The Magic Curtain Part 35

For all this, when the curtain was run down upon the scene, the applause, as before, lacked enthusiasm. She answered but one curtain call, then crept away alone to clench her small hands hard in an endeavor to keep back the tears and to pray as she had never prayed before, that Marjory Dean might arrive prepared to play her part before the curtain went up on the second act.

But now a strange thing was happening. From one corner of the house there came a low whisper and a murmur. It grew and grew; it spread and spread until, like a fire sweeping the dead gra.s.s of the prairies, it had pa.s.sed to the darkest nook of the vast auditorium.

Curiously enough, a name was on every lip;

"Pet.i.te Jeanne!"

Someone, a fan of other days, had penetrated the girl's mask and had seen there the light opera favorite of a year before. A thousand people in that audience had known and loved her in those good dead days that were gone.

When Jeanne, having waited and hoped in vain for the appearance of her friend and benefactor, summoned all the courage she possessed, and once more stepped upon the stage, she was greeted by such a round of applause as she had never before experienced--not even in the good old days of yesteryear.

This vast audience had suddenly taken her to its heart. How had this come about? Ah, well, what did it matter? They were hers, hers for one short hour. She must make the most of this golden opportunity.

That which followed, the completing of the "Juggler," the opening of "The Magic Curtain," the complete triumph of this new American opera, will always remain to Jeanne a beautiful dream. She walked and danced, she sang and bowed as one in a dream.

The great moment of all came when, after answering the fifth curtain call with her name, "Pet.i.te Jeanne! Pet.i.te Jeanne!" echoing to the vaulted ceiling, she left the stage to walk square into the arms of Marjory Dean.

"Why, I thought--" She paused, too astounded for words.

"You thought I had fallen from a horse. So I did--a leather horse with iron legs. It was in a gymnasium. Rosemary pushed me off. Truly it did not hurt at all."

"A frame-up!" Jeanne stared.

"Yes, a frame-up for a good cause. 'The Magic Curtain' was yours, not mine. You discovered it. It was through your effort that this little opera was perfected. It was yours, not mine. Your golden hour."

"My golden hour!" the little French girl repeated dreamily. "But not ever again. Not until I have sung and sung, and studied and studied shall I appear again on such a stage!"

"Child, you have the wisdom of the G.o.ds."

"But the director!" Jeanne's mood changed. "Does he not hate you?"

"Quite the contrary. He loves me. Why should he not? I have found him a fresh little American opera and a future star. His vast audience has gone away happy. What more could he ask?"

What more, indeed?

But what is this? Florence is at Jeanne's side. What is she saying? "They think they have discovered the whereabouts of Rosemary's pearls. On the island." Would she go with them? Most certainly, and at once. But alas, she has no clothes save those of Pierre, the usher of the boxes. Ah, well, they must do. She will be ready at once. Yes! Yes! At once! Right away!

They were all tumbling helter-skelter into the big town car, Jeanne, Florence, Rosemary, Jaeger, the "lady cop" and even Marjory Dean, when a dapper little man approached the car to ask for Pet.i.te Jeanne.

"She is here," the "lady cop" informed him. Indeed she was, and wedged in so tight it was difficult to move.

"Ah! At last!" the little man sighed. "May I speak with her? It has been my privilege to bear a message from France."

"A message!" Jeanne thrilled to the tips of her toes.

"I am afraid it is impossible." The "lady cop's" tone was business-like.

"It is late. Our errand is of the greatest importance."

"So, too, is my message. If you will permit, I shall accompany you."

Looking in the crowded car, he opened the driver's door and, hearing no objections, took his place beside the chauffeur.

"And mystery still pursued her," Florence whispered to herself, as she studied the back of the little Frenchman's head.

Jeanne was crowded in between Rosemary and the "lady cop." As Rosemary's arm stole about her, still conscious of her dress suit and her masquerade, she moved uneasily.

"It's all right, little French girl," Rosemary whispered. "I have known all the time that you were Pet.i.te Jeanne and not Pierre.

"All the same," she added, "I have enjoyed this little play at life quite as much as you."

With a little sigh of relief Jeanne sank back among the cus.h.i.+ons.

Down the boulevard they sped; across a rattling wooden bridge, then across the wind-blown, sandy island.

The car came to a stop at the entrance to the path that led to Aunt Bobby's "Cathedral."

"You would do well to let me go first," Florence said to Jaeger and the "lady cop." "Meg, the girl, has two fine revolvers. She can use them and will do so if she believes she is being attacked."

Fortunately there was no trouble about securing an entrance. The strange pair had not yet retired. At the sound of Florence's voice they threw wide the door. At sight of her numerous company, however, they appeared ready to slam it shut again.

"Just a little lark." Florence rea.s.sured them. "We have come all the way from the opera to a 'Cathedral.'"

"Well, come in then." Aunt Bobby moved aside to let them pa.s.s.

"You see," said Florence, when they had crowded into the small living room, "this lady here," she nodded at the "lady cop," "has a curious notion about that birthday package of yours, Meg. She believes it contains a pearl necklace of great value."

"But I--" Meg's face flushed.

"A reward of a thousand dollars has been offered for its return," the "lady cop" put in quickly. "If you have recovered it, that reward will be your own. Think what that will mean."

"But I have waited all this time!" Meg protested. "And to-morrow is my birthday."

Florence glanced hastily at her watch. She smiled. "Not to-morrow, but to-day." She showed that it was fifteen minutes past twelve.

With her last objection overruled, Meg produced the mysterious package.

At once a little circle of eager ones gathered about her.

With trembling hands, she untied the cord. She had all but unrolled the black wrapping when the package, slipping from her nerveless fingers, fell to the floor.

At once there came flas.h.i.+ng back to them all manner of color: white, pink, red and green.

"Not pearls alone, but diamonds, rubies, sapphires!" the "lady cop" said, in an awed tone. "What a treasure!"

At the same time, with a little cry of joy, Rosemary bent over to seize her string of pearls and clasp them about her neck.

"A thousand dollars, Meg!" It was Aunt Bobby who spoke. "They said a thousand. That will settle all our troubles for many a day."

"And there will be more, much more." The "lady cop" began carefully gathering up the scattered jewels. "All these were stolen. There will be other rewards, and that which is never claimed may be sold."

"That dark-faced one thought he had chosen a safe place to hide it!" Meg laughed.