The Duke and the Damsel

Front matter

THE DUKE AND THE DAMSEL NEW 3s. 6d. FICTION. THE INVISIBLE MAN. By H. G. Wells, Author of " The Time Machine," &c, &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. FORTUNE'S FOOTBALLS. By G. B. BURGIN, Author of "' Old Man's' Marriage," &c., &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. "The story is one well worth reading." — Scotsman. THE TYPEWRITER GIRL. By Olive Pratt RAYNER. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. " Olive P. Rayner's slight but brilliantly clever story." — Daily Mail. THE SKIPPER'S WOOING. By W. W. Jacobs, Author of " Many Cargoes." Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. JOHN OF STRATHBOURNE. By R. D. Chetwode. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. HER ROYAL HIGHNESS'S LOVE AFFAIR. By J. Maclaren Cobban, Author of "The Cure of Souls," "The Red Sultan," &c. Crown Svo, cloth, 3s. 6d. THE IRON CROSS. By R. H. Sherard. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. WHEN THE BIRDS BEGIN TO SING.

By Winifred Graham, Author of " On the Down Grade." With sixteen illustrations by Harold Piffard. Square crown Svo. Price 3s. 6d. "A striking and interesting tale. The authoress has evidently a strong imagination and a gift for story-telling." — Dundee Cornier. C. ARTHUR PEA£H^?fcHW^nTED, Henrietta Street, W.C. THE DU^E J[1D TpE DAMSEL i;y RICHARD MARSH Author of " Thc Beetle : A Mystery," " Tom Ossington's Ghost,' " The Crime mid the Criminal," &c, &c. XonOon C. ARTHUR PEARSON LIMITED HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. DNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOK1JJG AND LONDON. CONTENTS PAGE Chapter I. ..... i II 7 III. . . . . .20 IV 27 V. 46 VI 63 VII 76 VIII. ..... 84 „ IX. .... 100 „ X. . . . . .109 „ XI. .... 119 XII. . . . . . 129 „ XIII. . . . . .142 „ XIV 155 V vi CONTENTS PAGE Chapter XV. . . . . . t6o „ XVI .169 „ XVII. . . . . .179 „ XVIII. ..... 186 „ XIX. . . . . .201 „ XX. ..... 210 „ XXI. . . . . .223 „ XXII. ..... 230 „ XXIII. . . . . .240 „ XXIV. ..... 246 „ XXV. . . . . .248 THE DUKE AND THE DAMSEL

Chapter I When

a mother, being a widow, has just taken her two daughters from a convent school, and has attired them, from top to toe, in the latest fashions, and has a heart bursting with anxiety to get them married and off her hands in the shortest possible space of time, it is only natural that such a harassed parent should endeavour to save money whenever a legitimate opportunity to practise economy offers — which explains why Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart had not engaged a tit-salon or a coupJ lit toilette, or other of those conveniences which the Paris-Lyon-Mediterranee Railway has to offer to the luxurious traveller, but, totally ignoring the existence of the International Sleeping Car Com pany, had decided to travel in an ordinary first-class carriage of an ordinary train, with the common herd. But ere she reached Nice she realised that the decision was one which she might have serious and even lasting cause for regretting.

The unsatisfactory phase of the situation developed itself like this : — There were eight persons in the carriage. Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart had a corner seat facing the engine ; next to her was Nora ; and in front of her, in the opposite corner, was Mabel. Next to Mabel was an individual whom, since she bade fair to be bottled up with him for nearly seven hundred miles, Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart deemed appeared sufficiently respectable to render it worth her while to condescend to notice his existence ; hence all these tears. You never can tell what a man is by what he looks like. This man was long — too long, considering that Nora, in front of him, was also long, and that a first-class compartment, when full, offers but scant accommodation for legs. He wore a long brown travelling coat and a bowler hat, and there was about him, in Mrs. Delancy-Fyfart's judgment, the air of a man who knows his world.

He had a companion, a somewhat younger man than himself, much better looking, with a languid manner. Him the lady set down as a mere adjunct. The experience of this mother of two daughters had taught her that, when a woman is travelling alone, it is just as well that she should have even the temporary friendship of a man. Besides, she was, on occasion, of an expansive nature, and could, her mood and circumstances being in accord, dilate on herself and her greatness, with the view of im pressing, not to say patronising, the completest stranger. Thus it befell with the man in the long brown coat. " How full these trains are." After a few preliminaries that was how she opened the campaign. The stranger allowed that they were. " I don't care for a coupe? lit — they are so stuffy. But I really haven't the faintest notion why I didn't reserve a I it-salon-— quite an oversight.

