



Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Lady in the Car
By William Le Queux
Published by J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia.
This edition dated 1908.

The Lady in the Car, by William Le Queux.

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THE LADY IN THE CAR, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.

PREFACE.

AN APOLOGY.

I hereby tender an apology to the reader for being compelled, in these
curious chronicles of an adventurous motorist and his actions towards
certain of his female acquaintances, to omit real names, and to
substitute assumed ones.  With the law of libel looming darkly, the
reason is obvious.

Since the days when, as lads, we played cricket together at Cheltenham
"the Prince," always a sportsman and always generous to the poor, has
ever been my friend.  In the course of my own wandering life of the past
dozen years or so, I have come across him in all sorts of unexpected
places up and down Europe, and more especially in those countries beyond
the Danube which we term the Balkans.

For certain of his actions, and for the ingenuity of his somewhat
questionable friends, I make no apology.  While the game of
"mug-hunting" remains so easy and so profitable, there will be always
both hunters and hunted.  As my friend's escapades were related to me,
so have I set them down in the following pages, in the belief that my
readers may perhaps care to make more intimate acquaintance with the
clever, fearless, and altogether remarkable man whose exploits have
already, from time to time, been referred to in guarded and mysterious
terms by the daily press.

William Le Queux.

CHAPTER ONE.

HIS HIGHNESS'S LOVE AFFAIR.

The Prince broke open a big box of choice "Petroffs," selected one, lit
it slowly, and walked pensively to the window.

He was in a good mood that morning, for he had just got rid of a
troublesome visitor.

The big _salon_ was elegantly furnished with long mirrors, gilt chairs
covered with sky-blue silk upholstery, a piano, and a pretty
writing-table set close to the long window, which led out to a balcony
shaded by a red-and-white sun-blind--the _salon_ of the best suite in
the Majestic, that huge hotel facing the sea in King's Road, Brighton.

He was a tall, well-set-up man of about thirty-three; dark-haired,
good-looking, easy-going, and refined, who, for the exception of the
slightest trace of foreign accent in his speech, might easily have been
mistaken for an Englishman.  In his well-cut dark brown flannels and
brown shoes he went to the balcony, and, leaning over, gazed down upon
the sun-lit promenade, full of life and movement below.

His arrival a few days before had caused quite a flutter in the big
hotel.  He had not noticed it, of course, being too used to it.  He
travelled a great deal--indeed, he was always travelling nowadays--and
had learned to treat the constant endeavours of unknown persons to
scrape acquaintance with him with the utter disregard they deserved.

Not often did the Majestic, so freely patronised by the stockbroker and
the newly-rich, hold as guest any person equalling the Prince in social
distinction, yet at the same time so modest and retiring.  The blatant
persons overcrowding the hotel that August Sunday, those pompous,
red-faced men in summer clothes and white boots, and those over-dressed
women in cream silk blouses and golden chatelaines, mostly denizens of
Kensington or Regent's Park, had been surprised when an hour ago he had
walked along the hall and gone outside to speak with his chauffeur.  He
was so very good-looking, such a sportsman, and so very English they
whispered.  And half of those City men's wives were instantly dying for
an opportunity of speaking with him, so that they could return to their
suburban friends and tell of their acquaintance with the cousin of his
Imperial Majesty the Kaiser.

But Prince Albert of Hesse-Holstein was thinking of other things.  He
had no use for that over-fed Sunday crowd, with their slang chatter,
their motor-cars and their gossip of "bithneth," through which he had
just passed.  He drew half a dozen times at his yellow Russian
cigarette, tossed it away, and lit another.

He was thinking of his visitor who had just left, and--well, there
remained a nasty taste in his mouth.  The man had told him something--
something that was not exactly pleasant.  Anyhow, he had got rid of him.
So Prince Albert Ernst Karl Wilhelm, head of the great house of
Hesse-Holstein, grand-cross of the Orders of the Black Eagle, Saint Sava
and the Elephant, and Commander of St Hubert and of the Crown of Italy,
returned again to the balcony, smoked on, and watched.

In the meantime, in the big hall below, sat a well-dressed elderly lady
with her daughter, a pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of twenty, a
dainty figure in white, who wore a jade bangle upon her left wrist.
They were Americans on a tour with "poppa" through Europe.  Mr Robert
K.  Jesup, of Goldfields, Nevada, had gone to pay a pilgrimage to
Stratford-on-Avon, while his wife and daughter were awaiting him in
Brighton.

