The Windsor Magazine/A Charming Young Couple

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

 

A CHARMING
YOUNG COUPLE

By MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES

ILLUSTRATED BY HENRY COLLER

"I WISH you'd give your sprightly friend Lady Whiteways a hint that we've only two telephone lines here, Laura," grumbled the Duke. "I'm told the old soul's hard at it for an hour each morning! Whatever made you give her a bedroom with an extension in it?"

"She asked me if we would allow her to have a telephone. Though she's so old, she's still a very busy woman."

"She would be well advised to turn her attention to that great-nephew of hers, especially if it's true that she's left him all her money."

"Is Ronny Whiteways in trouble?" asked the Duchess, startled.

"I don't go so far as that. But he's an idle young chap; and I'm told his wife is recklessly extravagant."

"I heard them described the other day as a charming young couple."

"They're a pair of young fools, if half what I hear is true."

As the Duchess passed Lady Whiteways' bedroom door a few moments later, she heard an upraised, thin-toned voice, obviously speaking on the telephone, and she smiled as she passed on, her mind dwelling, naturally enough, on her energetic guest and her guest's peculiarities.

Though Lady Whiteways was now close on eighty, she very much disliked being treated as an old woman. If only as a survival of Victorian society, she occupied an important niche in the great world. She was far too clever to affect youth, so she dressed in a way which would have been suitable in an old-fashioned lady of fifty to sixty.

But Georgiana Whiteways, as her friends generally called her, held the sound view that a woman is only as old as she feels. She might be eighty by the calendar, but she still felt vigorous, still had a vast circle of friends, and still delighted in settling other people's affairs for them. However, as a matter of fact, this time it was someone ringing up Lady Whiteways, not Lady Whiteways getting through to someone in town.

"Is that you, Aunt Georgie?" It was the voice of her great-nephew's wife.

Lady Whiteways unconsciously stiffened herself. She felt sure an appeal was going to be made to her for money, and she was determined that she neither would, nor could, do any more for Ronny Whiteways, and his attractive, oddly-named wife, Dahlia, than she was doing already.

She knew, or thought she knew, to a penny what the young pair had to spend. Thirteen hundred a year was more than enough for a childless couple to live on comfortably, the more so that in a weak moment she had promised to pay the rent of their pretty flat in Mayfair. But though she was angrily aware that she, herself, had to pay more than twice as much for everything she bought as before the war, Lady Whiteways did not realise that this was also the case with everyone else.

"I thought you'd like to know that Ronny made quite a bit of money yesterday! It's the first commish he's had."

"Commish?" repeated the old lady, bewildered. "What d'you mean by 'commish,' Dahlia?"

"My dear Aunt Georgie! Don't pretend you don't know—'commission,' of course!" And there floated down the line the low chuckling laugh of the speaker. "He pulled off nearly three hundred pounds in about ten minutes," went on Dahlia Whiteways. "Wasn't that splendid?"

Lady Whiteways was delighted. Why three hundred pounds represented—she waited a moment—five per cent. on a capital of six thousand pounds. Though she would have been very much shocked to hear it, money was her god.

"I suppose you're having a wonderful time, Aunt Georgie?"

"Not wonderful exactly. But, yes, I think it's going to be a very pleasant party."

"Who's in the party?" came the carelessly uttered question.

"I suppose most people would call Sir Ralph Bannerman our brightest star."

"What does he do, Aunt Georgie?"

"Really, Dahlia! Surely you know that he's Chancellor of the Exchequer? He's putting the last touches to what Dessie Hilbry calls his bran-pie Budget. Then there's his secretary, Robert Roxly, and half the Cabinet and their wives besides."

"They say the Duchess is so delightful; I do wish we knew her."

"She used to be very fond of Ronny, when he was a schoolboy," came the quick reply.

"Yes, I know; but he hasn't seen her for ages. He wants me to know her, and we thought of coming down to your part of the world this next week-end. I suppose there's a decent hotel in the town?"

Old Lady Whiteways was not as surprised as she might otherwise have been. Ronny and Dahlia had had a small motor given them as a wedding present, and they often went out of town for a few nights. Quickly she told herself, now, that it might be a very good thing for them to make friends with the Duke and Duchess. The tale of that three hundred pounds her nephew had made in ten minutes yesterday had put her in high good-humour.

"There's a rather nice little inn by the river, called 'The Fisherman's Rest,' and there's an old-fashioned coaching hotel in the middle of the town," she called back. "But are you really thinking of coming?"

"Of course we are," came the quick answer.

"Then I'll get the Duchess to ask you to lunch or dinner on Sunday. She'll be delighted to see Ronny again!"

 

"Coming to 'The Fisherman's Rest' for the week-end? They'll find it very damp and cold this time of year. Let them come here instead. Everyone tells me they're such a charming young couple! And, as it happens, the Shelbournes have just 'chucked,'" exclaimed the Duchess.

Lady Whiteways was enchanted. Ronny would be sure to make a number of useful friends in such a "good" house-party.

