# The Motor Maid/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X
FOR a minute everything swam before me, as it used to at the Convent after some older girl had twisted up the ropes of the big swing, with me in it, and let me spin round. Also, I felt as if a jugful of hot water had been dashed over my head. I seemed to feel it trickling through my hair and into my ears.
If I could have moved, I believe I should have bolted like a frightened rabbit, perfectly regardless of what Lady Turnour might think, caring only to dart away without being caught by the man I 'd done such wild deeds to escape. But I was as helpless as a person in a nightmare; and, indeed, it was as unreal and dreadful to me as a nightmare to see that fat, fur-coated figure walking toward me, with the bearded face of Monsieur Charretier showing between turned-up collar and motor-cap surmounted by lifted goggles.
They say you have time to think of everything while you are drowning. I believe that, now, because I had time to think of everything while that furry gentleman took a dozen steps. I thought of all the things he and my cousins had ever done to disgust me with him during his "courtship." I asked myself whether his arrival here was a coincidence, or whether he 'd been tracking me all along, step by step, while I 'd been chuckling to myself over my lucky escape. I thought of what he ​would do when he recognized me, and what Lady Turnour would say, and Sir Samuel. And although I could n't see exactly what good he could do in such a situation, I wished vaguely that my brother the chauffeur were on the spot. Then suddenly, with a wild rush of joy, I remembered that I was facing the danger through my little talc window.
Any properly trained heroine of melodrama would have ejaculated "Saved!" but I have n't a tragedy nose, and I gave only a stifled squeak, more like the swan-song of a dying frog than anything more romantic.
Nobody heard it, luckily; and Monsieur Charretier, who had just come into the twilight of the hall from the brighter light out of doors, bustled past the retiring figure of the lady's-maid without a glance. I had even to take a step out of his way, not to be brushed by his fur shoulder, so wide he was in his expensive motoring coat; and trembling from the shock, I awkwardly collided with Lady Turnour. She, in her turn, avoiding my onslaught as if I 'd been a beggar in rags, stepped on Monsieur Charretier's toe.
He exclaimed in French, she apologized in English.
He bowed a great deal, assuring madame that she had not inconvenienced him. She accused her maid, whose stupidity was in fault; and because each one looked to the other rich and prosperous they were extremely polite to one another. Even then, though her ladyship snapped at me, "What has come over you, Elise? You're as clumsy as a cow!" he had no notice to waste upon the femme de chambre. Yet I dared not so much as murmur, "Pardon!" lest he should recognize my voice.
​Fortunately my mistress and her husband were now ready to go up to their rooms, and we left Monsieur Charretier engaging quarters for himself and his chauffeur. Evidently he was going to stop all night; but from his indifference to me I judged joyfully that he had not come to the hotel armed with information concerning my movements. He might be searching for his lost love, but he did n't know that she was at hand.
All my pleasure in the thought of sightseeing at Avignon was gone, like a broken bubble. I should n't dare to see any sights, lest I should be seen. But stopping indoors would n't mean safety. Lady's-maids can't keep their rooms without questions being asked; and if I pretended to be ill, very likely Lady Turnour would discharge me on the spot, and leave me behind as if I were a cast-off glove. Yet if I flitted about the corridors between my mistress's room and mine, I might run up against the enemy at any minute.
I tried to mend the ravelled edges of my courage by reminding myself that Monsieur Charretier could n't pick me up in his motor-car, and run off with me against my will; but the argument was n't much of a stimulant. To be sure, he could n't use violence, nor would he try; but if he found me here he would "have it out" with me, and he would tell things to Lady Turnour which would induce her to send me about my business with short shrift.
He could say that I 'd run away from my relatives, who were also my guardians, and altogether he could make out a case against me which would look a dark brown, if not black. Then, when Lady Turnour and Sir Samuel ​had washed their hands of me, and I was left in a strange hotel, practically without a sou—unless the Turnours chose to be inconveniently generous, and packed me off with a ticket to Paris—I should find it very difficult to escape from my Corn Plaster admirer. This time there would be no kind Lady Kilmarny to whom I could appeal.
Between two evils, one chooses that which makes less fuss. It was n't as intricate to risk facing Monsieur Charretier as it was to eat soap and be seized with convulsions; so I went about my business, waiting upon her ladyship as if I had not been in the throes of a mental earthquake. She was not particularly cross, because the gentleman whose acquaintance I had thrust upon her might turn out to be Somebody, in which case my clumsiness would be a blessing in disguise; but if she had boxed my ears I should hardly have felt it.
