# The Heliotrope Hat

Extracted from The Idler Magazine, 1910 Jan, pp. 384–390. Accompanying illustrations may be omitted.
THE HELIOTROPE HAT
“By J. Storer Clouston
Illustrated by Pickering Walker
HULLo, hullo, hullo!” cried Algie, with a hilarious abandon that made half Bond Street turn its head.
“Hullo,” replied Tony, less exuberantly.
“What the dooce are you doin' with all those parcels?”
“Hush, dear boy! She'll be comin' out of this shop in a moment.”
“Who's she? Your aunt?”
“My aunt! By Gad,I tell you——that's her!”
A remarkably prepossessing young lady in a fascinating heliotrope hat stepped daintily out of the shop, carrying a small brown paper parcel. This she handed to the commissionaire at the door with a word and nod in the direction of the Honourable Tony. The man stepped up and added it to the pile in his arms, and the young lady moved on to another emporium.
“Good Gad!” gasped Algie. “What's the meanin' of all this?”
In spite of the discord between the gloss of his rakish silk hat and bundles of brown paper he embraced, Tony threw his friend a conquering leer.
“Spotted her 'bout an hour ago,” he exclaimed, “gettin' off a 'bus. Rippin', and by Jove, she can use her eyes! Kept on her track like a sportsman, dear boy, don't you know. All over the place after her, I can tell you. At last she actually turned round and came right up to me. 'Pity you shouldn't have some reward for your trouble,' she said; or words to that effect, don't you know. 'Here's some parcels to carry for me.' You could have knocked me down with a feather; but bein' out for sport, of course I took 'em. I mean to drive her home in a cab when she's finished. Good business; what?”
“First rate!”
“Isn't she rippin'?”
“Just your sort, Tony!”
At this moment the heliotrope hat appeared again.
“By Gad, she's hailin' a cab!” cried Tony. “Come on; I'll introduce you before we start.”
Algie could not but think that the young lady took the parcels from her gallant somewhat unceremoniously.
“Let me introduce my friend Algie; one of the best,” said Tony, while his burden was being transferred to the cab.
The heliotrope hat nodded briefly, but its owner made no comment.
“Where are we goin' to now?” asked Tony, with his most alluring smile.
For the first time Algie heard the lady speak.
“We?” she asked, with an air of extreme surprise. “I have really no further use for you, thanks.”
“Oh, but hang it! I'm not goin' to be put off like this. Don't you know I've been carryin' your parcels for more than half an hour? If you don't let me come with you, dash it, I'll have to follow you in another cab.”
Her foot was on the step. But at this she turned round.
“Do you really mean to pursue this extremely slight acquaintance?”
“WHAT THE DOOCE ARE YOU DOIN' WITH ALL THOSE PARCELS?”
“Rather!”
“Even if I request you not to?”
“Oh, but dash it! Ha, ha! No, no; you won't be so beastly cruel. Hang it, I can't say good-bye for ever, 'pon my word I can't. What? What?”
She looked at him for a moment with a fascinating twinkle in her bright brown eyes.
“Won't it do if you come and see me to-night?”
“Better still,” said Tony.
“Will you remember my address if I give it to you?”
Tony took out his pocket-book.
“Trust me!”
“158, Hornbean Avenue, Hampstead Heath,” said the lady. “You will find a lane at the side of the house, with a little green gate in it. If it happens to be locked, you can easily climb the wall, can't you?”
“Like a bird!” said Tony.
“Well, then, once you are in the garden, come very quietly up to the back door and just shake the handle gently. I shall be sure to hear you.”
Fine sportsman though he was, Tony hesitated.
“I say, this is a doocid roundabout way of doin' things,” he remarked.
“Oh, of course if you feel nervous don't come.”
“Nervous! By Gad, I'm not afraid. What o'clock?”
“Half-past ten, as punctually as possible.”
“Right you are!” quoth Tony.
The lady threw him the most confidential smile and jumped into her cab. Then she bent forward.
“Oh, I forgot to say that I don't want you to be recognised at all costs.”
“Naturally,” said Tony.
“So you must wear a mask; just one of those things across your eyes, you know.”
“Like people wear at Covent Garden? I know. Thanks for puttin' me up to that. Till to-night!”
The heliotrope hat nodded charmingly, and then was whisked out of view, leaving behind it one of the most triumphant bloods in London. He received his friend's congratulations with a modest consciousness of having deserved them, and spent the remainder of the day in the pleasantest state of anticipation. They mutually agreed that the arrangements made by the victim of his charms presaged the most fortunate issue. No one would take precautions so elaborate and so unusual who did not mean to ensure ideal felicity both for herself and her admirer. Undoubtedly Romance had adopted Tony as her own.
