ILLINGHAST inclin^
forward from the waist in
a conventional bow and
impressively raised his
hat to the Frenchy little
woman just entering the
Astor. She looked him
full in the eyes with an
impudent stare and brushed past.
“I say, that’s cool now,” drawled young
Tillinghast, turning to his companion-
“TOo is she? It would hurt less to be
cut by a more plain looking person,” ad
mitted the other, watching the trim little
form as it disappeared through the massive
entrance.
‘*MademoiseOe, Flora Flaubert,” said
Tillinghast, with a flourish of his slender
Piccadilly stick.
“Oh, she’s the'complexion person from
Paris, who’s been taking in society at the
Plaza the past six months. Tyson has
been glowing of her for a month. I hope
Papa TVson learns of it in time to keep
Tommy from doing anything silly.”
“Tommy better look out for Flaubert,”
Tillinghast smiled wearily, as he paused
on the comer.
“Well, I’ll feel an outcast if I meet my
sister's milliner and she cuts me,” laughed
Tillinghast, crossing alone on Forty-second
to Fifth Avenue and going ieisurely to the
smoking room of the Van Rensselaer Club,
where he cocked his feet on the fender be
fore the celebrated jade fireplace, helped
himself to some “V. R.” punch his fathers
before him had dnmk, and idly fingered
over the morning Herald^ though it was
full afternoon.
He struck an item and read it several
times, some of his languor leaving him. ^ A
friend dropped into a scat b^de him,
noted his interest, and queried: “Reading
the President’s message, Tillinghast?”
“Oh, hello,” drawled Tillinghast, looking
up and allowing the paper to slip idly
through his longish fingers.
“I presume reading the fashions is more
in your line?”
“No,” said Tillinghast with an annoyed
frown. “My tailor takes care of that
Really I can’t bother my head about cra
vats and waistcoats; it’s quite bad enough
to have to carry them about.”
“Newspapers are deadly dull, aren’t
they?” said the other, switching back.
“It’s really work to read the news, but one
must keep up in these commercial times,
you know.”
“I seldom read anything but the ‘ Per
sonals, ’ ” admitted Tillinghast idly. “One
finds such queer things.
“Now look at this, for instance.”
Tillinghast recovered the paper with an
easy stoop and pointed to the following
advertisement:
“WANTED—Information as to the where
abouts of Mme. Flora Flaubert, complexion spe
cialist, formerly at the Plaza. Address Miss
McArthur, 244 West 35th St., City.”
“Flora Flaubert!” cried Tillinghast’s
companion. “Why, isn’t that the woman
that young Tyson has been mushing about
and frothing at the mouth over, for the
past month?”
“Yes, I presume so,” answered Tilling
hast indifferently.
“But what’s she been getting into?” '
*‘0h, nothing, I suppose. This advertise
ment was probably inserted by some fran
tic customer who found that Flaubert had
moved away, and didn’t know she could be
located at the Astor.”
“You aren’t following her goings and com
ings, too? ” asked the other, raising his
eyebrows.
Tillinghast smiled faintly and shook his
head. The other man reread the adver
tisement and shuddered: “Brazen! Isn’t
it? Now, if a woman wants her features
curried or remodeled why can’t she get
on© of those simple home beautifiers, with
anadjustable handle, in a splendid Japanned
box, or go quietly to Doctor Woodbury?
Think of signing one’s name to such a de
liciously fra^ advertisement!”
"Yes,” mused Tillinghast, “Flaubert
wouldn’t wish it known that she has cus
tomer in the west Two hundreds on Thirty-
fifth. Street. It’s all cheap theatrical fluff
overthere. That’s hardly Flaubert’s class
of trade.”
"You know, Tillinghast,” said the other
thomghtfuUy, “those advertisements are
often traps. You aren’t thinking of doing
anything? Your manner’s always so blest
mysterious, and you seem to ^ the god
of that cheap theatrical lot.”
‘^Oh, no. I’m just wondering about this
tiling,” Tillmghast’s lips curled curiously.
wish there were something in it I’d like
to«tumUe on to anything unusoaL Maybe
that's why I read the ‘ Personals.
