Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A CROWN simply Peter to me, and I may as well begin to write of him so—that I could induce him to spend those six evenings at the Flower Garden Club. After all, that was my whole plan. If it failed, well, I was simply not going to think about that. Fortunately, there were practically no big social functions. Only the ball Lord and Lady Wolvermere were giving on the day after the state opening of Parliament and a big charity entertainment at the Princess de Chanterelle’s, in aid of the Floranian Hospital in London the fol- lowing week. Both of these were on Thurs- day. Of course, unforeseen difficulties might crop up; but we must be prepared for that. It was a brain wave of Bunch’s that solved the first and greatest difficulty. She had a tiny house tucked away at the back of the Brompton Oratory, a quaint sort of country cottage with a wee garden. It was closed, and her caretaker, an old ser- vant, had just been called away to nurse a sick sister in Liverpool. Bunch hadn’t both- ered to put anybody else in. Her valuables were at the bank, and she was one of those lovely people who trusted everybody im- plicitly. The thing to do, she said, was for us both to go there on these evenings in time for her to make me up and get me ready. She would wait there until I came back for her. I would change and we would come back home. We must invent suitable engagements for the benefit of the house- hold and any friends or acquaintances who chanced to ring us up. Bunch herself had more devoted “friends than any woman I ever. knew. I was delighted. It was so easy and so feasible. Dear, unselfish Bunch! She thought nothing of the trouble to herself, and the boredom of waiting there three or four hours alone in her empty house. Not that Bunch was ever bored. She was sim- ply a storehouse of resources, and, as one: of her most fervent admirers said of her, for Miss Turke to be alone must be a treat, because she would be enjoying the fest company in the world—her own. Every alternate Tuesday and Friday was a gala night at the Flower Garden Club, and they had an extension of hours until two o’clock FOR SALE. 52D in the morning, but other nights they closed at midnight. To keep up appearances, we went through the farce of dressing for dinner, and left the house about seven o’clock. The ser- ~vants were told that we were dining out with friends just arrived from Paris at their hotel. Bunch had during the day driven round to her little house with my clothes and the precious wig, and the other things necessary for my make-up. It had been .a busy day, but all through it the thought of the night had been like a twisted thread of excitement and joy and fear. Supposing he didn’t come? He had said he would, but then how many things might not have happened to prevent him? I had not seen him. He had had to go out of town.- But in the morning had arrived, with a graceful letter and an enormous bunch of roses, a little golden box containing a wonderful ring, a large, deep, dark sap- phire, blue black as a summer night. My engagement ring! That very day the for- mal news had been given out, our king’s consent having been received, and all other official requirements complied with, and I suppésed the papers would be full of it for a day or two. Weil, the day was there for interviewers and photographers and dressmakers and cor- respondence, and all the rest of it. And three nights each week were for my great adventure—the reckless throw on which [ was hazarding my whole life’s happiness. The day for Elizabeth Cleveland and King Peter of Florania—the consenting par- ties to a heartless marriage of State; the night for Betty Fane and Count Dorando, for the waltz, for the sound of music, for the meetings of two strangers drawn to- gether by the same passion, for the great deception, for the greatest gamble of all— with a man’s heart for the stake. When I was ready, Bunch surveyed me critically. She gave a little smile. “The make-up is perfect,” she said. “It’s a bit hard to get it just the same every time. Look at yourself, Liz. Do you see anything wrong?” . I answered that I didn’t. Each time I really marveled at the cleverness of her transformation. I was learning to do it my- ECOMIGHOOKS (S@)