Chapter Eighteen. The Ladybird.

The note enclosed with the cheap little brooch ran,—

“If your Imperial Highness will wear this always in a prominent position, so that it can be seen, she will receive the assistance of unknown friends.”

That was all. Yet it was surely a curious request, for her to wear that cheap little ornament.

She turned it over in her hand, then placing it upon a black dress, saw how very prominently the scarlet insect showed.

Then she replaced all the jewels in her bag and retired, full of reflections upon her meeting with the friendly thieves and her curious adventure.

Next morning she took the bag to the Crédit Lyonnais, as Roddy Redmayne had suggested, where it was sealed and a receipt for it was given her. After that she breathed more freely, for the recovery of her jewels now obviated the necessity of her applying either to her father or to Treysa.

The little ladybird she wore, as old Roddy and his companions suggested, and at the bank and in the shops a number of people glanced at it curiously, without, of course, being aware that it was a secret symbol—of what? Claire wondered.

Both Roddy and Guy had told her that they feared to come to her at the Terminus, as a detective was always lurking in the hall; therefore she was not surprised to receive, about four o’clock, a note from Roddy asking her to meet him at the Vachette at nine.

When Ignatia was asleep she took a cab to the dingy little place, where she found Roddy smoking alone at the same table set out upon the pavement, and joined him there. She shook hands with him, and then was compelled to sip the bock he ordered.

“We will go in a moment,” he whispered, so that a man seated near should not overhear. “I thought it best to meet you here rather than risk your hotel. Our friend Bourne asked me to present his best compliments. He left this morning for London.”

“For London! Why?”

“Because—well,” he added, with a mysterious smile, “there were two agents of police taking an undue interest in him, you know.”

“Ah!” she laughed; “I understand perfectly.”

The old thief, who wore evening dress beneath his light black overcoat, smoked his cigar with an easy, nonchalant air. He passed with every one as an elderly Englishman of comfortable means; yet if one watched closely his quick eyes and the cunning look which sometimes showed in them, they would betray to the observer that he was a sly, ingenious old fellow—a perfect past master of his craft.

Presently they rose, and after she had dismissed her cab, walked in company along the narrow street, at that hour almost deserted.

“The reason I asked you here, your Highness, was to give you the proceeds of the necklet. I sold it to-day to old Perrin for twelve hundred and sixty pounds. A small price, but it was all he would give, as, of course, he believed that I could never have come by it honestly,” and he grinned broadly, taking from his pocket an envelope bulky with French thousand-franc bank-notes and handing it to her.

“I am really very much obliged,” she answered, transferring the envelope to her pocket. “You have rendered me another very great service, Mr Redmayne; for as a matter of fact I was almost at the end of my money, and to apply for any would have at once betrayed my whereabouts.”

“Ah, your Highness,” replied the old thief, “you also have rendered me a service; for with what you gave us last night we shall be able to leave Paris at once. And it is highly necessary, I can tell you, if we are to retain our liberty.”

“Oh! then you also are leaving,” she exclaimed, surprised, as they walked slowly side by side. She almost regretted, for he had acted with such friendliness towards her.

“Yes; it is imperative. I go to Brussels, and Kinder to Ostend. Are you making a long stay here?”

“To-morrow I too may go; but I don’t know where.”

“Why not to London, Princess?” he suggested. “My daughter Leucha is there, and would be delighted to be of any service to you—act as your maid or nurse to the little Princess. She’s a good girl, is Leucha.”

“Is she married?” asked her Highness.

“No. I trained her, and she’s as shrewd and clever a young woman as there is in all London. She’s a lady’s maid,” he added, “and to tell you the truth—for you may as well know it at first as at last—she supplies us with much valuable information. She takes a place, for instance, in London or in the country, takes note of where her lady’s jewels are kept, and if they are accessible, gives us all the details how best to secure them, and then, on ground of ill-health, or an afflicted mother, or some such excuse, she leaves. And after a week or two we just look in and see what we can pick up. So clever is she that never once has she been suspected,” he added, with paternal pride. “Of course, it isn’t a nice profession for a girl,” he added apologetically, “and I’d like to see her doing something honest. Yet how can she? we couldn’t get on without her.”

The Princess remained silent for a few moments. Surely her life now was a strange contrast to that at Treysa, mixing with criminals and becoming the confidante of their secrets!

“I should like to meet your daughter,” she remarked simply.

“If your Imperial Highness would accept her services, I’m sure she might be of service to you. She’s a perfect maid, all the ladies have said; and besides, she knows the world, and would protect you in your present dangerous and lonely position. You want a female companion—if your Highness will permit me to say so—and if you do not object to my Leucha on account of her profession, you are entirely welcome to her services, which to you will be faithful and honest, if nothing else.”

“You are very fond of her!” the Princess exclaimed. “Very, your Highness. She is my only child. My poor wife died when she was twelve, and ever since that she has been with us, living upon her wits—and living well too. To confess all this to you I am ashamed; yet now you know who and what I am, and you are our friend, it is only right that you should be made aware of everything,” the old fellow said frankly.

“Quite right. I admire you for telling me the truth. In a few days I shall cross to London, and shall be extremely glad of your daughter’s services if you will kindly write to her.”

