Newspapers / The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, … / March 8, 1911, edition 1 / Page 10
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SrCRREY WOMDERLY 4^ v'Pi-S" .-k . w»> y St . ' '10 . ’ V. .’:'e- !■ . ^;. !,R :sV -What ■ V ■' i ' ' ** “Oh, i- . i ♦ i-i > ! IU- '1 . , . 1 I !«' I'i t ? ■ 1 •! . -’M. f.an." -> 1, •'\erv. ::s. I ..gl i d. 'v.:. ^a eUe. 1>: t'.,.t;" l';e "'1;;- I'o. . i t':e - ! 1‘.(.‘ ' ■ '* so h..T,, V , 1 ''I . - . . . ..uT s.^'lly. - ‘■'he ! r-c.v!'d':i 1 . iT Ul i = t . 'I * .. ! ; \ 1 ‘ ■ i ' r J.,’. . . , eT'.;ni:e T.'''i’:hti'*!> hur'v’iijT t.") ?*-.!e tht' r.'.atter. little wci'i.a:’. • "Iviacr hv T iii !ii> i rni; he U'llV u>t]'i;';ij:I” she toKl •■.■‘ni. tryin" to ‘Oiilv } wonder if ! 'n^ losing my S TKtip'os I’ni—afraal -almc-t, ner'e>. >ic, o’d ;{irl.” lie “Think of SiuYvMk and forget .ill I't it wortli it—a little r’’sk for— da; Si ■: t !v. “Yes , .? 0}>, . . And (liis Vn. we'll be ^ > '’11 ■k •.! •VS Vvivh :■ ■ 1 ’1 I ■ VI- ,.r •/ >11^ h V.■ ;-e the tht 1 1, ! R i i;T- -;rd • a ' ;i4‘ l-.^rk I'U. itll ’ I:t r'l iiy li.iAf i'»‘n h’y-tiv-: 1 ■ f r ni', t / 'n;% y(,a ; * ('VC” :o the bureau, liummin.a; d bf'^an to cliange her t ostunie. a ]>ret!y giH. Vinirij, ];;■ i}'-eyed. red ar>d wiOi a r-. i'iiu d, \\iildr*- (l lu r. \o one \\ ( 'L!ki e\'er eall her MUt a i.s. n‘r'V.onian. And yet as ilicre t - fiirc the mirror a ^tanlin^' nie O' er r.- r. She jK-nc’lcd her «r,- ith i’liH.iro .r.d beaded h,T k’.-h- •I .y lu’.ni; down over hir hulf-elosetl i d'. Sh. -"nuv'd her lip^ and her eheeks, and carefidl}- lilted a yellow w:;r ox'cr her own 1‘rown h.dr. Then she fetched a dress, a ( hea;v k>ud purpU- i)rince>s. and lastened a tuiu'e j-ilun'ed har to her yellow curls. When she was ready and turned with a iiiLle smile Le’rrhtun, he shook his head, :i]>plaudin^L' noiselee -ly. ■’You're a wonder. Rosie.'' he said. “I woukln't know you my-^elf if I fell over you v\ the !re-t. Yoa'll do.” "Mis McMy May. late of tli.e Gaiety, I. ■•idiin,” she told liim. presenting herself. He j "ddc'd encouragingly. “ (ii.'t all the data? ’’ e.>." “W int nothin:: else?” ‘•Xr./’ ‘‘Ar. I renemk r if you should need me J(’ 'piv.ne mt‘ her- you know’ the number. ( >d-bye 1’’ Sh-. \-.ent 'luii ’.'y downs!.I'r-^ and let her- f out ' i’ tl'ie lva.r' by way of the ladies’ (:i'ra: *\‘, ■,\hich was .eldom U!^ed and at thi-; ir dtserted. I’j) I’roadv.av she w d for two biicks, j'jstled by the '^ix- (Tov.d. and stan-flat and usj,>romj)tIy ii. ’ll:en. t\'.'i .'fjr.arc-. frutii th.u hailed a • ab, ard telling the I 'ifty-ninth Street t ntrancc to the '.\ hisl:ed U{)town. I. . K)( ■r. '■ 't flri\-er th iVirk, \va ■1. -h h hu br ■t d'h nuartcr, ,[ an hour later she had j)a^l i1i'‘ ; abby and was walking up lifth A’^enu'- t"’.’ard' the mairnirirent inaiblo ] i K'(‘ of John W hyte, nuilti-niillionairo. (i'.ing t ) the .'Orvants’ entrance, she rang I b(!! a’-.d waitf'd. W’k' n a ’huTicd, exritcd maid opened the do -r, harried her a sfjuare violet envel- ^ , rt ( i.itv')1 elK'aj) ])erfumery. ‘■'l.d.e thi- t » Miss W’hytc at once,” !!'. i“ ‘-.'lid, and there; was something in her V'.i'c that nade the woman reach out and t ’ ■ the htter. “It is Acry imi)ortant—I M'l \' ai! here f(»r an answer.” ■ > “P. it I foul.hi’t disturb Miss W’hyto, r n'a . luMtated the woman. “ I can sec '•’v' rything? Ji.it her aunt get.