Frivolities, Especially Addressed to Those Who Are Tired of Being Serious

"I was aware, from the motion of the ship, that we had entered the Scheldt. For some time we proceeded up the river. Then, all at once, we stopped. I supposed the stoppage to be for the purpose of taking up a pilot. After a delay the boat went on again. I was thinking about all sorts of things, and was telling myself that, perhaps, after all, I had not been so good a girl as I might have been, and that sometimes I had been to blame in those little flirtations which had chequered my career-and I wonder who would not have been sentimental in such a plight as mine-when someone came to the cabin door and said:

"'Is there anyone here of the name of Godwin?'

"I sprang up, my heart in my mouth.

"'I am Mrs. Godwin!'

"'Would you mind coming up on deck?'

"Without a moment's hesitation I followed the man upstairs. I imagined that, in some mysterious way, a message had reached me from Conrad, or that perhaps he had come himself-though, unless he possessed the seven-leagued boots, how he was to spring from the Rotterdam boat to the Scheldt I never paused to reflect.

"I was in quite a tremor when I got on deck. I noticed that all the passengers were gathered together in a crowd, and that in their midst were three or four foreigners in some kind of uniform.

"One, in particular, was resplendent. On him my eyes fell. And as they did so-dear mamma, I did not disgrace you by positively fainting, but a cold chill went down my back and penetrated to the marrow of my bones. It was the Baron! Hector d'Ardigny! At his side stood Mr. Pearson. Even at that trying moment I was struck by the ludicrous contrast the one presented to the other-the Baron four feet six, Mr. Pearson six feet four. Geraldine will remember how it used to tickle me in days gone by. It tickled me then.

"As I was becoming conscious that I was the centre of attraction Mr. Pearson motioned towards me with his hand.

"'This is Mrs. Godwin.'

"I do not think that the Baron had hitherto noticed me. He noticed me then! It strikes me that up to that moment he had been engaged in glancing at Mr. Pearson. To say that at sight of me the colour of his countenance was that of a boiled beetroot is to use a trite and coarse comparison. But I do not know to what else I could compare it, unless it be to a lobster newly boiled.

"'Jennie!' he gasped. 'Miss Nash!'

"'This,' repeated Mr. Pearson, 'is Mrs. Godwin.'

"The Baron glared at Mr. Pearson. Then he glared at me. Then he sprang at Mr. Pearson.

"'Villain!' he cried. 'This is a trick you play on me!'

"Before the eyes of all the passengers he slapped the captain's face. Of course, it would have been quite easy for Mr. Pearson to have picked him up and dropped him into the water. I fancy public expectation took it for granted that the Baron would be summarily disposed of in some such fashion. If so, public expectation was wrong. Mr. Pearson did nothing of the kind. He stood quite still. He looked at the Baron. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his cheek. Then he looked at his handkerchief. Then he turned to me.

"'Be so good as to come this way.'

"Docile as a child I went that way. Mr. Pearson came after me, leading, unless I am mistaken, the Baron by his epaulette. We all three entered the captain's cabin-that apartment in which I had already spent such an agreeable twenty minutes. Mr. Pearson addressed the Baron in language which was eminently adapted to tickle the ears of a lady.

"'I've half a mind, you little brute, to choke the life right out of you. But I'll give you another chance for your skin. The fun's too good to lose. You said you wanted someone of the name of Godwin, and here is someone.'

"The Baron took off his képi. He wiped his brow. The dear little man was damp with perspiration.

"'It is someone of the name of Conrad Godwin that I want.'

"'I am Mrs. Conrad Godwin,' I observed.

"I supposed that, in some mysterious way, he had become possessed of a message either for Conrad or for me. I was not prepared for his behaviour. He dropped into a seat with an exclamation which sounded very like an execration.

"'You see, my dear Baron,' said Mr. Pearson, 'our dear Jennie has married-and she hasn't married you. She hasn't showed herself possessed of many virtues, but she has had sense enough for that. I took it for granted that you were something in the hairdressing line, from the moment I first set eyes on you.'

"The Baron paid no attention to Mr. Pearson-it was as well he didn't.

"He sat, huddled up on a chair, looking at me with gaping eyes.

"'But it is impossible that you are Mrs. Conrad Godwin!'

"'I fail to see the impossibility, for, in fact, I am. If you have a message for me, may I ask you to deliver it?'

"'Message! I have no message! I have instructions to arrest you.'

"I was startled then.

"'To arrest me!'

