# The Beautiful White Devil/Chapter 12

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CHAPTER XII.
THE FIRST OF MAY.
Arriving in Thursday Island, one of the hottest and quaintest little spots on earth, I was fortunate enough to catch a British India mail boat in the act of starting for Brisbane. I accordingly had my luggage conveyed to her and was soon comfortably installed aboard her. The voyage from Torres Straits, along the Queensland coast, inside the Great Barrier Reef, though it boasts on one hand a rugged and almost continuous line of cliffs marked with such names as Cape Despair and Tribulation, and upon the other twelve hundred miles of treacherous reef, is quite worth undertaking. I explored the different ports of call, and, on reaching Brisbane, caught the train for Adelaide, embarked on board a P. and O. mail boat there, and in less than six weeks from the time of booking my passage was standing in the porch of my own house in Cavendish Square, had rung the bell, and was waiting for the front door to be opened to me.
It was a cold winter's afternoon; an icy blast tore through the Square and howled round the various corners, so that all the folk whose inclement destinies compelled them to be abroad were hurrying along as if their one desire were to be indoors and by their fires again without loss of time.
Presently my old housekeeper opened the door, and, ​though I had telegraphed to her from Naples to expect me, pretended to be so overwhelmed with surprise at seeing me as to be incapable of speech for nearly a minute. I managed to get past her at last, however, and went into what, in the day's of my practice, had been my consulting room. The fire was burning brightly, my slippers wore toasting before it, my writing table was loaded with books and papers as usual, and a comfortable easy chair was drawn up beside it. Everything was exactly as I had left it fourteen months before, even to the paper knife still resting in a half cut book, and a hastily scrawled memo, upon the blotting pad. There was something almost ironical about this state of stagnation when I thought of the changes that had occurred in my own life since last I had used that knife and written that memorandum. I told the old housekeeper to let me have my dinner at the usual hour, and having done so, asked her the news of the Square. Her reply was not important.
"James [her husband] an' me, sir," she said, "'ad the rheumatiz at the beginning of the winter, the young postman with the red whiskers 'ave got married to the parlour maid as burnt herself so bad three years back, at number 99, and the little gal with the golden curls across the way fell down the airey and broke her leg two months ago come next Friday."
Such was the chronicle of the most important occurrences in that quiet London Square during my absence.
After dinner I returned to my study, wrote two or three letters, and then drawing my chair up to the fire, sat down to think. Outside the wind howled and the rain dashed against my windows, but my thoughts were ​very far away from Cavendish Square; they were flying across the seas to an island, where lived a woman whom I had come to love better than all the world. Closing my eyes, I seemed to see the yacht lying in the little harbour under the palm clad hills; I went ashore, threaded my way through the tangled mass of jungle, and passed up the path to the bungalow on the hillside. There I found Alie moving about her rooms with all her old queenly grace; then like a flash the scene changed, and we were back on the yacht's deck in the typhoon. I saw the roaring seas racing down upon us, heard the wind whistling and shrieking through the straining cordage, noticed the broken bulwarks, and by my side, Alie in her oilskins, with her sou-wester drawn tight about her head, clinging to the rail with every atom of her strength. But all that was past and over, and now for twelve months—nay, to be exact, eleven,—I was to be the staid, respectable London householder I had been before I visited the East. After that—but there, what was to happen after that, who could tell?
After a while the termination of my pipe brought my reverie to an end, so I took up a file of papers from the table and fell to scanning the last few numbers. Suddenly a headline caught my eye and rivetted my attention. It was a clipping from a Hong Kong paper, and read as follows:
"THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL AGAIN."
"After a silence of something like four months the Beautiful White Devil has again done us the honour of appearing in Eastern waters. On this occasion, ​however, her polite attentions have been bestowed upon Singapore, from which place she has abducted, with singular cleverness, a young English doctor, whose acquaintance she had made in Batavia, and with him a certain well-known resident by name Ebbington. These two affairs were managed with that dexterity which the Beautiful White Devil has taught us to expect from her, the sequel, however, we have yet to learn. Surely, and we say it for the fiftieth occasion, it is time some definite steps were taken by Government to bring about the capture of a woman who, while being a picturesque and daring enough subject for a novel, has been a continual menace and danger to the commerce of the East for a greater number of years than the editorial chair cares to reckon."
