Part 12 (1/2)

In my opinion it was the other way round, but I didn't stop to argue. I took her into the ballroom, having previously found out that Mrs. Sam de Silverley hadn't arrived yet. I was counting on her being a bit late.

She generally is--for the sake of the effect.

When we were sitting down together, Patty and I (all the rest of our lot dancing, except the Winstons), I didn't waste a second in firing off my first gun. ”I want to ask you frankly, Miss Moore,” I began, ”to tell me if you know whether Storm intends to be present at this dance to-night.”

”But yes!” she answered in that funny French way she has, that would be difficult to put on paper if one wanted to. ”He will come in a few minutes.”

”Oh,” said I. ”That's a pity.”

”Why a pity?” she wanted to know.

”Because he's not invited, and that is going to make it mighty awkward--worse than awkward.”

”But, you invited us all,” she insisted. ”You are a member. You have the right----”

”I have the right, but I didn't exercise it for Storm's benefit. I shouldn't have thought of doing so. The rest of the party are gentlemen and ladies. The club can make no objection to them as guests. Storm is a chauffeur. I should have insulted the club by inviting him, and I certainly didn't do so.”

Patty flushed up, and her eyes turned black. She can be a regular little _tiger_ cat, that girl! She must have been spoilt by the nuns in that blessed convent of hers! I believe she'd have liked to box my ears. But I knew I had the whip hand, and I was enjoying myself. ”He's _not_ a chauffeur. You know that!” she snapped. ”He kindly drives my car these few days, because we couldn't replace the man who went, and because I am not experienced. If it comes to that, _you're_ a chauffeur, too. You drove the Grayles-Grice to-day, and you would to-morrow, if I said yes.”

”You are talking sophistry,” said I, though I don't suppose she knew what I meant, as I believe she thinks in French. ”Storm is a paid employe of Mrs. Shuster. He's been switched off one job on to another to accommodate. And he admits he's had former experience as a chauffeur, driving a Grayles-Grice. Anyhow, the fact remains that's the way his status will be regarded here, and if he comes in, claiming to be my guest, in self-defense I shall have to deny it, otherwise I might be asked to resign. When I've had to give him the lie, he will be kicked out of the place. That's a sure thing.”

Patty began to look sick, and her green dress wasn't as becoming as it had been while she was just plain mad. ”You said something about my saving him trouble,” she reminded me. ”What did you mean?”

”Well, you could do one of two things,” I began to explain. ”You could come out now with me in a hurry before he gets in, to head him off and tell him in your own words what I've just said.”

”I would rather die than do such a very insulting thing!” she rapped out, rolling her r's as if she were beating a drum.

”All right then, there's one thing left--that gives you a little more time, but not much, because if the crash isn't to come the question has got to be decided in a few minutes, before the arrival of a certain lady--as a matter of fact, a lady who was on your s.h.i.+p and knows all about Mr. Peter Storm. When _she_ appears on the scene she'll enter a complaint, and the affair will be out of our hands. You will then be too late to save Mrs. Shuster's secretary and your friend the chauffeur from a nasty knock which may leave a black mark for the rest of his life--make it hard for him to get new situations and that sort of thing.”

”Tell me quickly what to do and I will do it!” she said.

”Ask me as a favour to you to speak up for Storm. If you do I shall grant the favour, no matter what it may cost me. But as it will most likely cost me my members.h.i.+p when the story comes out later (which it will) why, I sort of feel as if you'd hate to have me give you that favour for nothing.”

”I do not ask you to give it for nothing!” said she.

”But you do ask the favour. Is that what I'm to understand?”

”Yes. I do ask that.”

”You don't think you'd better wait and hear what I want for my reward before you decide?”

”No. Because whatever you want I will do rather than have Mr. Storm hurt for life, when it was I who persuaded him to come.” (I think she said ”me,” but that's a detail. I adore her little slips!) ”He objected, because there were some good reasons he couldn't tell me for him _not_ to go to a big fas.h.i.+onable dance, but I thought that was just because he was modest. I wanted to show him how I felt--how Molly Winston and _all_ of us feel, except you, the _Socialist_”--(I wish you could have heard how she hissed that word at me!)--”so I begged him to come, to please _me_. Then he told me he would, and now it seems I bring him to humiliation. It is terrible! Yes, I will do anything to save him. And now what is it you want?”

Poor little tragedy queen, I was almost sorry for her, in spite of her tricks! But I was punis.h.i.+ng her for her own future good. Think of the difference for a girl between being Mrs. Edward Caspian and Mrs. Peter Storm!

”Can you guess?” I asked.

”Perhaps I can; perhaps I can't. You had better put it into words, and see how it sounds.”

”Well, I only want you to say what your father wants you to say, and what you let me think you might be willing to say, if you weren't so young. I want you to be engaged to me. Once you've promised, I shall feel safe, and won't press you too much or too soon for the rest. We can talk the future over with Mr. Moore when we get back to Kidd's Pines.”