-i the hdter, or her pa, but V W'hyte is not to be disturbed—” -t t(. Mi'S Whyte’s maid, and fell Whyte must h.'iAc it tint slie will ■'1 ' 'O Cl :r \,h. I: he kli()’A>. ho 1 ■’ ■ ' -.ufl, .-lipping the woman hojiie k, )iii‘(l ■for he f.it'd P-l;'-..rd -t ii ■(* no a> I o r U’l- - 1 ' r . ■ t.con/'' dull I, and 1-j ,e . that dd at >-A fhr . ^ wranp d ■ i' a nu'il .' r gold 'et'it'g, ■ ^ ^ He pa".''d, 1 * . J • ;h ‘ ^i-!d it i;’ ' i uni'T the('l'-‘t r^ till' ri; ’ . , h 'Ida the setliu, ’ ’ on :e. He nodded. "Th.i*’ he tr.ld her. “Theengrivir ;,■ ka/.pr.lcl arn'n “Identical!” h. (,!: 1. ' She turned it aIv . ,>r ■ > hT hand, ‘-aWnc; n^ing for ■ ral jninv.u-s. “it's wonderfui, 'r.m,’’ she declared after a short sileno.. '-i-ig it bark to “ WVll, the next mo\ ■ is mine. And Tom after thif^—Suffolk, boy?” ’ ’ “You bet you!” 1. criV.., emphatirally. “Lost in a nest of r you wiih your flowers and I ■u’ith my chickens. We’ll prow old and rusty and forgotten togetlier down there, Rosie. This last time--” ’ “But is this the last time, Tom?” she interrupted eagerly. “ The very last,” he smiled. “Oh-h-h!” She gave a little sigh that ) lies “T. t' ■ I ’ i •. ic II V b' f')ri \\ hyl* b::df ' ..’t know, ma’am, T’m sure,” said II, Old ^hi- went, a.vay, lea\ing I:- i> on th >tej)S. a all of ;in liour she stood waiting a smart I'reru hwoman, I'^dith own maid, opened the door and i r enter 1 lie Ik)US(‘. “Mi le wi see you--come!” she Ml lier Watt(‘au boudoir tnM i; Why t . I'd!t h W'hvtc wa find tli(; maid had been dr(‘ssing her lor dinner, when Kosie’s note was handed tv) lit r. ,V(\v IS Rf,si; entered the room she sa .V th.'it the lieiress still held the diily violet eiixrlopo (rushed in the pahn of h. r hand. She started f)uickly forward when she saw Rosie, and Rosie, with a ([uiek, womanly sym[)athy, noted tliat Kdith Gra- mercy Whyte was little more tlian a school girl; j)retty, helpless, innocent, she s(‘t down »pposite her name in her memory-book. “You said in your note that you had something very important to tell me about - Lord St. Aubyn,” Miss W'hyte began hurrieflly. “1 can only sj)are you a mo- ni I t 1 must dress for dinner. If it’s nioiuy you want ” Ko.^ie had calmly seated h(,“rself irt a gor geous I^»uis Seize chair—kept standing, even Miss Wdiyte’s unobserving eyes might remember her outlines. She spoke in a shrill cockney ^■oice; “I'm IMiss Molly May, and I ust to dawncc at the (iaiety, hin Lunnon, afore I came tv> this 'ere bloomin’ country. I’ve lioiten seen 'is lordshij) at the thea3'ter. ’E was soft on our lead—Ilada Ponsonby, the 'us.syl If it wearn’t I ham stony- broke, miss. I’d ne\ er come tellin’ you this tale !>■ wi'e an^l a.ceentin’ money for hit, but I l;ar,i siony-brokc -” Miss Whyte beat her hands nervously tcgether. yes, I’ll give you mone^—a hun dred, ''ve, a thousand! WHiat is it about— Lofvl St. Aubyn ([uickly!” !\ >;e lovik'.'d sharply at the heiress from 1m hind her lu ax ily-beaded lashes and hoped she wa^n't gv>ing to faint, or scream or do anything silly. She was almost a nervous wreek already from busy days and nights for tlic “gr.'at iuternational preparing adlia'ice." “Well, hit’s ju.st this, miss,” Rosie w’ent on glibly: “ 'islordship was hears over 'ead gone on Hada Ponsonby, and they say as \nv ’e'd 'a\e married 'er, only she 'ad a I'.ian a're;uly who stotid waitin’ to smash 'is K'irds:i’i)'s 'ead—hawskin’ your pardon, ni.'