"That is kind of you, Laura! To tell you the truth, my dear, they spend far too much money on what Dahlia calls merry little jaunts——"

The Duchess gave a quick look at her guest. "You like Ronny's wife?"

Lady Whiteways hesitated. "Of course I was disappointed that the dear boy didn't marry a different kind of girl—a quiet, steady girl with money—but Dahlia is very attractive, and clever, too."

"I thought Ronny's wife had money?" observed the Duchess.

"Six thousand pounds, if you call that money?" answered Lady Whiteways in a dissatisfied tone. "But it was not tied up in any way, and I'm afraid they may be spending a little of her capital—so at least my lawyer hinted to me the other day. I don't know what young people are coming to nowadays——"

A worried, almost an angry look came over the withered face. "You know how kind and generous my dear husband always was to me, Laura? Also that I had a good fortune of my own? But I assure you that I used to think a great many times when I was a young woman, before I gave twenty pounds for a gown. So imagine what I felt when I learnt the other day that Ronny's wife had actually given forty-five guineas for what my niece Blanche, who told me about it, said Dahlia called 'a simple little frock'!"

She waited a moment, then added firmly: "However, the way they spend their money is no business of mine. Ronny knows that the good allowance I make him is more than I can afford, what with the income-tax, and so on——"

"Does he make anything in the City?"

"He made three hundred pounds only yesterday," replied Lady Whiteways proudly. "By the way, may I telephone to Dahlia, and tell her of your more-than-kind invitation?"

"Can't I send a message, and save you the trouble?" asked the Duchess affectionately.

"No, my dear, I shall enjoy doing it."

"Will you tell Mrs. Ronny that I should like them to arrive to-morrow? And will you kindly explain the kind of party we're having? I hope she isn't one of those foolish young women who know nothing of what's going on in the world."

"Oh, no, she's very sharp indeed! I could understand her love of fine clothes far better, if she was stupid."

 

"You've asked that young rotter Ronny Whiteways, and his extravagant wife, instead of the Shelbournes? What made you think of asking them to a party of this kind?" exclaimed the Duke an hour later.

"I wanted something young and cheerful. Ronny had delightful manners as a boy, and everybody says they're a charming young couple."

"They may be a charming young couple," observed the Duke dryly, "and I don't suppose they'll be able to do much harm here. But I shall be very surprised, from what I hear of your friend Ronny Whiteways, if he leaves without having tried to 'touch' one or two of his great-aunt's old friends that may be here."

Illustration: "'Few women are as foolishly generous as you are. Do remember that "kindness brings its own punishment."' 'Since I had the good fortune to become your wife I've not often had occasion to forget it,' said the Duchess."

The Duchess looked horrified. "I hope he'll confine his efforts as to 'touching' to you and to me!" she exclaimed.

"He'll leave me alone," observed the Duke grimly. "But I do beg you, Laura, absolutely to refuse to give or lend him anything," and he had on his face the peculiar look which the Duchess described to herself as that of "him who must be obeyed."

"You think me very much more foolish than I am, James," she said in a hurt tone. "You needn't be in the least afraid that I shall give young Ronny money. Why should I? Georgiana Whiteways is exceedingly well off, and she regards him as a son. In fact I can't understand her not helping him more than she does."

"Few women are as foolishly generous as you are. Do remember that 'kindness brings its own punishment.'"

"Since I had the good fortune to become your wife I've not often had occasion to forget it," said the Duchess. And when he exclaimed "Eh, what?" she only answered by giving him a loving kiss.

II.

"Mr. and Mrs. Eonald Whiteways."

The couple advanced into the pretty sitting-room which was known in the castle as "The Flower Room," because the turquoise blue walls were hung with fine eighteenth-century flower-pieces.

The Duchess rose, and she gave the two who had just been shown in a quick, measuring look. She hadn't seen the young man since he was a boy at Harrow—and the War had come between.

Ronny Whiteways looked older than he was. He was tall, he had very regular features and large dark eyes; but a loose-looking, weak mouth spoilt what would have been a fine countenance.

As for his wife. Dahlia Whiteways was miraculously slender, and almost as tall as her husband. She was fair, with large pale-green eyes, and her white camellia-tinted face was very cleverly made up. But what interested her hostess, it must be confessed, was her clothes. This afternoon she was wearing a superb mink coat, and on her dark shingled head lay a sable toque.

Ronny Whiteways, though he did not look particularly happy, appeared quite at his ease. Not so Mrs. Ronny. She looked shy, and there was an odd look of suppressed excitement in her eyes. Was it possible that she felt over-awed and "jumpy" because her hostess happened to be a Duchess? Was she like the mythical lady sometimes mentioned by the Duke, "who always knew when there was a baronet in the room?"

"It's most kind of you to have asked us," she exclaimed. "I have always longed to see this part of the world, and it had begun to look as if I was never going to do so!"

The Duchess felt slightly taken by surprise. Surely old Lady Whiteways had said that the couple had been going to spend the coming week-end at "The Fisherman's Rest?"