With the inquisitiveness of the American girl Mary Jesup had obtained
the "Almanach de Gotha" from the reading-room, and both mother and
daughter were, with difficulty, translating into English the following
notice of the Prince's family which they found within the little
red-covered book:

"Evangeliques--Souche: Widukind III, comte de Schwalenberg (principaute
de Holstein), 1116-1137; bailli a Arolsen et acquisition du chateau de
Hesse vers, 1150; Comte du Saint Empire de Hesse, 1349, dignite
confirme, 22 juin, 1548; bailli de Wildungen, 1475; acquisition
d'Eisenberg (chateau fort, aujourd'hui en ruines, situe sur la montagne
du meme nom) vers, 1485; acquisition par heritage du comte de Pyrmont,
1631; coll. du titre de `Hoch et Wohlgeboren,' Vienne, 25 fevr., 1627;
pretention a l'heritage du comte de Rappolstein (Ribeaupierre
Haute-Alsace) et des seigneuries de Hohenack et de Geroldseck (ibidem)
par suite du mariage (2 juill, 1658) du cte Chretien-Louis, ne 29 juill,
1635, + 12 dec. 1706, avec Elisabeth de Rappolstein, nee 7 Mars, 1644, +
6 dec. 1676, apres la mort de son oncle Jean-Jacques dernier comte de
Rappolstein, 28 juill, 1673; les lignes ci-dessus descendent de deux
fils (freres consaiguins) du susdit Chretien-Louis comte de
Hesse-Eisenberg, de Pyrmont et Rappolstein, etc.--V.  L'edition de 1832
(Page 84)."

"There, mother!" exclaimed the pretty girl.  "Why, they were an ancient
family even before America was discovered!  Isn't he real nice?  Say!  I
only wish we knew him."

"Ah, my dear," replied the elder woman with a sigh.  "Those kind of
people never know us.  He's a royalty."

"But he looks such a nice man.  What a lovely car he's got--real fine!
I've been out to see it.  How I wish he'd take us for a ride."

"You'd better ask him, my dear," laughed her mother.

"Guess I shouldn't be backward.  I believe he would in a moment, if I
asked him very nicely," she exclaimed, laughing in chorus.  Truth to
tell, she had admired him when she had first encountered him two days
ago.  She had been seated in one of those wicker chairs outside the door
in King's Road, when he had come out and taken the chair next to hers,
awaiting his car--a big sixty "Mercedes" painted cream, with the
princely arms and crown upon its panels.

He was talking in English to his man, who had carried out his
motor-coat.  He was a prince--one of the wealthiest of all the German
princes, a keen automobilist, a sportsman who had hunted big game in
German East Africa, a landlord who owned a principality with half a
dozen mediaeval castles and some of the finest estates in the German
Empire, and one of the Kaiser's most intimate relatives.  And yet he was
travelling with only his man and his motor-car.

Though Mary Jesup was heiress to the two millions sterling which her
father had made during the past three years--as half the people in the
hotel knew--yet she was aware that even her father's wealth could not
purchase for her the title of Princess of Hesse-Holstein.  She was a
very charming girl, bright, athletic and go-ahead--a typical American
girl of to-day--and as she strolled out along the pier with her mother,
her thoughts constantly reverted to the young man in brown who had given
her more than one glance when he had passed.

Meanwhile, there had entered to the Prince his faithful valet Charles, a
tall, thin, clean-shaven Englishman, some four years his senior.

"Well?" asked his Highness sharply casting himself into an easy-chair,
and taking another "Petroff."

"Got rid of him--eh?"

"Yes--but it was difficult.  I gave him a couple of sovereigns, and made
an appointment to meet him in the bar of the Cecil, in London, next
Thursday at four."

"Good.  That gives us time," remarked the Prince with a sigh of relief.
"And about the girl?  What have you found out?"

"She and her mother dined in the _table-d'hote_ room last night, and
took coffee afterwards in the Palm Court.  The father is the man who
owns the gold-mines in Nevada--worth ten million dollars.  Last year he
gave half a million dollars to charity, and bought the Bourbon pearls
for his wife.  Gave eighty thousand pounds for them.  She's got them
here, a long string twice round her neck and reaches to her waist.
She's wearing them to-day, and everybody, of course, thinks they're
false."

"How foolish these American women are!  Fancy wearing pearls of that
price in the open street!  Why, she might easily be robbed," his master
remarked.

"But who'd believe they're genuine?  They're too big to take a thiefs
fancy," replied the faithful Charles.  "The Jesups seem fond of
jewellery.  Miss Mary has a lovely diamond necklet--"

"And wore it last night, I suppose?"

"Of course.  They are newly-rich people, and crowd it all on.  Yet, what
does it matter?  Men like Jesup can easily buy more if they lose it.
Why, to have her jewels stolen is only a big advertisement for the
American woman.  Haven't you seen cases in the paper--mostly at Newport
they seem to occur."

"The girl is pretty--distinctly pretty, Charles," remarked the Prince
slowly, with a philosophic air.

"Yes, your Highness.  And she'd esteem it a great honour if you spoke to
her, I'm sure."

Prince Albert pursed his lips.

"I think not.  These American girls have a good deal of spirit.  She'd
most probably snub me."

"I think not.  I passed through the hall five minutes ago, and she was
looking you up in the `Almanach de Gotha.'"

His Highness started.