.-'S. “Well, miss, 'is lordskdp goes and gives the 'us^y. nieanin' Ilada Ponsonby, hall the fambly joi'ls, hipchuHn' the famous St. Auby.i what the papers is so full of. ?di"S W’.yte, hawskin' your pardon, that ’us>y 'as the St. Aubyn Rose and hain'l! ’’ you “ W'liy. what are you saying? What do yi'n mean.-' You are—cra-zy!’’ cried Edith Whyte. ”Xo,I hain’t, miss,”said Ro.sie. “Awskin’ your i)ardon, I’m puffictly sane. Lord St. Aubyn—Piggie, we ust to call ’im at the thea\'ter, rn’ss, seein’ as ’e were so thin—it Avere our little joke, miss, and ’is lordship didn't mind; well, Piggie was dead gone on Hada—tlie ’ussy!—and he gave ’er the St. Aubyn Rose one Easter. Then ’er man made Hada break with Piggie, but she wouldn’t give 'im back 'is diamint. Piggie hi ilered 'er a bunch, of money for it, but not enough. I fawncy, and Piggie was so hafraid his famljly would find out about hit that ’e at law.'t let it go—poor gen’leman— “Piggie were that, hin ’is cups or sober, more so li ii is cuj^s, I should say, miss. “iiut Hada’s got that St. Aubyn Rose, miss, and you hain’t—that’s what I come to see you about. She’s got it—and yours i a ])aste imitation Piggie got in Paris w’hen ‘i^ fambly Iiawsked about it, miss. It’s a buniin’ shame, miss—the 'ussy, Hada, not you I ” ‘ Edith Wliyte had jumped up and w’as walking back and forth, nervously clasping her hands, long before Rosie had linished. “Jt can’t be true, it can’t!” she kept nn’ss,” suggested Rosie. “Mention Hada’s name—” “I shan’t see him again until to-morrow —until we’re married. He and the lawyers w'ill be busy to-night—there was some h'tch in the settlements and his lawyers sai( She checked herself quickly, and glanced at Rosie almost wistfully. Rosie didn’t envy her her lot. “And your ma?” she asked glibly. Miss Whyte covered her face w’ith her hands. “I have no mother to go to,” she said. “But to-morrow^—later I w'ill ask St. Aubyn—” The maid knociced gently on the door and Rosie got up to go. “Coming, Angele,” sa'd Miss Whyte. She went over to ‘ler desk and returning, thrust a handful of bill' in Rosie's hands. “ Co now,” she said. “ I am sure you are mistaken, but—” And Rosie went, carrying off the dirty violet letter \vith her. Rosie never missed a trick, and she always burned her bridges behind her. She did not go directly back to the h^’wer Broadway hotel, but hurried along in the rain and the night until she found herself inside a moving-{>icture parlor over on Sixth xAvenue. Here in the dark ness she removed her conspicuous yellow wig, discarded the flashy lace collar to her coat, and rul.)bed the j^ain.t from her cheeks on her moistened handkerchief. Tucking the wig aifd collar in the bosom of her jacket, she went back to Broadway and rode calmly down to the hotel where Leighton was waiting for her. “ Weil? ” he asked, trying to read her face. Slie unfastened her hat, pulled off her coat and sat down before the smoldering lire. First she handed Tom the' violet- colored letter and then l5ve one-hundred- dollar bills. “Edith Wliyte seemed to think I came for money and here it is,” she said. “Ha\e any trouble?” he asked. “None whatever.” “ Do you think she believed the yarn? ” “Never doubted it, I could see that by her face. She said there must be a mistake, but I could see she believed there w’as not. Tom, St. Aubyn must be a cad—and she is a nice little thing.” “ A'ou know’ what St. Aubyn is,” Leighton returned drily. “Didn’t he invite Ada Ponsonby to Richmond to dinner, and knock her down in the garden of the Star and Garter because he believed she had the Rose with her? And how did he get the Rose back from her?