"I'm pleased you were able to come at such short notice," was, however, all she said. "I hope your aunt told you that we're rather a serious party? I feel as if the country is being governed from here just now." She added lightly, "It's a great responsibility."

"Who else is staying here, apart from the Chancellor of the Exchequer?" asked the young man suddenly.

Before the Duchess could answer, Ronny's wife suddenly seized his arm, and she held on to him firmly while she exclaimed: "The man who is nicknamed 'White Job'? I'd no idea he was here."

"He's not in the least Job-like in everyday life," said the Duchess, smiling. "He's a most cheerful, delightful person, and very fond of young people. Then there's his secretary, of course, Bobby Roxly——"

"I know him," said Dahlia Whiteways quietly.

"We've also got Lord and Lady Goring. He's 'Agriculture,' you know. Then there's Eric Farnol, who is doing so well at the Board of Trade; Mr. Findle, 'Education'; and Alfred Buick, who is sometimes called 'the thirteenth member of the Cabinet,' though he's no official position at all. I suppose some people would say that he's cleverer than the whole of the Government put together! And now"—she turned specially to Dahlia—"I expect you would like to go to your room, my dear, and rest a little while before dressing for dinner? "

To Ronny she observed: "You'll find the Duke about somewhere. I expect you remember where the smoking-room is?"

As she went along the corridors of the great house, with her new guest walking silently by her side, the Duchess told herself, not for the first time, how little anyone can rely on a second-hand account of a human being. She had imagined Dahlia Whiteways as a talkative, lively, ordinary young woman. Someone absolutely unlike this singular-looking, in her way beautiful, and rather silent, creature.

Dahlia's hostess felt glad that her new guests were going to occupy the stately apartments which had been set aside for Lord and Lady Shelbourne.

"Here is your bedroom, my dear. Ronny's dressing-room is beyond."

"What a delicious room!" exclaimed Dahlia Whiteways, involuntarily speaking her thoughts aloud.

"Yes, I think it is a charming room. I had thought of putting our big man here—I mean Sir Ralph Bannerman. But he wants to be absolutely quiet just now, as he is working hard at the Budget. So I've given him a suite which is like a little flat—cut off, that is, by a lobby from the corridor. There he and Roxly are safe from all noise and interruption."

"I suppose they are on another floor?"

The Duchess was just a little surprised at the question. "No, Sir Ralph's on this floor. In fact, just opposite, on the other side of the corridor."

Dahlia Whiteways had thrown off her fur coat; she wore a short brown pleated skirt, and a Magyar blouse trimmed with sable. With a graceful movement she went across the room, and held out her hands to the fire.

"I'll leave you to rest, now. But I want to tell you, my dear, how really pleased I am to make friends with you," said the Duchess seriously. "Lady Whiteways was a friend of my own mother, and I used to be so fond of Ronny?" Impulsively she added, "I hope that you're very happy?"

Dahlia Whiteways turned round, and the Duchess saw that her pale green limpid=looking eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm as happy as I deserve to be," she said in a low voice. "The only man I ever cared for was killed in the war. I was so miserable, and at such a loose end, that I took the first well-to-do man who asked me. Ronny is not a bad sort, and we should be all right if Lady Whiteways weren't so mean. Even in these hard times she contrives to save. After all, the old thing can't take her money to heaven with her. Ronny is bound to have it all some day."

On leaving her guest, the Duchess lightly knocked on Lady Hilbry's door.

Now pretty Lady Hilbry, as she was always called, was very spoilt; she had everything in the world she wanted, and her husband, who was a brilliant and successful politician, adored her. She had, however, one ugly trait in her nature. She was jealous of anyone she thought more popular than herself, or luckier than herself with regard to racing, of which she was passionately fond; and passionately jealous of any woman who, by some untoward accident, could be regarded as prettier than, or even as pretty as, herself. That, however, very seldom happened, for she was really lovely, her type of beauty being the small, fair, pocket Venus type.

The Duchess, who, in spite of her kindness of nature, had a very shrewd side in her character, felt uncomfortably sure that if Dahlia Whiteways and pretty Lady Hilbry had ever come across one another. Dahlia was the sort of young married woman to whom Lady Hilbry would have taken an instant jealous dislike. So she thought it well to prepare her for the coming meeting.

"Come in!" called a gay happy voice.

Lady Hilbry, wrapped in a pale pink dressing-gown lined with white fur, was curled up in a big armchair before the fire.

"Darling Duchess Laura!" she exclaimed—"do sit down, and let's have a gossip! We needn't think of dressing for ever so long!"

She made room by her side in the big chair, and then she put her pretty arm round her hostess's waist.

"I'm having such a good time," she cried.

"I should think you were, you naughty little thing, with all the men in love with you—and Hilbry the most in love of them all," said the Duchess, smiling. "Even James succumbs to your wiles."

"I wish he did! But no one has a chance there. To tell you the truth, I'm not a bit sorry that Sally Shelbourne isn't coming."

