to goodness they won’t be full up before I get in.’
And still the queue of girls moved forwards. There were anxious glances in tiny mirrors, and a frenzied powdering of noses. Lipsticks were brandished freely.
‘I wish I had a smarter hat,’ said Jane to herself sadly.
At last it was her turn. Inside the door of the house was a glass door at one side, with the legend, Messrs. Cuthbertsons, inscribed on it. It was through this glass door that the applicants were passing one by one. Jane’s turn came. She drew a deep breath and entered.
Inside was an outer office, obviously intended for clerks. At the end was another glass door. Jane was directed to pass through this, and did so. She found herself in a smaller room. There was a big desk in it, and behind the desk was a keen-eyed man of middle age with a thick rather foreign-looking moustache. His glance swept over Jane, then he pointed to a door on the left.
‘Wait in there, please,’ he said crisply.
Jane obeyed. The apartment she entered was already occupied. Five girls sat there, all very upright and all glaring at each other. It was clear to Jane that she had been included amongst the likely candidates, and her spirits rose. Nevertheless, she was forced to admit that these five girls were equally eligible with herself as far as the terms of the advertisement went.
The time passed. Streams of girls were evidently passing through the inner office. Most of them were dismissed through another door giving on the corridor, but every now and then a recruit arrived to swell the select assembly. At half-past six there were fourteen girls assembled there.
Jane heard a murmur of voices from the inner office, and then the foreign-looking gentleman, whom she had nicknamed in her mind ‘the Colonel’ owing to the military character of his moustache, appeared in the doorway.
‘I will see you ladies one at a time, if you please,’ he announced. ‘In the order in which you arrived, please.’
Jane was, of course, the sixth on the list. Twenty minutes elapsed before she was called in. ‘The Colonel’ was standing with his hands behind his back. He put her through a rapid catechism, tested her knowledge of French, and measured her height.
‘It is possible, mademoiselle,’ he said in French, ‘that you may suit. I do not know. But it is possible.’
‘What is this post, if I may ask?’ said Jane bluntly.
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘That I cannot tell you as yet. If you are chosen – then you shall know.’
‘This seems very mysterious,’ objected Jane. ‘I couldn’t possibly take up anything without knowing all about it. Is it connected with the stage, may I ask?’
‘The stage? Indeed, no.’
‘Oh!’ said Jane, rather taken aback.
He was looking at her keenly.
‘You have intelligence, yes? And discretion?’
‘I’ve quantities of intelligence and discretion,’ said Jane calmly. ‘What about the pay?’
‘The pay will amount to two thousand pounds – for a fortnight’s work.’
‘Oh!’ said Jane faintly.
She was too taken aback by the munificence of the sum named to recover all at once.
The Colonel resumed speaking.
‘One other young lady I have already selected. You and she are equally suitable. There may be others I have not yet seen. I will give you instruction as to your further proceedings. You know Harridge’s Hotel?’
Jane gasped. Who in England did not know Harridge’s Hotel? That famous hostelry situated modestly in a bystreet of Mayfair, where notabilities and royalties arrived and departed as a matter of course. Only this morning Jane had read of the arrival of the Grand Duchess Pauline of Ostrova. She had come over to open a big bazaar in aid of Russian refugees, and was, of course, staying at Harridge’s.
‘Yes,’ said Jane, in answer to the Colonel’s question.
‘Very good. Go there. Ask for Count Streptitch. Send up your card – you have a card?’
Jane produced one. The Colonel took it from her and inscribed in the corner a minute P. He handed the card back to her.
‘That ensures that the count will see you. He will understand that you come from me. The final decision lies with him – and another. If he considers you suitable, he will explain matters to you, and you can accept or decline his proposal. Is that satisfactory?’
‘Perfectly satisfactory,’ said Jane.
‘So far,’ she murmured to herself as she emerged into the street, ‘I can’t see the catch. And yet, there must be one. There’s no such thing as money for nothing. It must be crime! There’s nothing else left.’
Her spirits rose. In moderation Jane did not object to crime. The papers had been full lately of the exploits of various girl bandits. Jane had seriously thought of becoming one if all else failed.
She entered the exclusive portals of Harridge’s with slight trepidation. More than ever, she wished that she had a new hat.
But she walked bravely up to the bureau and produced her card, and asked for Count Streptitch without a shade of hesitation in her manner. She fancied that the clerk looked at her rather curiously. He took the card, however, and gave it to a small page boy with some low-voiced instructions which Jane did not catch. Presently the page returned, and Jane was invited to accompany him. They went up in the lift and along a corridor to some big double doors where the page knocked. A moment later Jane found herself in a big room, facing a tall thin man with a fair beard, who was holding her card in a languid white hand.
‘Miss Jane Cleveland,’ he read slowly. ‘I am Count Streptitch.’
His lips parted suddenly in what was presumably intended to be a smile, disclosing two rows of white even teeth. But no effect of merriment was obtained.
‘I understand that you applied in answer to our advertisement,’ continued the count. ‘The good Colonel Kranin sent you on here.’
‘He was a colonel,’ thought Jane, pleased with her perspicacity, but she merely bowed her head.
‘You will pardon me if I ask you a few questions?’
He did not wait for a reply, but proceeded to put Jane through a catechism very similar to that of Colonel Kranin. Her replies seemed to satisfy him. He nodded his head once or twice.
‘I will ask you now, mademoiselle, to walk to the door and back again slowly.’
‘Perhaps they want me to be a mannequin,’ thought Jane, as she complied. ‘But they wouldn’t pay two thousand pounds to a mannequin. Still, I suppose I’d better not ask questions yet awhile.’
Count Streptitch was frowning. He tapped on the table with his white fingers. Suddenly he rose, and opening the door of an adjoining room, he spoke to someone inside.