The people who go in the ordinary carriages to the Riviera, at this time of the year, are so " She left the sentence unfinished, but she looked round the carriage in a way which was pleasant for the carriage. " L its-salons all gone." These were the words which dropped from the stranger's lips ; it seemed as a sort of apology. " Indeed. Did you inquire ? " " Tried to get one. Couldn't." " Is that so ? " She clasped her gloved hands softly together. She looked pleased. So this was a man who was in the habit of travelling in Uts-salons ! As she expected. Her prescience once more was justified. Let him not suppose that she was less used to luxu rious travelling than he was — the gods forbid it. Such a possibility was impossible to her philosophy. Better give him to understand who she was and all about her.

She gave him to understand. She explained how this was not her first visit to the Riviera — far from it ; how she knew its ins and outs, its turns and twistings, its different societies — individuals, birds of passage, habitues — its good houses, its best hotels — the very heart of it. Not that she had been always thus intimate with it — oh, no ! Was she not a Sussex Steepleford ? — one of the heirs-of-the-ages Steeplefords, who have, from aforetime, been lords of that Sussex paradise where, even to-day, the muck-rake of the Stock Exchange is not. And then she married the General. Of course he knew the General. The whole world knows the General. Delancy-Fyfart is one of those names on which the piles of the Empire stand. His deeds in India — ah, what a roll of fame was there ! With folded hands she looked up at the carriage lamp.

She was social queen of the Madras Presi dency for — she was ashamed to say for how many years. Her misfortune was that life in India meant estrangement from her children, an estrangement which had, to all intents and purposes, been life long almost to this hour. At this point the stranger glanced first at Nora, then at Mabel, with what their mother took to be a glance of interrogation. " These are my daughters — yes. They are fresh from school." The stranger inclined his head. "A convent school. They have been brought up within convent walls, which they quitted, for the first time in their lives, a day or two ago." The stranger ventured on a second glance. In deed, all in the compartment looked in that direction. This had resolved itself into a public meeting, with a monologist in possession of the rostrum.

There is something in the idea of a convent-bred young woman which appeals to the imagination of even the average Englishman. She should be sweet, she should be fresh, she may be simple. How much she has to learn ; how much it is possible that one might teach her ! And these two daughters of their mother at least were grave, and at present they were quiet — the latter, perhaps, for reasons. " We are all there are — we three. The General is here no longer to make a fourth ; as you know, the great soul is gone. His country is not the only mourner to bewail his loss." So she went prosing on, while the night deepened, and preparations were made to snatch those Tantalus tastes of sleep which, when eight people are gathered together in one compartment, are all that is likely to fall in the way of the ordinarily constituted individual.

He in the brown coat noticed the drooping eyelids of the girl beside him. " You are tired ? " " So tired ! " " If you will allow me to suggest, you will be more comfortable if you will lean towards me than towards the window. Permit me — let me arrange this rug upon my shoulder." He arranged it, so as to form a pad. At a hint from him she removed her hat, and, with the passive obedience of some wearied child, pillowing her head upon his shoulder, in a few moments, if one might judge from her quiescence, was asleep. The mother murmured something about the inconvenience to which the man was being subjected, to which he paid scant heed, while her sister, seemingly much less wearied, regarded the proceedings with twinkling eyes.

Chapter II Dear

me ! I believe I've been asleep ! " " I believe you have." The man in the brown coat spoke with what seemed to be his habitual dryness. Mrs. Delancy- Fyfart's looks betrayed her. Not only were her eyes heavy with the slumber from which she had just emerged, but her face and her whole person were tending towards that bedraggled state which is so acute a symptom of the woman who, at forty-five — each year of them lived ! — pretends to be thirty. " Where are we ? " The train was stopping, which had probably aroused her. " Macon." " No more ! " She pulled a face. " It is extra ordinary how slowly a train does seem to move when one is hideously uncomfortable." She looked round. She and the man in the brown coat were the only two who were ostensibly awake. Nora fidgeted beside her, the stranger's companion in front ; the rest were quiet.

Mabel's cheek still pressed against the stranger's shoulder. It seemed as if neither he nor she had moved. " Still asleep ? " " I believe so." " It is very good of you to make the child so comfortable — quite too good. It is the first long railway journey she has made in her life ; she has been excited ; to one fresh from a convent every thing is new ! She is easily tired." The stranger was still. The mother took a mirror from her handbag, and other things. With their aid, in the most artless way, she repaired what she judged to be defects in her appearance. " What an atmosphere ! It stifles one!" It was certainly bad. " Don't you think that the window might be opened ? " Without, the air of the early morning was, doubtless, bleak and cold ; there had been snow in Paris. He glanced at the head upon his shoulder.

