“Varnished her?”
“Yes. You see I read it in Pithy Paragraphs, an advertisement for Silkoline Soap. It began: ‘No person covered with a coating of varnish could live for more than half an hour.’ That gave me the idea. It closes all the pores, you see. Well, there she was at my mercy. There was a pot of shellac varnish handy. In a few minutes it was done. From toe to top I varnished her. Then threw a sheet over her. And now....”
“Good Heavens! How long ago?”
“I’ve come straight here.”
“Wait, man; perhaps it’s not too late yet. Perhaps—stay here till I get back.”
I leapt down the stairs; caught a taxi that was passing, shouted the number of the house and street, adding that it was a matter of life and death; leaped out before the taxi came to a stand; called to the concierge to follow me, and burst into Lorrimer’s studio. Not a moment too soon. The girl was in a dead faint, and it seemed as if every breath would be her last. In feverish haste I directed the concierge to unstrap her and wrap her up; then, carrying her downstairs, we lifted her into the taxi.
“The baths!” I cried to the chauffeur. “The baths behind the Closerie de Lilas. And hurry, for Heaven’s sake! A life’s at stake.”
In a few minutes we were there, and a nurse had the girl, who had now recovered consciousness, in a hot bath. Then for an hour of throbbing suspense, with aching muscles and dripping brows they fought for her life. As valiantly as ever hero fought with sword and shield they fought with soap and soda. In the end the nurse triumphed. Her skin was considerably damaged but Lucretia was saved.
CHAPTER VI
THE SHADOW OF SUCCESS
I was killing my chief priest in a blaze of glory when Anastasia invaded the room that between meals is called my bureau, at meals the salle-à-manger, in the evening the salon.