"It’s only the evidence of a morbid mind/'
the other assured him quickly. “You’ll
be*taking to the obituary column next”
‘*What would yon have me do; sit before
the fire here until my feet get so accustomed
to* the heat I’ll have to wear overshoes to
bed—or have chilblains for breakfast?”
he dealt largely in after-thoughts.
“Tillinghast, you ought to open an office
dorwiirtown and do something,” said the
other serionsly, for he dabbled in business
throp months of the
TT TT
S
rwiN
ME
“I’d rather open a bottle up town and
do nothing,” was the abrupt reply, as
Tillinghast rose, dusted the ashes from
his immaculate afternoon trousers and
bade his friend a curt good-by.
Tillinghast was a horrible example even
in the Van Rensselaer Club, where wealthy
idlers were the rule. It was said that he
would sit up all night rather than take his
shoes off alone if his man were not there
to put the trees in them. Some pitied him
for having absolutely no ambition, further
than that of spending his hundred thousand
dollar a year income.
He stepped into his limousine at
door and sat for several minutes, wondering
vaguely what to do with the afternoon.
“ Oh, I ought to pick out some place-cards
for the dinner to-morrow,” he sighed guilt
ily. “ No, I’ll not I It’s quite too tedious.”
Through the speaking tube he abruptly
ordered his driver to take him to 244 West
Thirty-fifth Street.
Sinking back comfortably on the cushions
he pressed the button at his side and out
slid a little gold cigarette box, the cover
open. Tillinghast idly selected a cigarette
and puffed it medita|ively xmtil the car
came to a stop before his number.
He threw the stimip away reluctantly
and saimtered up the steps to the dingy,
brown-stone front, as though bent on an
afternoon call. A down-at-the-heels wo
man, with brilliant eyes and a compleaon
to match, which showed the ravages of
time and pigment, answered his ring.
“May I see Miss McArthur?” he asked.
The woman looked at him, her face
twisted into an uneasy smile.
“You ain’t a reporter or anything like
that?” she queried.
“No,” answered Tillinghast, “I’m afraid"
I couldn’t qualify. If you will tell Miss
McArthur I believe I can give her some
information concerning the lady she is
advertising for, I think she will see me.” .
“She hasn’t been seein’ anybody for a
week or two, sir.”
“Not ill, I hope?”
“No, but she’s not seein’ anybody. FU
tell her you’re here, though.”
She disappeared and in a moment re
turned to direct Tillinghast to the parlor
floor room.
“Nothing cheap about Miss McArthur,”
observed Tillinghast, as he rapped at the
high panelled door. It^glided open some
three inches and he caught a glimpse of a bold
brass bed within, and flaring curtains of red
silk at the window. He could see nothing
more, but easily imagined the rest. It was
a typical room of a burlesque star, a second
woman with musical comedy, or a hundred
dollar woman in vaudeviUe. Something
quite above the Thespian average in rooms,
but somewhat below the real thing.
“You have information about Mme.
Flaubert?’’/came a charmingly aiodulated
voice from within.
Marvelling at its freshness and wishing
for a glimpse of the occupant of the room,
Tillinghast replied that he did know some
thing of the lady in question, and asked if
he might come in.
“I would prefer you didn’t,” there was a
slight pained catch in the splendid voice.
^ “Can’t you tell me through the door?” .
' “A key-hole conversation is seldom satis
factory,” answered Tillinghast, consuming
c^osily wearing tHtough the thin glaze of
his accustomed lassitude. “What is the
great mystery? Are you a veiled lady of
the Orient—or a lately landed mermaid?”
“Nooo-o—neither,” the voice answered,
“but I wish—Oh! You may come in.”
At that moment the door opened abruptly
and Tillinghast stepped into the spacious
back parlor room. The woman had backed
toward one of the windows; her profile was
lost as she looked through the pane, turning
her face almost completely from him. But
the poise of her head, adapted so well to the
grace of her figure, made a charming picture.
The flush on her cheek, heightened by the
glowing reflection from the red silk curtains,
and the rich curve to her lips; the refine
ment in every line, took Tillinghast’s breath.