"That's very unkind of you, for clever as you are, you can't keep all my great men in high feather. However, I have secured another charmer——"

There had come just a little touch of hesitation into the Duchess's voice.

"Another charmer? Who's that? I do hope it's someone who won't go and spoil the party."

"Really, Dessie!"

"You know what I mean—though of course it was rude of me to say it."

"The people I've asked—they've just arrived—are Lady Whiteways' great-nephew and his wife."

"Not the Ronny Whiteways? Not that awful woman?"

The colour rushed into Lady Hilbry's fair face. She looked violently disturbed.

"Do you dislike her as much as that?" exclaimed the Duchess, dismayed. "It was all settled in a minute—yesterday. I saw that Georgie Whiteways wanted me to ask them. And when I said 'yes,' she scuttled off at once and telephoned. You know what she's like?"

"Dahlia Whiteways is dreadful, dreadful!" cried the other excitedly; "in fact, she's a regular adventuress."

"Come, come," the Duchess interjected, "that's nonsense, Dessie. My father knew all her people, and her brother commands the Eightieth."

"That's nothing to do with it—less than nothing! She's the most grasping woman in London. Why, she lately accepted the most wonderful mink coat you ever saw from one of the poor Russian Grand Dukes! She spends more than poor Ronny's whole income on her back, as my old nurse used to say. As for Ronny? Well, I should like you to hear Hilbry on Ronny! What money he makes he makes by cards—some people would say by card sharping——"

She stopped, out of breath, and she even, had the grace to look a little ashamed.

The Duchess felt irritated. It was too bad of this lovely little creature, who had everything that the world could give her, to speak so unkindly of a young couple who, whatever their faults, had none of Lady Hilbry's social and financial advantages. So she said coldly: "I blame Georgie Whiteways very much for not doing more for Ronny, the more so that she always says what I think is true—that she regards him as her own child. As for his wife, of course I am not as yet in a position to judge. But you know as well as I do, Dessie, that in a certain set girls and women do take handsome presents from men nowadays, and that no one seems to think such conduct strange."

She was saying to herself that Dessie Hilbry would not have said one word of all this had not Dahlia Whiteways been exceptionally attractive. It was really too bad!

No doubt the younger woman saw something of what was in her hostess's mind, for she went on, quickly and breathlessly:

"Of course you think I'm jealous? And I dare say I am—a little bit. I was getting on so well with all these clever men, and of course I know that Dahlia Whiteways will cut me out. She's awfully clever—not stupid, like poor little me. She can talk about anything to anybody. But then that's been her life's job—to get on!"

"I think she looks very unhappy," said the Duchess thoughtfully.

"I admit she had one rotten piece of luck. You remember the Mintmers' boy? Well, she became engaged to him just before the war. She's much older than she looks—far older than I am. And then he went out and was killed at Mons. But for that she'd be a Viscountess to-day."

"You must admit, too, that she's had bad luck in marrying Ronny."

"Why did she marry him? He's almost a half-wit!"

And then, without waiting for an answer—"I'll tell you why! She's always been fearfully extravagant, and she was fearfully hard up when she drifted across Ronny. She knew he'd be very rich some day——"

The Duchess got up, and with a twinkle in her eye, she observed: "If you feel all that about her, Dessie—wouldn't you rather have your dinner sent up on a tray?"

Lady Hilbry began to laugh. She knew she had gone just a little too far; so now she jumped up, and threw her arms round her hostess's neck. "I've been a beast," she acknowledged. "Darling, darling Duchess Laura! I wish I was as good as you!"

"You see," said the other gently, "I can't help feeling, Dessie, what a very happy and fortunate woman you are compared to that—" she sought for a word but could find nothing better than "poor creature."

"Poor creature?"

"Yes, my dear; and that's what I should say of any girl married to Ronny Whiteways. Also, just think what you would feel if you had Georgia Whiteways acting as mother-in-law!"

"All right! I promise you I'll be nice to Dahlia Whiteways. Dahlia? What a name! I suspect she was christened 'Mary-Anne,' and that she just took 'Dahlia' because it's extraordinary, and sets her apart from her kind."

"One might say just the same of 'Decima,'" said the Duchess, smiling.

"'Decima' is ugly, and 'Dahlia' is lovely. That's the difference between them. Still, I promise I'll try and be decent to her. And I do agree that it's 'poor Dahlia,' as far as Ronny is concerned. But well—I don't trust her! There are depths in her that I for one can't plumb."

"There are depths in most of us that even our nearest and dearest can't plumb, as you call it, Dessie. You are far too clever not to know that."

Lady Hilbry's fears proved only too well founded. Dahlia Whiteways became at once the success of the party. For one thing, all the grave and reverend signiors already knew Lady Hilbry; she was, so to speak, one of them. But Mrs. Ronny Whiteways had never lived in political society, and so she was that "something rich and strange" for which the jaded human mind is always craving. Both the Duchess, and the charming young couple's great-aunt, were delighted.