I cut the paragraph out and, having placed it in my pocket-book, turned to the next issue published a week later. Here I found another quarter column devoted to her exploits. This one was also from the Hong Kong paper and ran as follows:
"THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL's LATEST AND GREATEST EXPLOIT.
"Last week we described what may be considered two of the cleverest and most daring exploits in the whole of the Beautiful White Devil's extraordinary career. We refer to the abduction of an English doctor, travelling in the East in order to study Asiatic diseases, and a well-known figure in Singapore society, Mr. Arthur James Ebbington, whose bay pony, Cupid, it will be remembered, won the Straits Settlement's Cup ​last year. The whereabouts of these two gentlemen have not yet, so we learn, been discovered, but to compensate for that we have to chronicle another, and perhaps more serious, act of violence on the part of this notorious character. The facts of the case are as follows:
"On Saturday morning last the mail steamer Bramah left Singapore for Hong Kong, having on board a number of distinguished passengers, including the new admiral of the China Station, Sir Dominic Denby, his flag lieutenant, Mr. Hoskin, and a prominent new government official for Hong Kong, Mr. Barkmansworth. There were also among the passengers six gentlemen of unassuming appearance, who, as far as could be judged, seemed to be total strangers to each other. The names they booked under were, as we find by a perusal of the shipping company's books, Matherson, Calderman, Burns, Alderney, Braham, and Balder.
"The first described himself as a missionary, the second was presumably a tourist, the third a tea merchant, the fourth an English newspaper correspondent, the fifth an American mill owner, and the sixth an Indian civilian on furlough. On Sunday morning early, the officer of the watch sighted a sail some few points off the starboard bow. From all appearances it was a large schooner yacht, flying a distress signal. On nearer approach it was seen that she had suffered considerable damage, her topmasts appearing to have been carried completely away.
"On inquiring her name it was elicited that she was the schooner yacht Saggittarius, belonging to the Royal Cowes Yacht Squadron, and owned by Lord Melkard, ​the well-known Home Rule Peer, who was supposed, at the time, to be cruising in these waters. Suspicion being thus entirely diverted, Captain Barryman brought his steamer as close as was prudent and signalled to the yacht to send a boat, which request was immediately complied with, Meanwhile, however, the attention of the officers on the bridge being rivetted on the yacht, two of the men before enumerated, Matherson the missionary, and Balder the Indian civilian, contrary to rules, made their way on to the bridge and implored the captain and chief officer to stand by the smaller vessel, which they declared to be sinking. Then without warning, on receiving a signal from below, these two, to all appearances eminently peaceable gentlemen, drew revolvers from their pockets and covered the astonished officers. The remaining members of the gang by this time had posted themselves at the entrances to the first and second saloons, the engine-room, and the fo'c's'le, and refused to allow anyone to come on to or to leave the deck.
"When the boat came alongside Mr. Barkmansworth, the official before described, who had just had his bath and was completing his toilet in his cabin, was called up from below and ordered to descend into her. After some argument, and a considerable amount of threatening, he complied with the request and was pulled over to the yacht. Once there, he has seized, stripped to the skin, dragged up to a triangle, and remorselessly flogged. He was then sent bleeding and almost unconscious back to the steamer, where he was immediately placed under the doctor's care. On the return of the boat alongside, the six desperadoes, who had all the ​time been mounting guard, as before described, entered it and were conveyed to the yacht, which immediately steamed off in a southwesterly direction.
"That this last insult to the Powers-that-Be will have the result of inducing them to take more effective action against this notorious woman is too much to expect. But with a reckless confidence somewhat unusual to us, we are now pinning our faith on the newly arrived naval authority, the more so as he was himself a witness of the whole disgraceful affair. We can only point out one fact, and that is, that unless this woman be soon brought to justice, travelling by mail boat in Eastern Waters will be a thing of the past. When steamers are stopped, and well known and respected government officials publicly flogged in mid-ocean, it is evident that affairs are coming to too atrocious a pass altogether."
Putting this criticism into my pocket-book with the other, I took a glimpse at my locket and went to bed. Next morning, immediately after breakfast, I donned the orthodox top hat and frock coat and set off to walk to South Kensington to call upon my sister Janet—who, by the way, was a widow, her husband having died of malarial fever when with his regiment on the west coast of Africa.