“When do you think of leaving?”

“Well, probably the day after to-morrow, by the first service via Calais.”

“Then Leucha shall meet that train on arrival at Charing Cross. She will be dressed as a maid, in black, with a black straw sailor hat and a white lace cravat. She will at once enter your service. The question of salary will not be discussed. You have assisted us, and it is our duty to help you in return, especially at this most perilous moment, when you are believed to have eloped with a lover.”

“I’m sure you are very, very kind, Mr Redmayne,” she declared. “Truth to tell, it is so very difficult for me to know in whom to trust; I have been betrayed so often. But I have every confidence in both you and your daughter; therefore I most gladly accept your offer, for, as you say, I am sadly in need of some one to look after the child—some one, indeed, in whom I can trust.” An exalted charm seemed to invest her always.

“Well, your Highness,” exclaimed the pleasant-faced old fellow, “you have been kind and tolerant to us unfortunates, and I hope to prove to you that even a thief can show his gratitude.”

“You have already done so, Mr Redmayne; and believe me, I am very much touched by all that you have done—your actions are those of an honest man, not those of an outlaw.”

“Don’t let us discuss the past, your Highness,” he said, somewhat confused by her kindly words; “let’s think of the future—your own future, I mean. You can trust Leucha implicitly, and as the police, fortunately, have no suspicion of her, she will be perfectly free to serve you. Hitherto she has always obtained employment with an ulterior motive, but this fact, I hope, will not prejudice her in your eyes. I can only assure you that for her father’s sake she will do anything, and that for his sake she will serve you both loyally and well.” He halted beneath a street lamp, and tearing a leaf from a small notebook, wrote an address in Granville Gardens, Shepherd’s Bush, which he gave to her, saying: “This is in case you miss her at Charing Cross. Send her a letter, and she will at once come to you.”

Again she thanked him, and they walked to the corner of the Boulevard Saint Germain, where they halted to part.

“Remember, Princess, command me in any way,” said the old man, raising his hat politely. “I am always at your service. I have not concealed anything from you. Take me as I am, your servant.”

“Thank you, Mr Redmayne. I assure you I deeply appreciate and am much touched by your kindness to a defenceless woman. Au revoir.” And giving him her hand again, she mounted into a fiacre and drove straight back to her hotel.

Her friendship with this gang of adventurers was surely giving a curious turn to the current of strange events. She, a woman of imperial birth, had at last found friends, and among the class where one would hesitate to look for them—the outcasts of society! The more she reflected upon the situation, the more utterly bewildering it was to her. She was unused as a child to the ways of the world. Her life had always been spent within the narrow confines of the glittering Courts of Europe, and she had only known of “the people” vaguely. Every hour she now lived more deeply impressed her that “the people” possessed a great and loving heart for the ill-judged and the oppressed.

At the hotel she counted the notes Roddy had given her, and found the sum that he had named. The calm, smiling old fellow was actually an honest thief!

The following day she occupied herself in making some purchases, and in the evening a police agent called in order to inform her that up to the present nothing had been ascertained regarding her stolen jewels. They had knowledge of a gang of expert English jewel-thieves being in Paris, and were endeavouring to discover them.

The Princess heard what the man said, but, keeping her own counsel, thanked him for his endeavours and dismissed him. She congratulated herself that Roddy and his two associates were already out of France.

On the following afternoon, about half-past four, when the Continental express drew slowly into Charing Cross Station, where a knot of eager persons as usual awaited its arrival, the Princess, leading little Ignatia and wearing the ladybird as a brooch, descended from a first-class compartment and looked about her in the bustling crowd of arrivals. A porter took her wraps and placed them in a four-wheeled cab for her, and then taking her baggage ticket said,—

“You’ll meet me yonder at the Custom ’ouse, mum,” leaving her standing by the cab, gazing around for the woman in black who was to be her maid. For fully ten minutes, while the baggage was being taken out of the train, she saw no one answering to Roddy’s description of his daughter; but at last from out of the crowd came a tall, slim, dark-haired, rather handsome young woman, with black eyes and refined, regular features, neatly dressed in black, wearing a sailor hat, a white lace cravat, and black kid gloves.

As she approached the Princess smiled at her; whereupon the girl, blushing in confusion, asked simply,—

“Is it the Crown Princess Claire? or am I mistaken?”

“Yes. And you are Leucha Redmayne,” answered her Highness, shaking hands with her, for from the first moment she became favourably impressed.

“Oh, your Highness, I really hope I have not kept you waiting,” she exclaimed concernedly. “But father’s letter describing you was rather hurried and vague, and I’ve seen several ladies alone with little girls, though none of them seemed to be—well, not one of them seemed to be a Princess—only yourself. Besides, you are wearing the little ladybird.”

Her Highness smiled, explained that she was very friendly with her father, who had suggested that she should enter her service as maid, and expressed a hope that she was willing.

“My father has entrusted to me a duty, Princess,” was the dark-eyed girl’s serious reply. “And I hope that you will not find me wanting in the fulfilment of it.”

And then they went together within the Customs barrier and claimed the baggage.

The way in which she did this showed the Princess at once that Leucha Redmayne was a perfectly trained maid.

How many ladies, she wondered, had lost their jewels after employing her?