" Better wait till we reach Lyons." She waited. Now she dozed ; now she favoured him with remarks which were intended to enhance the impression which she was creating in his mind of what a remarkable woman she undoubtedly was. At Lyons every one woke up, the girl lifting her head off his shoulder with a start as of guilty con sciousness. She looked about her, then at him, as if realising the use which she had made of him ; her cheeks went a vivid red. " How good of you ! " she said. " How good of you. I fear you have been less comfortable than I could have wished, still I trust you are not unrested." " I have been dreaming," she replied. " Dreaming ? Of what ? " " Oh, nothing. I often dream." She looked across at her sister, as if she wished her glance to convey to her a meaning which she alone could understand.

The ladies quitted the carriage. When they re turned there was, about the two younger, an air of freshness suggestive of a recent intimate acquaintance with soap and water, which was not unpleasing. Their fellow passengers became more conscious than they had been the night before of the fact that they were in possession of what might not incorrectly be described as adequate personal charms. There came into their midst that air of sociability which is sometimes born in the morning of a night spent together in the train. Mrs. Delancy-Fyfart, in particular, was again off on her hobby-horse, the stranger listening with a silence which he interrupted only by an occasional monosyllable. She told of all the people whom she knew — great folks, every one of them, well worth knowing ; dilated on her intimacy with the salt of the earth, on what she had said to them, on what they had said to her, on how, indeed, they regarded and treated her as one of their very selves.

There was no one of whom she condescended to speak who was nobody. All her conversation was of aristocrats ; she being herself, apparently, the very head and front of them. Throughout her speech there ran a strain of contempt for the crowd. Blood with her was everything — she said as much ; without it, who was any one ? By degrees, having told as much of herself as she could reasonably be expected to do, she began to make inquiries into the personality of her inter locutor. " It is such a long journey to go right on to Monte Carlo, and I have such a great many friends at Nice — people, you know, of really the best sort. I must make my girls known to some of them ; so I think I shall stop there, at least for a time. Are you going to Nice ? " " I am." " How delightful 1 I daresay we shall come across you ; I am sure I hope we shall.

I suppose you do know some of the people there ? " " Some of them." " How perfectly charming ! I do hope you know some of my people ; they are such — you know — nice ones. We must exchange cards." She pro duced a visiting card. " You see I have it engraved on my cards — especially on those I use abroad — ■' Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart ' ; then people have a chance of knowing which of the Delancy-Fyfarts I really am. Because, you must understand, in the army alone there's a Mrs. Colonel Delancy-Fyfart, and a Mrs. Major, and even, I believe — but am not sure ! — a Mrs. Captain ; and then, of course, there's a Mrs. Admiral — besides, as 3'ou know, those scions of the family who have real, live titles of their own." " Precisely." He was handling the piece of pasteboard as gingerly as if it had been some costly trifle of the most extreme fragility.

She awaited his next move ment with an air of expectancy. " Aren't you going to give me your card ? " " My card ! " " Your visiting card." " I'm afraid I haven't one.' " No ? I think every one always ought to carry a card about with him ; don't you ? Since you have been guilty of such negligence, I suppose I shall have to be content with viva voce." " With what ? ' " I shall have to put up with being told your name." " My name.' " Yes." " Buggins." " I beg your pardon ? ' " Buggins." As he repeated the word a perceptible change took place in her demeanour. She stiffened. "Of course you know the name." " I'm afraid I have not that pleasure." She had suddenly become glacial. " Not on the hoardings ? " " The hoardings ? " " Collesteena, you know — that's mine." "Colles- — ? I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with the name you mention.

What is the — article in question ? " The stranger evinced more signs of interest than he had done hitherto. He became animated — as if at last he had lighted on a subject in which his soul found scope. " My dear — eh," he glanced at the card he still was holding — " Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart, you have not heard of Collesteena ? Fragrant Colles teena ! Magic Collesteena ! Infallible Collesteena! The finest ointment for sore legs which has ever been put upon the market ! My dear madam, whether it is your legs, or your horse's legs, it is equally efficacious — guaranteed — absolutely ! Try one single application, and the results will more than surprise you. It is the dream of my life that the two words, Buggins and Collesteena, may go down the ages linked together side by side. It is on such names as Buggins and Delancy-Fyfart that the fame of England stands ; don't you think so ?