I found her in the morning-room in the act of writing a note of welcome to me. She greeted me with all her old sisterly affection, and when she had done so, made me sit down before the fire and tell her all my adventures.
"We have heard the most wonderful tales about you," ​she said, with a smile. "How you were captured by a sort of female Captain Kidd of fabulous beauty, who carried you off to an island in the Pacific, where you were made to dig sufficient gold to pay your ransom."
"Indeed?"
"It has been recopied into all sorts of papers," she continued. "But I've no doubt it was a mass of mere fabrication. Own the truth now, wasn't it?"
"Every bit," I answered candidly "I have been very much annoyed by those stupid newspaper paragraphs. It is just like the rabid craving of the age for sensationalism. But before I go any further, Janet, I want to tell you something. I am going to be married."
"You! George! Why, you always used to say you had made up your mind never to do anything so foolish."
"So I did; but you see I have changed my mind."
"So it would appear. And now, who is she? Tell me where you met her and all about her."
This was what I dreaded, but it had to be met and faced.
"Well, in the first place, her name is Alie. She is twenty-seven years of age and an orphan. Her father was a captain in the English navy, but is now dead. She is very sweet, very accomplished, and very beautiful; and I feel sure, Janet, if only for my sake, you will offer her a hearty welcome when she comes home."
"You know me well enough to be sure of that, don't you, dear old George? And is anything settled yet? How soon does she come home? and when are you going to be married?"
"To your first question I can only answer, as soon ​after the first of May as possible. On the first Alie will arrive in England. Now will you wish me happiness, Janet?"
"With all my heart and soul. But I am dying to know more; tell me where you met her, and indeed all about your adventures; remember, you have been away a whole year."
I told her as much as I thought prudent without revealing Alie's identity, and when my story was ended, we sat chatting on till lunch time.
When I left the house in the afternoon, I knew I had insured a kind reception for Alie when she should arrive in England.
Now I must skip the greater part of a year and come to the middle of the last week in April, just three days, in fact, before I knew I might expect my darling. It would be impossible for me to tell you how I spent the time. I don't think I know myself. I was in such a fever of impatience that each minute seemed an hour, each hour a day, and each day a year. And the nearer the time came the greater became my impatience. I even scanned the shipping lists with feverish earnestness, though I knew they could not possibly tell me anything I wanted to know.
At last the evening of the 30th of April arrived, a warm spring night with the promise of a lovely morrow. I kept myself busily occupied after dinner, and went to bed counting the hours till morning should appear. But try how I would I could not sleep—the memory of the joy that awaited me on the morrow kept me wide awake, devising plans for Alie's happiness. Slowly the hours went by. I heard one, two, three, four, and five ​o'clock strike, and still sleep would not come to me. At last I could stand it no longer, so I rose, dressed myself, and went out into the silent Square. Then I set myself for a walk, taking care, however, to return home in time to receive my letters from the postman. They were three in number, two from friends, the third a circular, but not one from Alie. The disappointment was almost more than I could bear. But I put it behind me, and resolved to wait for the next delivery, which would take place about an hour after, breakfast. Again the postman came round the Square—but this time he had nothing at all to deliver when he reached my door. Once more I was disappointed.
The morning rolled slowly on and lunch time came and went without any communication. The early afternoon delivery brought me no news, and by tea time I had almost lost hope. Could Alie have forgotten her promise or had she met with an accident which prevented her from coming? The latter thought redoubled my anxiety.
But I had her own assertion that she would be in England on the first of May and I had never known her fail to keep her word. Just as that thought passed through my brain there was a ring at the bell, and a few seconds later my man brought up a telegram on a salver. With fingers trembling with eagerness I tore the envelope open and read the following message:
Arrived this morning. Bundaberg House, Surbiton. Come quickly. Alie.
That little slip of paper transformed my dismal world into a second heaven. There and then I ran out of the ​room, gave the telegraph boy in the porch half a crown for his trouble, seized my hat and stick, hailed a hansom, and bade the cabman drive me with all possible speed to Waterloo. The man was a smart whip, and as he possessed a good horse we covered the ground in grand style. When we reached the station I paid him off, purchased my ticket, and ran on to the platform just in time to catch the 6.15 express. Punctually at five and twenty minutes to seven I left the train again at Surbiton, and proceeding into the station yard called another cab.