—threatened to shoot her! Oh, St. Aub3'n is a tine fellow! ” Rosie W’as silent for a moment. Then she said, w’ith a cynical smile: “ You know^ Edith W’hytc has heard these tales about the earl, and, while .she is going to m.arry him, she know’s liim to be a liar YES, YE.S, I LL GIVE YPU MOXET A HUXDRED, FIVE, A THOUSAND I WHAT IS IT XBOUT LORD ST. AUBYN QUICKLY'! ” repeat ing. “ There is some mistake—I will give you money—” “Yes, miss, bein’ has I’m stony-broke, miss,” nodded Rosie. “Poor lidy, whyn’t you tell your pa? ” Edit-h shook her head. “I daren’t. He’s not very fond of Eric now, and if he thought—” ^‘Hawsk Piggie—I mean ’is lordship. w’edding, because her father doesn’t like St. Auburn, and he might stop the marriage. Oh, yes, she thinks Ada has the Rose—no doubt she’s heard of Ada from her dea,r friends.” (f nodded Tom Leighton. “Girhe, to-morrow w’e make the biggest ‘lift’ of our lives,” and he felt in his w’aist- coat pocket and fingered the rose-colored stone with lo\ing touch. The St. Aubyn-Whyte wedding was to be at noon at St. Thomas’ Church, and a breakfast and reception was to follow’ at the W'hyte palace on Fifth Avenue. Tom and Rosie v/ere awake and preparing for the event long before nine o’clock. For nearly three hours they worked steadily, talking but little, and then only in under tones. Everything w’as planned and ready for the “get away” which was to follow the “lift”; all that remained to be done now was the placing of the keystone—and the arch had been made strong and ready for this and they had no fear. At one o’clock Leighton was ready and left the hotel in a cab. “You’ve got the stone?” was his parting remark to Rosy. “ Well, here's luck to us! ” And she nodded, marveling a little at his wonderful m.ake-up. “ Let me look at you good or I’ll not know you when I see you again,” she said, w’ith a smile. “ Oh-h, you beauty, you! ” After he had gone, she followed, walking up from the hotel to a taxicab depot where she engaged a car, gi\dng the chauffeur the W^hyte address. Nobody in the wide world w’ould have recognized, in theelegantly-dressed, middle- aged w’oman w’ho stepped from the cab, the shrill, yellow h.'iired Cockney of the night before. As Rcsie Blake sw’ept up the steps of the Whyte residence there w’ere others' near her w’ho were more elaborately gowTied, but none Avho looked more like a gentle woman, better bred and groomed. She attached herself to a party which included a Senator’s wife and daughters and she was admitted without question. Once inside all w’as confusion and bustle, and if she spoke to no one in the fashionable crowd, no one noticed it or bothered their heads about her. P'rom room to room she w’ent, following the Senator’s family, until at last, all to gether, they entered the room where the gifts were displayed. Long tables groaned under their w’eight of beautiful silver and