The Bandbox Part 13

"Oh, yes," Alison admitted indifferently, "I have it."

"In this room?"

"Of course."

"Then be advised and take no chances."

Alison had been pacing to and fro, impatiently. Now she stopped, looking down at him without any abatement of her show of temper.

"You're as bad as all the rest," she complained. "I'm a woman grown, in full possession of my faculties. The collar is perfectly safe in my care. It's here, in this room, securely locked up."

"But someone might break in while you're out--"

"Either Jane is here all the time, or I am. It's never left to itself a single instant. It's perfectly ridiculous to suppose we're going to let anybody rob us of it. Besides, where would a thief go with it, if he did succeed in stealing it--overboard?"

"I'm willing to risk a small bet he'd manage to hide it so that it would take the whole s.h.i.+p's company, and a heap of good luck into the bargain, to find it."

"Well," said the woman defiantly, "I'm not afraid, and I'm not going to be browbeaten by any scare-cat purser into behaving like a kiddie afraid of the dark. I'm quite competent to look after my own property, and I purpose doing so without anybody's supervision. Now let's have that understood, Staff; and don't you bother me any more about this matter."

"Thanks," said Staff drily; "I fancy you can count on me to know when I'm asked to mind my own business."

"Oh, I didn't mean that--not that way, dear boy--but--"

At this juncture the maid entered with the bandbox, and Alison broke off with an exclamation of diverted interest.

"There! Let's say no more about this tiresome jewel business. I'm sure this is going to prove ever so much more amusing. Open it, Jane, please."

In another moment the hat was in her hands and both she and Jane were giving pa.s.sably good imitations--modified by their respective personalities--of Milly's awe-smitten admiration of the thing.

Staff was conscious of a sensation of fatigue. Bending over, he drew the bandbox to him and began to examine the wrappings and wads of tissue-paper which it still contained.

"It's a perfect dear!" said Miss Landis in accents of the utmost sincerity.

"Indeed, mum," chimed Jane, antiphonal.

"Whoever your anonymous friend may be, she has exquisite taste."

"Indeed, mum," chanted the chorus.

"May I try it on, Staff?"

"What?" said the young man absently, absorbed in his search. "Oh, yes; certainly. Help yourself."

Alison moved across to the long mirror set in the door communicating with her bedroom. Here she paused, carefully adjusting the hat to her shapely head.

"Now, sir!" she exclaimed, turning.

Staff sat back in his chair and looked his fill of admiration. The hat might have been designed expressly for no other purpose than to set off this woman's imperious loveliness: such was the thought eloquent in his expression.

Satisfied with his dumb tribute, Alison lifted off the hat and deposited it upon a table.

"Find anything?" she asked lightly.

"Not a word," said he--"not a sign of a clue."

"What a disappointment!" she sighed. "I'm wild to know.... Suppose,"

said she, posing herself before him,--"suppose the owner never did turn up after all?"

"_Hum_," said Staff, perturbed by such a prospect.

"What would you do with it?"

"_Hum_," said he a second time, non-committal.

"You couldn't wear it yourself; it's hardly an ornament for a bachelor's study. What _would_ you do with it?"

"I think," said Staff, "I hear my cue to say: I'd give it to the most beautiful woman alive, of course."

"Thank you, dear," returned Alison serenely. "Don't forget."

She moved back to her chair, humming a little tune almost inaudibly; and in pa.s.sing lightly brushed his forehead with her hand--the ghost of a caress.

"You may go, Jane," said she, sitting down to face her lover; and when the maid had shut herself out of the room: "Now, dear, read me our play," said Alison, composing herself to attention.

Staff took up his ma.n.u.script and began to read aloud....

Three hours elapsed before he put aside the fourth act and turned expectantly to Alison.

Elbow on knee and chin in hand, eyes fixed upon his face, she sat as one entranced, unable still to shake off the spell of his invention: more lovely, he thought, in this mood of thoughtfulness even than in her brightest animation.... Then with a little sigh she roused, relaxed her pose, and sat back, faintly smiling.

"Well?" he asked diffidently. "What do you think?"

"It's splendid," she said with a soft, warm glow of enthusiasm--"simply splendid. It's coherent, it hangs together from start to finish; you've got little to learn about construction, my dear. And my part is magnificent: never have I had such a chance to show what I can do with comedy. I'm delighted beyond words. But ..." She sighed again, distrait.

"But--?" he repeated anxiously.

"There are one or two minor things," she said with shadowy regret, "that you will want to change, I think: nothing worth mentioning, nothing important enough to mar the wonderful cleverness of it all."

"But tell me--?"

"Oh, it's hardly worth talking about, dear boy. Only--there's the ingenue role; you've given her too much to do; she's on the stage in all of my biggest scenes, and has business enough in them to spoil my best effects. Of course, that can be arranged. And then the leading man's part--I don't want to seem hypercritical, but he's altogether too clever; you mustn't let him overshadow the heroine the way he does; some of his business is plainly hers--I can see myself doing it infinitely better than any leading man we could afford to engage. And those witty lines you've put into his mouth--I _must_ have them; you won't find it hard, I'm sure, to twist the lines a bit, so that they come from the heroine rather than the hero...."

Staff held up a warning hand, and laughed.

"Just a minute, Alison," said he. "Remember this is a play, not a background for you. And with a play it's much as with matrimony: if either turns out to be a monologue it's bound to be a failure."

Alison frowned slightly, then forced a laugh, and rose. "You authors are all alike," she complained, pouting; "I mean, as authors. But I'm not going to have any trouble with you, dear boy. We'll agree on everything; I'm going to be reasonable and you've _got_ to be. Besides, we've heaps of time to talk it over. Now I'm going to change and get up on deck.

Will you wait for me in the saloon, outside? I shan't be ten minutes."