Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A CROWN Of course, he was the elderly, white-haired gentleman I had danced with as Betty Fane _ at the Flower Garden Club, the one who was so energetic and so lacking in the sense of music and who talked to me so nicely about his daughter in the Paris convent school. J had a momentary panic, but, of course, there was no chance of his recogniz- ing me. It was strange that he had remem- bered Betty Fane. Later on there was music. Lord Maurice made his way to my side during an interval. King Peter was talking to the Spanish Am- bassador to France. Lord Maurice asked me to come for a stroll in the grounds. Of course I went. I had to hear what he had to say. ‘“T wanted you to know that it’s per- fectly all right,” he said. “ I’ve fixed every- thing up. No one will ever hear of that little accident.” “The Duke of Croyton?” I asked. “T’ve fixed him up.” “ Didn’t he know who it was—in the car?” ‘No, no. I only told him it was a young lady I knew. He never even had a real look at you. After you had gone in, i waited for him on the road, and when he came along with the doctor, I told them that you were all right and had gone home. They hadn’t the faintest suspicion. You needn’t worry the least little bit.” “J am—very grateful,’ I said, with something of an effort. ‘“Oh, but what nonsense, Lady Cleve- land!” he retorted. ‘‘ As if it wasn’t the greatest pleasure to be of the least little bit of use to you.” “Vou are very kind, Lord Maurice,” I murmured. Really, I felt an awful worm. Bunch must be mistaken. He was behaving aw- fully well. As I looked at him in the moonlight, his golden-hazel eyes were so candid and kind, and his handsome fair face expressed only chivalrous concern. I was ashamed of my suspicions. “JT only want you to look on me as your friend,” he said. “IT am sure,” I answered warmly, have acted like a very good friend.” “That more than repays anything I 6A FOR SALE. Tot could ever do.” panied by the very frankest of frank smiles, ‘ Tt’s a bargain, isn’t it? We are pals.” He held out his hand, and I put mine in it. ‘And don’t forget what a pal’s for,” he went on. “It’s to help his pal, not to ask questions.” I felt more wormlike than ever. There was no doubting the sincerity of his man- ner. I felt quite safe and happy again. I told Bunch that I was sure she was mistaken about Lord Maurice, when I got home. She merely answered that she was glad to hear it and she hoped I was right. I had told her about the next day and my excursion with King Peter as Betty Fane. I could see that she hated the idea, but she had given up arguing with me, knowing that I was determined. “Tf I could only see what good it can do,” She said, screwing up her eyes. ‘“Oh, Bunch, I don’t know,” I answered, ‘but to-morrow is the last day—the end. After that Betty Fane disappears off the map.” ‘““And Elizabeth Cleveland?” she asked significantly. “Oh!” I laughed nervously. ‘I don’t know, Bunch. Perhaps Elizabeth Cleve- land will not marry a king after all.” ‘““ What do you mean?” she asked sharply. But I could not explain then that King Peter had practically offered to release me. My whole being was in a state of hopeless confusion. I felt that everything was trem- bling in the balance; my whole life, my entire world. A breath on one side of the scale or the other—and what would happen? Either a heartbreak, or Paradise. Our plans were all made. I was going to transform myself into Betty Fane in my own room, with Bunch’s aid. This could be done quite early in the morning. Then I would wrap myself up in a big cloak, and we would both slip out of the house into the gardens and down the rocky staircase to our little beach. A few hundred yards away from the villa there was a narrow track up some rocks and across an olive plantation to the road. Bunch would take my cloak back to the house and give out that I had gone to spend the day with ECoOmMmiGcbooks These words were accom- (©)