Читать книгу A Secret Service - Fred M. White - Страница 4

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"The obligation is all on one side," Elsie retorted. "Just look at this. Here is a costume I am finishing of a lady who is going to a charity ball to-night. It was made for her by one of the best houses, and when it was done she didn't care about it. It did not convey the distinctive note she required, and the stupid man milliner confessed he did not understand what she meant. He said it was one of the most beautiful gowns they had ever turned out, and so it is. Nine out of every ten Society women would only be too pleased to be seen in it. It is a wonderful black Grecian drapery, but, to my mind, a little bit too sombre. It needs a red woman to wear that costume, and I understand that Miss Valerie Brune is very dark—but I'll put on the dress and you shall see. I should like your opinion."

Elsie wreathed herself in the soft folds and stood where the light fell fully upon her. Her lithe, slim figure showed to great advantage; she seemed to be transformed, to have become another creature altogether.

"Oh, it is exquisite!" Ida cried. "My dear Elsie, how beautiful you are. I never realised—"

"Would it had been otherwise!" Elsie said quietly. "But we won't go into that. You see, I am fair, and that is why the dress suits me. Let me put it on you, and if you look at yourself in the cheval glass there you will appreciate what I am saying. You are a dark beauty, with something of the South about you."

"My mother was an Italian," Ida explained.

"Ah, that is where you get those liquid eyes and that perfect olive complexion. Now, I just wrap the drapery about you—so, and fasten it with a few safety pins. One of the advantages of this costume is that it will fit anybody if it is properly adjusted. Turn to the glass and you will see for yourself what I mean. You are a pretty girl, Ida, and colouring is perfect, but all that soft, dead black makes your complexion look almost muddy. Suppose we have some spots of white and some of this marvellous embroidery. You see it is green and gold and red and a trifle audacious. I place some of it round your neck, and again at the hem of the skirt. Now, look at this green sash—did you ever see anything more beautiful? That is the best of dead black for a background—one can be so daring with it. There, what do you think of the combination? A moment ago you were merely a pretty girl, and now you are a dazzling, beauty who might have stepped out of one of Raeburn's frames. You must admit that there is an extraordinary difference."

Ida gazed at herself in the long glass opposite. Her lips were slightly parted, and a delicate flush mounted her cheeks.

"Is that really me?" she exclaimed. "Elsie, you are a positive enchantress. I wouldn't have believed you could have made such a change with a mere handful of embroidery!''

"Ah, but such embroidery!" Elsie laughed. "No, don't take it off yet. I want you to be my model for a bit. I have another inspiration. When I have everything to my mind I'll tack that stuff on, and then you shall use the machine for me. By the way, have you ever done any sewing?"

It was a consolation to Ida that she could give Elsie that assurance. For the next hour or two they worked rapidly and silently, until at length Elsie pronounced, with a sigh of satisfaction, that the work was finished.

"You don't know what a relief that is to me," she said. "I should never have got it done if you hadn't come to my assistance. I had faithfully promised that the dress should be delivered at 45A, Grosvenor-square by 11 o'clock to-night. I want you to take it there and show Miss Brune all the tricks of it. You will have to act as a sort of lady's maid, but I hope you won't mind that; you won't be nervous?"'

"I'm ready to do anything," Ida declared. "If you only knew what a fate you've saved me from to-day! So long as Miss Brune doesn't recognise me I shan't mind a bit."

"What! Do you know her?"

"Oh, dear no, I never heard her name before. Only it is curious you should mention 45A, Grosvenor-square, because some friends of my father's live there. I heard they had let their house for six months. It will be very strange to go there as a milliner's assistant when I have been actually a guest under the same roof."

Nevertheless, Ida felt somewhat nervous when she rang the front door bell of the great house in Grosvenor-square. There was a chance her friends had left the servants behind, and she might be recognised. But the manservant who opened the door was a stranger to her, and a foreigner at that. He was a tall, thin man, with hard, glittering eyes, and a face like a mask. There was something in his manner, too, which did not suggest the typical manservant. His English was fairly good, and his accent did not lack refinement. He gave Ida an impression of unreality such as one gathers from the portraiture of a servant on the stage. In the large, brilliantly-lighted hall, with its pictures and statues and banks of flowers, other servants lounged, all of them quiet and subdued, with the same air of gentility about them; indeed, Ida might have been an expected guest from the courteous manner in which she was escorted to the drawing-room.