"'A telegram has come to detain anyone arriving by this boat of the name of Conrad Godwin. I am the chief of the police'-the Baron d'Ardigny, with his large property in the Ardennes, had sunk to a policeman-'and I am afraid that, with your husband, Mr. Conrad Godwin, you must be my prisoner.'

"'My husband, as I cannot help suspecting that you are possibly aware, does not happen to be on board.'

"'Your husband is not on board? You are travelling alone?'

"'Owing'-dear mamma, I did almost break down then, – 'owing to an unfortunate accident, my husband lost the boat. But, Baron, you must be under some delusion. Surely you are not having a jest at my expense?'

"'It is no jest! It is the truth! I am an officer.' He slapped his chest: you know the way he had when he said anything particularly absurd. 'My duty is my duty! Before that all other things must fade. If, as you say, you are Mrs. Conrad Godwin; if your husband is on board, or no matter where he is, I must proceed to your arrest.'

"'Mr. Pearson, you will not suffer this?'

"'Mrs. Godwin, I am helpless. We are in Belgium, and in Belgium we must do as the Belgians do.'

"'But the thing is monstrous! You will surely insist on this person's exhibiting the authority on which he pretends to act?'

"Mr. Pearson shrugged his shoulders. He turned to the Baron with a smile-and once he said he loved me! Man's falseness is incredible.

"'Baron, have you got the warrant in your pocket?'

"'No warrant is required. I will show madame my instructions when we reach the bureau. We are in Belgium, not in England. I would advise madame, as a friend, not to give me any trouble.'

"He arrested me! Yes, dear mamma, I spent my wedding night crying, alone, on the deck of a steamer, and at the break of day I was taken into custody. Arrested by one old lover in the presence of another. It was in this way I commenced my married life.

"I sat in the cabin on one chair, and the Baron sat on another chair in front of me, on guard! I will do him the justice to allow that he seemed quite as much at a loss as I was.

"When we reached the quay I got into an open fly; the Baron sat on the seat beside me, two policemen sat on the seat in front of me, and two more policemen kept the driver in countenance upon the box. In this way we drove through the streets of Antwerp. We arrived at the bureau. I was shown into what seemed to be a kind of office; the Baron followed me, closed the door behind him; we were alone. Directly we were alone he threw his képi on the floor. I thought the man was mad.

"'Jennie!' he cried. 'Mees Nash! What is the meaning of all this? Unfold this mystery.'

"'It is you who must do that. It is I who require an explanation from you.'

"'You have not married Monsieur Pearson?'

"'Baron d'Ardigny!'

"'How came you then to be with him on his ship?'

"'You might as well ask how I came to be the passenger of a train of which a man named Brown was guard.'

"'Oh, if you only knew what I have suffered. Your image is where it always was.' He slapped his hand against his right side, where, probably, he supposed his heart to be. 'You have treated me-ah, how you have treated me! But no matter. The past is past. It is for the future that we live. Tell me, what is it you have done?"

"'It occurs to me that I have done one thing, lost my senses.'

"'I am your friend; do not be afraid. No matter for the past. I say it is for the future that we live. Is it murder?'

"'Murder!'

"'We will say then it is not murder. Thank goodness, it is not that! But there are other things besides. Is it forgery?'

"'Forgery!'

"'Is it something you have stolen? Perhaps a little money, or some jewellery, or something of value from your friends.'

"'Baron d'Ardigny, during your acquaintance with me did I strike you as being of the material of which thieves are made?'

"'Ah, who shall say! No man can tell! There was one woman I loved before I was in love with you. She did not use me so bad as you; she was an angel! She was what you call shoplifter. One day I went to see her; she was not there. I did not see her for a long time. I thought that she was dead. One day I was in a prison; she was among the prisoners. When she saw me she laughed; she put out her tongue and winked her eye. The anguish is still here.'

"'Putting aside the question of what I have done, or left undone, perhaps you will tell me of what it is I am accused?'

"'How should I know?'

"'If you don't know, I don't know who should.'

"'It is they who are coming who shall know.'

"'And pray who is coming?' A thought occurred to me. 'Is it Conrad?'

"'Conrad! Who is Conrad? Ah! I forgot there was a Conrad.' His manner changed. Crossing his arms upon his chest he glared at me, as the bad characters sometimes glare at the Adelphi. 'Miserable! You wish to play again with me the fool!'

"Dear mamma, if you can imagine the Baron d'Ardigny as being madder than he used to be-do!