He had expected to fiad a commoner typc^.
“I’m sure,” he gasped, “you are much
better without the v^—or the tail.”
She snatched the curtain back with a
tragic jerk and the unsoftened light from
the window illuminated the other side of
her face with ghastly cruelty. A red scar
snared across the well-formed cheek, the
skin seemed sallow in comparison, even the
nose appeared hump^, and her lips surely
droops to a trembling pout on that side.
She looked a horrid hag, and Tillinghast
clutched his stick nervously.
**That side’s my own!” she exclaimed
bitterly. “Now can you see why I’m anx
ious to find Mme. Flora Flaubert?”
“Did she leave you like that?” cried
Tillinghast, quite unnerved by the sight of
the female Jason.
“Yes, she fixed one side all right, burned
the scar on the other, and then leh it the
way you see it It’s the comparison that
makes it so bad. Oh, I wish I’d never gone
to her. My face was really all right before.”
“But what did Flaubert leave you like
this for?”
“ Spite, I guess,” she replied with a pitiful
hopeless gesture. “Three days ago I went
to the Plaza-veiled, to get the other side
fixed up to match the finished side, and the
bird had flown. Then I advertised.” I
“Did Flaubert have anything against
you? Did you know her before? Have
you learned anything about her?” queried
Tillinghast.
“I’ve learned lots,” she said in a low
tone. “ One thing in particular—” she drew
closer to Tillinghast and said several quick
sentences emphatically. He seemed sur
prised at the information and asked
sharply:
“You’re sure of it?” '
1. “Certain,” she replied.
she had departed at five o’clock that after
noon.
From the baggageman it was learned
that her several tnmks had been checked
to the Grand Central Station.
“The plot thickens,” smiled Tillinghast,
as he ordered his driver to take him to the
Grand Central. “Hope it doesn’t keep
me from dinner.”
With the aid of a five-dollar bill, Tilling
hast learned that the trunks had been re
checked from there to a certain point, the
mention of which caused him to drop his
languor altogether and rush for a telephone.
“Who was jrour backer? Who sent you
to Flaubert?” he changed his question.
“A Johnny! Young Tyson, son of the
sugar trust man.”
“ Tyson! ” cried Tillinghast. “ Of course
he doesn’t know ^hat you just told
me?”
She flashed a keen look at him and re
plied, “No. Do you know him?”
“Yes. But I can’t understand why
Flaubert should leave you in the lurch like
this. Why, it’s crijninal. WTiat did she
do it for?”
“ Don’t ask me. Maybe she was jealous.”
“Were you and Tyson—did you know
Tyson well?” queried the man.
“He used to come and watch me from a
box every night during my last engage
ment with the Boston Broilers.”
“And you think Flaubert was jealous of
his attentions?”
“I heard she was strong for him. But
do you know where Flaubert is? Several
people have answered my ad. and given
me information, but they can’t tell exactly
where she is right now. That’s what I
want to know. She must finish the job.
She said it was necessary to take the skin
off, and she fixed the. other side so well I
trusted her. I must find her.”
“I know where she is,” answered Tilling
hast. “ How long since you’ve seen Tyson? ”
“He came here several times during the
w^k I was waiting for Flaubert to fix this
tl^g up. Of course, I couldn’t see him
with such a face, and pretty soon he gave
up coming. He hasn’t been here for four
days now. I wouldn’t let him see me. He’d
refuse to pay the bill after a look at my face,
and I ha\’«n’t money enough.”
“I see,” said Tillinghast abruptly. “Will
vou be so good as to wait here until you
near from me? You have a phone?”
She gave him her nimiber and looked
into his eyes shrewdly as she put out her
hand in good-by.
“You aren’t Tillinghast? Who helped
out Mamie Monroe?” she asked hesitat
ingly.