" " The — eh — juxtaposition is- — eh — unexpected." She was becoming stiffer and stiffer. " I will be quite frank with you, my dear madam. Collesteena is not at this moment so widely known as its merits deserve ; as, in course of time, it will be ; as I intend that, very shortly, it shall be. And the reason is want of capital — nothing more — ab solutely ! I am now getting up a syndicate for the exploitation of this priceless salve in ten thousand shares of one pound each ; if pound shares should be found too large, then, for the convenience of small capitalists, they can be halved and quartered. May I trust that, during your stay and my stay in Nice, you will permit me to lay before you in some detail the particulars of this great enterprise, and to persuade you to take up one or two of the shares."

" I never speculate, particularly in such enter prises as the one you mention." " Speculate ! My dear madam, this is no specula tion ; it's a dead cert. — absolutely ! I have a friend in Nice — a chemist in the Rue Gioffredo— he uses Collesteena for the legs of all his customers — absolutely ! I'll introduce you to him ; you'll hear what he says ; he talks of nothing else ; you'll find him charming." " I am obliged to you." " You will be, I give you my word. We put it up in pots and tins, retail at one and three-ha'pence, two and six, a dollar, and a thin 'un. Now how much profit, at those prices, would you suppose there was ? You know a thing or two (when a woman marries a general and manages to lose him, you bet she's pretty well all there), but I'd like to stake that you don't know how much profit there is in Collesteena.

Why, in our one and three ha'penny size there's nearly a shilling profit ; there would be more if we hadn't to pay three-ha'pence for the stamp, and the tins aren't given to us. I'm just throwing this out by way of a suggestion. You've got a lot of friends — you've been telling me all about 'em ever since we left Paris — some of them do seem to have money. Suppose you introduce Collesteena to them — I take it they have all got legs. There's a field for an enterprising woman ! " " My good sir, I'm not a bagman." " No ; but I am, and that's just it, because I know what I'm talking about when I say that there's the making of a first-rate bagman in you." The lady did not appear to be so gratified by the compliment as the speaker perhaps expected. From her hand-bag she took a volume. Her tone was acid.

" I have a book here which I rather wished to finish reading, if you will permit me." " Certainly — by all means. Talking about books, I was thinking about putting a book together about Collesteena — telling its history, you know, and my history, and what it has done, and what it can do, if you'll only give it a chance. Now if that sort of thing was at all in your line, I wouldn't mind making you an offer to come in and help me." The lady looked up from the volume she had opened. " You must excuse my observing that I am not at all interested in the subject you are discussing." " That's your ignorance ; you think there's nothing in Collesteena — and that's where you're wrong. Now I'll tell you all about it. You've been telling me all about the Delancy-Fyfarts, now I'll tell you all about the Bugginses ; you'll find them both remarkable families."

" I think you could not have understood that I particularly wished to read." " Never mind reading ; you can do all the reading you want another time. My father kept a tripe-shop in Lisson Grove — one of the best businesses, in its line, in London. My mother was a woman like you — believed in family — blood, you know. She didn't care for the name of Buggins, so when my father retired — he made a nice little pile out of tripe ; I've got a piece or two, I tell you !— and she had a plate put on the front door, which was her idea of an equivalent for your card-case — she wanted to go in for something in the double-barrelled line — like the nobs with an S in front — snobs, you know. Her father's name was Strephirah ; he was a pawn broker in the Dials, who made a mistake and dropped dead just in time to save himself from being pinched for it — and she decided to have it cut on the plate, life-size, Strephirah-Buggins.

Dreadful name ; don't you think it is ? " The lady leaned forward. She addressed the passengers who were seated at the other end of the compartment : " Might I ask if one of you gentlemen will be so good as to change seats with me ? " Mr. Strephirah - Buggins did as she had done. He too leaned forward and addressed the other passengers. " That's a first-rate idea of yours, madam — perhaps, at the same time, one of you gentlemen wouldn't mind changing seats with me. The General Delancy- Fyfarts and the Collesteena Strephirah-Bugginses are tired of sitting at this end of the carriage — when they travel by train they want to sit all over it." Nora, at her mother's side, burst out laughing. Her mother turned on her with a look which was not a look of love. " Nora ! At what are you laughing ? " " I am very sorry, but — this gentleman seems to be a — humourist."