III.

It was Monday morning, and two or three members of the party had had to leave, though most of them had arranged to stay till the morrow.

The Duchess was in good spirits, for she felt that her guests had all enjoyed themselves. At about eleven she told herself that she would go off, alone, into the town, for she was the kind of woman who likes to do her little jobs herself. But her wish for solitude was defeated, for, as she went through the great hall of the castle, she was joined by Sir Ralph Bannerman.

"If you're going out alone, may I come too?" he asked; and she detected that he stressed the word "alone."

The Chancellor of the Exchequer was the only one of her guests with whom the Duchess did not feel on really easy terms. She respected and admired him; but he had a very cynical outlook on human nature; and the only person in the world of whom he appeared to have a thoroughly good opinion was his secretary, Roxly.

"I've something to tell you, Duchess, and I fear I may want your help about a somewhat delicate matter," he observed.

"I shall be glad to help you as to anything," she said sincerely, but feeling very much surprised.

They set off walking down the carriage drive at a good pace, and, after a few minutes. Sir Ralph's hostess struck off with her companion into a solitary path, where she knew they would be sheltered from curious eyes or prying ears.

"I wonder if your quick eyes, Duchess, detected that Roxly looked perturbed this morning at breakfast?"

She answered frankly; "I'm afraid I didn't look at him."

"Two of the men spoke to me of it; and Findle ill-naturedly said that he hoped Roxly hadn't fallen in love! Now, Duchess, at his own wish, I'm going to tell you something which has greatly distressed him."

She felt full of curiosity. As there was no girl in the party, Sir Ralph couldn't be going to ask her to help his invaluable secretary and friend with regard to a love affair.

"May I begin by saying that for the present I should be grateful if you will keep the matter from the Duke? It will be, I fervently hope, the kind of case concerning which 'the least said the soonest mended.'"

The Duchess, startled, realised that her companion had suddenly become very grave; in fact, his whole expression had changed. His débonair cynical look had gone.

"I wish to begin by explaining that what I'm going to tell you is Roxly's tale, not mine. I'm not going bail for him as to what he says happened, though of course I haven't the slightest doubt that he himself implicitly believes it."

She was becoming more and more anxious and uncomfortable, "What is it Mr. Roxly believes has happened?"

"He asserts positively that yesterday afternoon, after he had changed into flannels and while he was playing tennis in the Riding School, someone went to his jacket as it hung in the dressing-room alongside the court and slipped the key of the despatch-box, in which he keeps my private memoranda and papers, off a ring he always carries on his watch-chain. His view is that the trespasser's object was to discover what a great many people would like to know just now—certain secret particulars of the coming Budget. He missed the key, he asserts, the moment he handled his watch and chain again after the tennis; but he thought it best to say nothing tome about it just then, though of course he felt most seriously disturbed. He declares that he never parts from his keys unless he is——"

"—Absolutely sure of his quarters," said the Duchess quickly. "And so he ought to have been here at our house."

"Rogues make their way in everywhere," said her companion thoughtfully. "And far more is that the case nowadays than it ever was before."

"Then has the despatch-box disappeared too?"

Sir Ralph shook his head, and then he observed, in an odd tone: "You have heard only the beginning of the story."

He waited a moment; then he went on:

"When Roxly made this horrid discovery, he tells me, he sat down, and thought and thought and thought."

"Did he think of a way of beguiling the key back on to the ring?" asked the Duchess, with a touch of sarcasm.

"He did, and what's more he succeeded. To begin with, he did something which he is not in the habit of doing. He consented, that is, to make up a fourth at bridge last evening, and that though he's a shocking bad hand at cards."

The Duchess felt bewildered. She could not think what Robert Roxly's form at bridge had to do with the very unpleasant story she was being told.

"The fact that he was tied to the bridge-table made the person who had borrowed the key feel safe, for when, finally, Roxly went up to bed, the key, so he declares, was once more on the ring attached to the watch-chain which he had left on his dressing-table! Of course he at once opened the despatch-box——"

"And I suppose he found that some important papers were missing?"

"No, Duchess. Everything there was in apparently apple-pie order, but he is quite willing to swear in any witness-box that the papers had been lifted out, and carefully examined. Now, unfortunately, there was among them a list of certain proposed new Duties."

The Duchess saw daylight. "Poor Mr. Roxly. No wonder he's upset!" she exclaimed.

"I need hardly tell you that Roxly is the most methodical and meticulous of men. If he is right—and I have never known him wrong as to a matter of fact—someone got possession of that list for at any rate a few minutes, and so is now in a position to supply a copy of it to any human being who is interested in any trade or business which will be affected by the imposition of a new or higher Duty. It would be impossible to exaggerate the concentrated trouble, anxiety, and worry this will mean, unless we can trace the thief, and make him or her confess the coming 'Duty' in which he or she is interested."

Illustration: "Dahlia Whiteways leapt from the couch on which she was resting. 'Duchess!' she exclaimed, 'how you startled me. I didn't hear your knock.'"

