Chapter I
'AGE I. Which Introduces Miss Semaphore - 7 II. A BOARDING-HOUSE EVENING - - 20 III. Miss Semaphore Receives an Answer 35 IV. Castles in the Air - - 45 V. The Water of Youth - 54 VI. An Accident - - - 61 VII. Prudence Receives a Shock - 70 VIII. A Career of Deception - - 81 IX. A Promising Advertisement - 91 X. In which Miss Prudence Explains Matters - - - - 100 XI. The Medical Lady Intervenes - 106 XII. "Good Mrs. Brown" - - - 116 XIII. The Medical Lady Baffled - -129 XIV. An Unexpected Visitor - - 139 XV. Prudence Calls at Plummer's Cottages - - - - CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XVI. Mrs. Dumaresq in an Undiplomatic Circle - - -163 XVII. A Sensation in "The Star" - 173 XVIII. A Detective on the Track - 177 XIX. A Council of War - - 190 XX. Notice to Quit - - - 204 XXI. At the Arrow Street Police Court 213 XXII. A Scene in Court - - 222 XXIII. Conclusion - , - - - The Rejuvenation OF MISS SEMAPHORE.
CHAPTER I. WHICH INTRODUCES MISS SEMAPHORE.
Seven o'clock had struck. The gong at 3J, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Kensington, thundered under the vigorous strokes of the bow-legged German waiter. By one, by two, by three, the boarders trooped down to dinner, the more sensitive to noise stopping their ears as they descended. The very deafest could not ignore that gong. Muller always attacked it suddenly, as if running amuck or possessed by a demon. It reverberated far and near, and echoed faintly to Gloucester Road Station. Boarders, arriving late, were seen to run when their ears caught the familiar sound. At the head of the central table in the fine dining-room, its three windows looking on the Gardens, sat the proprietress, Mrs. Wilcox. She was a bright-eyed, stout, florid woman of forty-five, dressed in black silk and a lace fichu secured by a cameo brooch.
As she waited for her guests, she meditatively sharpened a carving knife. By the sideboard stood her husband, Cap tain Wilcox, slender, dried-up, younger than his wife, and dominated by her. Where they met, and why they married, was a never failing source of speculation in the house. It was asserted that Miss Tompkins took him in payment of a debt. Be that as it might, the mild, subdued little Captain was evidently a gentleman. He had been in a Lancer regiment, got into difficulties, and now at eight-and-thirty was a person of much less importance in his wife's boarding-house than her imposing cook. Though never supposed to act as master, the name and authority of Captain Wilcox were frequently evoked by Mrs. Wilcox when any unpleasant duty had to be done. He it was, for instance, who sternly insisted that no credit should be given.
He stood out for the weekly settlement of accounts. He was responsible for certain persons receiv ing notice to quit. He made the unpopular rule that the drawing-room lights should be extinguished precisely at eleven. In a word, he was the Jorkins of the firm. For the rest, he held some small post in the City secured for him by his wife's brother, helped daily with the carving, and paid for his own keep. Besides the central table, there were round the room several smaller ones, accommodating from four to eight persons. To one of these, some men and women concerned in our story were making their way. First came Miss Augusta Semaphore, a tall, thin, and rather acid-looking woman of fifty-three. Close behind followed her sister, Miss Prudence, who was ten years younger, and accustomed to be treated as a baby.
Prudence wore a fringe that hung over her eyes in separate snaky curls, and in damp weather degenerated into wisps ; she was plump and fair, had a somewhat foolish smile, and, as befitted her part of giddy, little thing, any number of coquettish airs and graces. Their neighbours were, a stately couple named Mr. and Mrs. Dumaresq, Mr. Lori mer, a clownish youth, of good family and aggressive patriotism, Major Jones, Mrs. Whitley, a small, mincing lady of recent and painful refinement, and finally a large and commanding woman with a terrible eye, who was vaguely believed to have taken out a medical degree. " For what we are about to receive," said Mrs. Wilcox, " the Lord make us truly thank ful." With a creak and a rustle, some five-and thirty boarders drew in their chairs. The covers were removed, and a ripple of prosy talk began.