"Was she?" he cried with quick interest.  "Then she evidently knows all
about me by this time!  I wonder--" and he paused without concluding his
sentence.

Charles saw that his master was thinking deeply, so he busied himself by
putting some papers in order.

"She's uncommonly pretty," his Highness declared presently.  "But dare I
speak to her, Charles?  You know what these Americans are."

"By all means speak to her.  The mother and daughter would be company
for you for a few days.  You could invite them to go motoring, and
they'd no doubt accept," the man suggested.

"I don't want the same experience that we had in Vichy, you know."

"Oh, never fear.  These people are quite possible.  Their wealth hasn't
spoilt them--as far as I can hear."

"Very well, Charles."  The Prince laughed, tossing his cigarette-end
into the grate, and rising.  "I'll make some excuse to speak with them."

And Charles, on his part, entertained shrewd suspicions that his master,
confirmed bachelor that he was, had, at last, been attracted by a girl's
fresh, fair beauty, and that girl an American.

Time hung heavily upon the Prince's hands.  That afternoon he ran over
in his car to Worthing, where he dined at Warne's, and the evening he
spent in lonely state in a box at the Brighton Alhambra.  Truth to tell,
he found himself thinking always of the sweet-faced, rather saucy
American girl, whose waist was so neat, whose tiny shoes were so
pointed, and whose fair hair was always drawn straight back from her
intelligent brow.

Yes.  He felt he must know her.  The morrow came, and with it an
opportunity occurred to speak with her mother.

They were sitting, as it is usual to sit, at the door of the hotel, when
a mishap to a dog-cart driven by a well-known actress gave him the
desired opportunity, and ten minutes later he had the satisfaction of
bowing before Mary Jesup herself.

He strolled with them on to the Pier, chatting so very affably that both
mother and daughter could hardly believe that he was the cousin of an
Emperor.  Then, at his request to be allowed to join them at their table
at luncheon, they had their midday meal together.

The girl in white was altogether charming, and so unlike the
milk-and-water misses of Germany, or the shy, dark-eyed minxes of France
or Italy, so many of whom had designed to become Princess of
Hesse-Holstein.  Her frank open manner, her slight American twang, and
her Americanisms he found all delightful.  Mrs Jesup, too, was a
sensible woman, although this being the first occasion that either
mother or daughter had even met a prince, they used "Your Highness" a
trifle too frequently.

Nevertheless, he found this companionship of both women most charming.

"What a splendid motor-car you have!"  Mary remarked when, after
luncheon, they were taking their coffee in the Palm Court at the back of
the hotel.

"I'm very fond of motoring, Miss Jesup.  Are you?" was his Highness's
reply.

"I love it.  Poppa's got a car.  We brought it over with us and ran
around France in it.  We left it in Paris till we get back to the
Continent in the fall.  Then we do Italy," she said.

"Perhaps you would like to have a run with me and your mother
to-morrow," the Prince suggested.  "It's quite pretty about the
neighbourhood."

"I'm sure you're very kind, Prince," responded the elder woman.  "We
should be charmed.  And further, I guess my husband'll be most delighted
to meet you when he gets down here.  He's been in Germany a lot."

"I shall be very pleased to meet Mr Jesup," the young patrician
responded.  "Till he comes, there's no reason why we should not have a
few runs--that is, if you're agreeable."

"Oh! it'll be real lovely!" declared Mary, her pretty face brightening
in anticipation of the pleasure of motoring with the man she so admired.

"Then what about running over to Eastbourne to tea to-day?" he
suggested.

Mother and daughter exchanged glances.  "Well," replied Mrs Jesup, "we
don't wish to put you out in the least, Prince.  I'm sure--"

"Good!  You'll both come.  I'll order the car for three o'clock."

The Prince ascended the stairs much gratified.  He had made a very
creditable commencement.  The hundred or so of other girls of various
nations who had been presented to him with matrimonial intent could not
compare with her, either for beauty, for charm, or for intelligence.

It was a pity, he reflected, that she was not of royal, or even noble
birth.

Charles helped him on with a light motor-coat, and, as he did so, asked:

"If the Parson calls, what am I to say?"

"Say what you like, only send him back to London.  Tell him he is better
off in Bayswater than in Brighton.  He'll understand."

"He may want some money.  He wrote to you yesterday, remember."

"Then give him fifty pounds, and tell him that when I want to see him
I'll wire.  I want to be alone just now, Charles," he added a trifle
impatiently.  "You've got the key of my despatch-box, eh?"

"Yes, your Highness."

Below, he found the big cream- car in waiting.  Some of the
guests were admiring it, for it had an extra long wheelbase and a big
touring body and hood--a car that was the last word in all that was
comfort in automobilism.

The English chauffeur, Garrett, in drab livery faced with scarlet, and
with the princely cipher and crown upon his buttons, raised his hat on
the appearance of his master.  And again when a moment later the two
ladies, in smart motor-coats, white caps, and champagne- veils,
emerged and entered the car, being covered carefully