"Of course I know nothing of the maids and valets my friends bring with them. Sir Ralph; but of my own household I am absolutely sure."

"Roxly does not suspect this to have been the work of a servant," said Sir Ralph decidedly. "His view is that either some entire stranger effected an entry into the castle, went through the pockets of his tennis jacket and got into his bedroom twice, when he was playing tennis, and again in the evening—or that one of my fellow guests was guilty of what virtually amounted to a theft. What is more, he is convinced, rightly or wrongly, that the master mind concerned with the affair was a woman's mind."

The Duchess felt nettled. "What can have made him think so?

"That I cannot tell you. He let it out by accident. Could he have done so, he would have taken his words back."

He waited a moment. "Now I come to the most curious thing of all, to my mind. Though I am aware that Roxly does suspect some fair lady, he absolutely refuses to tell me who it is, while willing to tell—you."

"She, if it is a she, would get short shrift from me!" cried the Duchess.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "The temptation to many a modern woman might be almost overwhelming. Supposing I have made up my mind to increase the duty on some essential commodity. There are, perhaps, a dozen men in the world, with almost unlimited resources behind them, to whom the knowledge of the fact before the Budget is made public would be of the greatest moment. As to what bribe such men, if dishonourable, would offer for the information—well, I can form no opinion. It might well be enormous."

"I suppose," she said, giving him a quick glance, "that you have a shrewd suspicion as to whom Mr. Roxly suspects, Sir Ralph?"

He did not answer at once. Then, looking at her straight, he said in a low voice: "I'm afraid Roxly suspects little Lady Hilbry."

"Impossible!" cried the Duchess. "Besides, Dessie Hilbry is in no want of money."

Illustration: "'I walked straight in,' said the Duchess slowly.... 'I wanted to speak to you alone, and I was afraid that if Ronny was next door he might hear my knock, and come in.'"

"You can say that about few women," exclaimed the Chancellor of the Exchequer dryly, "and about very few men! Last year Hilbry sold a place he was very fond of, and he's not the kind of man that likes to part with land. The story went that he sold the property to please his wife, as they found it impossible to keep up the only kind of life in the country she enjoys, and a house in town."

"All the same, I think that a monstrous suspicion," said the Duchess in a firm tone.

Sir Ralph felt sorry he had made the admission, when he saw how he had shocked and distressed her.

"Roxly may have someone quite different in his mind," he said slowly. "But the word 'impossible' doesn't figure in any woman's vocabulary, especially where money is concerned. Perhaps the poor chap suspects Georgie Whiteways"—he waited a moment, then with a laugh, he exclaimed: "She's been trying to get hold of me all this time, so that I may give her what she calls 'a word of advice' about her investments!"

Lady Whiteways? Though she smiled at the grotesque suggestion, a tremor ran through the Duchess's heart.

"You will know very soon who it is that Roxly suspects," he said gravely. "But, Duchess?" He stayed his steps and she did so too. "I don't mind telling you—of course, in absolute confidence—that I don't entirely reject the possibility of Roxly having made an extraordinary mistake. He's very tired, he's overworked. And I've wondered more than once whether he imagined the story of the stolen key."

"The whole thing has certainly been built up in his mind from the initial loss of the key," observed the Duchess. "If the key was on the key-ring all the time, then of course the whole thing falls to pieces."

"That is so," admitted Sir Ralph. "Still, he's absolutely convinced that the key was off the ring for some hours. And, considering the gravity of the matter, it seems inconceivable he should have made such a mistake. Also it is so unlike him to refuse to give me the name of the woman he suspects. After all, the matter concerns me far more than it does him! But you've quite won his heart, Duchess. I was astonished when he admitted that he would tell you a thing that he obviously hopes I shall never know."

IV.

At half-past three that same afternoon all the visitors who were staying on till the morrow had left the castle on an expedition to a famous ruin, with the exception of Sir Ralph and his secretary. They, it was understood, had to stay indoors and work the fine afternoon away.

Being not only a woman of her word, but also, it must be confessed, consumed with a painful and almost intolerable curiosity, the Duchess asked Robert Roxly to join her in the Flower Room "for a chat," as she expressed it. After a while he did so, looking, she noticed, very worn and stern.

"Of course you must know, Mr. Roxly, why I have suggested this meeting between us," she said quietly. "I am touched at the confidence you are willing to repose in me, and I promise you it will be respected."

Sitting down, she took up a piece of needlework. Somehow she felt that it would be easier for him to tell his story if he saw that she had something to do besides listening to him.

But the young man did not sit down opposite to her, on the other side of the fireplace, as she had thought he would do. Instead, he paced about the room restlessly.

"I blame myself very, very much," he said at last in a muffled tone.

"Come, come," she exclaimed, "I don't think it was your fault at all! You couldn't possibly have expected that anything of that kind could happen here."

He came over to the fireplace and, resting his left elbow on the mantelpiece, gazed down at her. She looked up, and met his anxious, unhappy eyes.

