We Two [180]
morning, and shake myself," she said, laughing.
And probably a good many people in Innsbruck were that evening in like case.
Notwithstanding the discomforts, however, and the past excitement, that was the first night in which Erica had really slept since the day at Fiesole, the first night unbroken by dreams about Brian, unhaunted by that blanched, rigid face, which had stamped its image indelibly upon her brain in the amphitheatre. She awoke, too, without that almost intolerable dread of the coming day which had hitherto made early morning hateful to her. It was everything to have an actual and practicable duty ready to hand, everything to have a busy present which would crowd out past and future, if only for a few hours. Also, the disaster had its comic side. Through the thin partition she could hear distinctly the complaints of the people in the next room.
"How ARE we to get on with no soap? Do go and see if James has any."
Then came steps in the passage, and a loud knock at the opposite door.
"James!"
No answer. A furiously loud second knock.
"JAMES!"
"What's the matter? Another fire?"
"Have you any soap?"
"Any what?" sleepily.
"Any SOAP?"
Apparently James was not the happy possessor of that necessary of life for the steps retreated, and the bell was violently rung.
"'What, no soap?'" exclaimed Erica, laughing; "'so he died, and she very imprudently married the barber, etc.'"
The chamber maid came to answer the bell.
"Send some one to the nearest shop, please, and get me some soap."
"And a sponge," said another.
"And a brush and comb," said the first.
"Oh! And some hair pins," echoed the other. "Why, destruction! She doesn't understand a word! What's the German for soap? Give me 'Travel Talk.'"
"It's burned."
"Well, then, show her the soap dish! Brush your hair with your hands! This is something between Drum Crambo and Mulberry Bush!"
The whole day was not unlike a fatiguing game of hide-and-seek, and had it not been for Raeburn's great anxiety, it would have been exceedingly amusing. Everything was now inside the hotel again, but of course in the wildest confusion. The personal property of the visitors was placed, as it came to light, in the hall porter's little room; but things were to be met with in all directions. At ten o'clock, one of Raeburn's boots was found on the third story; in the evening, its fellow turned up in the entrance hall. Distracted tourists were to be seen in all directions, burrowing under heaps of clothes, or vainly opening cupboards and drawers, and the delight of finding even the most trifling possession was great. For hours Raeburn and Erica searched for the lost papers in vain. At length, in the evening, the coat was found; but, alas! The pocket was empty.
"The envelope must have been taken out," said Erica. "Was it directed?"
"Unfortunately, yes," said Raeburn. "But, after all, there is still a chance that it may have tumbled out as the coat fell. If so, we may find it elsewhere. I've great faith in the honesty of these Innsbruck people, notwithstanding the craze of some of them that property is theft. That worthy man yesterday was right, I expect. I hear that the proprietor had had a threatening letter not long ago to this effect:
"'Sein thun unser Dreissig, Schuren thun wir fleissig. Dem Armen that's nichts Dem Reichen schad's nichts.
That is tolerably unmistakable, I think. I'll have it in next week's 'Idol,' with an article on the folly of socialism."
Judicious offers of reward failed to bring the papers to light, and Raeburn was so much vexed about it, and so determined to search every nook and cranny of the hotel, that it was hard to get him away even for meals. Erica could not help feeling that it was hard that the brief days of relaxation he had allowed himself should be so entirely spoiled.
"Now, if I were a model daughter, I should dream where to find the thing," she said, laughingly, as she wished him good night.
She did not dream at all, but she was up as soon as it was
And probably a good many people in Innsbruck were that evening in like case.
Notwithstanding the discomforts, however, and the past excitement, that was the first night in which Erica had really slept since the day at Fiesole, the first night unbroken by dreams about Brian, unhaunted by that blanched, rigid face, which had stamped its image indelibly upon her brain in the amphitheatre. She awoke, too, without that almost intolerable dread of the coming day which had hitherto made early morning hateful to her. It was everything to have an actual and practicable duty ready to hand, everything to have a busy present which would crowd out past and future, if only for a few hours. Also, the disaster had its comic side. Through the thin partition she could hear distinctly the complaints of the people in the next room.
"How ARE we to get on with no soap? Do go and see if James has any."
Then came steps in the passage, and a loud knock at the opposite door.
"James!"
No answer. A furiously loud second knock.
"JAMES!"
"What's the matter? Another fire?"
"Have you any soap?"
"Any what?" sleepily.
"Any SOAP?"
Apparently James was not the happy possessor of that necessary of life for the steps retreated, and the bell was violently rung.
"'What, no soap?'" exclaimed Erica, laughing; "'so he died, and she very imprudently married the barber, etc.'"
The chamber maid came to answer the bell.
"Send some one to the nearest shop, please, and get me some soap."
"And a sponge," said another.
"And a brush and comb," said the first.
"Oh! And some hair pins," echoed the other. "Why, destruction! She doesn't understand a word! What's the German for soap? Give me 'Travel Talk.'"
"It's burned."
"Well, then, show her the soap dish! Brush your hair with your hands! This is something between Drum Crambo and Mulberry Bush!"
The whole day was not unlike a fatiguing game of hide-and-seek, and had it not been for Raeburn's great anxiety, it would have been exceedingly amusing. Everything was now inside the hotel again, but of course in the wildest confusion. The personal property of the visitors was placed, as it came to light, in the hall porter's little room; but things were to be met with in all directions. At ten o'clock, one of Raeburn's boots was found on the third story; in the evening, its fellow turned up in the entrance hall. Distracted tourists were to be seen in all directions, burrowing under heaps of clothes, or vainly opening cupboards and drawers, and the delight of finding even the most trifling possession was great. For hours Raeburn and Erica searched for the lost papers in vain. At length, in the evening, the coat was found; but, alas! The pocket was empty.
"The envelope must have been taken out," said Erica. "Was it directed?"
"Unfortunately, yes," said Raeburn. "But, after all, there is still a chance that it may have tumbled out as the coat fell. If so, we may find it elsewhere. I've great faith in the honesty of these Innsbruck people, notwithstanding the craze of some of them that property is theft. That worthy man yesterday was right, I expect. I hear that the proprietor had had a threatening letter not long ago to this effect:
"'Sein thun unser Dreissig, Schuren thun wir fleissig. Dem Armen that's nichts Dem Reichen schad's nichts.
That is tolerably unmistakable, I think. I'll have it in next week's 'Idol,' with an article on the folly of socialism."
Judicious offers of reward failed to bring the papers to light, and Raeburn was so much vexed about it, and so determined to search every nook and cranny of the hotel, that it was hard to get him away even for meals. Erica could not help feeling that it was hard that the brief days of relaxation he had allowed himself should be so entirely spoiled.
"Now, if I were a model daughter, I should dream where to find the thing," she said, laughingly, as she wished him good night.
She did not dream at all, but she was up as soon as it was