As usual, it started with polite enquiries as to each other's health. In boarding-houses it generally does. No one cares a button for you or your ailments, but they ask after them all the same with exasperating regularity and take no interest in the answer. " How is your cold, Major Jones ? " " Better, thank you, Mrs. Dumaresq — and your neuralgia ? " " Much worse ; I never closed my eyes last night." " But you are taking something for it ? " — and so on, and so on, and so on. New comers at 2>7> Beaconsfield Gardens, occasionally tried to be conversational. For a time they were lively, animated, full of good stories and repartee. People listened to them in silence, and generally took offence. Conversation as a fine art was not encour aged. It was sad to notice how in a week or a fortnight the talkers talked themselves out, and subsided into the brief commonplaces of their neighbours.
The boarders, all respectable people who read the Daily Telegraph and voted Tory when they had votes, shared the profound belief of the middle-class Briton that silence shows solidity, sound judgment, and a well balanced mind. Profound and continued silence they considered an attainment in itself. They scarcely realised, not being in trospective, that two-thirds of the people who don't speak are silent from lack of ideas. As a matter of fact, in such a milieu, sub jects for conversation of general interest were almost impossible to find. By tacit consent, politics and religion were tabooed, since the discussion of either invariably ended in a quarrel. Though the boarders read novels, they did not talk about them, and they took no great interest in literature or art. A man who was supposed to have written a book was REJUVENA TION OF MISS SEMAPHORE. 1 2 rather cold-shouldered, for the Englishman — and in this case, as the preacher put it, man embraces woman — whatever his respect for literature in the abstract, thinks but meanly of those who produce it, if they do not happen to be celebrities.
To be sure they are generally poor. " Vill you beef, muddon, schiken, or seal?" whispered Muller, making his round when soup and fish had been removed. "Veal, please," said Miss Semaphore. " Feal, blease," said Muller under his breath, to impress the order on his mind. "Vill you beef, muddon, schiken, or feal, Madame ? " "A portion — a tiny portion of the — a — chest of the fowl," said Mrs. Whitley. " Roast beef," growled Mr. Lorimer, and Muller echoed "beef," adding "blease" on his own account. " I saw you to-day, Major Jones, but you did not see me," said the younger Miss Semaphore archly, when the interest of choosing had subsided. " You what ?" asked Major Jones mildly. He was rather deaf. " I said that I saw you to-day — down in the City, you know. Fancy ! I went all that distance by myself in an omnibus !
There is such a sweet shop for bargains in St. Paul's Churchyard, and you passed me just as I turned in." " You should not go into the City unes corted," said Miss Augusta Semaphore severely ; "I have told you that over and over again, but you are so heedless. It is not conime il faut." "What do you think would happen to her? "asked Mr. Lorimer gruffly. He was a young man of combative instincts and no manners, with whom Miss Semaphore waged a deadly but, on her side, perfectly civil war fare. " My dear father," went on Miss Sema phore, without taking any notice, " who was a distinguished military officer, strongly objected to girls going about alone." " That was all very well thirty years ago," objected Mr. Lorimer, "but nowadays, if people conduct themselves properly, there is no earthly reason why they should not go about alone at fit and proper hours, once they have come to years of discretion."
" I can assure you," said Mrs. Dumaresq, assuming a grand air, and slightly raising her voice, as she always did when she meant to impress her hearers, " I can assure you that in diplomatic circles, a lady shopping without an escort, or at any rate without a maid, is unheard of." In every boarding-house throughout the British Islands there is to be found a person who is the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales. At 2>7> Beaconsfield Gardens, Mrs. Dumaresq was that person. " Yes, all very well amongst a lot of horrid foreigners," said Mr. Lorimer obstinately ; " no wonder ladies are afraid to go about alone where there's a set of ugly, unwashed rascals that would run a dagger into them as soon as look at them, but grown-up English women in their own country may do what they please." "I do not approve of ladies going any where alone.
It may do for middle-class persons," said Mrs. Dumaresq haughtily, "but I can assure you, from personal know ledge, that it is not done in diplomatic circles. When we lived at Belgrade, there was a Mrs. Twickenham who used to act in the most unconventional way, and one day the Princess — a dear old friend of ours — the Princess Hatzoff — you must have heard of her, first cousin to the Czar, a delightful t woman and so attached to me — said, ' Dearest Mimi' — she always called me Mimi — 'are English ladies in their own country, ladies of position such as you and I, allowed this liberty, not to say license, of action ? ' and I replied, ' No, Helene, certainly not.' " The Misses Semaphore, Mrs. Whitley, and the lady doctor listened attentively to these reminiscences, but Mr. Lorimer was not impressed.
