Her Ladyship's Elephant

"Really! I suppose that is the reason you selected the most roundabout way to reach Exeter. Your husband could have told you that you should have taken another railway, the Great Western."

"My husband," said Mrs. Scarsdale stiffly, "did not know our destination."

"What!"

"I say that my husband did not know our destination."

Her ladyship surveyed her for a moment in shocked and silent disapproval, and then remarked:

"I think I understood you to say that you travelled together as far as Basingstoke?"

"Yes, and there St. Hubart met a friend."

"This consular person?"

"Mr. Allingford? Yes. He was also married yesterday, and came to our carriage to congratulate me."

"And my nephew went to speak to Mrs. Allingford."

"Exactly. And the first thing we knew the train was moving."

"Go on."

"That is just what we did, though Mr. Allingford tried to leave the carriage and return to his wife."

"It would have been better had he never left her."

"But I restrained him."

"How did you restrain him?"

"By his coat-tails."

"Excuse me. Do I understand you to say that you forcibly detained him?"

"I'm sorry if you are shocked; it was all I could catch hold of."

"I shall reserve my criticism of these very astonishing performances, Mabel; but permit me to say that you have much to learn concerning the manners and customs of English society."

"Then," said Mrs. Scarsdale, ignoring this last remark, "we came to Salisbury."

"And telegraphed to Basingstoke for information."

"Exactly. But they could tell us nothing; so when I saw your carriage – "

"How did you know it was mine?"

"I looked out your coat of arms in 'Burke.'"

Her ladyship smiled grimly. Perhaps something might be made of this fair barbarian – in time, a great deal of time; but still this knowledge of the peerage sounded hopeful, and it was with a little less severity in her voice that she demanded:

"And what do you mean to do now?"

"Go back to Basingstoke this morning."

"Alone?"

"No, with Mr. Allingford."

"Do you expect to find your husband there?"

"I should think he would naturally return as soon as possible to where he lost me."

"I don't know," said her ladyship. "Was Mrs. Allingford pretty?"

"If you are going to adopt that tack, Lady Melton, the sooner we part the better," said her visitor angrily.

"We do not 'adopt tacks' in England," returned her ladyship calmly; "and as I consider myself responsible for your actions while you are under my roof, I shall not allow you to go to Basingstoke, or anywhere else, with a person who, whatever his official position, is totally unknown to me."

"You don't mean to keep me here against my will!"

"I mean to send you to your relations, wherever they are, under the charge of my butler – a most respectable married man – provided the journey can be accomplished between now and nightfall."

"Well, it can't," replied her grand-niece triumphantly. "Aunt Eliza left for Paris this morning, and all my other relations are in Chicago."

Lady Melton was, however, a woman of decision, and not to be easily baffled.

"Then I will send you to your mother-in-law, Lady Scarsdale; I suppose she has returned to 'The Towers'?"

"I believe so. But I do not intend to go there without my husband; it would be ignominious."

"Perhaps you can suggest a better plan," said her ladyship coldly.

"Well, if you refuse to let me go to Basingstoke – " began the bride.

"I do. Proceed."

"Then Mr. Allingford might go for me, and tell St. Hubart where I am. I know he is waiting for me there, but he would never think of my being here – Excuse me, I mean – " she stammered, blushing, for she saw she had made a slip.

"We will not discuss your meaning," said her hostess, "but your plan seems feasible and proper. You may receive the consular person in my private sitting-room and arrange matters at once."

Her niece turned to go, but she stopped her, saying:

"One word more. I do not think it necessary for your friend Mr. Allingford to return with my nephew. Pray make this clear to him."

After having been dismissed from her hostess' presence, Mrs. Scarsdale lost no time in sending for the Consul, who had just returned, and proceeded to work off on that unfortunate gentleman the rage engendered by her recent interview.

"I'm inclined to think," he said when she had finished, "that in this instance the catawampus is right. There is no use of your gallivanting over the country after your husband; he ought to come to you. I'll run down to Basingstoke at once, send him back, and with Mrs. Allingford go on my way rejoicing. There is no need of my returning, and I guess her ladyship won't cry her eyes out if I don't."

