The Lost Girl Part 67

"You'll have to put 'Also of,'" said Miss Pinnegar.

"Also of--" said Alvina. "One--two--three--four--five--six--. Six letters--thirty s.h.i.+llings. Seems an awful lot for _Also of_--"

"But you can't leave it out," said Miss Pinnegar. "You can't economize over that."

"I begrudge it," said Alvina.

CHAPTER XI

HONOURABLE ENGAGEMENT

For days, after joining the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, Alvina was very quiet, subdued, and rather remote, sensible of her humiliating position as a hanger-on. They none of them took much notice of her.

They drifted on, rather disjointedly. The cordiality, the _joie de vivre_ did not revive. Madame was a little irritable, and very exacting, and inclined to be spiteful. Ciccio went his way with Geoffrey.

In the second week, Madame found out that a man had been surrept.i.tiously inquiring about them at their lodgings, from the landlady and the landlady's blowsy daughter. It must have been a detective--some shoddy detective. Madame waited. Then she sent Max over to Mansfield, on some fict.i.tious errand. Yes, the lousy-looking dogs of detectives had been there too, making the most minute enquiries as to the behaviour of the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, what they did, how their sleeping was arranged, how Madame addressed the men, what att.i.tude the men took towards Alvina.

Madame waited again. And again, when they moved to Doncaster, the same two mongrel-looking fellows were lurking in the street, and plying the inmates of their lodging-house with questions. All the Natchas caught sight of the men. And Madame cleverly wormed out of the righteous and respectable landlady what the men had asked. Once more it was about the sleeping accommodation--whether the landlady heard anything in the night--whether she noticed anything in the bedrooms, in the beds.

No doubt about it, the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras were under suspicion. They were being followed, and watched. What for? Madame made a shrewd guess. "They want to say we are immoral foreigners," she said.

"But what have our personal morals got to do with them?" said Max angrily.

"Yes--but the Englis.h.!.+ They are so pure," said Madame.

"You know," said Louis, "somebody must have put them up to it--"

"Perhaps," said Madame, "somebody on account of Allaye."

Alvina went white.

"Yes," said Geoffrey. "White Slave Traffic! Mr. May said it."

Madame slowly nodded.

"Mr. May!" she said. "Mr. May! It is he. He knows all about morals--and immorals. Yes, I know. Yes--yes--yes! He suspects all our immoral doings, _mes braves_."

"But there aren't any, except mine," cried Alvina, pale to the lips.

"You! You! There you are!" Madame smiled archly, and rather mockingly.

"What are we to do?" said Max, pale on the cheekbones.

"Curse them! Curse them!" Louis was muttering, in his rolling accent.

"Wait," said Madame. "Wait. They will not do anything to us. You are only dirty foreigners, _mes braves_. At the most they will ask us only to leave their pure country."

"We don't interfere with none of them," cried Max.

"Curse them," muttered Louis.

"Never mind, _mon cher_. You are in a pure country. Let us wait."

"If you think it's me," said Alvina, "I can go away."

"Oh, my dear, you are only the excuse," said Madame, smiling indulgently at her. "Let us wait, and see."

She took it smilingly. But her cheeks were white as paper, and her eyes black as drops of ink, with anger.

"Wait and see!" she chanted ironically. "Wait and see! If we must leave the dear country--then _adieu!_" And she gravely bowed to an imaginary England.

"I feel it's my fault. I feel I ought to go away," cried Alvina, who was terribly distressed, seeing Madame's glitter and pallor, and the black brows of the men. Never had Ciccio's brow looked so ominously black. And Alvina felt it was all her fault. Never had she experienced such a horrible feeling: as if something repulsive were creeping on her from behind. Every minute of these weeks was a horror to her: the sense of the low-down dogs of detectives hanging round, sliding behind them, trying to get hold of some clear proof of immorality on their part. And then--the unknown vengeance of the authorities. All the repulsive secrecy, and all the absolute power of the police authorities. The sense of a great malevolent power which had them all the time in its grip, and was watching, feeling, waiting to strike the morbid blow: the sense of the utter helplessness of individuals who were not even accused, only watched and enmeshed! the feeling that they, the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, herself included, must be monsters of hideous vice, to have provoked all this: and yet the sane knowledge that they, none of them, _were_ monsters of vice; this was quite killing. The sight of a policeman would send up Alvina's heart in a flame of fear, agony; yet she knew she had nothing legally to be afraid of. Every knock at the door was horrible.

She simply could not understand it. Yet there it was: they were watched, followed. Of that there was no question. And all she could imagine was that the troupe was secretly accused of White Slave Traffic by somebody in Woodhouse. Probably Mr. May had gone the round of the benevolent magnates of Woodhouse, concerning himself with her virtue, and currying favour with his concern. Of this she became convinced, that it was concern for her virtue which had started the whole business: and that the first instigator was Mr.

May, who had got round some vulgar magistrate or County Councillor.

Madame did not consider Alvina's view very seriously. She thought it was some personal malevolence against the Tawaras themselves, probably put up by some other professionals, with whom Madame was not popular.

Be that as it may, for some weeks they went about in the shadow of this repulsive finger which was following after them, to touch them and destroy them with the black smear of shame. The men were silent and inclined to be sulky. They seemed to hold together. They seemed to be united into a strong, four-square silence and tension. They kept to themselves--and Alvina kept to herself--and Madame kept to herself. So they went about.

And slowly the cloud melted. It never broke. Alvina felt that the very force of the sullen, silent fearlessness and fury in the Tawaras had prevented its bursting. Once there had been a weakening, a cringing, they would all have been lost. But their hearts hardened with black, indomitable anger. And the cloud melted, it pa.s.sed away.

There was no sign.

Early summer was now at hand. Alvina no longer felt at home with the Natchas. While the trouble was hanging over, they seemed to ignore her altogether. The men hardly spoke to her. They hardly spoke to Madame, for that matter. They kept within the four-square enclosure of themselves.

But Alvina felt herself particularly excluded, left out. And when the trouble of the detectives began to pa.s.s off, and the men became more cheerful again, wanted her to jest and be familiar with them, she responded verbally, but in her heart there was no response.

Madame had been quite generous with her. She allowed her to pay for her room, and the expense of travelling. But she had her food with the rest. Wherever she was, Madame bought the food for the party, and cooked it herself. And Alvina came in with the rest: she paid no board.

She waited, however, for Madame to suggest a small salary--or at least, that the troupe should pay her living expenses. But Madame did not make such a suggestion. So Alvina knew that she was not very badly wanted. And she guarded her money, and watched for some other opportunity.

It became her habit to go every morning to the public library of the town in which she found herself, to look through the advertis.e.m.e.nts: advertis.e.m.e.nts for maternity nurses, for nursery governesses, pianists, travelling companions, even ladies' maids. For some weeks she found nothing, though she wrote several letters.

One morning Ciccio, who had begun to hang round her again, accompanied her as she set out to the library. But her heart was closed against him.

"Why are you going to the library?" he asked her. It was in Lancaster.

"To look at the papers and magazines."

"Ha-a! To find a job, eh?"

His cuteness startled her for a moment.

"If I found one I should take it," she said.