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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
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RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
JUST outside the club young Ballard hailed a taxi.
'Get in, Jim,' he said; and Jim Freestone shrugged his shoulders slightly, and obeyed.
Godfrey Ballard gave the driver an address, and the taxi started westwards.
'Where are we going; Godfrey?' - inquired Jim Freestone.
'Tell you when we get there,' replied the younger man.
Freestone smiled indulgently. He was fond of Ballard, and accustomed, to his whims and fancies.
Spinning through the traffic of a busy summer morning, the taxi drew up at last in front of a rather ordinary-looking house in a quiet street a little north of Piccadilly. The two men got out. Ballard paid the fare, led the way up the steps, and rang the bell.
'Friends of yours?' asked Freestone.
'Don't you be so inquisitive, Jim,' said Ballard, grinning.
A maid in a dark-blue livery opened the door.
'Is mademoiselle at home?' asked Ballard.
'You have an appointment, sir?'
'Yes; I telephoned! an hour ago.'
'This way if you please,' said the maid; and led them into a waiting room, where she left them.
Their feet sank in the deep pile of a rich Eastern carpet. The furniture was all of Eastern blackwood, beautifully carved. The only ornaments were some exquisite pieces of pottery, also Eastern.
Jim Freestone stood in the middle of the room, and sniffed. There was a mixture of curiosity and contempt on his good-looking face.
'What's the matter, Jim?' asked Ballard.
'Don't like the smell of it, Godfrey. And what's this—a crystal!' His voice changed, and became almost angry. 'You don't, mean to say you've brought me to a fortune-telling shop?'
'Now don't be excited, Jim,' begged Godfrey, and for once he was genuinely in earnest. 'You've always vowed that there was no such thing as clairvoyance, and I want to prove you are wrong. Mademoiselle Delange is no ordinary sovereign-snatcher: she's a holy wonder. It was she who told Heritage the very day he'd be married. And he hadn't even met the girl then; it was she who warned Wharton not to travel by the Ancona, and saved his life by doing so. I could give you a dozen instances of the wonderful things she's done. And a jolly nice girl, too, they all say.'
'Well, I think I'll wait outside till you've finished,' said Freestone drily.
'No, Jim, stay here. That's a good chap!' begged Ballard. 'I shan't be long.'
At this moment the maid came in.
'Mademoiselle will you see now, sir,' she told Ballard.
'Wait here for me, Jim,' said Ballard urgently; and Freestone nodded, and dropped into a chair.
'Funny! I didn't think Godfrey was so credulous,' he said to himself. 'But he's a dear, good chap, and he will grow out of this sort of thing.'
He lay back in his chair. In repose, his face took a stern, almost gloomy, expression, curious in so young a man. Freestone was a fine fellow, but something of a puzzle to his friends. Most people thought him too quiet, too reserved and self-contained. No one knew much about him, but since he had spent years abroad, that was not so wonderful.
In about ten minutes Ballard was back. His bright face was all aglow.
'I told you she was a wonder, Jim, 'but she beats everything I've heard of her. She actually knew all about me; she told me how old I was; when I got my Articles; how long I'd been in dad's office—'
'How many girls you'd been engaged to, your favourite brand of whisky, and how much you lost at cards last night!' broke in Freestone, with laughing contempt.
Ballard grew quite angry.
'You may jeer as much as you like, but I mean what I say, Jim. And if you saw her, you'd agree with me.'
'I shouldn't,' said Freestone.
'I'll lay you a fiver you would.'
Freestone hesitated.
'And I'll pay your guinea fee, too!' declared Ballard.
Jim Freestone stood up straight.
'Godfrey; I'll take your bet. I want to convince you that all these people are humbugs. Now, I will tell you something which I have never told you yet. Freestone is not my real name. If this, fortune-telling person can tell that much about me—even without giving my own family name—I will pay the five pounds, with pleasure, or fifty, either, so far as that goes. Is it a bet?'
Ballard did not hesitate.
'Yes, it's, a bet. And I'll lay you a, second fiver that she'll be able to tell you your real name.'
'You'll be having to sell your car if you're so reckless with your money, Godfrey,' said Freestone pityingly.
'Can the good lady see me now?'
'Yes. She's got no other client for the moment. Wait! I'll ring for the maid.'
There was a sarcastic smile on Freestone's face as he entered the dark little sanctum of Mademoiselle Delange. He had come to expose a humbug, and he meant to do it thoroughly.