" He may be a humourist, but he is a very impu dent man. If there were any gentlemen present, they would soon put a period to his insolence." " My dear madam, I do assure you that if you will permit me to continue you will understand my drift, and then you will understand me, and will feel for me that admiration which already I feel for you." " I will not permit you to continue. In fact, I insist upon your not addressing me again. Your conduct is unendurable. I believe you are travelling in a first class carriage with a third class ticket." " Not at all, madam, not at all, I do assure you. I was about to observe that when my mother managed to lose my father, I went into lodgings, in the Borough, and there I had a pup named Ike. That pup could fight like a streak of lightning — his own weight, or any weight.

And one day when he had been indulging in his favourite pursuit, he had his leg nearly bitten to pieces. I had a charwoman, who used to come and do my cleaning ; she saw this pup, and she brought some stuff — in a jam-pot — and she put some of it on his leg. In less time than no time that pup was cured ; there he was, running about on four legs as if they'd been five. I was more than surprised ; I put it to any one, who is fond of pups, if, in similar circumstances, surprise would have been his only feeling. I tackled that charwoman, and I tackled that stuff, in a jam-pot. She'd made it with her own hands — got the recipe from her mother, who got it from her father's brother, who used it for curing cows — as she told me. I perceived that here was not only a fortune — in a jam-pot — but a boon — yes, all that and more ; a blessing for suffering humanity — a mighty healer I Think of the myriads of creatures, on two legs and four, in all the countries of the world, who have difficulties with their understandings !

And here was something — in a jam-pot ! — which would heal them. I bought that something— in a jam-pot, and bought the secret— the priceless secret, of how to make it. That secret is, at this present moment, under lock and key, and there it's going to stop. I mentioned to my friends what I had done, made no mystery of it, told it all over the Borough. I offered a prize for the name which should seem most appropriate for that Great Healer. There were some names sent in, I tell you — jaw-breakers some of them. Out of the host I selected Collesteena. Why ? It's got a sound, it strikes the eye, it strikes the ear; it may mean anything, it may mean nothing ; it suggests something ; and when you've got a new ointment to put upon the market what you want's a name for it which will make people wonder what the deuce it means — for the adjective, madam, I entreat ten thousand pardons.

But I do assure you, madam, that all that Collesteena wants is to be known ; it cannot fail to be well known, it is impossible that any one should know ill of it ; once used it will be always used ; given opportunity, it itself will make its way. And therefore I appeal to you, with the utmost confidence, to be allowed to lay this great scheme before you in its entirety, feeling persuaded that so soon as you become aware of the fact that I am getting up a syndicate, consisting of ten thousand shares of one pound each, which syndicate has for sole and solitary purpose the exploitation of the greatest ointment the world has ever seen, you will not fail to become interested in that syndicate, even though, for reasons private to your own breast, that interest may extend no farther than a quarter share."

Chapter III Mr

COLLESTEENA STREPHIRAH- BUGGINS was the reason why Mrs. General Delancy-Fyfart felt, before reaching Nice, that in endeavouring to economise, and on that account not going to the expense of, at least, a coupi lit, she might have, and in fact had, been guilty of an error. At Nice she stopped at the Hotel des Anglais. On her way to her apartments she encountered Mrs. Pennistone, one of those women who find the atmosphere of the Riviera between Nice and San Remo, as things are, the most congenial in Europe. At dinner, Mrs. Pennistone sat next to Mrs. Delancy- Fyfart, and, before the soup was served, she looked that lady's daughters up and down through her spy glass, and she said : " My dears, how like your mother you will be." Now as Mabel was brown, and Nora was fair, and since they resembled each other less than sisters are apt to do, and were both three or four inches taller than their mother, with whom, at present, they had scarcely a feature in common, the remark showed, at least, that courage which is the prophet's armour.

Mabel paid no heed to the remark whatever, and Nora only smiled. They had taken an instinctive dislike to the little painted woman, with the large mouth and peering eyes, and had not tact or taste enough to hide it. Mrs. Delancy-Fyfart spoke into her friend's ear, excusing them. " They are quite fresh, you know — ridiculously so — almost too fresh, I really am afraid." "Ah." Mrs. Pennistone was little interested. "Who's this?" " This " was two men who were taking their seats on the other side of the table, and who bowed to the Delancy-Fyfarts as they did so — none other than Mr. Strephirah-Buggins and his friend. At sight of them the lady froze. " Insolent fellow ! The tall man is some dis reputable pushing creature — a commercial traveller, I believe — who thrust himself upon us in the train."