"You haven't yet told me the result of your excursion this morning," she said, hoping to divert the conversation from so obvious a truth.

"This," he replied, holding up the telegram he had just received from the station-master at Basingstoke.

After reading the message, Mrs. Scarsdale was most anxious that he should lose no time in starting, and with mutual expressions of friendship, and boundless thanks from the deserted bride, they parted: he for the junction, she for a further interview with her great-aunt.

When her ladyship learned that Scarsdale had left Southampton for Basingstoke, and was doubtless now in that place, she advised his wife to remain in seclusion till the members of the house-party, which luckily was breaking up that day, had departed; and retired herself to prepare a few remarks with which to welcome her errant great-nephew. Later in the day, however, she so far relented towards his wife as to suggest that she take a stroll on the terrace while the few remaining guests were indulging in a post-prandial siesta.

It was from this coign of vantage that she saw approaching the worn and drooping figure of Mr. Allingford. She rushed to meet him, and demanded, without even giving him time to get his breath:

"Where is my husband?"

"I don't know," he gasped.

"Or your wife?"

"Or my wife."

"Aren't they in Basingstoke?"

"No, and haven't been there. I've turned that confounded town inside out, and catechised every one about the station, from the divisional superintendent to the charwoman. They did not come last night, nor arrive this morning. Since leaving Southampton, if they did leave it, they have entirely disappeared."

"Why do you say, 'if they did leave' Southampton?"

"Because no one saw them go. I have learned by endless telegraphing that they alighted at that point, told a porter they had been carried past their destination, and wished to return at once to Basingstoke. He indicated their train, they disappeared in the crowd – and that's all."

"Haven't they telegraphed again to Basingstoke?"

"Not since last night."

"Or to Salisbury?"

"No. I inquired on the chance, but no message had come."

"It is horrible!" she exclaimed. "I'm the most miserable woman on earth!"

"Don't cry," he begged despairingly.

"No," she said, "I won't. Do you think it would be any good to telegraph to Aunt Eliza and Lady Scarsdale?"

"I have already done so. Your Aunt Eliza has left for Paris. She wouldn't have done that if she had heard about this; and it gave Lady Scarsdale a fit – the telegram I mean – but she didn't know anything."

"Is that all?"

"Not quite. I have telegraphed to my Vice-Consul at Christchurch, asking for news of Scarsdale, and telling him to forward anything that had come for me. They might have written there, you know, to save talk in the office; but I haven't as yet had a reply."

"I must consult Lady Melton; the situation is too dreadful for words. Suppose they have had an accident; suppose – " she faltered.

"Nonsense!" he rejoined, "bad news always travels quickly; don't make yourself uneasy on that score. They've got side-tracked in some out-of-the-way place, just as we have. I'll go to Southampton to-morrow and work up the trail. Now you run off and consult the catawampus."

When her ladyship had heard the whole story, she summed up as follows:

"As your friend has seen fit to return, you may tell him his chamber will be again made ready for to-night, and you will both dine in my sitting-room as before. To-morrow I shall send you home to Lady Scarsdale."

"But – "

"There is nothing more to be said on the subject. I have made up my mind." And having pronounced sentence, she left her distracted great-niece to her own reflections.

It was a very doleful couple who sat down to dinner that evening in Lady Melton's private room.

"It is ridiculous!" said Mrs. Scarsdale. "We are being treated like naughty children. I feel as if I were about to be whipped and put to bed. Sent home with the butler, indeed! I'd just like to see her ladyship try to do it!"

"How are you going to prevent her?" asked the Consul.

"I'm not a child, and I won't be treated as one! If I am to be sent home in disgrace, you will have to come with me."

"Well, I like that! You seem to forget I've lost my wife. My first duty is to find her."

"Your first duty is to me. If you go to Southampton, I go with you."

"I'm afraid there'll be an awful row with her ladyship."

"Let there be, then; I don't care!"

"I really think," he expostulated, "that you had better stay here one day more. I'll get you a reprieve from the custody of the butler, and have a try at Southampton myself. There is a cross-line from here, and it won't take any time to run over. I've tracked horse-thieves in Kentucky when I was sheriff, and I guess I can find a bridegroom where it's all open country as it is round here."