" I maintain," he said, "that this is a free country, and that those ideas are old fashioned." " I assure you that is not the opinion of the Princess Hatzoff, a woman who mixed in the very best society ; nor was it the opinion of my dear friend, the ex-Empress ofthe French, Mr. Lorimer," replied Mrs. Dumaresq with a lofty air. " However, we will discuss the matter no further. In diplomacy one learns to avoid subjects on which one's experiences are different from those of other people, and so not likely to agree." There was a subdued acidity in Mrs. Dumaresq's tone, there was a battle-breath ing obstinacy in Mr. Lorimer's accent that led peaceful Miss Prudence to change the conversation. " The poor dear Empress," she said, " how I pity her ! " "Ah, you should have seen her in her splendour.
Were you in Paris before the i* war r "You can scarcely expect my sister to remember Paris before the war, my dear Mrs. Dumaresq," interposed Miss Semaphore frigidly. " It is years ago. Prudence was a mere child." Mrs. Dumaresq smiled slightly, and said, "Ah!" In diplomatic circles no one openly expresses disbelief in a statement. "The dear Empress was such a friend of mine in the old days when we lived there. One day, I remember so well, we had been away for nearly a year. The Empress was standing at a window of the Palace with an aide-de-camp beside her, Comte de la Tour — you remember Comte de la Tour, Angelo ? " This to her silent husband, who nodded assent. " The Empress suddenly said to the Comte, ' Mon cher, who is that charmingly dressed lady who has just driven past ? ' The Comte, dear man, answered, ' Oh, your Majesty, do you not know ? that is Madame Dumaresq ! ' The same evening we met at a ball at the Spanish Ambassador's, and the WHICH INTRODUCES MISS SEM.4PH0RE. 17 Empress graciously came up to me. ' Fancy,' said she; 'fancy, my dear Madame Dumaresq, I did not recognise you this morning.
It is such an age since you were here ; and oh ! do permit me to congratulate you on the exquisite costume you wore.'" The story made a distinct impression. The medical woman at the end of the table, who had an American's interest in high life, stopped short in a thrilling narrative of an amputation, and listened with all her ears. "The Empress was a very lovely woman, but I believe she was not very young when she married," said the elder Miss Semaphore reflectively. "Oh, dear no! Eight or nine-and-twenty at least. Some people said two-and -thirty." "What matter does that make?" inter posed the polite Mr. Dumaresq. " A hand some woman is only the age she looks." Miss Semaphore sighed. She had care fully examined her face before dinner and discovered a new wrinkle. It was borne in on her that she scarcely looked as young as she felt, but she made an effort to seem as if eight-and-twenty, or, at most, two-and-thirty, was still before her.
" It must be dreadful to grow old," said Mrs. Whitley affectedly. b h " There are so many aids to beauty nowadays," said Mr. Dumaresq, "that no lady need look a day older than she likes." " But the use of cosmetics is odious," cried Miss Semaphore. " For my part I never could understand how any one could use paints and powders." Good breeding was not Mr. Lorimer's strong point, and, in boarding-houses, people say things to each other that elsewhere are the privilege of relatives. " Dyes," he said, looking fixedly at Miss Semaphore's hair, "dyes are most injurious — worst of all, in fact. Horrible case in the paper the other day. A woman dyed her hair black one morning, died herself next ! Instantaneous softening of the brain, they said. The stuff soaked in." The obvious application lent point to the sally.
The medical lady, who prided herself on being a fine woman, needing no aid from art, smiled broadly. She could not, however, resist saying there was no such disease as instantaneous softening of the brain. Mrs. Dumaresq, mindful of her diplomatic training, looked so grave that a child would have suspected something wrong. Miss Semaphore murmured " How dreadful ! " WHICH INTRODUCES MISS SEMAPHORE. 19 She alone saw no personal allusion, for it never struck her that anyone could think she tinted her tresses. Miss Prudence looked as angrily at the speaker as her kind face per mitted. Major Jones had just said, " Eh ! what's that ? " when Mrs. Wilcox rose, and at her signal the ladies swept upstairs, leaving the men to cigars and scandal.