"'Baron d'Ardigny, there are one or two questions which I should like you to answer. First of all, am I to regard myself as a prisoner?'

"'Did you not use to tell me that you would be for ever mine?'

"'Never, Baron, never! – You have not favoured me with an answer to my question.'

"'Was there not a moment when I was your star of love?'

"'Not a moment, Baron. – You have not answered me. Am I, or am I not, to regard myself as a prisoner?'

"'You are a prisoner! It is as a prisoner you are here! It is as a prisoner you must treat me!'

"'I should be delighted to treat you as a prisoner. Unfortunately it appears that it is as a prisoner you are treating me.'

"'Your crimes, I do not doubt, they are as black as ink! A woman who can be as false as you-to such a woman nothing is impossible.'

"'Baron d'Ardigny, I do not know how this sort of thing is done in Belgium, but in England when they lock a person up they tell him what they lock him up for. With you, has a policeman the power of taking a person to the stationhouse for the sole purpose and pleasure of calling them names?'

"'Mees Nash-'

"'I have already informed you that I am Mrs. Godwin.'

"'So you are Mrs. Godwin! You insist! Well! At last we have arrived! Meez-sers Godwin, I tell you this. Mark carefully; I meet your husband once-for a moment. A second time-for ever-upon the field of honour.'

"I do not know if abroad policemen always speak to their prisoners as the Baron spoke to me. The inhabitants of those countries must enjoy themselves if they do. For my part, although my situation was sufficiently critical, it was all I could do to refrain from laughter. If you could only have seen how funny he looked! I do not know if he mistook my silence for admiration, but on a sudden his madness assumed a dreadful phase. He threw himself into an attitude-ask Geraldine if she has forgotten his attitudes-and apostrophised me thus: 'When I look upon that lovely face, upon those eyes of perfect blue, upon that hair of gold, upon that figure exquisite, I say to myself, "Hector, Hector d'Ardigny! you who has not been without his fortunate experience, is it possible that you cannot win the love of a creature so divine?" I answer to myself, "It is impossible."'

"I hesitated for a moment what, under the circumstances, I had better do. I saw plainly that it was no use to talk to the man. I arrived at a sudden resolution. I decided that I would try-as they say in the cookery-books-another way. As he stood with his eyes and hands raised towards the ceiling I went and I took him by the thing inside the collar of his coat-stock, I think they call it-and I shook him. I do not think he ever had a better shaking in his life. I kept at it till the thing inside the collar of his coat came loose in my hand. Then-you know he is such a little man-I lifted him off his feet and seated him on the edge of the table. The rest was silence. He looked at me, and I, for my part, looked at him.

"'Now,' I said, when I began to feel a little cooler, 'perhaps you will tell me what I am here for?'

"'Apparently,' he gasped-the little man was breathless-'to murder me.'

"'My good man, you shouldn't provoke me.'

"In a sort of unconscious soliloquy I heard him murmur:

"'Mon Dieu! Ces Anglaises!' Then with a visible shudder, 'Si elle etait ma femme!'

"'Baron d'Ardigny, if you do not wish me to shake you again you will tell me what I am here for.'

"'Inquire of Philippe.'

"'I will not inquire of Philippe-whoever Philippe may happen to be. I inquire of you. And I intend you to answer my inquiry. I suppose that I am here for something."

"'For a great deal, it seems.' His hand stole towards his neck. 'Bonne chance! Elle a cassé mon col.'

"'Answer me.'

"Dear mamma, I shook him up a little.

"'I will answer you! Par exemple! Quel hercule!'

"'Then do so.'

"'If you will permit me to stand upon my feet I will answer you at once.'

"'Answer me where you are.'

"But, mademoiselle, I am an officer. It is impossible that an officer can sit upon a table.'

"'Answer-me-at-once!' Dear mamma, I shook him again.

"'Ah, sacré nom! C'est embêtant! Will you destroy my clothing? Look into that drawer.'

"I pulled out the drawer. The first thing I saw was a telegram. I took it up.

"'Is this it?'

"'That is it! You have said! Now, perhaps, you will permit me to descend.'

"'I think, Baron, that you had better stay for a moment where you are.'

"I opened the telegram.

"'Detain Conrad Godwin coming by boat from Harwich.'

"'I fancy, M. le Baron, someone has been hoaxing you.'

"'Hoaxing me! What you mean?'

"'It strikes me that if I make public the usage to which you have subjected me, you are a ruined man.'