That night, about the hour of ten, two of the brightest ornaments of St. James's set forth in a hansom for the remote and (they believed) only partially explored northern suburbs. The mere fact of being attired at that hour of the night in tweeds of a gaily irresistible pattern and chastely brilliant ties, gave them a sense of adventure. As they drove they tried to compute how long it was since either of them had last spent an evening in mufti, but found the strain upon their memories too great.
At the end of Hornbeam Avenue they dismounted, and, keeping the cab for Algie's return journey, walked together as far as 158.
“There's the lane!” cried Algie. “No mistake about this bein' a genuine investment.”
“What a rippin' good little girl she is!” said the adventurer.
They exchanged an affectionate farewell nod, and then Algie, after waiting till his gallant friend was lost in the gloom of the narrow leaf-shrouded lane, returned to his cab and drove enviously back to civilisation.
“What a lucky fellow he is!” he sighed,
Meanwhile the fortunate Tony was scaling the garden wall. This he accomplished with no more damage than the removal of a little polish from the toe of one boot. Pausing only for a moment to repair this by the aid of his handkerchief dexterously applied, he advanced cautiously, yet confidently, through the shrubbery towards the casket that contained his pearl. It was so dark that the precaution of wearing a velvet mask struck him as somewhat superfluous; though, to be sure, it might grow lighter near the windows. And, in any case, he placed the most implicit confidence in the lady's judgment.
It was very dark indeed at the back door, and he had to grope for a moment along the panels before he found the handle. As per directions, he shook it gently, and—— Brrrrr! Bang! Bang! Bow-wow-wow! B-r-r-r! Tony noticed these unexpected and inexplicable sounds partly in the course of his sudden descent into what seemed a remarkably confined cellar, and partly from the bottom of this cavity. Then came the sound of many excited voices and hurrying footsteps, and at last, several feet overhead, but none the less distinct and musical, he heard his charmer's voice.
“Oh, Uncle Gregory, have you caught one at last?”
A lantern was flashed into the chasm, and then a masculine voice, quivering with excitement, replied:
“At last! A beauty! He's here in the trap! Jane, Ellen, Thomas! Come and see him! Who said the apparatus wouldn't work? Eh, Kate?”
The voice of the heliotrope hat replied:
“I apologise humbly, Uncle Gregory. Yes, you really have caught one! And, oh, look at his mask! He must be the very worst kind.”
Uncle Gregory chuckled with pleasure.
“A perfect specimen! Simply a beauty! Come all of you and look at him.”
Tony's mild blue eyes, gazing upwards through the holes in his mask, beheld a ring of faces, mostly female, staring down into the chasm. He observed that Kate was no longer wearing the heliotrope hat, but otherwise noted nothing of interest.
“Do you remember, Uncle, what you promised to give me if you ever really caught one?” she asked sweetly.
“My dear Kate, I'll make it six pairs!” he replied joyously.
“Thank you, dear Uncle Gregory!” she beamed. “Oh, I am so glad you've managed it!”
Gradually a sense of injury began to disturb the captive. Why was none of this conversation ever directed at him? He felt decidedly neglected.
“I say,” he remarked.
The most intense silence fell upon the spectators. It was almost oppressive.
“Why don't you help me out of this instead of gassin' away like that?” he demanded.
A whispered order was the only reply, and then in a moment a stout rope, with a loop at the end, was cautiously lowered till it dangled just above Tony's head,
“Take hold of that,” commanded Uncle Gregory, “and we'll pull you up.”
Tony seized hold, and in this exceedingly uncomfortable fashion was drawn nearly to the surface. Then, while still clinging desperately to the loop, he felt his wrists encircled by something cold, there was a sharp click, the rope was rapidly lowered again, and he found himself once more at the bottom of his dungeon, only this time securely hand-cuffed; while the voice of Kate rapturously exclaimed:
“Oh, how frightfully neat! Everything seems to work so smoothly, Uncle Gregory.”
And the accents of her Uncle replied in triumph:
“Isn't it ingenious? Every householder ought to be able to catch his own burglars, I've always said; and now I've done it! By Jingo, what a typical specimen of the criminal class he is!”
Again the voice of Tony rose from the bowels of the earth.
“I warn you I'm gettin' a bit sick of this game. Take me out, will you! Do you hear?”