"Do you know Bundaberg House?" I asked the man, as I took my place in the vehicle.
He shook his head and called to one of his mates.
"Where's Bundaberg House, Bill?"
"Out on the Portsmouth Road nearly to Thames Ditton," was the reply. "That big house with the long brick wall next to Tiller's."
"I know now, sir!" said the man, climbing on to his box.
"Very well, then! An extra shilling if you hurry up," I cried, and away he went.
At the end of a short drive we pulled up before a pair of massive iron gates. A passer by threw them open for us and we drove in, passed round a shrubbery, and pulled up at the front door. I paid the cabman off and then, having watched him drive down and through the gates again, rang the bell. Next moment the door opened and a trim maid servant, without inquiring my name, invited me to enter. The front door opened on to a nicely built and furnished hall and from it I passed into a handsome drawing-room. It was empty but, ​before I had time to look round, the folding doors on the other side were thrown back and Alie entered the room.
I must leave you to imagine our greeting. I can only say that it sends a tremor through me to this day to remember it. I know that while I held Alie, who seemed more beautiful than ever, in my arms she whispered:
"You are still of the same mind, George?"
"Doesn't this look as if I am, darling?" I whispered. "Yes, I love you more fondly than ever, and I have come to-night to claim the fulfilment of your promise."
"You have been very patient, George!"
"It was because I loved and believed in you, Alie!" I replied. "But come, darling, I want my answer."
"And you shall have it," she said softly. "There it is!"
As she spoke she raised her beautiful white hand and pointed to the ring I had given her, saying as she did so, "It has never left my finger since you placed it there!"
"My best of girls," I cried, raising the little hand to my lips and kissing it fondly "I am the very happiest man in the world. And now I must hear all your doings; tell me how you got home!"
"There is little to tell," she answered. "I followed your route via Thursday Island, Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne, I stayed in the latter place for nearly a month, and while there advertised for a companion. The result was Mrs. Barker, a nice, amiable little person, whom you will shortly see. When we reached Naples I happened to see an advertisement concerning this ​furnished house in an English paper, telegraphed about it, received an answer in Paris, engaged it, and arrived here this morning."
"And how did you leave the settlement? And, by the way, where is Mr. 'Beelzebub'?"
"The settlement was very well when I came away They were busy building the new Communal Hall I used to talk to you about. And poor old Bel is left at the bungalow. I was afraid he might excite remark and possibly draw suspicion upon me."
"Alie, do you think you are safe in London?" I cried in alarm, all my old fears rushing back upon me at the mention of that one word suspicion. "What ever should I do if any one suspected you?"
"You need have no fear on that score, dear," my intrepid sweetheart answered, "there is no one in England who could possibly recognize me, and the only people in the whole world who could do so are Vesey of Hong Kong, the Sultan of Surabaya, the Rajah of Tavoy, Barkmansworth, and that lieutenant and midshipman. The first is dead; the second never leaves his own territory, the third is in bad odour with the English Government just at present and little likely to come home. Barkmansworth is, I presume, still in Hong Kong, and the lieutenant and his junior are with their ship in the China Sea."
"All the same, I shall not be satisfied until we are safely out of Europe again, Alie."
"You say we, then you mean to come away with me, George?"
"Of course, with whom else should I go? Hark! somebody is coming!"
​"It is Mrs. Barker, my duenna. Now we must be matter of fact folk once more."
As she spoke, Mrs. Barker, a dapper little lady with silver gray hair and a very pleasant expression, entered the room.
"Let me introduce Dr. De Normanville to you," said Alie, rising from her chair and going forward to meet her. "Dr. De Normanville, Mrs. Barker."
I bowed and Mrs. Barker did the same, then we went in to dinner. What happened during that very pleasant meal, how Mrs. Barker found occasion to require something from her bedroom afterwards, and so left us alone in the drawing-room together, I need not relate; suffice it that when I got home about twelve o'clock I was the happiest, and, at the same time, the most nervous man in England.
Next morning I called for Janet and, willy nilly, carried her off there and then to call on Alie. We found her walking in her garden, which led down to the river, and I must be excused if I say that, proud as I was of my darling, I was infinitely prouder as I noticed the look of astonishment and admiration that came into Janet's face when she was introduced to her. Alie's radiant beauty and charming manners were irresistible, and before they had been together half an hour the two women were on the best of terms. It was Alie's earnest desire that we should remain to luncheon, and she herself walked to the railway station with us when we at last took our departure.
