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"Such an appellation is anachronistic, incongruous, and infinitely absurd. I can't use it. I must take the liberty of addressing you as Carlotta." "But I've told you that Carlotta is my name," she said, in uncomprehending innocence. "And mine is Sir Marcus Ordeyne. People call me 'Sir Marcus." "Seer Marcous," said Carlotta.
"Steady on, Ordeyne." "Sir," said I, "I found this young lady destitute in the streets of London. She is my wife and therefore a British subject; so you can take yourself and your infamous insinuations to the devil, and the quicker the better." "Or there'll be two of us engaged in the killing," said Pasquale.
Oddly enough I enjoy dining there, although we are on the most formal terms, not having got beyond the "Sir Marcus" and "Mrs. Ordeyne." But both mother and daughter are finely bred gentlewomen, and one meets few, oh, very, very few among the ladies of to-day. I reached home about six and found a telegram awaiting me. "Sorry can't give you dinner. Cook in an impossible condition. Come later.
Pasquale stopped it, squeezed the bundle inside, and held the door open for the faltering and bewildered woman, as if she had been the authentic duchessa at Ealing. "You were saying, Ordeyne," he observed, as the cabman drove off with three shillings and his incoherent fare, "you were saying that your breakfast disagreed with you." In spite of my heaviness of heart, I laughed and loved the man.
"Much," said I. "In the first place you must be aware of what has happened, for I can't help seeing there a letter from Pasquale." She glanced swiftly at the desk and back again at me. "Yes," she replied, "he is in Paris." I was amazed at her nonchalance. "Has he told you nothing?" "Perhaps Sir Marcus Ordeyne would like to see his letter," she said, ironically.
Shall I be accused of harbouring a bevy of odalisques at No. 20 Lingfield Terrace? Calumny and Exaggeration walk abroad, arm in arm, even on the north side of Regent's Park. If they had spied Carlotta at my window this morning, they would have looked in for afternoon tea at my Aunt Jessica's and have waylaid Mrs. Ralph Ordeyne outside the Oratory. The question is: Shall Truth anticipate them?
Henceforward she will regard me only with good-humoured tolerance; I shall be to her but a non-felonious Timkins. I was an idiot to have kissed her in return. I have not seen her since. I lunched at the club, and paid a formal call on Mrs. Ralph Ordeyne and my cousin Rosalie, in their sunless house in Kensington. I met a singular lack of welcome.
"Do I understand that Lady Ordeyne has disappeared?" "Tell me what you have done with her." His crafty features grew satanic; his long fleshy nose squirmed like the proboscis of one of Orcagna's fiends. "Really, Monsieur," said he, with a hideous leer oh, words are impotent to express the ugliness of that face!
LUIGI. Wee looke nowe with desire to understande, howe you would ordeyne the armie to fighte the fielde, with these weapons, and with these order.
I knew that as I opened the door Carlotta would fall laughing, weeping, sobbing into my arms. I opened the door. It was only a police officer in plain clothes. "Sir Marcus Ordeyne?" "Yes." "We have traced the young lady all right. She left London by the two-twenty Continental express from Victoria with Mr. Sebastian Pasquale." November 1st.
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