“Jane was a peculiar mixture. Some days she would be bright and vivacious, and some days she would be in the depths of gloom, and this used to puzzle me, until one day we were at tea together at our house in Park Lane. She had come in a state of nerves and irritability which distressed me. I thought that her little boy was giving her trouble, for I knew how difficult he was, and how his cruel ways, even at that tender age, annoyed her. I nearly said distressed her,” she smiled, “but Jane was never distressed at things like that. We were having a cup of tea when she put her hand in her bag and took out a small bottle filled with brown pellets.
“ ‘I really can’t wait any longer, Mary,’ she said, and swallowed one of the pills. I thought it was something for digestion, until I saw her eyes begin to brighten and her whole demeanour change, then I guessed the truth.
“ ‘You’re not taking drugs, are you, Jane?’ I asked.
“ ‘I’m taking a little morphine,’ she replied. ‘Don’t be shocked, Mary.” If you had my troubles, and a little devil of a boy to look after, as I have, you’d take drugs too!’
“But that was not her worst weakness, from my point of view. What that was I learnt after my husband sailed to America on business.
“Dorothy was then about seven or eight months old, a bonny, healthy, beautiful child, whom my husband adored in his cold, dour fashion. One morning Jane came into my room while I was dressing, and apologizing for her early arrival, asked me if I would go shopping with her. She was so cheerful and gay that I knew she had been swallowing some of those little pellets, and as I was at a loose end that morning I agreed. We went to several stores and finished up at Clayneys, the big emporium in Brompton Road. I noticed that Jane made very few purchases, but this didn’t strike me as being peculiar, because Jane was notoriously mean, and I don’t think she had a great deal of money either. I did not know Clayneys. I had never been to the shop before. This explanation is necessary in view of what followed. Suddenly, when we were passing through the silk department, Jane turned to me with a startled expression and said to me under her breath, ‘Put this somewhere.’
“Before I could expostulate, she had thrust something into the interior of my muff. It was a cold day and I was carrying one of those big pillow muffs which were so fashionable in that year. I had hardly done so before somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a respectable-looking man who said sharply, ‘I’ll trouble you to accompany me to the manager’s office.’
“I was dazed and bewildered, and the only thing I recollect was Jane whispering in my ear, ‘Don’t give your name.’ She apparently was suspect as well, for we were both taken to a large office, where an elderly man interviewed us. ‘What is your name?’ he asked. The first name I could think of was my maid, Madge Benson. Of course, I was half mad. I should have told them that I was Lady Mary Danton and should have betrayed Jane upon the spot. My muff was searched and inside was found a large square of silk, which was the article Jane had put into it.
“The elderly man retired with his companion to a corner of the room and I turned to Jane. ‘You must get me out of this; it is disgraceful of you, Jane. Whatever made you do it?’
“ ‘For God’s sake, don’t say a word,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever happens, I will take the responsibility. The magistrate—’
“ ‘The magistrate?’ I said in horror. ‘I shall not go before a magistrate!’
“ ‘You must, you must; it would break Jonathan’s heart, and he would blame you if I came into court. Quick.’ She lowered her voice and began speaking rapidly. ‘I know the magistrate at Paddington and I will go to him and make a confession of the whole thing. When you come up tomorrow you will be discharged. Mary, you must do this for me, you must!’
“To cut a long story short, the manager came back and, summoning a policeman, gave me into custody. I neither denied my crime nor in any way implicated Jane. I found afterwards that she explained to the proprietor that she was a distant relation of mine and she had met me in the shop by accident. How can I depict the horror of that night spent in a police-court cell? In my folly I even thanked God that my name had not been given. The next morning I came before the magistrate, and did not doubt that Jane had kept her word. There was nobody in the court who knew me. I was brought up under the name of Madge Benson and the elderly man from Clayneys went into the witness-box and made his statement. He said that his firm had been losing considerable quantities through shoplifting, and that he had every reason to believe I was an old hand.
“Humiliating as this experience was, I did not for one moment doubt that the magistrate would find some excuse for me and discharge me. The shame of that moment as I stood there in the dock, with the curious crowd sneering at me! I cannot even speak of it today without my cheeks burning. The magistrate listened in silence, and presently he looked at me over his glasses and I waited.
“ ‘There has been too much of this sort of thing going