Bent upon dazzling the eyes of potentates in the dining-room, and outshining possible princesses, the lady was very particular about her dress. Although the big luggage had gone on by train to some town of more importance (in her eyes) than Avignon, she had made me keep out a couple of gowns rather better suited for a first night of opera in Paris than for dinner at the best of provincial hotels. She chose the smarter of these toilettes, a black chiffon velvet embroidered with golden tiger-lilies, and filled in with black net from shoulder to throat. Then the blue jewel-bag was opened, and a nodding diamond tiger-lily to match the golden ones was carefully selected from a blinding array of brilliants, to glitter in her masses of copper hair. Round her neck went a rope of pearls that fell to the waist whose slenderness I had just, with a ​mighty muscular effort, secured; but not until she had dotted a few butterflies, bats, beetles and other scintillating insects about her person was she satisfied with the effect. At least, she was certain to create a sensation, as Sir Samuel proudly remarked when he walked in to get his necktie tied by me—a habit he has adopted.
"I wonder if I ought to trust Elise with my bag?" Lady Turnour asked him, anxiously, at last. "So far, since we 've been on tour, I 've carried it over my arm everywhere, but it does n't go very well with a costume like this. What do you think?"
"Why, I think that Elise is a very good girl, and that your jewels will be perfectly safe with her if you tell her to take care of the bag, and not let it out of her sight," replied Sir Samuel, evidently embarrassed by such a question within earshot of the said Elise.
"Perhaps I 'd better have dinner in my own room, so as to guard it more carefully?" I suggested, brightening with the inspiration.
"That 's not necessary," answered her ladyship. "You can perfectly well eat downstairs, with the bag over your arm, as I have done for the last two days. I don't intend to pay extra for you to have your meals served in your room on any excuse whatever."
I could n't very well offer to pay for myself. That would have raised the suspicion that I had hidden reasons of my own for dining in private, and I regretted that I had n't held my tongue. Lady Turnour ostentatiously locked the receptacle of her jewels with its little gilded key, which she placed in a gold chain-bag studded with rubies as large as currants; and then, reminding me that ​I was responsible for valuables worth she did n't know how many thousands, she swept away, leaving a trail of white heliotrope behind.
In any case I would wait, I thought, until I could be tolerably certain that all the guests of the hotel had gone down to dinner. If I knew Monsieur Charretier, he would be among the first to feed, but I could n't afford to run needless risks. I lingered over the task of putting my mistress's belongings in order, almost with pleasure, and then, once in my own room, I took as long as I could with my own toilet. I was ready at last, and could think of no further excuse for pottering, when suddenly it occurred to me that I might do my hair in a demurer, less becoming way, so that, if I should have the ill luck to encounter a sortie of the enemy, I might still contrive to pass without being recognized.
I pinned a clean towel round my neck, barber fashion, and pulling the pins out of my hair, shook it down over my shoulders. But before I could twist it up again, there came a light tap, tap, at the door.
"There!" I thought. "Some one has been sent to tell me the servants' dinner will be over if I don't hurry. Perhaps it 's too late already, and I 'm so hungry!"
I bounced to the door, and threw it wide open, to find Mr. John Dane standing in the passage, holding a small tray crowded with dishes.
"Here you are," he said, in the most matter-of-fact way, as if bringing meals to my door had been a fixed habit with him, man and boy, for years. "Hope I have n't spilt anything! There 's such a crush in our feeding place that I thought you 'd be safer up here. So ​I made friends with a dear old waiter chap, and said I wanted something nice for my sister."
"You did n't!" I exclaimed.
"I did. Do you mind much? I understood it was agreed that was our relationship."
"No, I don't mind much," I returned. "Thank you for everything." I shook back a cloud of hair, and glanced up at the chauffeur. Our eyes met, and as I took the tray my fingers touched his. His dark face grew faintly red, and then a slight frown drew his eyebrows together.
"Why do you suddenly look like that?" I asked. "Have I done anything to make you cross?"
"Only with myself," he said.
"But why? Are you sorry you 've been kind to me? Oh, if you only knew, I need it to-night. Go on being kind."
