CHAPTER XIIMAUD REFUSES TO BE RESCUED
CHAPTER XII
MAUD REFUSES TO BE RESCUED
When the “Automobile Girls” chaperoned by Miss Sallie, descended to the hotel ball room that evening, where a hop was in progress, the orchestra was playing the “Blue Danube” and Maud and the Count de Sonde were waltzing together. The spectators seated along the wall smiled in spite of themselves for the count’s style of dancing was far from graceful. His idea of waltzing consisted in whirling his partner round and round, and as Maud was at least four inches taller than the count and very thin, the effect was indescribably ridiculous.
“How absurd the count looks!” Bab exclaimed to Ruth. “Just look at those high heels and that strutting walk! Do you suppose Maud Warren can really care for him?”
“No; I don’t think she cares for him at all,” Ruth returned. “It is the lure of his title that has fascinated Maud. The title, ‘Count de Sonde’ is like music in her ears.”
“Do you think Mr. Warren would disinherit Maud, if she married the count?” asked Bab.
Ruth shook her head. “Mr. Warren gaveMaud half a million dollars in her own name a year ago,” Ruth explained. “So, you see, she is an heiress already. Besides, Mr. Warren would never forsake Maud. He simply adores her. I think he went off on that fishing trip with father just to keep from seeing Maud carry on. He thinks Aunt Sallie may be able to influence her while he is gone. But do look at Miss Sarah Stuart, Bab!”
Miss Sallie swept down the ball-room floor in a handsome black satin and jet evening gown, with Mrs. De Lancey Smythe in her wake.
There was the fire of battle in Miss Stuart’s eye. On the widow’s cheeks burned two flaming signals of wrath.
“Maud Warren was left in my care by her father, Mrs. Smythe,” declared Miss Sallie. “In Mr. Warren’s absence I forbid Maud’s going about unchaperoned with the Count de Sonde.”
“Miss Warren is not a child, Miss Stuart,” replied Mrs. De Lancey Smythe angrily. “If she chooses to go about with the count I hardly see how you can prevent it. The Count de Sonde is a noble, trustworthy young man.”
“Miss Warren shall not go with him against my wishes,” replied Miss Stuart quietly, “and I fail to see how the matter can possibly interest you.”
Mrs. De Lancey Smythe’s voice trembled with rage. “You appear to be excessively strict with Miss Warren, Miss Stuart,” she returned, “yet you allow your niece and her friends to associate, every day, with a woman who is entirely unknown to you, a woman about whom this entire hotel is talking.”
“Whom do you mean?” Miss Sallie demanded. She was exceedingly angry.
“Mean?” Mrs. De Lancey Smythe laughed mockingly. “I mean this so called Countess Sophia von Stolberg. She is no more a countess than I am. She is a fugitive and a swindler. She will be arrested as soon as there is sufficient evidence against her.”
The “Automobile Girls” had moved up close to Miss Sallie. They waited to hear what she would say in regard to the countess.
“I do not believe the countess to be an impostor. She is our friend,” replied Miss Stuart. “I think we need have no further conversation. Miss Warren will do as I request.” Without answering the other woman moved away with flashing eyes and set lips, leaving Miss Sallie in triumphant possession of the situation.
In a few moments Maud Warren came over to where Miss Sallie and the “Automobile Girls” were still standing.
“Maud, won’t you come up to our room to-night after the dance?” Ruth urged. “We thought it would be jolly to make some fudge in a chafing dish.”
“Can you cook?” laughed Maud. “How funny! It is awfully good of you to ask me to join you, but I have another engagement for this evening.”
“Maud,” said Miss Sallie firmly, “your father left you in my charge. I cannot permit you to keep an engagement with the Count de Sonde.”
Maud was speechless with astonishment. No one had ever forbidden her to do anything in her life. Her father had always tried persuasion and argument. Ruth’s eyes twinkled as she saw the effect Miss Sallie’s firmness had upon Maud. Greatly to her surprise Maud Warren answered quite meekly: “Very well, Miss Stuart. I will not see him if you do not wish it.”
The “Automobile Girls” breathed a sigh of relief. They had feared another battle between Miss Sallie and Maud.
“This is jolly!” exclaimed Maud Warren, an hour later. The five girls were in Ruth’s sitting-room. They were eating delicious squares of warm chocolate fudge.
“I am glad you are enjoying yourself,”replied Ruth. “We would be glad to see you often, but you always seem to be busy.”
Maud tried to look unconscious. “It’s the count’s fault. The poor fellow has a dreadful crush on me,” she sighed.
“Do you care for him?” asked Barbara bluntly.
Maud simpered. “I really don’t know,” she replied. “I think the Count de Sonde has a beautiful soul. He tells me I have a remarkable mind—such sympathy, such understanding!”
Ruth choked over a piece of fudge. The other girls seemed to regard her accident as a tremendous joke. Maud was entirely unconscious that she had anything to do with their merriment.
“Then you really like the count very much!” exclaimed Mollie, opening her pretty blue eyes so wide that Maud was amused.