The smile faded a little as a woman came to meet him—a tall, slim woman of perhaps thirty, with a dusky skin, hair that glistened like a raven's wing, and great, dark soft eyes that glowed from under the black lace mantilla which almost hid her face. She was plainly dressed in black, and wore a necklace of red stones that gleamed against the clear brown of her throat.
She was so different from anything he had expected that, for a moment, he was taken aback. But he recovered . himself quickly.
'I hear that you foretell the future, mademoiselle,' he said sardonically. 'I am not anxious to know mine; I shall be satisfied if you can tell me my past.'
She looked at him gravely.
'Give me your hand,' she said.
Her voice was rich and deep, and something in its tone struck a chord of memory in the man's brain. He offered his hand without a word.
She took it and held it, palm upwards, between her slender fingers. Freestone felt a curious thrill as their hands touched. If annoyed him, and he struggled inwardly against the influence.
For perhaps ten seconds she studded his hands before she spoke.
'You wish me to speak of your past,' she said; and her voice disturbed Freestone more than he cared to own, even to himself.
'Very well; I will tell you what I can. You were born in the year 1886 and, I think, in the spring of that year. Your mother died when you were born.'
Freestone started slightly. This was uncannily accurate.
'You went to school when you were only eight, and seven years later your father died, and a relative took charge, of you—an uncle.'
Freestone drew his hand away, sharply.
'Where did you get hold of all this? How did you know I was coming to you?'
The girl drew herself up with gentle dignity.
'Let me assure you, Captain Freestone, that I had no more idea of your coming here to-day than you had yourself, an hour ago.'
He stared at her a moment. Somehow he could not bring himself to doubt her. Almost roughly, he thrust his hand out again.
'Go on, please,' he said.
'You were anxious to go into the Army,' she continued calmly, 'but your uncle wished you to follow him in his profession, that of a land agent, and you agreed. When you were twenty-seven he died, and left you his business.'
She paused; but Freestone neither moved nor spoke. He was staring at his own hand, as if fascinated.
'Then'—the girl's voice changed slightly—came the tragedy of your life. You fell in love.'
Freestone's hand, usually steady as a rocK, quivered sightly. Otherwise, he showed no sign of emotion.
She went on steadily:
'The girl was much younger than you. She was pretty, but vain, ill-tempered, and jealous. She was not worthy—'
This time Freestone jerked his hand violently away. He stiffened all over.
'How dare you?' he cried in a choked voice. 'How dare you? She was all that was good! and sweet! The fault was mine, I tell you—all mine!'
'She would not say so,' said Mademoiselle Delange, with a calmness that was in curious contrast to his emotion. 'She would have said that you did well to get out of it. She would have freely confessed that she was not worthy of you, and that it was foolishness on your part to take her refusal so hardly, and to bury yourself in the Argentine under a changed name.'
Freestone took a step forward. He caught her wrist in a grasp that almost crushed it.
'Who are you?' he demanded hoarsely. 'How do you pretend, to know-all this?'
'Could there he two people who would know what I have told you?' she asked him.
Even through the lace veil he could see. that, she had gone suddenly pale, and there was a look of strain in her great, beautiful eyes.
'Then you—you are? Oh, it can't be!'
With, a quick movement she drew the lace from her head.
'Yes, Jim Benedict, I am Fay Chaston.'
For a moment the big man tottered as though about to faint. But the weakness passed as quickly as it had come; and he flung both arms wide to clasp her.
She sprang back.
'No, Jim, no! It is too late, and it was not for that I told you, but to clear my soul from the grief and remorse that has burdened it all these weary years.'
'But, Fay—Fay!' he begged. 'You love me—you would not have told that if you had not loved me!'
'Tell me,' he added in a shaking voice. 'You are not married?'
'No,' she said sadly 'nor ever shall be, now.'
His eyes flashed.
'You will—and within a week, too!' he cried. And this time he was too quick for her.
She struggled in his arms.
'No,' she said faintly.'No, Jim am not worthy.'
He held her firmly, and after a few moments she lay quietly in his arms. Then he stooped and kissed her full on the lips.
There came a tap at the door.
'I say, Jim,' came Ballard's voice. 'Sorry to hurry you, but I didn't think mademoiselle would take all day to convince you.'
'Come in, Godfrey,' cried Freestone happily.
When Ballard entered the room and saw his friend standing with his arm round the. waist of the beautiful palmist, his face was a study. His jaw dropped, his eyes nearly started out of his head.
'It's all right, Godfrey,' said Benedict. 'You win your bet. And as for this lady, it is not an hour I am going to spend with' heir, but the rest of my life.'
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.