At this moment a servant knocked and entered, saying:

"Please, madam, her ladyship's orders is that you are to be ready at seven to-morrow morning, to start with Mr. Bright, the butler, for 'The Towers.'"

"I – !" began Mrs. Scarsdale, rising in wrath and indignation; but before she could further complicate matters by a direct refusal, the footman had turned to Allingford, and, handing him a telegram, had left the room. Forgetful of all else, she rushed to the Consul's side as with nervous fingers he tore it open. What joyful news might it not contain! One look at his face, however, blasted all her hopes. Horror, consternation, and surprise were depicted thereon as he read the despatch. Something dreadful must have happened.

"Tell me the worst!" she cried. "Is it Harold?"

"It is the last straw," he replied.

"Is he dead?"

"I wish he was."

"You wish my husband dead?"

"Oh, confound your husband!"

"Mr. Allingford – !"

"No, no, I don't mean that. I'm not responsible for what I'm saying," he replied, and groaned aloud. But his companion was not to be put off.

"Is that telegram from my husband?"

"No."

"From my mother-in-law?"

"No."

"From Aunt Eliza?"

"No."

"From the station-master at Basingstoke?"

"Guess again."

"From your Vice-Consul?"

"Yes."

"Has he heard anything of our lost ones?"

"It has nothing to do with that."

"Then what is the matter? What does it all mean?"

"It means," replied the Consul, "that I've got to leave here by the first train."

"Explain yourself," she demanded.

"I'll try," he replied, mopping his brow. "You see, an American applied to me to lend him some money, a few days ago, and put up as collateral an elephant."

"Harold told me the story. I thought it very amusing."

"You won't when I've finished. The elephant arrived day before yesterday at Southampton, and, as I had informed the steamship company that I was the temporary owner of the beast, they forwarded it to my consulate at Christchurch."

"How does that affect us?"

"Affect us!" he cried. "Do you remember what I telegraphed my Vice-Consul?"

"Yes, almost word for word," she answered. "You asked for news of the fugitives, and, on the chance of their writing to Christchurch, told him to forward here anything that might have come for you."

"Exactly," shrieked the Consul; "and the blamed fool has forwarded the elephant!"

"What! Here? To Melton Court?" she exclaimed, aghast.

"That is what I said. The beast is on the way now, and ought to be here bright and early to-morrow morning."

"How awful! What will you do?"

"Get out," he replied laconically.

"And leave me?"

"I don't know about you, but I mean to leave the elephant. I don't wish to start a bigger circus than I have on hand already."

"But would it be quite right to our hostess?" expostulated her niece.

"If you've any conscientious scruples on the subject, you can stay and tend the beast. I'm leaving by the first train."

"But it's your elephant."

"Of course it is, and I've a right to do what I choose with it. I mean to leave it to Lady Melton, in payment for my board and lodging. After the way she's treated me I don't want to owe her anything."

"Really, Mr. Allingford – " began his companion.

"Now look here," he retorted; "would you want an elephant tagging you round on your honeymoon?"

"Well, no, I don't think I should," she replied, laughing.

"Besides," he continued, "how am I to prosecute a search for our missing halves with a Noah's ark in tow?"

"That does put the matter in a different light," she admitted.

"You bet it does!" he replied. "As for her ladyship, she can do what she pleases with my slight token of regard. Give it to the poor of the parish, if she likes; I don't ask her to keep it."

"But what is to become of me?"

"Oh, you are to be sent home with the butler early to-morrow morning."

"I won't go!"

"Then join me."

"But supposing we don't find my husband to-morrow – "

"Then I'll take you down to my consulate at Christchurch for the night. I have plenty of friends there with whom you can stay."

"That settles it," she replied.

So it was that they stole away from the Court in the grey dawn of the next morning, footed it to Salisbury, recovered their baggage, and boarded the early train for Southampton. As it moved out of the station they passed a long line of box cars on a siding, from one of which the angry scream of an elephant resounded.

"Just in time," said the Consul with a sigh of relief. "I wish her ladyship joy of my little remembrance."