"Tell me, who is it that you suspect of having done this thing?"

He said nothing for what seemed, to her at least, a long, long time. Then he muttered: "I suspect, in fact I'm terribly afraid, that there's no doubt it was——"

She supplied the name trembling on his tongue, "—Dahlia Whiteways?" And she saw at once that she was right.

"Given that the key was taken by one of my guests—then, Mr. Roxly, I realise that it could be nobody but Dahlia Whiteways."

She saw that he was filled with emotion. Sinking down in the chair opposite to her, he covered his face with his hands, and then he said——

"I knew Dahlia long before Ronny Whiteways ever met her," he said brokenly. "Our people were friends."

"You think she was bribed to do this thing?"

"I'm certain of it," he said in a tone of conviction. "Lady Whiteways—old woman—believes that they're living on their income. She allows Ronny a thousand a year, and she thinks Dahlia has the interest on six thousand pounds. Why, they've never spent a penny under three thousand a year, and they're hideously in debt! Ronny ought never to have gone into the city. Being the fool he is, it's only brought them both in touch with a lot of unscrupulous people."

"I suppose it has," said the Duchess.

She felt very much dismayed, and very, very sorry for the unfortunate young man who was looking at her, now, with such despairing eyes.

"I shall never forget yesterday! Fortunately for me, Sir Ralph has a bad opinion of human nature. He went off to bed after I had told him what had happened, and I believe he slept quite comfortably. As for me, I sat up all night. I was in an awful state, and kept wondering what could be done. I knew there was one course open to me. I knew, I mean, that I could threaten Dahlia with going to Lady Whiteways. But even then, would she have told me the only thing that matters?"

"You mean," said the Duchess, "in which of the coming new Duties she, or rather the man who has bribed her, is interested?"

He nodded. "I don't know that she would tell me. Also, I can't bear to use that threat about Lady Whiteways, and Dahlia would never forgive me. Their whole future depends on the old woman's money."

"'It's ill waiting for dead men's shoes,'" said the Duchess gravely. "I always wonder that people don't realise the appalling truth of that proverb."

He went on, as if he had not heard her interruption: "Then I suddenly thought of you, Duchess! I know your kindness has touched Dahlia very much. Yesterday morning she told me that you were the first woman that she had ever liked, and I believe that's true."

He waited a moment, then went on painfully: "Oh, the pity of it all! There's a side of Dahlia that's really fine, Duchess."

Then, after a pause, he added almost casually: "I'm convinced Ronny was in it too."

"Ronny!" she exclaimed. "If that's true, surely you could tackle Ronny?"

He shook his head. "Ronny," he said slowly, "for all his apparent lack of wits, is as cunning as a bagful of monkeys. Also, I don't suppose for a moment that she told him anything more than she had to tell him. My view is that she used him just to get the key from my pocket at the Riding School and go into my bedroom."

"But she must have been in your room too, for at any rate a little while, if she opened the despatch-box and went through the papers?" objected the Duchess.

He shook his head. "I'm sure that Ronny brought her the despatch-box, a dummy supplied by her employer being put by him in its stead while she got what she wanted."

"I wonder Sir Ralph did not suspect Dahlia."

"He hates what is commonly called 'gossip,' and lends a cold ear to it. Also, he knows Ronny to be heir to a very wealthy woman."

"And now," said the Duchess, "I suppose you want me to tackle Dahlia?"

"If you would be so kind!"

The Duchess got up. "I'll do my best," she said briefly. Then she exclaimed: "And now I do beg of you to try and get some rest, Mr. Roxly."

"I can't rest till this wretched business is settled," he replied, passing his hand over his eyes.

The Duchess went straight upstairs to her boudoir. There she rang for her maid. "As soon as Mrs. Ronald Whiteways is back, please come and tell me. I'm not sure which party she finally joined, but one of the motors will come back earlier than the other two."

The woman looked surprised. "Mrs. Whiteways did not go out at all, your Grace. She did not feel well after lunch, so I got her a hot bottle, and she's lying down in her room."

 

Dahha Whiteways leapt from the couch on which she was resting.

"Duchess!" she exclaimed, "how you startled me. I didn't hear your knock."

"I walked straight in," said the Duchess slowly. "I don't think I've ever done that to anyone before, but I wanted to speak to you alone, and I was afraid that if Ronny was next door he might hear my knock, and come in."

"He went off with the others," said Ronny's wife quickly, "But I felt very tired, and so I——"

The Duchess cut her short. "I'm glad he's out, for it's about Ronny that I've come to speak to you."

Dahlia Whiteways looked slightly uncomfortable—nothing more.

The Duchess drew up a chair, and sat down.

"A very serious thing has happened, my dear child. As yet no one but myself and the one other person concerned is aware of it. Your husband is suspected of having gone to Mr. Roxly's room and tampered with the contents of a despatch-box there——"

Dahlia remained very still. "Did anyone see him go into the room?" she asked in a muffled tone.