Chapter II
A BOARDING-HOUSE EVENING, AND AN IMPORTANT LETTER. Boarding-houses all the world over have certain features in common. These are the result of haphazard association between people without common interests. No. 2>7, Beaconsfield Gardens, South Ken sington, was no exception to the rule. Its inmates were chiefly women, the widows and daughters of professional men. A few childless married couples lived there, and a sprinkling of unmarried men who were either old or extremely young. Some of the people were well-connected, others well-off, all were dull, a few pious. Several secretly considered themselves superior to the others. They focussed the attributes of the British Philis tine, and were an object-lesson as to the low intellectual level of average respectable humanity. A BOARDING-HOUSE EVENING. 21 Lacking occupation and mutual outside interests, the boarders were led to discuss each other freely.
The men mostly herded together in the smoking-room. The ladies gathered in the drawing-room. A sort of armed neutrality was maintained between the sexes. He or she who ventured to invade the headquarters of the other was looked on as daring or brazen as the case might be. At meals alone did some thirty-five people assemble. Even then, they were not expected to change their place at table, so had to trust to chance for agreeable neighbours. The few girls who lived in the house had not a gay time. Poor things ! They had no lovers, no interests, no society, no prospects, and incomes that required management. Once they ceased to be new arrivals, the men, all of whom were ineligible, took no notice of them. They were treated with a nonchalance more galling than unkindness, and were subtly given to understand that they could not expect the same consideration as young women outside who lived in their own homes and had parents who entertained.
The elderly people, and especially Miss Semaphore, looked rigidly after the pro prieties. Occasionally a dashing widow or an attractive and forward damsel temporarily upset the dulness. Dances were organised, round games started, heads turned. These brilliant meteors never lingered long on the horizon. Their stay usually terminated in some episode that led to a notice to quit. The succeeding flatness was the more marked. There is no dulness in the quietest home like the dulness that falls at intervals on a boarding-house. It may be that at home one does not expect much, while living with a number of strangers one feels restless, as if something really ought to happen. There are blanks and periods of depression, extending sometimes to months at a time, when life seems a waste. During these, efforts to get up any amusement are useless.
No one will help, and so much cold water is thrown on every suggestion, that in despair the promoter abandons the project. Such an interval was now being put through at No. 37. Conversation, as we have indicated, languished, being replaced by an occasional interchange of platitudes, failing any private or public sensation. An audacious flirtation on the part of one of the younger women, or a thrilling murder trial, A BOARDING- HO USE EVENING. 23 would have interested everybody, especially the flirtation, on the progress of which the boarders would have taken turns to watch and comment on. Relieved of all household duties, the "ladies," as Mrs. Wilcox never failed to call them, passed the monotonous days in shop ping, novel-reading, and repose. They made up temporary friendships between themselves and fell out with regularity.
As usual, they were split into two factions, those who abused the proprietress and those who did not. The drawing-room in which they nightly assembled was a spacious apartment. A Brussels carpet of pronounced pattern, red Utrecht velvet chairs — solid, as befitted fur niture destined to much wear and tear — and gilt-framed mirrors, gave the apartment an early Victorian aspect. The light and airy found no place in this salon, for in boarding houses everything breakable is broken, and nobody owns to the mischief. Workbaskets, newspapers, and novels were brought out this evening as usual, and nearly all the party became absorbed in one or other of these excitements. They had exhausted each other, though one or two kept up a dribble of civil enquiries for the sake of saying something. " What pretty work.
How do you do it ? " " Oh ! it is a new stitch I have just learned." " Were you out this afternoon ? " " No ; I lay down and took a nap. Were you ? " "Yes, I went down to High Street sor some wool." The evening to which we refer, though as dull, was not destined to be as peaceful as its fellows. The cause of the disturbance was Miss Semaphore's dog. Miss Semaphore's dog was a mongrel, a snappish little brute called Toutou. Its brown hair was flecked with grey, for it was old, fat, and scant of breath. Toutou had been the cause of more unpleasantness at t>7. Beaconsfield Gardens, than any other inmate. If, in the quarrels of men, cherchez la femme holds good, in the quarrels of idle women who live in boarding houses one may not unfrequently look for the dog. To-night, unfortunately for herself, Miss Belcher, one of the younger women, trod on its tail.