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH MR. SCARSDALE CHANGES HIS NAME

Mr. Scarsdale entered Mrs. Allingford's compartment with so great an impetus, when he swung himself into her carriage at Basingstoke, that he completely lost his balance, and shot past her on all fours, to land in a heap on the floor. A second later the guard banged the door, and the train was off.

"What does this mean?" exclaimed the Consul's wife, "and where is my husband?"

"Excuse me," gasped Scarsdale, picking himself up from the floor, "but I couldn't leave you."

"So it appears," she replied coldly. "But you have not answered my question, and – " as the train began to move rapidly, "it is not possible that we are getting under way!"

"Yes," he said gloomily, "we are off to Southampton."

"Answer me instantly: where is my husband?" she demanded.

"Gone to Exeter, I suppose, with my wife."

"What do you mean?"

"That he was carried off in the first division of the train, which left five minutes ago."

"But I thought we stopped ten minutes."

"So you did; we stopped only five. When I left you just now, I saw that the forward half of this train had disappeared, and the guard told me it had gone to Exeter, and that this portion was just leaving for Southampton. I thought it better to stay with you than to let you go by yourself; so as the carriage was moving, and it was impossible to get you out, I jumped in."

"Thank you," she said simply; and for a moment there was silence between them while the train rattled over the points, and, reaching the outskirts of the town, began to increase its speed. The little Englishwoman did not, however, emulate her fair American partner in distress, who was at this moment indulging in hysterics in the other train; she had been too well trained to betray her feelings before a man whom she knew but slightly, even over the loss of a husband; so, after remaining quiet for a little, she controlled herself sufficiently to say, very calmly:

"I do not see that we can either of us blame ourselves for what has happened; we must try and make the best of it, and rejoin your wife and my husband as soon as possible."

Plucky little woman! thought Scarsdale to himself; to Mrs. Allingford he said:

"I am glad you see things in so sensible a light. You must let me help you in every way that is in my power."

"You say our first stop is Southampton?" she asked.

"Yes, we reach there in less than an hour. They slip some carriages at Winchester, but the train doesn't stop," he replied.

"Then I think we should alight at Southampton," she said, "and return at once to Basingstoke."

"That would certainly be our best course. When you lose a man in a crowd, it is much better to wait at the point where you lost him till he finds you than to hunt for him yourself, as you will both miss each other."

"Then you propose to let them find us."

"That is my idea. Of course I'll telegraph to the station-master at Basingstoke that we will return there, so that if they wire for information concerning us he can give it them."

"Where do you think they have gone?"

"If we either of us knew our destination it would be far easier," he said, laughing. "I hope this will be a lesson to my wife."

"But surely the train must stop before it reaches Exeter."

"Undoubtedly; but as I have no time-table, I can't say where. Perhaps your husband has one in his overcoat. If you will permit me," and he proceeded to examine the garment in question.

No time-table was forthcoming, however, and they were forced to resign themselves to waiting till they reached Southampton.

Mrs. Allingford bore up bravely, and even tried to make conversation; but it proved to be a dreary ride, and when they drew up at their destination they were both exceedingly thankful.

"Is there a train back to Basingstoke soon?" asked Scarsdale of the first railway porter he saw.

"Yes, sir, over there on the left. Express leaves in three or four minutes," replied that individual, as he hurried away with somebody else's baggage.

"I'll take you over," said Scarsdale.

"No," replied his companion, "I can find it. You attend to the telegram and my luggage."

He dashed off accordingly, and when he returned they both entered the train on the left.

"I've sent the telegram," he said, "and I have also discovered your destination."

"How?" she inquired.

"By the labels on the luggage. It was marked for Bournemouth, and a jolly hard time I had to induce them to take it out of the van and send it back with us."

"It seems to me," she said after a little, "that we've been waiting here more than four minutes. I trust we are not in the wrong train. One has just gone out."

"Hi! guard!" called Scarsdale from the window. "Is this the express for Basingstoke?"

"No, sir," replied the official. "It was the train beyond you, which has just left. Sorry if you've made a mistake, sir."

"Confound it, yes!" cried Scarsdale. "Where does this train go?"

"Stopping train for Winchester."