“That’s my name. But I didn’t seem
to do Mamie much good;” he did not wait
for her reply, but took one glance at the
anomaly of her face, and closed the door
behind him. ' • ' _
“Drive to the Astor,” he ordered his
chauffeur. Then he dropped back in the
toimeau and smiled: “This looks inter
esting. Flaubert always was a peppery
sort. McArthur’s story is unique; I never
imagined that Flaubert was—” he twisted
up his Ups^ whimsically. “Well, she has
her nerve right with her. Wonder what
her game is? Funny she’d leave the girl’s
face like that; still, it can’t be as serious as
she thinks—and looks.”
At the Astor he inspected the register,
but found no trace of Flaubert. He went
to the manager and' asked about her anx
iously. Tilli^hast, having put the man
agement under obligations to him by a
series of splen^d dinner parties, had no
trouble in learning that Flaubert had regis
tered there under an assumed name and
that young Tyspn had paid her bill wh^
dived down Into the saloon, where he sat in
a dimly lighted comer and waited.
Twenty minutes later he heard the tramp'
of feet coming down the stairs from the
upper deck and peered through the door
just in time to see Tyson pause before the
door to one of the most elegant suites on
the ship.
Tillinghast rose quickly and waited in the
doorway to the dining saloon as he saw
Tyson and his small companion step into
the suite.
With a curious twitching at the comers
of his mouth, Tilliijghast dropped Us hat
and stick in a comer and sauntered down
to the door. ' .
He turned the knob and flung open the
door. _
Inside the state-room his gaze was fixed
solenmly on a tableau. Evidently v he was
just in time.
He called the club and asked if Tyson
had been there.
“Not since morning, sir,” answered the
flunkey in attendance.
“Have you heard that he is going out of
town, or anything?”
“I overheard, sir,,that he was going for
a fortnight to one of his shooting lodges
in the Catskills.”
Tillinghast rang'off at once and called
the Tyson homs on Fifth Avenue. There
the news was corroborated. Young Tyson
had left alone that morning for two weeks’
shooting.
Tillinghast jerked out his watch.
“Seven-thirty!” he exclaimed. “Well,
I’ve been so busy, and it’s too late to dress
now, but I can’t overlook the dinner al
ready ordered at Delmonico’s, Tyson or no
Tyson, Flaubert or no Flaubert—not to
fnention my two-faced friend.”
Dropping back at once to his accustomed
bored manner, he rode to Delmonico’s and
idled through the courses, tite-d-Ute with a
friend, after apologizing for being forced
to appear at dinner in his afternoon clothes,
indulging in naught but chit-chat and not
once mentioning the curious trio in whose
affairs he had taken such sudden interest.
Dawdling over his demi-tasse, his friend
suggested that they go to the opera.
“It tempts me greatly, but it is impossi
ble, besides, I’m not dressed for evening,”
said Tillinghast musingly. La Gioconda
would make my blood stir. Why is it one
always puts something before his enjoy
ment? ”
“I didn’t know you ever did. Till,” re
plied the other.
“Oh, I’ve such a horrible lot of duties,”
responded Tillinghast. “IVe got to tear
myself away right now, just when I am
beginning to be comfortable, and go and
pull a yoimg fellow out of the Hudson.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothmg; only circumstances will
drag me into things that don’t in the least
concern me.” With that he rose reluct-
yantly and threw away his after dinner cigar
as he entered the waiting auto and started
for the Blue Star docks, the point to which
Flaubert’s trunks had been rechecked.
“It seems small to go into hiding like a
cheap detective,” smiled Tillinghast, the
moment he had reached a dark corner of
the dock-house, where only a few long
shoremen were busy with the baggage at
that hour. “I suppose I’m too late
anyway.”
A moment later a tall young man,
wrapped in an Inverness cape, walked to
the gangplank. Tillinghast made quite
sure that it was yoimg Tyson.
Then Tillinghast entered a saloon across
the street and called" up Miss McArthur. ^
“Take a taxi at once,” he directed,
“drive to the Blue Star docks and tell the
Fourth Ofllcer on the Angleterre you are
waiting for me. Then wait!”
Tillinghast ^pped bai to the boat.