"You 're not the sort of girl a man can be kind to," he said, almost gruffly, it seemed to me.
"Am I ungrateful, then?"
"I don't know what you are," he answered. "I only know that if I looked at you long as you are now I should make an ass of myself—and make you detest or despise me. So good night—and good appetite."
He turned to go, but I called him back. "Please!" I begged. "I 'll only keep you one minute. I 'm sure you 're joking, big brother, about being an ass, or poking fun at me. But I don't care. I need some advice so badly! I 've no one but you to give it to me. I know you won't desert me, because if you were like that you would n't have come to stop at this hotel to watch over your ​new sister—which I 'm sure you did, though that may sound ever so conceited."
"Of course I won't desert you," he said. "I could n't—now, even if I would. But I 'll go away till you 've had your dinner, and—and made yourself look less like a siren and more like an ordinary human being—if possible. Then I 'll run up and knock, and you can come out in the passage to be advised."
"A siren—with a towel round her neck!" I laughed. "If I should sing to you, perhaps you might say ⸺"
"Don't, for heaven's sake, or there would be an end of—your brother," he broke in, laughing a little. "It would n't need much more." And with that he was off.
He is very abrupt in his manner at times, certainly, this strange chauffeur, and yet one's feelings are n't exactly hurt. And one feels, somehow, as I think the motor seems to feel, as if one could trust to his guidance in the most dangerous places. I 'm sure he would give his life to save the car, and I believe he would take a good deal of trouble to save me; indeed, he has already taken a good deal of trouble, in several ways.
When he had gone I set down the tray, shut the door, and went to see how I really did look with my hair hanging round my shoulders. My ideas on the subject of sirenhood are vague; but I must confess, if the creatures are like me with my hair down, they must be quite nice, harmless little persons. I admire my hair, there 's so much of it; and at the ends, a good long way below my waist, there 's such a thoroughly agreeable curl, like a yellow sea-wave just about to break. Of course, that sounds very vain; but why shouldn't one admire one's ​own things, if one has things worth admiring? It seems rather ungrateful to Providence to cry them down; and ingratitude was never a favourite vice with me.
One would have said that the chauffeur knew by instinct what I liked best to eat, and he must have had a very persuasive way with the waiter. There was crême d'orge, in a big cup; there were sweetbreads, and there was lemon meringue. Nothing ever tasted better since my "birthday feasts" as a child, when I was allowed to order my own dinner.
My room being on the first floor, though separated by a labyrinth of quaint passages from Lady Turnour's, there was danger in a corridor conversation with Mr. Dane at an hour when people might be coming upstairs after dinner; but he was in such a hurry to escape from me that I had no time to explain; and I really had not the heart to make myself hideous, by way of disguise, as I 'd planned before his knock at the door. As an alternative I put on a hat, pinning quite a thick veil over my face, and when the expected tap came again, I was prepared for it.
"Are you going out?" my brother asked, looking surprised, when I flitted into the dim corridor, with Lady Turnour's blue bag dutifully slipped on my arm.
"No," I answered. "I 'm hiding. I know that sounds mysterious, or melodramatic, or something silly, but it 's only disagreeable. And it 's what I want to ask your advice about." Then, shamefacedly when it came to the point, I unfolded the tale of Monsieur Charretier.
"By Jove, and he's in this house!" exclaimed the chauffeur, genuinely interested, and not a bit sulky. ​"You have n't an idea whether he 's been actually tracking you?"
"If he has, he must have employed detectives, and clever ones, too," I said, defending my own strategy.
"Is he the sort of man who would do such a thing—put detectives on a girl who 's run away from home to get rid of his attentions?"
"I don't know. I only know he has no idea of being a gentleman. What can you expect of Corn Plasters?"
"Don't throw his corn plasters in his face. He might be a good fellow in spite of them."
"Well, he isn't—or with them, either. He may be acting with my cousin's husband, who values him immensely, and wants him in the family."
"Is he very rich?"
"Disgustingly," said I, as I had said to Lady Kilmarny.
"Yet you bolted from a good home, where you had every comfort, rather than be pestered to marry him?"
"Oh, what do you call a 'good home,' and 'every comfort'? I had enough to eat and drink, a sunny room, decent clothes, and was n't allowed to work except for Cousin Catherine. But that is n't my idea of goodness and comfort."
"Nor mine either."
"Yet you seem surprised at me."