"'Une jolie femme! Elle marche! And if I make public the treatment which you have accorded to the chief of the police, how is that for you-eh?'

"'Very good. We will leave it so. I will communicate with our ambassador, our ambassador will communicate with your Government, your Government will communicate with you.'

"'Mees Nash, I do not understand.'

"'Baron d'Ardigny, if you call me "Mees Nash" again I shall box your ears. I was married yesterday, and, as I have already told you, I am Mrs. Conrad Godwin.'

"Dear mamma, I think I should have boxed them. He was so provoking. But while we were staring at one another-the little man looked thunderstruck! – the door of the room opened and-Conrad entered.

"'Jennie!' he cried.

"I had intended, when we did meet again, to assume towards him a dignified deportment, and to treat him with the just resentment which his conduct merited. But before I knew it I found that I was in his arms.

"I believe he kissed me-before the Baron. And I am afraid that we both of us behaved in rather a foolish way. Which is the more strange because, you know, dear mamma, I am a stickler for decorum.

"'Conrad, I thought that you had left your wife for ever?'

"'Jennie, I reached Rotterdam at 9.0 and I left by the train at 9.15, viâ Zevenbergen, for Antwerp. When I reached Antwerp they told me you were arrested.'

"'I have been arrested. This is the chief of police, who arrested me. Baron d'Ardigny, this is my husband, Mr. Conrad Godwin.'

"I suspect that the Baron, from his perch upon the table, had been edified by our proceedings.

"When I said this he sprang to the ground.

"'So! – this is Conrad Godwin! Sir, I will pull your nose.'

"Conrad was puzzled.

"'I beg your pardon?'

"'Sir, I tell you are canaille, cochon-pig! You understand?'

"Conrad turned to me.

"'Is he mad?'

"'Mad!' The Baron went mad at the bare suggestion. 'Mr. Conrad Godwin, I treat you as a gentleman. As a gentleman I tell you I will cut your throat.'

"I think he would have 'gone' for Conrad. But just then the door opened again, and a strange gentleman came in.

"'Godwin!' he cried.

"'Haynes!'

"'You have the key of the safe.'

"'I know it. I wired you that I had.'

"'Wired me! When?'

"'I wired you last night from Harwich.'

"'The deuce you have! And I have been chasing you through Ostend and Brussels! A nice muddle you have made of it. All the locksmiths and burglars in London have been retained to effect an entrance to the safe. I thought I would be even with you, so I sent them a wire to detain you.'

"'They have not detained me, but they have my wife. They have arrested her.'

"'Mrs. Godwin! – I beg ten thousand pardons!'

"He was most apologetic-really nice, mamma!" …

"P.S. – Dear mamma, the Baron lunched with us at the Hotel St. Antoine. There were four of us. I did not ask Mr. Pearson. I thought that perhaps he would not come. The Baron was charming!"

The Burglar's Blunder

"That's done the trick! Now for the swag!"

As Mr. Bennett made this observation to himself he slipped the window up and stepped into the room. He stood for a moment listening. Within, all was still; without, not a sound disturbed the silence of the night.

"I think it's all serene."

It is probable that Mr. Bennett smiled. He was engaged in the exercise of his profession, and it consoled him to perceive that, on this occasion, the stars seemed to be fighting on his side. He drew down the window softly and replaced the blind. It was a principle of his never to leave anything which might give a hint to the outside public of what was going on within. The room, with the blind down, was intensely dark. He put his hand into his pocket and drew out a little shaded lantern. Cautiously removing the shutter about half an inch a pencil of light gleamed across the room. He was apparently content with this illumination. By its aid he carefully examined floor, walls, and ceiling.

"Early English. I thought so."

This remark referred to the upholstering of the room, which was in the Early English style. Stooping down he drew a pair of list slippers over his indiarubber shoes. With swift, cat-like steps he strode across the floor and left the room. He was evidently familiar with his ground. The burglar's profession, to be profitably practised, entails no inconsiderable labour. It is quite an error to suppose that the burglar has only to stroll along the street and break into the first house which catches his eye. Not at all. Such a course is altogether unprofessional. Persons who do that kind of thing get what they deserve-"stir," and plenty of it. A really professional man, an artist-such, for example, as Mr. Bennett-works on entirely different lines. He had had this little job in his mind's eye for the last three months. Acacia Villa presented an almost ideal illustration of the promising crib to crack. Did he rush at it on that account? Quite the other way. He prepared his ground. He discovered, what all the world-in that neighbourhood-knew already, that it was occupied by a single lady and a solitary maid. That fact alone would have induced some men to make a dash at it before unscrupulous competitors had had an opportunity to take the bread out of their mouths. But Mr. Bennett was made of other stuff.

