Part 9 (1/2)

”True, Bunny,” she answered, gravely. ”But you see the highwayman was a man and--well, I'm a woman, dear. I can prove an alibi. By-the-way, you left the cellar-door unlocked that Wednesday. I found it open when I sneaked in to cut off the electric lights. You mustn't be so careless, dear, or we may have to divvy up our spoil with others.”

Marvellous woman, that Henriette!

X

THE ADVENTURE OF MRS. SHADD'S MUSICALE

Henriette was visibly angry the other morning when I took to her the early mail and she discovered that Mrs. Van Varick Shadd had got ahead of her in the matter of Jockobinski, the monkey virtuoso. Society had been very much interested in the reported arrival in America of this wonderfully talented simian who could play the violin as well as Ysaye, and who as a performer on the piano was vastly the superior of Paderewski, because, taken in his infancy and specially trained for the purpose, he could play with his feet and tail as well as with his hands.

It had been reported by Tommy Dare, the leading Newport authority on monkeys, that he had heard him play Brahm's ”Variations on Paganini”

with his paws on a piano, ”Hiawatha” on a xylophone with his feet, and ”Home, Sweet Home” with his tail on a harp simultaneously, in Paris a year ago, and that alongside of Jockobinski all other musical prodigies of the age became mere strummers.

”He's a whole orchestra in himself,” said Tommy enthusiastically, ”and is the only living creature that I know of who can tackle a whole symphony without the aid of a hired man.”

Of course society was on the _qui vive_ for a genius of so riotous an order as this, and all the wealthy families of Newport vied with one another for the privilege of being first to welcome him to our sh.o.r.es, not because he was a freak, mind you, but ”for art's sweet sake.” Mrs.

Gus.h.i.+ngton-Andrews offered twenty-five hundred dollars for him as a week-end guest, and Mrs. Gaster immediately went her bid a hundred per cent. better. Henriette, in order to outdo every one else, promptly put in a bid of ten thousand dollars for a single evening, and had supposed the bargain closed when along came Mrs. Shadd's cards announcing that she would be pleased to have Mrs. Van Raffles at Onyx House on Friday evening, August 27th, to meet Herr Jockobinski, the eminent virtuoso.

”It's very annoying,” said Henriette, as she opened and read the invitation. ”I had quite set my heart on having Jockobinski here. Not that I care particularly about the music end of it, but because there is nothing that gives a woman so a.s.sured a social position as being the hostess of an animal of his particular kind. You remember, Bunny, how completely Mrs. Shadd wrested the leaders.h.i.+p from Mrs. Gaster two seasons ago with her orang outang dinner, don't you?”

I confessed to having read something about such an incident in high society.

”Well,” said Henriette, ”_this_ would have thrown that little episode wholly in the shade. Of course Mrs. Shadd is doing this to retain her grip, but it irritates me more than I can say to have her get it just the same. Heaven knows I was willing to pay for it if I had to abscond with a national bank to get the money.”

”It isn't too late, is it?” I queried.

”Not too late?” echoed Henriette. ”Not too late with Mrs. Shadd's cards out and the whole thing published in the papers?”

”It's never too late for a woman of your resources to do anything she has a mind to do,” said I. ”It seems to me that a person who could swipe a Carnegie library the way you did should have little difficulty in lifting a musicale. Of course I don't know how you could do it, but with _your_ mind--well, I should be surprised and disappointed if you couldn't devise some plan to accomplish your desires.”

Henriette was silent for a moment, and then her face lit up with one of her most charming smiles.

”Bunny, do you know that at times, in spite of your supreme stupidity, you are a source of positive inspiration to me?” she said, looking at me, fondly, I ventured to think.

”I am glad if it is so,” said I. ”Sometimes, dear Henriette, you will find the most beautiful flowers growing out of the blackest mud. Perhaps hid in the dull residuum of my poor but honest gray matter lies the seed of real genius that will sprout the loveliest blossoms of achievement.”

”Well, anyhow, dear, you have started me thinking, and maybe we'll have Jockobinski at Bolivar Lodge yet,” she murmured. ”I want to have him first, of course, or not at all. To be second in doing a thing of that kind is worse than never doing it at all.”

Days went by and not another word was spoken on the subject of Jockobinski and the musicale, and I began to feel that at last Henriette had reached the end of her ingenuity--though for my own part I could not blame her if she failed to find some plausible way out of her disappointment. Wednesday night came, and, consumed by curiosity to learn just how the matter stood, I attempted to sound Henriette on the subject.

”I should like Friday evening off, Mrs. Van Raffles,” said I. ”If you are going to Mrs. Shadd's musicale you will have no use for me.”

”Shut up, Bunny,” she returned, abruptly. ”I shall need you Friday night more than ever before. Just take this note over to Mrs. Shadd this evening and leave it--mind you, don't wait for an answer but just leave it, that's all.”

She arose from the table and handed me a daintily scented missive addressed to Mrs. Shadd, and I faithfully executed her errand. Bunderby, the Shadd's butler, endeavored to persuade me to wait for an answer, but a.s.suring him that I wasn't aware that an answer was expected I returned to Bolivar Lodge. An hour later Bunderby appeared at the back door and handed me a note addressed to my mistress, which I immediately delivered.

”Is Bunderby waiting?” asked Henriette as she read the note.

”Yes,” I answered.

”Tell him to hand this to Mrs. Shadd the very first thing upon her return to-morrow evening,” she said, hastily scribbling off a note and putting it in an envelope, which by chance she left unsealed, so that on my way back below-stairs I was able to read it. What it said was that she would be only too happy to oblige Mrs. Shadd, and was very sorry indeed to hear that her son had been injured in an automobile accident while running into Boston from Bar Harbor. It closed with the line, ”you must know, my dear Pauline, that there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, come weal or come woe.”