priceless china. Trays of costly and exquisite jewelry were spread out in gorgeous array. Antique and gold- leafed furniture, paintings and ivories, and last, but not least, on a table to themselves, the St. Aubyn diamonds and the St. Aubyn Rose. Rosie felt her heart beat madly when she saw the jewel. Also, out of the tail of her eyes, she saw the plain-clothes men sent from headquarters to take care of the presents. But she didn’t forget herself and she wasn't afraid. Instead, this aristocratic, elegantly dressed w’oman w-ent from table to table, following closely in the wake of her new-found friends. ^ There were onlj" about tw’enty persons in the room. Directly across from her, and with her back turned to her, w*as a tall, stunning blonde in mauve satin and Rus sian sables. She seemed to be with a fat dowager in blue and a thin spinster in black, although they never spoke to each other. Rosie and the Senator’s family presently reached the table next to the one containing the St. Aubyn diamonds, when at the far end of the room, there was a little stir and the new’ countess’s aunt and cousin entered with the earl’s sister. Rosie pressed forw’ard W’ith the others and shook hands and smiled —it was a great day for the Whytes, root and branches. The aunt simpered, the cousins beamed, but the earl’s sister bit her thin lips and said nothing. Then they all went back and continued their inspection of the gifts.' Rosie man aged to reach the St. Aubyn table ahead of the others, and taking up the Rose, held it admiringly in her fingers for a moment. She was still holding it when the stunning blonde in satin and sables came up slow’ly, listlessly, ahead of the fat matron and the thin spinster. Instantly Rose’s hands flew^ up, and with a little cry of “Gertrude, you!” she embraced and kissed upon the lips the beauty in mauve. But her enthusiasm was short-lived. The beauty drew’ herself up and w’ith a crushing look said in a throaty contralto: “You have made a mistake; I don’t know’ you, madam I ” And the», after a second glance, Rosie realized that she didn’t, and yet she had kissed her—upon the lips! She made a thousand apologies, w’hich the beauty ac cepted unsmilingly and sw-ept aw’ay, and case with the otl-e'- d'’;- turned and coming face t(' and a coward and—everything that is ^ ^ ^ TI could see it in her face when Rosie, looking .very foolish, stiddenly''found _ old her my httle yarn. But she is marry- herself standing there in the now crow’ded doesn’t care, room with the St. Aubyn Rose clutched in at helps us, Tom, because she believed her hand. W believes that Ada Ponsonby She gave a startled little cry—yes, the got the real rose and that hers is only a plain-clothes men were watchin«y her and knew she had the diamond—and going over thing about this to anybody until after the to the table she placed the jewel back in its earl’s sister, stopped her ver.sation much to the I;:d'v ’■ “Oh, dear La^ly I'-’d ' renewing n^y acquair uo • ,■ diamonds,” Rosie cru d 1, .^ detective nearest to her t : she said, “'i'liey arc sin , the sweet St. A.ub\--n R: when your dear raamn, Sussex House ball. Our - :; congratulated upon ha\ .r^ to v/ear!” She gushed and sinip.'