It was situated in a lonely suburb, and in a lonely portion of the lonely suburb. It stood in its own grounds. There was not a dog about the place. There was not a shutter to a window. There was no basement to the house-you had only to step from the ground to the window-sill, and from the window-sill into the house. These facts would have been so many extra inducements to the average burglar to "put up" the place at once.

But Mr. Bennett looked at the matter from a different standpoint. He did not ask if he could crack the crib-he had never yet encountered one which had mastered him-but whether the crib was really worth the cracking. The very defencelessness of the place was against it-in his eyes, at any rate-at first. People who have anything very well worth stealing do not, as a rule, leave it at the mercy of the first individual who passes by-though there are exceptions to the rule. Mr. Bennett discovered that there was one, and the discovery revealed the artist in the man.

The occupant of Acacia Villa was a Miss Cecilia Jones. Mr. Bennett had never seen Miss Cecilia Jones. Nobody-or hardly anybody-ever had. There appeared to be a mystery about Miss Cecilia Jones. But Mr. Bennett had seen the maid, and not only seen her, but promised to marry her as well. This was a promise which he never made to any woman unless actually compelled: the present had been a case of actual compulsion.

The maid's name was Hannah-Miss Hannah Welsh. She was not young, and she was not good-looking. Mr. Bennett was partial to both youth and beauty. It went against the grain to court Miss Welsh. But he found that courtship was an absolutely indispensable preliminary. After he had encircled her waist a few times with his arm, and tasted the nectar of her lips-also a few times-Miss Welsh began gradually to unbend. But the process was very gradual. She was the most reticent of maids. He had not only to present her with several presents-the proceeds of the exercise of his profession-he had not only to promise to marry her, he had not only to name the day, but he had even to buy-or steal: the words were synonymous with him-the wedding-ring, before all the tale was told. When he had actually tried the ring on Miss Welsh's finger-to see if it would fit-then, and only then, he heard all there was to hear.

Miss Jones was queer-not mad exactly, but peculiar. She had quarrelled with all her relatives. She was rich. She was full of crotchets. She distrusted all the world, particularly bankers. To such a length had she carried her want of confidence that she had realised all her fortune, turned it into specie, and kept it in the house. It was at this point that Miss Welsh's conversation became interesting to Mr. Bennett.

"Keeps it in the house, does she? In notes, I suppose?"

"Then you suppose wrong. She won't have nothing to do with notes-trust her. It's all in gold and diamonds."

"Diamonds! How do you know they're diamonds?"

Miss Welsh glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. The conversation was carried on in the back garden at Acacia Villa, which was extensive and secluded. The time was evening, that season which is popularly supposed to be conducive to sentimental intercourse.

"Perhaps I know as much about diamonds as here and there a few."

Her tone was peculiar, almost suggestive. For an instant Mr. Bennett meditated making a clean breast of it, and asking Miss Welsh to come in on sharing terms. But he had an incurable objection to collaboration. Besides, in this case sharing terms would probably mean that he would have to go through the form, at any rate, of making her his wife.

"Where does she keep them? In a safe, I hope."

He did not hope so, though he said he did. At the very best, a safe, to a professional man, means the wasting of valuable time.

"She keeps them in her bedroom, in the chest of drawers, in a red leather box, in the little top drawer on the left-hand side."

Mr. Bennett felt a glow steal all over him. He began to conceive quite a respect for Miss Cecilia Jones.

"And the gold-where does she keep that?"

"In tin boxes. There are ten of them. There are a thousand sovereigns in each. There are five boxes on each side of the chest of drawers." Mr. Bennett possessed considerable presence of mind, but he almost lost it then. Ten thousand pounds in sovereigns! He would never regret the affection he had lavished on Miss Welsh-never, to his dying day. Would it be a bad speculation to marry her? But no; the thought was rash. He would reward her, but in quite a different way. He made a rapid calculation. Ten thousand sovereigns would weigh, roughly, about 130 pounds avoirdupois. He might turn them into a sack-fancy, a sackful of money! But 130 pounds was no light weight to carry far. He must have a vehicle at hand. What a convenience a "pal" would be! But he had worked single-handed so far, and he would work single-handed to the end.