III
Miss La Chêne was the first to recover.
“Who are you?” she demanded in a small, defiant voice.
“I?” said he, surprised. “B-but the thing is, who are you? I’m Robinson.”
Impossible! This mild and nervous gentleman the heartless brute who had ruined Mrs. Robinson’s life, shattered her illusions, and made her the nervous wreck she was? And yet, looking at him, Miss La Chêne could not doubt him. He seemed authentic.
“I’m Mrs. Robinson’s companion,” she said. “I—she—”
Then, so abashed was she, so humiliated at being caught thus, bedecked in Mrs. Robinson’s jewels, that she began to cry. She would not admit that she was crying, however. With great tears rolling down her cheeks and her lashes like wet rays, she explained, in a formal tone, that Mrs. Robinson had left her behind to pack, and that she had just tried on the—the jewels.
“W-well, what of it?” he said cheerfully. “Th-there’s no harm done. See here! Please don’t cry! Why shouldn’t you t-try on the things? Very natural!” He paused. “And very becoming,” he added, with a singularly nice sort of smile.
She liked him. He was kind and courteous, and he evidently admired her. When he asked where his wife had gone, Miss La Chêne found that she was sorry for him. He was so innocent, so absolutely unaware of his latest crime. He said that he had “popped in to surprise her.”
For an instant the tactful and zealous companion was at a loss. She was not very old and not very experienced, and this seemed to be rather a delicate matter; but she was a warm-hearted little thing, and pretty sharp-witted, and she was convinced now that Mr. Robinson was an old darling,[Pg 197] and badly misunderstood. So she told him the truth, in the most tactful way she could.
“B-but, good Lord!” cried the unfortunate man. “There might be t-ten Robinsons in a b-big hotel!”
“I know,” Miss La Chêne agreed. “I said that to Mrs. Robinson, but you know how—sensitive and high-strung she is.”
“Yes,” he said ruefully. “Yes, she is.” He sighed. “Well!” he said, and sighed again.
Miss La Chêne took advantage of his abstraction to retire to another room, to take off her borrowed ornaments, and to restore her costume to its usual demure neatness. When she came back with the jewels in her hand, to restore them to the case, she found Mr. Robinson sitting in a chair, staring before him, profoundly dejected. The only thought that entered her kind little heart was a very admirable and very feminine desire to cheer and comfort this unhappy man.
“Wouldn’t you like a cup of tea, Mr. Robinson?” she asked.
“Why, yes, I should,” he replied, very much pleased.
So Miss La Chêne telephoned downstairs to the restaurant, and a tea was sent up, but it did not suit the fastidious young woman. She did magical things to it with various electric devices; and the tea itself was so delectable, and the temporary hostess was so gay and amusing and delightful and kind, that Robinson soon completely recovered his spirits. He was a very good sort of fellow, too, when he had half a chance, and altogether they were so cozy and jolly that they quite forgot the time, until the clock struck.
Then, startled as Cinderella was by the same sound, Miss La Chêne sprang up from the tea table.
“Mon Dieu!” she cried. “Quatre heures! Madame sera bien fâchée! Mais que je suis bête! Mon Dieu!”
All this sounded very alarming to Robinson. He was relieved to hear that the only trouble was that the bank had closed at three o’clock, and Miss La Chêne could not deposit the jewels, as she had been directed to do.
“Well, if that’s all,” said he, “I’ll take ’em myself to-morrow morning. You run along and catch your train, and don’t worry.”
Then he had to spoil all that cheerful, innocent little hour they had had together. His face grew red, and he did not care to look at Miss La Chêne.
“Er,” he stammered, “I—I—I think it would be just as well not to mention to Mrs. Robinson—”
“Very well, Mr. Robinson,” said she.