Part 49

She paused a moment. "Miss Van Buren wants to know if one can buy any special costume to which one takes a fancy."

"Yes, if one doesn't mind what one pays," I answered; but I was nettled that the girl could not have asked so simple a question herself. This is not the first time she has employed a go-between, to find out something which I alone know, and doubtless there will be more occasions, if I let things go on as they are going now. But I don't mean to let them go on. What I shall do, I haven't made up my mind; yet some step must be taken, if I am to reap anything from this trip except a harvest of snubbings.

It was only a little thing that she should question me through her chaperon, regarding the costumes; but it was one more straw in a rapidly growing bundle. And on the way back to the hotel from the museum she pretended not to hear when I spoke. She discussed with Starr, and not with me, the splendors and the crudities of Amsterdam, and asked if he didn't detect here and there a likeness to some old bit of New York--"New Amsterdam." Of course he agreed; and they talked of the "Dutchness" of Poughkeepsie and Albany, and Hudson, and many other places which I never heard of. No wonder that there was triumph in the glance he threw me. Alb (he was thinking, no doubt) was not getting much fun for his money. And it was true. Nevertheless, Alb was not discouraged. He was making up his mind that the time for quiet patience was over, as the skipper of "Lorelei" had engaged for something better.

XVI

"By Jove, here's a lark!" exclaimed Starr, at the breakfast table, looking up from the Paris Herald.

It was at the Amstel Hotel, on our fourth morning, and he and I were taking coffee together, as an Ancient Mariner and his Albatross should. The ladies had not yet appeared, for they were breakfasting in their rooms.

"What's up?" I asked.

"It's under the latest news of your Queen's doings," said he, and began to read aloud: "'Jonkheer Brederode, who is equally popular in English and Dutch society and sporting circles, has taken for the season a large motor-boat, in which he is touring the waterways of Holland, with a party of invited friends, among whom is Lady MacNairne. It was her portrait, as everybody knows, painted by the clever American artist, Mr. R. L. Starr, which was so much admired at the Paris Salon this spring.' Funny, how they strung that story together, isn't it? But it's a bore--er--in the circumstances, their having got hold of my aunt's name."

"People who weave tangled webs mustn't be surprised if they get caught in them sometimes," said I.

"I wonder how Miss Van Buren will like this? She's sure to see it," Starr went on, reflectively.

How she liked it mattered more to me than to anybody else, because if she disliked it, I was the person upon whom her vexation would be visited. But there was a still more important point which apparently hadn't come under the Mariner's consideration. How would Lady MacNairne's husband like it?

Evidently Starr doesn't know that there has been an upset of some sort between Sir Alec and the charming Fleda; and as Fleda is his aunt, but has not confided in her nephew (while she has in me) no matter what trouble the newspaper paragraph may cause for the entire party, it would be a breach of confidence for me to enlighten him.

"By Jove," I said to myself, "what will MacNairne do if he sees in the paper that his wife, who has run away from home without telling him where she's staying, is the principal guest on board a boat of mine? I ought to warn Starr that there may be a crash, but I can't."

The only thing I could do was to pump him, in the hope that he knew more of his aunt's affairs than I supposed.

"My stock's pretty far down in the market with Miss Van Buren already," said I. "It can't go lower. I wonder how these asses think of such nonsense? But I suppose it came of registering 'Lorelei' in my name, which I had to do, to use the flag of the Sailing and Rowing Club of Rotterdam. Somebody heard of the boat's being registered by Rudolph Brederode, and voila the consequences. But where is Lady MacNairne?"

"Heavens, don't yell at the top of your voice," groaned Starr, in a dreadful whisper. "There may be some one at the next table who can speak English. I've had an awful lesson, as nobody knows better than you, to behave in a restaurant as if I were at church. The real Lady McN., who is not up-stairs at the present moment breakfasting with Tibe, may be in Kamschatka for all I know, though I think it probable she's not. All I do know is that she's never answered two frantic telegrams of mine. She's not at home. She may be anywhere else--except in Holland, where she's wanted."

"It would be awkward if she should turn up now," I remarked.

"Was wanted, I ought to have said. But she's such a good pal, I should fix things up with her somehow."

"I doubt if you would with her husband," I thought, though aloud I said nothing. I was sure now that he was in ignorance of the situation, blissful ignorance, since he could not guess what developments it might lead to for him, and for the Chaperon whom he had provided at such cost.

"If anything happens, I shall have to help him through it somehow," I decided, "as it's more than half my fault, registering 'Lorelei' in my name. Besides, I can't let the party be broken up, until I've had a fair chance to raise Brederode stock in the market."

To know that at any moment Sir Alec MacNairne might pounce upon us, denounce the Chaperon as a fraud, disgust the girls with Starr, and put a sudden end to the adventure as far as the two men in it were concerned, was not conducive to appetite. I forgot whether I had just begun my breakfast, or just finished it, but in either case it interested me no more than eggs and toast would have interested Damocles at the moment of discovering the sword.

"The principal thing is not to let the girls see the Herald," said Starr.

I wished it were the principal thing; still, I said nothing, and getting up, we went into the hall.

"Miss Van Buren would think it cool of you, perhaps, if she knew you'd registered her boat in your name," said Starr, taking up the subject again. "She wouldn't understand----"

"What would Miss Van Buren think cool?" asked Miss Van Buren's voice behind us, and the Mariner started as if we were conspirators.

"Oh, nothing particular," he answered limply.

"Please tell me."

"I'll tell you," I said, with a sudden determination that she should know the worst, and do her worst, and be conquered by something stronger than her prejudice. The tug-of-war was coming between us now, that tug-of-war I had been expecting and almost desiring.