mount his horse and ride at the head of his regiment to an inspection, as bright and level-headed as any trooper following.

The drug had a marvellous and almost instantaneous effect. But it was used only in case of great emergency, when, for instance, he was suddenly summoned by the Emperor, or perchance he had to accompany his wife to some public function.

That the drug had bad effects I knew quite well. I have often seen him pacing the room holding his hands to his head, when, three hours later, the dope was gradually losing its potency, leaving him inert and ill.

When the valet had retired, I stood gazing down into the growing life of Jermyn Street, deploring the state of society which had resulted in the pretty Violet Hewitt becoming, at twenty, a victim to opium.

Truly in the world of London, as in Berlin, there are many strange phases of life, and even I, familiar as I was with the gaieties of the capitals, and the night life of Berlin, the Montmartre in Paris, and the West End in London, here confess that when I discovered the pretty girl sleeping in that dirty bunk in that fetid atmosphere I was staggered.

Before three o'clock in the afternoon ”Willie” reappeared, well groomed and perfectly dressed. I had been out lunching at the ”Berkeley” with a friend, and on re-entering the chambers, found him in the sitting-room smoking a cigarette.

The effects of his overnight dissipation had entirely pa.s.sed. He seated himself upon the arm of a chair and asked:

”Well, Heltzendorff, I suppose you've been out to lunch--eh? Anything interesting in this town?”

”The usual set at the 'Berkeley,'” I replied.

”Oh! The 'Berkeley!' Very nice, but too respectable. That is where one takes one's aunt, is it not?” he laughed.

I admitted that it was a most excellent restaurant.

”Good food and good amus.e.m.e.nt, my dear Heltzendorff, one can never find together. The worse the food the better the entertainment. Do you remember the 'Rat Mort'--eh?”

”No,” I said sharply. ”That is a long-past and unwelcome memory.”

The Imperial profligate laughed heartily.

”Oh, my dear Heltzendorff, you are becoming quite pharisaical. You! Oh!