“You can lower the ladder now, Thomas,” commanded the happy inventor, “and just go down a few rungs and slip this noose over his shoulders to steady him. Don't be afraid. He can't hurt you now if he tries—and if he does try I'll fire at once.”
In this careful manner the dashing cavalier of Bond Street was hoisted to the surface. He bent his reproachful eyes (still gleaming through his mask) upon the lady of the heliotrope hat.
“I call this a low-down game,” he observed.
Uncle Gregory's niece recoiled with every symptom of alarm.
“The dreadful creature is speaking to me!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, I am speakin' to you, and you know perfectly well I'm not a dreadful creature, so don't pretend you think I am.”
“You must be,” she replied coldly. “Not even a burglar, if he was decently brought up, would accost a girl he didn't know.”
“H'm,” said Tony. “Well, then, that's not my opinion.”
“Look here, my man,” said Uncle Gregory, “if you have any opinions to air you can give them to the police. You'll be in their hands in a quarter of an hour.”
“I'll trouble you not to talk any more rot,” retorted Tony. “Just take these beastly things off my wrists and let me go at once, or I'll get devilish annoyed with you. My Guv'nor's a peer of England, if you want to know. You're insultin' your betters—that's what you're doin'.”
He had the satisfaction of hearing Uncle Gregory gasp.
“Of all the infernal impudent rascals I ever met in my life!” he exclaimed.
His niece seemed struck with an idea.
“Do you know, Uncle, I don't believe he's a real burglar after all! He doesn't seem to me to have brains enough.”
“Not a burglar!” cried Uncle Gregory. “Then what the blazes is he?”
“A lunatic, evidently.”
“Only a lunatic?”
“But, my dear Uncle Gregory, it's just as clever to catch a lunatic as a burglar.”
His face cleared.
“Yes,” he allowed; “it shows the trap will work even on the poorest material. But what shall we do with him?”
“Put him in the coal-cellar overnight and communicate with his relations to-morrow.”
“But he evidently hasn't the sense to know who they are.”
“We can try this peer he raves about,” she suggested. “He may possibly know something about the poor fellow. Very likely he was in his service before he went off his head.”
THE DASHING CAVALIER WAS HOISTED TO THE SURFACE.
“We might try that,” Gregory agreed.
“If you want my candid opinion of you——” said Tony wrathfully.
“We don't. Put the rope round his neck, Thomas, and lead him to the coal-cellar.”
“Oh, what an escape!” sighed the lady of the heliotrope hat, permitting her sparkling eyes to rest for one brief instant on her masked and manacled admirer.
And thus they parted for the night.
In reply to Uncle Gregory's telegram (despatched without any very sanguine expectations) an elderly and singularly suave gentleman appeared in the drawing-room of No. 158, Hornbeam Avenue, in the course of the following morning.
“You wish me to identify your captive?” he asked, after listening politely to the trap-inventor's narrative.
“If you can, my lord; and if you could then take him off my hands I should be only too thankful to you.”
His lordship smiled sympathetically.
“If he is the individual I imagine, you are not the first to long for that happy release.”
“He doesn't in the least resemble the sort of person I should imagine your lordship to be acquainted with. His conduct from beginning to end was totally irrational. His observations never once appeared to be appropriate to the situation——”
“He is my youngest son,” his lordship pronounced with confidence, and making a bow in which courtesy and sympathy were nicely blended, was already at the door before Uncle Gregory had collected his presence of mind to ask:
“Won't you take him away with you?”
“God forbid!” exclaimed the old gentleman hastily. “Give me ten minutes' start before you dream of loosing him!”
Uncle Gregory was still staring at the drawing-room door when he heard his visitor's hansom depart at a gallop.
Ten minutes later Tony issued from the coal-cellar.
“I shouldn't let you loose upon society even now,” said his captor severely, “if it had not been for the respectable appearance and obliging manners of the nobleman who was condescending enough to say you were his son.”
“Wasn't I?” asked Tony in surprise.
“I scarcely believe it, since I may tell you candidly that your benefactor only consented to your liberation on condition I allowed him an ample margin of time to escape from your pursuit.”
“Oh, that's the Guv'nor all right,” said Tony reassuringly. “Queer fish, ain't he?”
He emerged into civilisation again just in time for lunch, leaving Uncle Gregory a prey to conflicting emotions. Though vice-president of the Hampstead Heath Habitation of the Primrose League, he has maintained ever since an enigmatic silence on the subject of the House of Lords. His charming niece always makes a point of wearing a heliotrope hat in Bond Street, declaring that she thinks it once helped her to earn six pairs of lace-fronted accessories.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1944, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 79 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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