Perkins, the Fakeer. Edward Sims van Zile

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СКАЧАТЬ bodies for a time. They'd think us crazy, Caroline."

      "We will be, Reginald," growled the dismayed giant, seemingly on the verge of tears. "If I were only dressed I wouldn't be so frightened. But you are such a clumsy creature, Reggie."

      I sprang to my feet. I thought I heard voices in the lower hall.

      "They're coming, Caroline. Don't say much to Jenkins, but, if you think of it, my dear, swear at him softly now and then. It'll quiet his suspicions, if he has any."

      As I started to leave the room, I turned sharply, and eyed my own face searchingly. Imitating Suzanne's voice as well as I could, I said:

      "There's a note for madame this morning. Did I not tell madame that he would write to her?"

      Bitterly did I regret my untimely sarcasm. Caroline, white to the lips, tottered where she stood.

      "Reginald!" she cried, in a deep, horror-stricken voice that could have been heard throughout the house and in the street outside.

      Rushing back, I helped her towards a chair.

      "It's all right, Caroline," I said, in dulcet, pleading tones. "Don't mind it, my dear. I am sure that you will be able to explain the–ah–little matter wholly to my satisfaction." Then a thought flashed through my mind that was like a cold douche, and I added: "And don't forget about Jenkins, my dear. Don't encourage him to talk. And, above all, don't believe anything that he may say. He's a most stupendous liar."

      With that I hurried back to Caroline's dressing-room just in time to seat myself before Suzanne, panting from haste and excitement, rushed into the room.

      "Jenkins, madame," she cried, wringing her hands, "Jenkins is a villain, a rascal, a scoundrel." The girl appeared to have a long list of opprobrious French epithets in her vocabulary.

      "Calm yourself, Suzanne," I said, coolly. "You have sent Jenkins to monsieur?"

      "Alas, madame, he refused to obey me unless I agreed to kiss him. The horrid, degenerate, unprincipled English beast! Mon Dieu! I could not kiss him, madame."

      "Curse the man's devilish impudence!" I exclaimed, while Suzanne stared at me, her pretty mouth wide open in amazement.

      "You say such queer things to-day, madame!" she murmured, presently, resuming her duties in a melancholy way. "What will madame wear for breakfast?"

      Her question startled me. My mind endeavored, without much success, to recall Caroline's morning costumes.

      "What's the matter with her–ah–my plum-colored–ah–tea-gown?" I asked, recklessly.

      "Madame is jocose–facetious," remarked Suzanne, pretending to laugh. I reflected bitterly that I could not see the joke.

      "You have such excellent taste, Suzanne," I said, proud of my cleverness. "Tog me out in any old thing. But it must be warm and snug, girl. I have had chills up my back until I feel like a small icicle in a cold wind." Suddenly an inspiration came to me. "Suzanne, you'll find a bottled cocktail in the bedroom closet. Never mind the cracked ice. Pour me out about four fingers and bring it to me at once. Don't stare at me like that, girl! Quick work, now. And–ah–don't let Caro–that is, Mr. Stevens hear you. Go!"

      Suzanne, pale with amazement, hurried away to find the stimulant that had become suddenly the one thing on earth that I really desired. Presently, she returned, carrying a half-filled cocktail glass.

      "Here's how, Suzanne!" I cried, joyously, forgetting caste distinctions in my delight at the opportunity of restoring my waning vitality. I swallowed the smooth concoction at a gulp, Suzanne watching me with a puzzled smile on her disturbed countenance.

      "Jenkins is with monsieur," she remarked as she took the empty glass from my white, slender hand. Apprehension clutched at my heart again.

      "Does–ah–Mr. Stevens–monsieur–seem to be–ah–quiet?" I asked, eagerly.

      "I didn't hear his voice, madame," answered Suzanne, arranging a sky-blue morning-gown for my use. "But Jenkins is talking, talking, talking all the time, madame."

      "Damn him for a confounded cockney gas-bag!" I murmured, despondently, but fortunately Suzanne was at that moment busy at the further end of the dressing-room. I stood erect, impatient of further delay.

      "Look here, girl," I exclaimed, "will you quit this fussy nonsense and get me out of here? I've got an engagement at–"

      My sweet, velvety voice failed me as I realized that I was again forgetting myself, or, rather, Caroline.

      The long suffering Suzanne was at my side, instantly.

      "Madame may go now," she said, giving a finishing touch here and there to my hair and costume. I made for the bedroom eagerly, but tripped over my dress, recovering my equilibrium and went on. Suzanne said something to herself in French, but the only words that came distinctly to my ears were:

      "Le cocktail! Il est diabolique!"

      CHAPTER III.

      CAROLINE'S USURPATION

      In philosophic mood last night, as idly I was lying,

      That souls may transmigrate, methought, there could be no denying;

      So just to know to what I owe propensities so strong,

      I drew my soul into a chat–our gossip lasted long.

--Béranger.

      It was not wholly unpleasant to find myself facing Caroline across the breakfast-table. There she sat, attired in my most becoming gray business suit, in outward seeming a large, well-groomed man-of-the-world. The light in her–or my–eyes suggested the possibility that she had found compensations for her soul's change of base. If that was the case, Caroline was more to be envied than I was, for, despite the feminine beauty that had become mine for a time, I was wholly ill-at-ease and disgruntled. My hand trembled and I spilled the coffee that it had become my duty to serve. Jones, our phlegmatic butler, appeared to be politely astonished at my clumsiness and glanced at me furtively now and again.

      "Two lumps, Caroline?" I asked, absently. Catching my wife's masculine eye, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "Reginald, I mean!"

      "Three lumps, and plenty of cream, Caroline," said my wife, with ready wit. What a domineering note there was in my voice when used vicariously! I wondered if Caroline had noticed it.

      "You may go, Jones," I said, presently. "I'll ring if we need you."

      A gleam of surprise came into the butler's eyes, but he controlled it instantly, and strode from the breakfast-room like a liveried automaton.

      "You are not eating, Reginald," said my wife, in a gruff whisper, glancing at the door through which Jones had made his exit. "You must not give way to your nervousness, dear boy. You'll need all your strength before the day is over."

      "Gad, you're right–if I can judge by the last hour, Caroline," I remarked, endeavoring by force of will to beget an appetite for toast and eggs. "Just hand me my letters, will you? Here are yours, my dear."

      I saw the masculine cheeks redden, but Caroline made no effort to act upon the suggestion that I had thrown out.

      "Reggie! Reggie!" she moaned, hoarsely, "is there no help for us? Can't you think of something that will change us back СКАЧАТЬ