“You dear little innocent thing!” returned Miss Warren. “Of course I think the count a very interesting man. I don’t deny he has taken my fancy. But as for being in love with him—well, that is another thing.”
“Do you really know anything about the count, Maud?” asked Ruth. “Your father doesn’t approve of him, and don’t you think he knows best?”
“Oh, father never approves of any of my friends,” complained Maud Warren impatiently. “But Mrs. De Lancey Smythe is on my side. She likes the count.”
“But do you know much about Mrs. De Lancey Smythe?” Ruth went on.
Maud was nettled. “Mrs. De Lancey Smythe is a Virginian, and belongs to an old southern family,” she returned.
The “Automobile Girls” looked uncomfortable. It was Ruth who finally spoke.
“I hope you won’t be angry, Maud. It is only because we like you that I am going to tell you something you ought to know. Some one told me to warn you to be careful.”
“Careful about what?” cried Maud, though her flushed face betrayed the answer she expected.
“The Count de Sonde,” replied Ruth.
“But what have you heard against him?” demanded Maud indignantly.
It was Ruth’s turn to flush. What had she heard? If only the countess had been a little less vague in her accusations against the count.
“I am afraid I don’t know anything very definite to tell you,” Ruth confessed, in an embarrassed tone. “Yet we have heard rumors about the count. Foreign noblemen are often fortune-hunters, you know.”
“My dear Ruth, the Count de Sonde is not in need of money,” protested Maud. “He is very wealthy. Only the other day he showed me a letter from his lawyer. It spoke of two hundred thousand francs. It is true the letter was written in French. But the count translated it for me. And then, of course, I know a little French myself.”
“Oh, well,” sighed Ruth, “perhaps we have no right to suspect him. But, Maud, I beg of you to go slowly. You may be mistaken in the count. Think how you would regret it if you were to marry him and find afterwards that he had deceived you.”
“Marry the count!” Maud’s tones expressed great astonishment, then she gave a satisfied laugh. “Don’t worry about my affairs. The count is a real nobleman,” she declared.
A knock sounded at the door, and a bellboy handed Ruth a note. It was addressed to Miss Warren. Ruth gave it to her. Maud opened it. A gratified smile overspread her face, then turning to the “Automobile Girls” she said: “Will you please excuse me, girls, I want to go up to my room for a little while. I will be back in a few minutes.”
The girls ate their fudge in silence for a time. Maud did not return.
“I wonder if Maud is coming back?”remarked Barbara, after a little. “Somehow, I am sorry for Maud. It must be dangerous to be so rich and so silly at the same time.”
“I am afraid Maud is hopeless,” Ruth contended. “I don’t believe it is going to do the slightest good for us to warn her against the count. I wonder if we could manage to save her in any other way?”
Miss Sallie came into the room. “Where is Maud Warren?” she demanded immediately.
The “Automobile Girls” could only explain Maud had gone to her room.
Miss Sallie rang the bell, and sent a maid to inquire for Maud.
The answer came back a few moments later. “Miss Warren had left the hotel for the evening with several friends.”
Miss Stuart said nothing. But the “Automobile Girls” knew Miss Sallie would never forgive Maud Warren for her disobedience.
The four girls were almost ready to say good night, when another light tap sounded at their door.
The girls lowered their voices. Perhaps Maud had lost heart, and had returned to them after all.
Barbara went to the door. It was Marian De Lancey Smythe who had knocked. She wished to speak with Bab for a moment.
Five minutes later Barbara returned to her friends, looking considerably mystified.
“Now, Barbara Thurston, what did Marian Smythe have to say to you?” demanded Mollie. “It is not fair, your having secrets with her from the rest of us.”
“Oh, Marian asked me if we were going to the countess’s to dinner to-morrow night,” Bab replied.
“What a strange question!” exclaimed Grace Carter. “I don’t see why she should care where we go to dinner.”
“Perhaps she had some plan or other on hand herself that she wanted us to take part in,” suggested Mollie.
Bab was silent.
“By the way,” exclaimed Ruth, “did you know I received a letter to-day from darling Olive Prescott? She and Jack have arrived in Paris, and have set up housekeeping in the dearest little flat in the Rue de Varennes. They live on the top floor, and Jack has the front room for his studio. Of course Olive declares Jack is the best husband in the world. He is painting Olive’s portrait for the Paris Salon, and working desperately hard so as to have it finished by April. Come, let’s go to bed.”
Just as Barbara was dropping off to sleep Ruth gave her a little shake.
“Tell me Barbara Thurston, what Marian De Lancey Smythe said to you in the hall!”
“I told you, child,” murmured Bab hesitatingly.
“Honor bright, did you tell us everything, Bab Thurston?”
“No-o-o, not everything,” admitted Bab. “This is exactly what Marian said: ‘Barbara are you going to dine with the countess to-morrow night?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied. Then she said: ‘You had better not go. But if you do go, come home early, and don’t ask me the reason, why.”
“We’ll go, sure as fate!” exclaimed Ruth. “No matter what Marian says.”