Frankly, it was difficult to avoid treading on Toutou's tail, for he had a trick of getting into the way that was simply exasperating. Miss Belcher, a nice, harmless girl, jumped as if she had been shot. "Oh, I am so sorry! "she cried ; "doggie, poor doggie, are you hurt ? " and kneeling down, she tried tenderly to soothe him. Toutou was not hurt, but he howled despe rately. Judging by his actions he rather enjoyed getting people into trouble. In an instant Miss Semaphore swooped down, red and angry, seized her favourite, and cast ing a withering glance at the crestfallen Miss Belcher, carried him off to her own particular corner. Everyone at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, had a special chair or a favourite corner, and great was the indignation if anyone else took it. " It was quite an accident," stammered Miss Belcher.
" I never saw Toutou." " Some people," replied Miss Semaphore, "have no eyes. They think it rather amus ing to torture dumb animals, don't they, my precious ? " As she spoke, she bestowed a kiss like a peck on the top of Toutou's ugly nose. The boarders all ceased work and listened attentively. " But indeed, Miss Semaphore," cried poor Miss Belcher, almost crying, " it was not my fault." REJUVENA TION OF MISS SEMAPHORE. " I suppose, of course, it was Toutou's," said Miss Semaphore with sarcasm. Miss Belcher was getting the worst of it, when her mother, a large, deaf woman of majestic presence, interposed. She domi neered over her daughter and everyone else, and had been silent so far because she had been having the state of the case explained in her ear by Mrs. Whitley. " Don't mind, Emma," she said suddenly, " That ridiculous dog is in everyone's way.
It should be got rid of." Turning to the embarrassed Mrs. Whitley, she made what appeared to be indignant comments on Miss Semaphore, the obnoxious word "old maid" being distinctly audible. At this awful crisis the boarders stared panic-stricken at Miss Semaphore. Miss Semaphore, under other circumstances, would have justified their apprehen sions. Even she, however, saw it was no use quarrelling with a deaf woman endowed with a terrible tongue. Accordingly, she simply muttered, " Disgraceful ! — ill-bred ! " and something about " the result of associa tion with such persons," and relapsed into an oppressive silence. The innocent little dribble of talk dried up before the sirocco of her suppressed wrath. A silence that might be felt reigned in the drawing-room. Though glances were inter changed, no one ventured to speak except Mrs. Belcher.
She, greatly daring, and with the evident intention of flouting both Miss Semaphore and Toutou, addressed her daughter on all manner of subjects, compel ling that unhappy young person to reply at the top of her voice. Miss Prudence, who always shrank from her sister's outbursts, buried herself timidly in the pages of the Lady's Pictorial and tried to look as if she had heard nothing. When this painful state of things had lasted for some time, Mrs. Dumaresq, by way of creating a diversion, said in her most fascinating manner, "That dreadful Mr. Morley has been making another speech. I'm sure it is a wonder how anyone can be found to listen to him. Radicals and Socialists and those sort of people really ought to be locked up." " Perhaps, on their side, they think Tories should be locked up," said Miss Stott, a thick-set young person with views.
"No doubt they do," answered Mrs. Dumaresq with energy. " No doubt, if they could, they would have all the aristocracy beheaded. As my dear friend, the Baroness de la Veille Roche, once said to me, ' My darling Mimi, the canaille would wade in our blood if they dared.' " " I doubt it," said Miss Stott stolidly ; "people are not as bloodthirsty as that, even if they are Radicals or Socialists. After all, human beings are very much alike in the grain whatever their rank, and none of us would care particularly to wade in blood." " Alike !" echoed Mrs. Dumaresq. "My dear Miss Stott, you are mistaken. Between the upper and the lower classes there is the greatest possible difference. They have not our sensitiveness, our refinement, our deli cacy." Mrs. Dumaresq said "our" to show she knew her manners, and to accentuate her diplomatic training.