"Can we go on to Basingstoke?"

"Not by this train, sir."

"But from Winchester?"

"There is sure to be a train this evening, sir."

"It has been a chapter of accidents," he said, explaining it to Mrs. Allingford, "but we had better go to Winchester, I think; it is on the way anyhow."

"Yes," she assented, "and then get on to Basingstoke as fast as we can, and not be discouraged."

"Quite right," he replied, and entered into a description of Southampton docks and the varied cargoes that were received there, in the hope of distracting her mind.

"Oh, look!" she cried, as, once more started on their travels, they came in sight of the shipping, "see what they are loading on that truck! I do believe it is an elephant!"

After what seemed an interminable journey, they at length arrived at Winchester, and as soon as Scarsdale had seen Mrs. Allingford established in the ladies' waiting-room, he hastened to ascertain their chances of getting to Basingstoke that night. On his return he wore a very long face, which his companion was not slow to interpret.

"Are there no trains?" she exclaimed, in evident dismay.

"There is one," he replied, "but we should not reach our destination till very late, almost midnight in fact, and we cannot tell that we should find your husband even then. I think our best course would be to remain here."

"Oh, but that is impossible."

"No, there is a very fair hotel."

"I didn't mean that. But can't you see the position in which I am placed?"

He did see, and he knew that what he proposed seemed to her almost an impossibility; but as they were now situated he considered that circumstances altered cases.

"I am sure, Mrs. Allingford," he said, "that your good sense, which has carried you through so much this afternoon, will show you the necessity of acting as I have suggested. You must not forget that you are now a married woman, and can do things which before were not permissible."

"Still," she contended, "to go to a public hotel with a gentleman who is a comparative stranger, and pass the night there, seems to me not the thing at all; and if we were recognised by anybody – " She paused, hardly knowing how to complete her sentence.

"Then go alone. There are other hotels; I will put up somewhere else," he replied.

"No, no, I couldn't be left alone; I've never been alone before in my life. That would be worse than all else. You see, if you were only related to me it would be so different."

"I am quite willing to pass myself off as any relation you please, for the sake of appearances."

"But that would be deceitful."

"I think the exigencies of the case will excuse that; besides, it is my own affair, not yours. Will you have me as a brother for one night only?" he asked, laughing.

"But I have no brother," she replied.

"Then as your husband's brother," he suggested; "that would be better still, as he is an American and not known here."

"Do you really think it best?"

"To save you annoyance, I think it is a pardonable deception. What is his name?"

"Richard. But I don't know much about him."

"Then we will consider that that is settled," he said cheerfully, and, without giving her time to argue the matter, summoned a fly, which presently deposited them bag and baggage at the hotel door. To make assurance doubly sure, he hastened to sign their names in the visitors' book:

"Mrs. Robert Allingford, Christchurch, England.

"Mr. Richard Allingford, U.S.A."

"Can you give my sister and me good rooms for to-night?" he asked the landlady.

"Yes, sir, two nice rooms just opposite each other."

He said that that would do very well, and they were soon installed.

Once in her apartment, Mrs. Allingford indulged in a good cry, while Scarsdale strolled out before dinner to have a smoke and think it over. He did not see much further use in telegraphing just at that moment. Later it would, perhaps, be well to send a message to Basingstoke, saying that they were detained at Winchester and would come on next morning; for he had quickly learned that Mrs. Scarsdale and Mr. Allingford would be able to leave the train at Salisbury, and justly surmised that they had done so.

Presently, having finished his cigar, he returned to the hotel to find Mrs. Allingford ready for dinner, and much refreshed by her tears and subsequent ablutions. They neither of them ate much, and after the fish they gave up any attempt to make conversation as worse than useless, and finished the repast in silence.

"I'm afraid," she said, as she folded her napkin, "that you've found me very poor company."

"I'm nothing to boast of myself," he replied.

"I hope they are not as miserable as we are," she added, as they rose to leave the table. "I haven't been able to eat a thing."

Scarsdale did not reply; he had a gloomy suspicion that his wife was making a very good meal somewhere. Not that he doubted her love; but he did not believe her devotion included loss of appetite.