Hunting up ids officer acquaintance,
Tillinghast said a few hurried words, slipped
a! ten dollar bill into his nervous palm, and
Mme. Flaubert was in the foreground,
her handsome face tense and her hands
clenched; she was glaring at him, her mouth
open as though an angry flow of speech
had been suddenly shocked back. Tyson
cowered beside her, while his little compan
ion stood before them, holding a book and
looking from one to the other, a worried
frown furrowed through his forehead. On
a heavily upholstered lounge spread a large
coarse Frenchwoman, as though she had
been dropped there, her mouth open and
her awed eyes staring. _' _
“Hello, lyson!” called Tillinghast In an
even tone. “Getting married?’*
Tyson, his flabby face gone pale, looked
up with beseeching eyes and turned to
Flaubert for an answer. «
“Yes, he is!” the Frenchwomsm cried
shrilly. At the same time the door at
Tillinghast’s back vibrated with emphatic
poundings from the surprised guard.
“Your family doesn’t object, I suppose?”
Queried Tillinghast, In a very tired tone, as
mough complaining of the'weather.
“It doesn’t matter any who objects!”
screamed Flaubert “He’s of a^e.”
“Yes,” smiled Tillinghast “I should
say you were both of age.” > '
Flaubert caught in her breath In a sharp
hiss; her passion heightened her color and
made her all the more charming, as she
turned to the old drab of a Frenchwoman,
frozen on the lounge, and her tongue tripped
lightly over a mouthful of voluWe French.
“Oh, don’t mind giving my pedigree to
your collapsed friend,” said Tillinghast;
adding, “ Cologne would be more serviceable
in reviving her.” '
“I say, Tillinghast,” drawled yoimg
“Request the Fourth Officer to send doTvn
the lady who is waiting for ^Ir. Tiilincrhicf ^
Mme. Flora Flaubert, outraged i;,
holding an animated conversation \\ith tS
frowsy Frenchwoman, and Tyson was tall
ing to the Justice of the Peace.
In a i^ute there came a double knocV
on the door and Tillinghast opened it to
admit a veiled lady, and announce mtS
an introductory gesture: ’
“Miss McArthur.”
» The woman threw her veil back and
smiled first to Tyson and then to Flaubert
The smile was very cynical, and the re^ult
ant expressions, as her botched face cam«
to view, showed surprise, horror and pam
“Tell these good people what you ha\^
learned concerning Mme. Flora Flaubert ”
said Tillinghast, with another sweep of
expressive hand,
nec Miss McArthur turned and her evn
Tyson, rallying under this show of cour
age, “you know, my dear fellow, a man is
really his own master; and if you wouldn’t
min'd stepping outside, we would like to
complete this little personal affair.”
“Surely,” said Tillinghast suavely, “but
you can’t object to my witnessing your
marriage?’'
coldly on the glaring orbs of Flaubert
replied firmly;
“Flaubert was convicted of theft In
Rheims. She Is the wife of Jacques Piene
a French pantomime artist. She manied
him in Paris last year and ran away from
him to America. A Frenchw’oman who
answered my advertisement told me tViP
whole story.’*
- “But, I say, where’s your proof?”
queried'young Tyson.
“There!'’ answered Tillinghast, poirTting
dramatically to the two French women
who had caught in their breath sharply
and were staring at each other, Flaubert
trembling visibly and guilt plainly written
on her striking face. —
Tyson collapsed. The Frenchwomen
hudoled together, as though for protection.
“I say,” gasped Tyson, reaching out a
wavering hand whidi met Tillinghast’s.
“you know, It was ever so good of you. I
never Imaged It You have pulled me
out of a beastly hole, old man.”
“Thank Miss • McArthur,” replied Til-
linghast, stepping over to Flaubert and re
marking in a low tone, which could not be
heard by the others:
^ “Flaubert, you’re a criminal. I thought
something was up when you refused tc
recognize me at the Astor to-day. You’ve
just missed adding bigamy to your other
crimes. You ruined Miss McArthur’s face
in the bargain.”
“It is not finished. I made a mistake.
I put on oxalic add by mistake. I can
fix it in a minute,” cried Flaubert, white
with terror, clasping her hands and trying
to appeal to him with her eyes.
“You want to leave America?” Tilling
hast asked idly.
“Yes,” she breathed anxiously.