"I don't know," said the Duchess. "But I'm afraid there's very little doubt that he did do so in order to discover an important item of the new Budget. And, Dahlia"—she saw that the other had gone very white—"if the fact is made known to Georgie Whiteways she will certainly stop his allowance, and also cut him out of her will. Have you any idea what made him do such a mad thing?"

Dahlia Whiteways sat up suddenly. She was trembling violently.

"Come, come, Dahlia! Pull yourself together. What was it Ronny wanted to find out? The bribe must have been a huge one, to make him take so awful a risk."

Dahlia Whiteways opened her mouth, and then she shut it again.

"Out with it, my dear! You must know, you're far too clever not to know."

And then the unhappy Dahlia Whiteways muttered in almost a whisper: "It was my fault, Duchess. Ronny was only, only——"

"—I understand: your willing tool?" suggested the Duchess quietly.

"He's such a fool," went on Ronny's wife bitterly. "I suppose someone caught him going in the second time? I know there was no one about the first time, for I was on the watch. But the second time I had to leave him to it."

"I suppose he brought the real despatch-box in here, and left a dummy in its place?"

Dahlia's pale face suddenly grew dusky red under its cloud of powder. "I see you know everything, Duchess! But—but—you've never known what it is to be desperately hard up."

"That's quite true; but I do realise how terrible must have been the temptation. What did you both hope to make out of it?"

"Five thousand pounds," said Dahlia dully. "And but for the fact that the man who tempted us to do this thing found the money, we should have left bailiffs in our flat—and only because of a stupid account of seventy-eight pounds."

"Seventy-eight pounds seems quite a lot of money to me," said the Duchess reflectively.

"Five thousand pounds would have meant a clean slate! We were going to keep out of debt, for one reason——"

"And who was the man who offered Ronny that enormous bribe? "

The Duchess was trembling with eagerness and suspense.

"He is a foreigner, and he wants to know if a Duty is going to be put on a certain stuff which up to now has been supplied only by his firm."

She lifted her sunken eyes to the Duchess's face.

"Can you get Sir Ralph to promise not to make this known to Lady Whiteways?" she asked in an imploring tone. And then she added: "You see, she does give us a thousand a year, and it's all we've got! My money is all gone, and Ronny makes hardly anything."

"I thought he'd made three hundred pounds the day before he came here?"

Said Dahlia in a shamefaced voice: "I wanted to put Aunt Georgie in a good humour, so I just said that. It wasn't true."

"I think I can answer for Sir Ralph if you will give me the paper on which you've made your notes?" exclaimed the Duchess. "I feel sure that you did that part of the business, my dear."

Dahlia went across to a chest of drawers, and brought back a dainty-looking little handbag. Opening it, she took out of an inner pocket a small piece of paper.

"Here it is, Duchess. It's a thumping duty, isn't it? Thirty-three per cent!"

The Duchess looked at the little bit of paper. "33%" was all that was written there.

The Duchess got up. "I do wonder what I can do to help you—for help you I will!" she exclaimed.

Dahlia looked at her, a strange look on her pale face.

"I think you could do almost anything," she said slowly. "Look how you have made me tell you what I should have said, half an hour ago, wild horses would not have made me! However, I think that helping us is beyond even your powers."

*****

Ronny Whiteways had only just come out of his bath on Tuesday morning, when he was informed that Lady Whiteways wished to see him in her bedroom.

There came over him a tremor of sick fright, but he was man enough not to run into his wife's room and tell her of that dread summons.

He remembered with dreadful clearness having noticed that his "Aunt Georgie" and Sir Ralph Bannerman had had a long, earnest talk, when sitting apart from everyone else last evening.

And sure enough——

"Ronny? I had a very serious conversation with the Chancellor of the Exchequer yesterday," exclaimed the old lady.

"You, Aunt Georgie?"

"He has pointed out to me that I should be well advised to hand to you, now, ten thousand pounds. Not only would you escape death duties on that sum if I live on, as I have every prospect of doing, but I should save something quite worth having in the way of super-tax! Sir Ralph tells me he has watched your new work in the City with decided interest, and he believes this money may be of the greatest use to you at this special moment of your fortunes."

"Thank you, Aunt Georgie. Thank you!"

Almost sobbing with relief, Ronny threw his arms round her neck as he had been wont to do as a child, for he had a really affectionate nature.

"I do hope that hard-looking young woman is kind to my poor boy," said the old lady to herself.

When he got back to what he called their own quarters. Dahlia, wild-eyed, almost hysterical, was standing just within her bedroom door, and with her was their hostess.

"I know everything. Oh, Ronny!" And they melted into each other's arms.

"The Duchess was afraid I'd be frightened at Aunt Georgie's having sent for you, so she came and told me. It's all her. She thought of it, and bucked up Sir Ralph. Isn't she an angel?"

The Duchess looked at them both. "I've got Dahlia's word of honour that she'll keep out of debt henceforth. And now I want yours," she said.

Copyright, 1927, by Paul Reynolds, in the United States of America.