Miss Brune was engaged for the moment, she was told, but would not keep her long. A blaze of electric lights flooded the drawing-room, and through a pair of double doors another fine room could be seen. Here also the lights were fully on, but, so far as Ida could see, the place was empty. It was all very beautiful and very familiar, yet so strangely grand and impressive after the shabby attic in which Ida had lived so long. As she sat in the shadow at a screen, she was conscious that somebody had entered the further drawing-room. Her quick ears caught the rustle of a skirt, then a soft and liquid voice was heard, evidently issuing orders in a tongue which Ida took to be either Spanish or Italian. Presently a door closed softly and, as Ida turned her head in the direction of the inner room, she saw a woman standing there with a letter in her hand.

There was something about this woman that immediately riveted her attention. She was not particularly tall or commanding, her face was pale, and her eyes were dark and brooding. She seemed to read the letter more than once before she tore it into fragments and tossed them into the fire. Then another door opened and the woman was no longer alone. A man was by her side—a fine, well-made man in immaculate evening dress, sleek, well groomed, and unmistakably English. He occupied such a position that Ida observed his face in profile, and noticed that the features were hard and hawklike, and the clean-shaven lips were pressed firmly together.

"Well," the man said, and there was a challenge in the word, "Well, you see I am here. I knew you couldn't manage without me. You are a wonderful woman. Valerie, but there are times when you are too clever."

The woman laughed mirthlessly.

"Yes, and there are times when you are too exasperating. There are times when I hate you, when the blood rises before my eyes, and when I am dangerous, my friend. I will do you a mischief one of these days. It will be inevitable if you drive me too far. I know you think you can play for the cause, and for your own band at the same time, but you will find that it is impossible. It does not suit you that I should go to this dance to-night, and you are here to try to prevent me. Bah! Was there ever yet man born of woman who could prevent Valerie Brune from doing anything she had made up her mind to do? Of a certainty you are not that man. Whatever the consequences, I am going. And some day, the world may know the reason why. Leave me, please, for I have no time to waste. Will you go, or shall I summon my servants?"

"Oh, there's no occasion for that!" the man said. "You are doing a mad and foolish thing, and I have done my best to prevent it. Good-night, my dear Valerie."

He went silently from the room, and Valerie Brune came through the folded doors. She started slightly as she caught sight of Ida, and there was a questioning gleam in her eyes.

"You have brought my dress?" she asked. "I had forgotten you for the time. Did you hear what was said in the other room? But what does it matter? A child like you would not understand. Now stand there in the light so that I can see your face. Good heavens!"

Valerie Brune was staring intently at Ida, and the latter's eyes were full of strange amazement.

"Why, you are me!" cried Valerie Brune. "You are me and I am you— never was there such a likeness so strange and wonderful! A shop assistant from Bond-street who in the living image of Valerie Brune! Are you of my nationality, too?"

"My mother was an Italian," Ida said quietly. "But I should prefer not to discuss it, madam. As you remarked. I am only a shop assistant, who has come with your dress to see it properly fitted on."

"True, true!" Valerie Brune answered with a certain brooding thoughtfulness. "There is a time for everything, and there is always to-morrow. Will you take the dress out and put it on? You are like me in figure as in face. Lock the door in case we are interrupted. I have a whim to see you in that dress, and I will help you with it—Ah, yes, marvellous! They told me of a wonderful woman who can make crystals into diamonds, and behold, she has done it. My dear child, you look wonderful. I positively envy you."

"Is not that my role?"

"Not to-night, at any rate. Now let me speak freely. If I hurt your feelings, pray forgive me. There has come, to me an idea, an idea that must be carried out, you understand. You are a shop assistant, and therefore poor. You will do anything for money so long as you come by it honestly. You are my twin in everything, and therefore you have courage. For there is danger in this thing, mark you, though it will bring you more money than you've ever seen in your life. Now, are you ready to put yourself in my hands and do exactly what I ask?"