"I was thinking that, little and fragile as you look—like a delicate piece of Dresden china—you 're a brave girl."
"Oh, thank you!" I cried. "I do love to be called 'brave' better than anything, because I 'm really such a coward. You don't think I've done wrong?"
​"No-o. So far as you 've told me."
"What, don't you believe I 've told you the truth?" I flashed out.
"Of course. But do women ever tell the whole truth to men—even to their brothers? What about that kind friend of yours in England?"
"What kind friend?" I asked, confused for an instant. Then I remembered, and—almost—chuckled. The conversation I had had with him came back to me, and I recalled a queer look on his face which had puzzled me till I forgot it. Now I was on the point of blurting out: "Oh, the kind friend is a Miss Paget, who said she'd like to help me if I needed help," when a spirit of mischief seized me. I determined to keep up the little mystery I'd inadvertently made. "I know," I said gravely. "Quite a different kind of friend."
"Some one you like better than Monsieur Charretier?"
"Much better."
"Rich, too?"
"Very rich, I believe, and of a noble family."
"Indeed! No doubt, then, you are wise, even from a worldly point of view, in refusing the man your people want you to marry, and taking—such extreme measures not to let yourself be over persuaded," said Mr. Dane, stiffly, in a changed tone, not at all friendly or nice, as before. "I meant to advise you not to go on to England with Lady Turnour, as the whole situation is so unsuitable; but now, of course, I shall say no more."
"It was about something else I wanted advice," I reminded him. "But I suppose I must have bored you. You suddenly seem so cross." ​"I am not in the least cross," he returned, ferociously. "Why should I be?—even if I had a right, which I have n't."
"Not the right of a brother?"
"Hang the rights of a brother!" exclaimed Mr. Dane.
"Then don't you want to be my brother any more?"
He walked away from me a few steps, down the corridor, then turned abruptly and came back. "It is n't a question of what I want," said he, "but of what I can have. Sometimes I think that after all you 're nothing but an outrageous little flirt."
"Sometimes? Why, you 've only known me two days. As if you could judge!"
"Far be it from me to judge. But it seems as though the two days were two years."
"Thank you. Well, I may be a flirt—the French side of me, when the other side is n't looking. But I 'm not flirting with you."
"Why should you waste your time flirting with a wretched chauffeur?"
"Yes, why? Especially as I've other things to think of. But I don't want your advice about those things now. I would n't have it even if you begged me to. You 've been too unkind."
"I beg your pardon, with all my heart," he said, his voice like itself again. "I 'm a brute, I know! It 's that beastly temper of mine, that is always getting me into trouble—with myself and others. Do forgive me, and let me help you. I want to very much."
"I just said I would n't if you begged."
"I don't beg. I insist. I 'll inflict my advice on you, ​whether you like it or not. It 's this: get the man out of Avignon the first thing to-morrow morning."
"That 's easy to say!"
"And easy to do—I hope. What would be his first act, do you think, if he got a wire from you, dated Genoa, and worded something like this: 'Hear you are following me. I send this to Avignon on chance, to tell you persecution must cease or I will find means to protect myself. Lys d'Angely.' "
"I think he 'd hurry off to Genoa as fast as he could go—by train, leaving his car, or sending it on by rail. But how could I date a telegram from Genoa?"
"I know a man there who ⸺"
"Elise, I 'm astonished at you!" exclaimed the shocked voice of Lady Turnour. "Talking in corridors with strange young men! and you've been out, too, without my permission, and with my jewel-bag! How dare you?"
"I have n't been out," I ventured to contradict.
"Then you were going out ⸺"
"And I had no intention of going out ⸺"
"Don't answer me back like that! I won't stand it. What are you doing in your hat, done up in a thick veil, too, at this time of night, as if you were afraid of being recognized?"
I had to admit to myself that appearances were dreadfully against me. I did n't see how I could give any satisfactory explanation, and while I was fishing wildly in my brain without any bait, hoping to catch an inspiration, the chauffeur spoke for me.
"If your ladyship will permit me to explain," he began, ​more respectfully than I 'd heard him speak to anyone yet, "it is my fault ma'mselle is dressed as she is."
"What on earth is he going to say?" I wondered wildly, as he paused an instant for Lady Turnour's consent, which perhaps an amazed silence gave. I believed that he did n't know himself what to say.