“ I could think of nothing better for Ame>
Ica,” he smiled. “ Supposing you repair the
damage to Miss McArthur’s face at once.
Complete your work and you can go.”
She flew to a trunk and pulled out a little
work box. Miss McArthur sat on the
loimge and Flaubert worked over her
“ Oh, if you put It on that ground, you are
quite welcome,” replied the other, pruning earnestly for fifteen minutes, repairing the
himself as though he had said something damage skilfully. Meanwhile Tyson paid
very clever.
“Then go ahead,” commanded Flaubert, -
turning to the presiding shrimp, who seemied
worried over the poimding at the door,
which *had gradually lessened.
Tillinghast watched as the man brought
out again the worn little book, which he had
furtively replaced in his pocket, and began
reading the short marriage form in use
among Justices of the Peace.
The answers came in confident mono
syllables and Flaubert could not help look
ing up exultingly as the Justice of the Peace
paused before saying, “I now pronounce
you man and wife.” _ %.
At that instant Tillinghast stepped for
ward and raised his hand. The blood
seemed suddenly squeezed fropa Flaubert’s
face, her eyes went wide, and she moistened
her lips as Tillinghast interrupted in a lazy
drawl:
“I say, this thing has gone about far
enough, you know.” He looked directly
at the man officiating. , /
“Why? What’s 3ie matter?” cried the
flustered Justice in a panicky tone, looking
up with his weak, fishy eyes to meet Tilling
hast’s direct gaze.
“Mme. Flora Flaubert is already mar
ried,” said Tillinghast in as casual a tone
as though he had troubled someone for a
match.
“Menteur! Ckien hargneuxf” screamed
the fair Frenchwoman, and her florid com
panion jumped to her feet, shook her
finger before Tillinghast’s nose, and hurled
a. torrent of vile French expletives at
him.
“Your charming French does not alter
the fact,” smiled Tillinghast, “and I’m
quite sure you are tiring your finger use
lessly.”
He stepped to a little white push button
in the wall and held his i^ger on it for fully
half a minute, while all eyes in the room
were fixed on his.
“I say, now,” blurted Tyson, “you’re
sure of this? How can you prove that she
has been married before? ”
“I’ll have proof here in a minute,” an
swered Tillinghast, as a knock came at the
door.
“ Is that a steward? ” queried Tillinghast
Receiving a satisfactory a^wer^he went on:
and dismissed the Justice of the Peace and
his two detectives and Tillinghast watched
Flaubert’s work narrowly.
“It is finished,” she exclaimed suddenly,
throwing down a chamois skin. “A little
treatment by any specialist and it will now
be all right.”
Tfllingnast opened the door and Tyson
followea Miss McArthur out. Neither said
a word to Flaubert, who had crumpled in
a comer.
When they reached the dock Tillinghast
queried:
“Are you seeing Miss McArthur home,
Tyson?’
“I should be pleased to,” answered the
young fellow feelingly, for it was quite
evident that he had swtmg back to his
admiration of the actress, now that her
face presented a more normal appearance.
“Not if I know.it,” exclaimed Miss
McArthur. “I’ve had enough of you.
You’re a Johnny and you always will be
a Johnny,” she turned on Tyson savagely,
“and it would have served you right if
Flaubert had married you.”
Tillinghast shook Tyson’s hand in parting
and put Miss McArthur in a taxi, stopping
just long enough to assure her that he
would be responsible for the bill to finish
the work on her face.
Next night at the club, the same man
he had talked with before the fireplace on
the preceding day came up and smiled to
Tillinghast:
“I see Flaubert sailed to-day, heaping
maledictions on the heads of all Americans,
calling us crude, and saying we had no
chiva^ and were ignorant of all sporting
instinct.”
“Yes, that’s what they all say,” repUed
Tillinghast in his usual weary tone, “and
I guess it’s more or less true.”
“I suppose that poor woman whose
advertisement you showed me among
the * Personals’ will never see Flaubert
again?”
“Probably not,” replied Tillinghast, “but
then, she’ll doubtless find somebody else
to do the work. She is probably an actress
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