" Do you think not ?" queried Miss Stott. ' Of course they have not external refine ment, nor the advantages of education. But do you really think they are less sensitive, less delicate in their own way ? Why, every day there are cases in the paper that seem to show Belgravia and Whitechapel are very much alike when their blood is up. The chief difference to me appears to be that the one does things and does not talk of them, while the other talks of them but does not do them." "My dear Miss Stott!" remonstrated Mrs. Dumaresq. " Yes," said Miss Stott, "why only to-day I read the account of an action taken by a servant against her mistress, a wealthy woman, who broke her fan on her maid's shoulder." " How shocking ! " said Mrs. Dumaresq. " But you must not judge the aristocracy by such persons.
The woman, though she may have been rich, could not possibly have been a lady." "So I think," replied Miss Stott; "no doubt, however, she considered herself one, for she was an Earl's daughter." " Oh— h ! " said Mrs. Dumaresq, with great surprise. " Then the maid must have been very provoking." A rattle of teacups announced the arrival of coffee. Miss Prudence Semaphore, who was seated in the centre of the room near the lamp, looked round to see if any of the men had come up, and dropped her Pictorial. As she recovered it, an advertisement caught her eye. "To Ladies and Gentlemen of Means. "The widow of an eminent explorer, being in straitened circumstances, is compelled to offer for sale a single bottle of water from the Fountain of Youth, vainly sought in Florida by Ponce de Leon. Its marvellous rejuvenating properties cannot be exaggerated.
By its means a person of seventy may regain, after six small doses, the age of eighteen. This is genuine. No cos metic. No imposture. No connection with any prepa ration making similar claims. The greatest marvel of this or any other century. Money willingly returned if above statement is proved untrue. Please address offers, which must be liberal, as this opportunity is unique, to X. Y. Z., Office of this Paper." Greatly struck by the announcement, which she read twice, Miss Prudence passed the paper to her sister, saying, " Look at that ! " She then pulled out some knitting, and be came absorbed in the mysteries of "slip one, knit one, bring the thread forward, knit two together." Miss Semaphore adjusted her long-handled eye-glasses, sole concession to failing sight. Spectacles were abhorrent to her, and even a pince nez she considered too plain an acknow ledgment of weakness.
She was even more impressed by the advertisement than Miss Prudence had been, and considered it at intervals throughout the evening. o c_» Coffee had been handed round. The men who sauntered upstairs for a cup massed themselves together for company at one end of the room. If separate from their kind, they seemed forlorn and uneasy, and watched an opportunity to escape. One or two of the oldest, including Major Jones, and a Mr. Batley, who was young, but a new comer and unacquainted with the ways of the house, advanced into what seemed to be looked on as the women's end. Miss Prudence Semaphore moved her skirts slightly, so as to give a chance to any one wishing to sit beside her. No one came. Pretty Miss Fastleigh and her sister, with an unconsciousness born of experience, had thoughtfully taken places as near the men as possible.
Soon they were deep in con versation with the more courageous of the advanced guard. Coffee over, the greater number of the men made a stampede. Some were study ing for examinations and could not spare time. More sat in each other's rooms drinking whisky and soda, others again turned out for a game of billiards. A whist party was formed by Miss Sema phore, her sister, Major Jones, and Mr. Dumaresq. Mrs. Whitley, Mrs. Dumaresq, the medical woman, Miss Belcher, Miss Fastleigh, Mr. Batley, and his sister, took part in a round game. Miss Primsby, a timid girl, very proper, and easily shocked, whose formidable mother went to bed early, after a time slipped gently downstairs to the smoking-room. There she taught chess to Monsieur Lempriere, a young Frenchman who had come over to learn the language.
The better to explain the moves, she held his hand in hers. :' In England the Garden of Beauty is kept By a dragon of prudery placed within call, But so oft this unamiable dragon hath slept, That the garden's but carelessly watched after all." The second Miss Fastleigh, who had a good voice, went to the piano unasked and sang one or two songs. Finding no one took any particular notice, she amused herself by running up the scale and sustaining the high A, much to the exasperation of her hearers. The only woman who can endure scales is the woman who is singing them. Mrs. Belcher perused the paper. She did not take it herself, but borrowed it from Major Jones in the evenings. From time to time she gave scraps of news to Mrs. Wilcox, who had read it all before breakfast. Captain Wilcox sat downstairs in his wife's office, balancing the books.
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