"I wanted your ladyship's maid, when she had nothing else to do, to put on her out-of-door things and let me make a sketch of her for an illustrated newspaper I sometimes draw for. Naturally she did n't care for her face to go into the paper, so she insisted upon a veil. My sketch is to be called, 'The Motor Maid,' and I shall get half a guinea for it, I hope, of which it 's my intention to hand ma'mselle five shillings for obliging me. I hope your ladyship does n't object to my earning something extra now and then, so long as it does n't interfere with work?"
"Well," remarked Lady Turnour, taken aback by this extraordinary plea, as well she might have been, "I don't like to tell a person out and out that I don't believe a word he says, but I do go as far as this: I 'll believe you when I see you making the sketch. And as for earning extra money, I should have thought Sir Samuel paid good enough wages for you to be willing to smoke a pipe and rest when your day's work was done, instead of gadding about corridors gossiping with lady's-maids who 've no business to be outside their own room. But if you 're so greedy after money—and if you want me to take Elise's word ⸺"
"I 'll just begin the sketch in your ladyship's presence, if I may be excused," said Mr. Dane, briskly. And to ​my real surprise, as well as relief, he whipped a small canvas-covered sketch-book out of his pocket. It was almost like sleight of hand, and if he 'd continued the exhibition with a few live rabbits and an anaconda or two I could n't have been much more amazed.
"I 'd like to have a look at that thing," observed Lady Turnour, suspiciously, as in a business-like manner he proceeded to release a neatly sharpened pencil from an elastic strap.
Without a word or a guilty twitch of an eyelid he handed her the book, and we both stood watching while the fat, heavily ringed and rosily manicured fingers turned over the pages.
He could sketch, I soon saw, better than I can, though I 've (more or less) made my living at it. There were types of French peasants done in a few strokes, here and there a suggestion of a striking bit of mountain scenery, a quaint cottage, or a ruined castle. Last of all there was a very good representation of the Aigle, loaded up with the Turnours' smart luggage, and ready to start. My lips twitched a little, despite the strain of the situation, as I noted the exaggerated size of the crest on the door panel. It turned the whole thing into a caricature; but luckily her ladyship missed the point. She even allowed her face to relax into a faint smile of pleasure.
"This is n't bad," she condescended to remark.
"I thought of asking your ladyship and Sir Samuel if there would be any objection to my sending that to a Society motoring paper, and labelling it 'Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour's new sixty-horse-power Aigle on tour ​in Provence.' Or, if you would prefer my not using your name, I ⸺"
"I see no reason why you should not use it," her ladyship cut in hastily, "and I'm sure Sir Samuel won't mind. Make a little extra money in that way if you like, while we 're on the road, as you have this talent."
She gave him back the book, quite graciously, and the chauffeur began sketching me. In three minutes there I was—the "abominable little flirt!" in hat and veil, with Lady Turnour's bag in my hand, quite a neat figure of a motor maid.
"You may put, if you like, 'Lady Turnour's maid,'" said that young person's mistress, "if you think it would give some personal interest to your sketch for the paper."
"Oh, this is for quite a different sort of thing," he explained. "Not devoted to society news at all: more for caricatures and funny bits."
"Oh, then I should certainly not wish my name to appear in that," returned her ladyship, her tone adding that, on the other hand, such a publication was as suitable as it was welcome to a portrait of me.
"Now, Elise, I wish you to take those things off at once, and come to my room," she finished. "Mind, I don't want you should keep me waiting! And you can hand over that bag."
No hope of another word between us! Mr. Jack Dane saw this, and that it would be unwise to try for it. Pocketing the sketch-book, he saluted Lady Turnour with a finger to the height of his eyebrows, which gesture visibly added to her sense of importance. Then, without glancing at me, he turned and walked off.
​It was not until he had disappeared round the bend of the corridor that her ladyship thought it right to leave me.
I knew that she had made this little expedition in search of her maid with the sole object of seeing what the mouse did while the cat was away—a trick worthy of her lodging-house past! And I knew equally well that before I tapped at her door a little later she had examined the contents of the blue bag to make sure that I had extracted nothing. How I pity the long procession of "slaveys" who must have followed each other drearily in that lodging-house under the landlady's jurisdiction. They, poor dears, could have had no chauffeur friends to save them from daily perils, and it is n't likely that their mistress allowed such luxuries as postmen or policemen.