Part 46 (1/2)
”Just as soon as I can get my hat on,” replied Florence, happy as a lark.
”But mind,” warned Jones; ”be sure that you see the costumer alone and that no one else is about.”
”I'll take particular care,” agreed Norton. ”We've got to do some hustling to find something suitable. For a big affair like this the town will be ransacked. All aboard! There's room for two in that car of mine; and we can have a spin besides. Hang work!”
Florence laughed, and even Jones permitted a smile (which was not grim this time) to stir his lips.
A happy person is generally un.o.bservant. Two happy persons together are totally un.o.bservant of what pa.s.ses around them. In plainer terms this lack is called love. And being frankly in love with each other, neither Norton nor Florence observed that a taxicab followed them into town. Jones, not being in love, was keenly observant; but the taxicab took up the trail two blocks away, so the matter wholly escaped Jones'
eye.
The two went into several costumers', but eventually discovered a shop on a side street that had been overlooked by those invited to the masquerade. They had a merry time rummaging among the camphory-smelling boxes. There were dominoes of all colors, and at length they agreed upon two modest ones that were evenly matched in color and design. Florence ordered them to be sent home. Then the two of them sallied up to the Ritz-Carleton and had tea.
The man from the taxicab entered the costumer's, displayed a detective's s.h.i.+eld and demanded that the proprietor show him the costumes selected by the two young people who had just left. The man obeyed wonderingly.
”I want a pair exactly like these,” said the detective. ”How much?”
”Two dollars each, rental; seven apiece if you wish to buy them.”
”I'll buy them.”
The detective paid the bill, nodded curtly, and returned to his taxicab.
”Now, I wonder,” mused the costumer, ”what the d.i.c.kens those innocent-looking young people are up to?” He never found out.
On the night of the ball Norton dined with Florence for the first time; and for once in his life he experienced that petty disturbance of collective thought called embarra.s.sment. To talk over war plans with Jones was one thing, but to have Jones serve soup was altogether another. All through dinner Jones replied to questions with no more and no less than ”Yes, sir,” and ”No, sir.” Norton was beginning to learn that this strange man could put on a dozen kinds of armor and always retain his individuality. And to-night there seemed something vaguely familiar about the impa.s.sive face of the butler, as if he had seen it somewhere in the past, but could not tell when or where. As he and Florence were leaving for the automobile which was to take them to the princess', the truth came home to him with the shock of a douche of ice-cold water. Under his breath he murmured: ”You're a wonderful man, Jones; and I take my hat off to you with the deepest admiration. Hang me!”
”What are you mumbling about?” asked the happy girl.
”Was I mumbling? Perhaps I was going over my catechism. I haven't been out in society in so long that I've forgotten how to act.”
”I believe that. We've been in here for five minutes and you haven't told me that you love me.”
”Good heavens!” And his arms went around her so tightly that she begged for quarter.
”How strong you are!”
The splendor of the rooms, the dazzling array of jewels, the kaleidoscopic colors, the perfume of the banked flowers and the music all combined to put Florence into a pleasurable kind of trance. And it was only when the first waltz began that she became herself and surrendered to the arms of the man she loved.
And they were waltzing over a volcano. She knew and he knew it. From what direction would the blow come? Well, they were prepared for all manner of tricks.
In an alcove off the ballroom sat Braine and Olga, both dressed exactly like Norton and Florence. Another man and woman entered presently, and Braine spoke to them for a moment, as if giving instructions, which was indeed the case.
The band crashed into another dance, and the masqueraders began swirling hither and thither and yon. A gay cavalier suddenly stopped in front of Florence.
”Enchantress, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Jim touched Florence's hand. But she turned laughingly toward the stranger. What difference did it make? The man would never know who she was nor would she know him. It was a lark, that was all; and despite Jim's warning touch she was up and away like the mischievous sprite that she was. Jim remained in his chair, twisting his fingers and wondering whether to laugh or grow angry. After all, he could not blame her. To him an affair like this was an ancient story; to her it was the door of fairyland swung open. Let her enjoy herself.
Florence was having a splendid time. Her partner was asking her all sorts of questions and she was replying in kind, when out of the crowd came Norton (as she supposed), who touched her arm. The cavalier stopped, bowed and made off.