"Now, what do you think of my sweetheart?" I asked, as we steamed out of the station.
"I think that she is a very beautiful and charming ​girl," was my sister's immediate reply, "and, if I know anything of my sex, she is as good as she's beautiful."
This pleased me, as you may be sure, and when Janet went on to tell me that she had invited Alie and Mrs, Barker to spend a few days with her, and that the visit would commence the following afternoon, my opinion of my sister's kindness became even more exaggerated than before.
And so that week went by, and another after it, till Alie had thoroughly settled down among us and nearly all the preparations for our wedding were complete. By that time, you may be sure, she had won golden opinions on every side. On each occasion that I saw Janet she was more and more profuse in her praises of her, until I had really to tell her that unless she moderated them a little I should soon become insufferably conceited about my good fortune.
One morning, when I was beginning to think of getting up, the following note was brought to me with my shaving water. It was from my sister, and had evidently been written the previous evening:
South Kensington, Monday Evening.
Dear Old George:
I have succeeded in inducing Alie and Mrs. Barker to prolong their visit to me until Saturday. On Wednesday evening we hope to witness the new play at Drury Lane. Alie, you know, has never seen a spectacular melodrama. We shall of course want a gentleman to escort us. Would you care for the position, or must we look elsewhere? On that occasion we dine at 6.30, and, unless I hear from you to the contrary, I shall lay a place for you.
In haste.
Your affectionate sister,
Janet.
​Need it be said that I accepted? or that on Wednesday evening I was proud of my charges as they took their seats in the box Janet had been at some pains to secure?
The house was packed from pit to gallery, and I noticed that more than one glass was levelled at the beautiful girl who took her place at Janet's side in the front of the box. Alie herself, however, seemed quite unconscious of the admiration she excited, and throughout the piece kept her eyes fixed upon the stage with never failing earnestness. What the play was I have not the very vaguest recollection.
In the middle of the first act I noticed that three gentlemen entered the box opposite us, and from the vociferous nature of their applause, gathered that they had evidently been dining, not wisely, but too well. After a while their glasses were so continually brought to bear on our box that I began to feel myself, foolishly enough, becoming excessively annoyed. The face of one of them struck me as familiar, and during the next interval, seeing that they had left their box, I made an excuse and went out to endeavour to discover who he was and where I had seen his face before. For a little while I was unsuccessful in my search, then, just as the next act was commencing, I turned a corner and almost ran into their arms. The man whose face I had been puzzling about was furthest from me, but I knew him instantly. It was Barkmansworth! My heart seemed to stand still with terror, and when I recovered my wits he was gone.
What was I to do? I dared not tell Alie before my sister and Mrs. Barker, and yet I knew, if ​Barkmansworth had recognised her, not an instant must be lost in getting her out of harm's way. For a moment I stood in the vestibule feeling more sick and giddy than I have ever felt before or since, and all the time trying vainly to think how to act. Then, when I took my seat again and saw that the occupants of the box opposite had left, I resolved to put off all consideration of the matter for that evening and to call and tell Alie first thing in the morning. Oh, that little bit of indecision! How fatal were its consequences!
When I had conveyed my fair charges home I made a severe headache an excuse, and bidding them good-night, set off on foot for my own abode. But my brain was too full of anxiety to entertain any idea of bed, so, turning off from the direct route, I wandered down to the Green Park and on to the Embankment, thence through Lincoln's Inn Fields to Oxford Street, and so round to Cavendish Square. By the time I let myself into my house it was nearly three o'clock and a beautiful morning. Passing along the hall, I went into my consulting room and lit the gas. A letter lay upon the table, addressed in my sister's handwriting, and marked "Immediate." With a sickening fear in my heart, I tore it open and read:
Dear George:
Come to me at once, without an instant's delay. Alie has been arrested.
Your frantic sister,
Janet.
The blow had fallen! My little shirking of an unpleasant duty had ruined the woman I loved. Oh, ​how bitterly I reproached myself for my delay in reporting my discovery. But if I had hesitated then, I did not do so now. A second or two later I had let myself out again and was off, as fast as I could go, on my way back to South Kensington.