-e- minutes ard Lad\ Kiv:,'. ■; t'r^'ing to place h-. informed as to the fa.' ■ 1 Englishwoman wa- ])■. met her at some past e\-ent. “But I can’t ’-eallv rer d' fancy that!” she said, w^i “i'he s some chru'oi'iy Amni- ■ pose.” As for Rosie herself, she nn’i. ‘ out of the room. leaA'ing the :'-eri ; i still hanging enra:;tnred o>-er 1m. Rose, and i>assij]g through ihe ^ ' swept down the sicj)- a^ 1 o; i i Avenue. Walking down t. - Ihf-e. found her cabby, and b : 1 him : back to the garage on i^v.er . . Two hours after she had K r , little hotel, she entertd ilieir and Leighton cam.e b) incet her u: , “Thank God!" he said sii:;pl- her. “I've been on pins and nc. you didn’t have any trouble, did here’s the Rose! Tell me all a!:or’i He showed her the dianw 'Md i]-: ‘ of his hand and for a moiiient ria:; stared at it in silence. “It means Suffolk and , dear,” he whispered. “Yes,” she answered softlv. smell them now’, my roses! Arid . —I can close my eyes and I- scratching in the garden, and thr ; red cock— Oh, boy, this will k our lives surely, and you promised should be the last time." “Have it your way, little . “Now get out of those cl ; start ofi at once—the stCci-• r . hour for Havre, "i'ou tak^ v follow’ to-morrow, bound f'M- and Van Dyck—won'! he :l;-; t hears how' we got t lie Rose!^" “It W’as awfully simiile.’’ sliC “But do you know I was almost a kiss you, you looked sc; ma,:.i;nih',:'. mauve satin and .sables?" “Sables, your grandniolhrr! ( ii a Sixth Avenue second-bnnd d-, scoffed. “And skirts are—the de\ n. “They looked beautiful!" -:v - ■ a laugh. “When I saw you 1 ^ should die—my Tomny ;’lecke' society dame in skiits and a You looked the real thing, tc- .." “Did I ?—thanks,” he grinned. “And did you see me chang( or did I do it very cleverly and ■ ^ : she asked. , “I didn’t see*you, but I tl: ? when you did it,” he replied “ V-- coughed—” “It was this way,” .'^he > x'- ' quite as we planned, but aln">’ . the paste Rose you got from ■ my glove, and then X pie!;e(/ p ■ diamond and I coughed bel. iv: - the most approved anc' i- ■ But in that moment—1 i" ' ^ stone in my mouth and ! poe.’ ‘ one from my glove to ^ discovered Gertrude, tb ste.nii.: in mauve, and when I kissed a-c'u- “You passed me ih*'' K''-;' fr mouth to mine,” Le':■ ' ■ ' was almost too suq^ri-: ; i: n Why did you do that? ” She pointed to a chair n b and W’hen he was sitting • hand clasping her^, bhe t; him. “I happened to think I’ a'. if dropped the paste diame^nd I ; ek the detectives should su.spe t a.;_ w’ant to have me searched, tl. find the Rose on me. And an expert to examine the jev. el, i to ask to speak to I\Iiss W hytt- 9,fter Molly IMay's \isit la. ■ • would believe me in spite o She w’ould remember Mollie . W’ould believe .\da Ponsoriii; ■ real Rose. Oh, I went ino'. ■■ Tom, and I left no alle>w.:.> . dead wall! But its best t(; 1 •. side and I passed you the K ■ no trouble after ail, thanK e walked out of the hou.-e boS(i . r; And, Tom, when it is di^ . vert 1 St. Aubyn Rose is only a bit • ' ■ you know nothing will ever f('n- Whyte that the Earl didn t . her?” “You can never convince a grinned Leighton, patting Re- " “No, especially an America! v. marries a foreigner for his tine .. family diamonds,” said she.
The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, N.C.)
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March 8, 1911, edition 1
10
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