The Motor Maid | Page 6

man is to
me. And that's why I'm on my way to Cannes to be the companion of
the Princess Boriskoff, who's said to be rather deaf and very
quick-tempered, as well as elderly and a great invalid. She sheds her
paid companions as a tree sheds its leaves in winter. I hear that Europe
is strewn with them."
"Nice prospect for you!"
"Isn't it? But beggars mustn't be choosers."

"You don't look much like a beggar."
"Because I can make my own dresses and hats--and nightgowns."
"Well, if your Princess sheds you, let me know, and you may live yet to
deliver me from Simpkins. I feel you'd be equal to it! My address
is--but I'll give you a card." And, burrowing under her pillow, she
unearthed a fat handbag from which, after some fumbling, she
presented me with a visiting-card, enamelled in an old-fashioned way. I
read: "Miss Paget, 34a Eaton Square. Broomlands House, Surrey."
"Now you're not to lose that," she impressed upon me. "Write if you're
scattered over Europe by this Russian (I never did believe much in
Princesses, excepting, of course, our own dear Royalties), or if you ever
come to England. Even if it's years from now, I assure you Beau and I
won't have forgotten you. As for your address--"
"I haven't any," I said. "At present I'm depending on the Princess for
one. She's at the Hotel Majestic Palace, Cannes; but from what my
friend Pam--the Comtesse de Nesle--says, I fancy she doesn't stop long
in any town. It was the Comtesse de Nesle who got me the place. She's
the only one who knows where I'm going, because--after a fashion, I'm
running away to be the Princess's companion."
"Running away from the Man?"
"Yes; also from my relatives who're sure it's my duty to be his
companion. So you see I can't give you their address. I've ceased to
have any right to it. And now I really think I had better go back to bed."
CHAPTER II
At half-past ten this morning we parted, the best of friends, and I
dropped a good-bye kiss into the deep black gorge between the
promontories of Beau's velvet forehead and plush nose.
We'd had breakfast together, Miss Paget and I, to say nothing of the
dog, and I felt rather cheerful. Of course I dreaded the Princess; but I

always did like adventures, and it appeared to me distinctly an
adventure to be a companion, even in misery. Besides, it was nice to
have come away from Monsieur Charretier, and to feel that not only did
he not know where I was, but that he wasn't likely to find out. Poor me!
I little guessed what an adventure on a grand scale I was in for. Already
this morning seems a long time ago; a year at the Convent used to seem
shorter.
I drove up to the hotel in the omnibus which was at the station, and
asked at the office for the Princess Boriskoff. I said that I was
Mademoiselle d'Angely, and would they please send word to the
Princess, because she was expecting me.
It was a young assistant manager who received me, and he gave me a
very queer, startled sort of look when I said this, as if I were a
suspicious person, and he didn't quite know whether it would be better
to answer me or call for help.
"I haven't made a mistake, have I?" I asked, beginning to be anxious.
"This is the hotel where the Princess is staying, isn't it?"
"She was staying here," the youth admitted. "But--"
"Has she _gone_?"
"Not exactly."
"She must be either here or gone."
Again he regarded me with suspicion, as if he did not agree with my
statement.
"Are you a relative of the Princess?" he inquired.
"No, I'm engaged to be her companion."
"Oh! If that is all! But perhaps, in any case, it will be better to wait for
the manager. He will be here presently. I do not like to take the
responsibility."

"The responsibility of what?" I persisted, my heart beginning to feel
like a patter of rain on a tin roof.
"Of telling you what has happened."
"If something has happened, I can't wait to hear it. I must know at
once," I said, with visions of all sorts of horrid things: that the Princess
had decided not to have a companion, and was going to disown me;
that my cousin Madame Milvaine had somehow found out everything;
that Monsieur Charretier had got on my track, and was here in advance
waiting to pounce upon me.
"It is a thing which we do not want to have talked about in the hotel,"
the young man hesitated.
"I assure you I won't talk to any one.