"No it wouldn't. These ghastly jokes never come off. They last too long.

While you're about it, have a good dinner for Heaven's sake. And I dare say the people at the Savoy are quite as bad--if that's all--if you only knew, and more up to date."

"Yes, very likely, and people at real places often have no more expression than the waxworks. But, Savile, I thought it was all off between you and Dolly now?"

He answered, with a sigh, "So it is, in a way, but you'll learn in this life, old girl, that you must take what you can get--especially if you're not sure you can get it! Mind you," lowering his voice, "that little foreign bounder, de Saules, isn't going to have it all his own way."

"Oh," Sylvia, being in good spirits, was inclined to tease him, "I should have thought it would be a capital opportunity to show an intelligent foreigner the sights of London!"

"The intelligent foreigners _are_ the sights of London," said Savile as he went out.

The same morning Vera rustled into her friend's room, with her usual air of vagueness and devotion, and said with a sort of despairing cry--

"Oh, Felicity darling! you're the only person in the world who always has clothes for every occasion, and knows everything. How on earth does one dress for Tussaud's? Should you regard it as a Private View, or treat it more like--say--Princes'?"

"Neither. Why on earth Princes'? Were you thinking of bringing your skates?"

"Don't be absurd. Then I had better not wear my new Paquin?"

"Certainly not. Nothing trailing, or showy. But for Heaven's sake don't dress for skating or bicycling. I fancy there is a notice up to say you can't do either of those things there. And please not too much of your Oriental embroideries."

"Well, my new tailor-made dress then, and a large hat?"

Felicity laughed.

"My dear girl, what does it matter? If you fondly imagine that any one will look at your dress while there are _real_ horrors to see----!"

"Darling little creature!" said Vera, who absolutely idolised Felicity, and looked up to her in the most absurd way, although she was five years younger--often taking her ironical advice quite literally, and regarding her as a rare combination of faultless angel, brilliant genius, and perfect beauty.

"And now," said Felicity, standing up to her full height--which was far from imposing--"_Go_, please, Vera! I expect the hairdresser."

"Oh, then, you're taking a little trouble, after all," Vera said, laughing, and she vanished vaguely, behind a brocaded _portiere_, leaving a very faint perfume of gilliflower.

The party met fairly punctually in the hideous hall, furnished with draughts and red velvet. The gloom was intensified by the sound of an emaciated orchestra playing "She was a Miller's Daughter," with a thin reckless airiness that was almost ghostly.

"Let's be a regular party," said Felicity, "and keep together, and get that nice cha.s.seur-looking person to show us round."

Savile and Dolly preferred to stroll about alone, with a catalogue, and "take the Royal Family in their order." Woodville and Sylvia sat down near the band.

The amiable cha.s.seur, who greatly enjoyed his work, and who saw that the living celebrities left our friends rather cold, showed them "The road to ruing," as displayed in six tableaux.

"No. 1, Temptation. 'Ere you see the young man being tempted to 'is ruing by cards--and what not."

The party gazed at the green table on which were strewn a few cards.

"Fancy being able to be ruined by only half a pack of cards!" said Felicity admiringly.

"Who," asked Wilton with interest, "is the lady in crimson satin, with pearls as big as oysters and diamonds like broken windows, holding out her hand so cordially to welcome the young man with long hair and an intelligent expression? (Obviously a very excellent model of Arthur Symons, the poet)."

"Why, she's the Decoy," said the cha.s.seur, with intense relish. A sinister man with very black hair (probably in collusion with the decoy) was looking on, enjoying the scene.

"How symbolic those two champagne-gla.s.ses are on the card-table! What is that dark brown liquid in them?" asked Wilton.

"Still champagne, I suppose," said Felicity.

"Oh dear, yes, ma'am! It ain't been changed. Nothing's been changed."

"How sad it all is!" sighed Vera.

"It gets better later on," said Bertie consolingly.

"No. 3. 'Ere you find 'im ruinged by gambling. Take notice of the evil appearance of 'is accomplice."

The young man was now forging ahead for all he was worth (and a great deal more) with a cheque-book and a fountain pen. The sinister friend was leaning over his shoulder as if to jog his elbow.

"No. 4. 'Ere you see the sad result of all these goings on," said the cha.s.seur morally, if vaguely. "The pore young man is condemned to several years."

"Does he break out again?" asked Wilton.

"Oh, lor', yes, sir! Don't you fret! _he_ breaks out again all right.

And 'ere you 'ave _Revenge_! A dark resolve 'as taken distinct form in the ruinged man's mind."

"Poor man, how long his hair has grown in prison," murmured Felicity sympathetically. "Who has he killed?"

"Why, the decoy!" said the cha.s.seur, "and (if you ask me) serve 'er right!"

"How helpful all this is," said Bertie Wilton. "I feel really a better man since I've seen it. Seriously, I don't think I shall ever drink champagne of that colour now that we have seen the appalling results.

It's a terrible lesson, isn't it, Lady Chetwode?"

They left the young man to his fate and followed the showman.

"'Ere we see Mary Manning, also Frederick George of same name, who, in singularly atrocious circ.u.mstances, killed a retired custom-'ouse officer."

"Why?" asked Vera inquisitively.

"They took against him, miss."

"I think I like the ladies best," said Bertie. "Who is this really terrible-looking woman?"

The showman hurried towards him, still repeating like a parrot what he wished to tell them about Manning.

"Yes, Manning was a railway guard, and 'is wife was highly connected with the best families--as lady's-maid. Ah, sir, you're looking at Cathering Webster. She was executed for the murder of another lady at Richmond. Jealousy was the reason of 'er motive for the crime."

"I say," said Felicity suddenly, to the guide, "don't you find all this terribly depressing? Do you hate all these creatures?"

"No, miss," said the showman smilingly, "I'm so used to them. I regard them almost like relations. 'Ere we 'ave a couple of French criminals.

_Their_ little game, if you please, was to decoy to their 'ome young ladies, and take away all their belongings, and everything else they possessed."

"Oh, how horrid of them!" said Vera indignantly.