Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

A CROWN Bless me, if you and I together couldn’t paint the town red, eh, what?” J can’t really reproduce his words, but that was something like what he said. I was so disgusted that I could hardly speak. ‘“‘Lord Maurice, you forget yourself!” I said coldly. But he was getting more maudlin every moment. It may have been that the strong scent of the flowers affected him in his fuddled condition. ‘“‘ Such a shame your going out of the country,” he repeated. And then he went on fatuously. “ Positive corker is little Miss Fane—absolutely tip top—sort of girl who could do anything with a chap. Wouldn't eld Peter be surprised if he knew? Not only jolly little dancing girl but all that money, too!” He began to chuckle to himself, foolishly slapping his knees with his hands. ‘‘ Such a priceless joke—feel he ought to be told,” ‘““Lord Maurice,” I said sharply, “ you have given me your word as a gentleman that you will not tell the king.” “Yes, yes,”” he answered, smiling stupid- ly, his eyes watery, his nose and cheeks red now, instead of pale. ‘‘ But what’ll you sive me? Eh, little dancing girl? Must be rewarded, you know. You're so rich— lots and lots of stuff to give away! Solid coin of the realm—eh, what? What about a kiss to go on with?” He got up and came toward me, swaying from side to side. His breathing was heavy. His face was horrible in its lack of sense or reason or control. He put out an arm and caught my shoulder. I flung him off with all my strength. The touch of his hot fingers maddened me. He went crash- ing on to the ivory settee, which gave way under his weight and precipitated him to the floor. The dogs rushed at him, barking, and I had to call them off. The row at- tracted the butler, who happened to be passing along the corridor, and he came in, looking alarmed. I tried to keep calm, but I was shaking from head to foot. ‘‘Lord Maurice has had an accident,” I said, then I looked at Davis appealingly, utterly at a loss what to do. FOR SALE. 901 ‘He isn’t sober,” I whispered. “ He ought not to have been admitted. Oh, I am so glad you came, Davis.” Poor old Davis was more than equal to the occasion. He took charge of the situ- ation, sent me out of the room, summoned others to help him, and, less than ten min- utes later, came to report to me. “Everything is in order, my lady. I have reprimanded Masters for admitting his lordship. His lordship was slightly stunned—the fall, my lady, in his lordship’s condition, would account for that. His lordship will probably not remember much in the morning.” I expressed my gratitude and told Davis that Lord Maurice had been dining with Lord Castletrevor down the street. ‘“* Yes, my lady. They say there are very queer goings on at Lord Castletrevor’s since her ladyship’s death.” Davis was quite perfect. He restored my self-respect by treating the matter as an unpleasant accident entirely owing to the footman’s amazing lack of discrimination. “With these youngsters you get in serv- ice these days, my lady, you have to be on the spot yourself every minute of the day and night.” Dear old Davis, I am convinced that he runs his quiet and select private hotel in Jermyn Street now every bit as effectively and smoothly asehe ran my establishments in those days. CHAPTER XVII. COMMON BLACKMAIL. WAS very upset about Lord Maurice, and absolutely stupefied when, three or four days later, Bunch came back from lunching with my great-aunt Caroline, and said to me in her direct way: “I say, Liz, what’s this about Maurice Angell? Cissie Greenstreet was at lunch, and you know what a gossip she is—still it’s something a bit too strong she’s got hold of now. She says Maurice Angell is making people think that there’s something between him and you, that he visits you when you're alone at any unconventional hour, and that you’re only marrying the king because you COMED OOo! S (©