Short Fiction

Short Fiction

By Edgar Saltus.

Table of Contents

1. Titlepage
2. Imprint
3. The Grand Duke’s Rubies
4. Eden
   1. I
   2. II
   3. III
   4. IV
   5. V
   6. VI
   7. VII
   8. VIII
   9. IX
   10. X
   11. XI
   12. XII
5. A Transaction in Hearts
   1. I
   2. II
   3. III
   4. IV
   5. V
   6. VI
   7. VII
   8. VIII
   9. IX
   10. X
   11. XI
6. A Transient Guest
   1. I
   2. II
   3. III
   4. IV
   5. V
7. A Maid of Modern Athens
8. Fausta
9. The Pace That Kills
   1. Part I
      1. I
      2. II
      3. III
      4. IV
      5. V
      6. VI
      7. VII
   2. Part II
      1. I
      2. II
      3. III
      4. IV
      5. V
      6. VI
10. Mary Magdalen
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
    6. VI
    7. VII
    8. VIII
    9. IX
    10. X
11. The Facts in the Curious Case of H. Hyrtl, Esq.
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
    6. VI
    7. VII
    8. VIII
12. Madam Sapphira
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
    6. VI
    7. VII
    8. VIII
    9. IX
    10. X
    11. XI
    12. XII
    13. XIII
    14. XIV
    15. XV
    16. XVI
    17. XVII
    18. XVIII
    19. XIX
13. The Noose Matrimonial
14. A Drama in a Dining-Room
15. The Dear Departed
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
16. The Nameless Shame
17. The Top of the Heap
18. The Elixir of Love
19. Daughters of the Rich
    1. The People in It
    2. Part I: (Entr’acte)
       1. I: White Peacocks
       2. II: The Inquest
       3. III: The Clue
    3. Part II: The Daughters
       1. I: Sally’s Duke
       2. II: A Little Token
       3. III: A Little Love
       4. IV: A Little Frisk
       5. V: The Villa Portugaise
       6. VI: The Head
       7. VII: The Door
       8. VIII: The Duel
       9. IX: The Race
       10. X: The Devil
       11. XI: At the Sign of the Swan
    4. Part III: Afterward
       1. I: Perspectives
       2. II: The Benediction
20. The Splendid Lie
21. The Suspect
22. The Bomb
23. White Gloves
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
24. The Plot
25. The Falsehood Shop
26. The Proper Thing
27. A Business Man
28. A Boy and His Girl
29. Their Only Way
30. An Old-Fashioned Man
31. The Golden Chimera
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
32. The Verdict
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
33. The Impostor
    1. I
    2. II
    3. III
    4. IV
    5. V
    6. VI
    7. VII
    8. VIII
    9. IX
    10. X
    11. XI
    12. XII
34. The Goblin Girl
35. Endnotes
36. Colophon
37. Uncopyright

Imprint

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The Grand Duke’s Rubies1

There is in New York a club called the Balmoral, which has two peculiarities⁠—no one ever goes there much before midnight, and it is the only place in town where you can get anything fit to eat at four o’clock in the morning. The members are politicians of the higher grade, men about town, and a sprinkle of nondescripts. In the unhallowed inspiration of a moment, Alphabet Jones, the novelist⁠—in polite society Mr. A. B. Fenwick Chisholm-Jones⁠—baptized it the Smallpox, a name which has stuck tenaciously, the before-mentioned members being usually pitted⁠—against each other. Of the many rooms of the club, one, it should be explained, is the most enticing. It is situated on an upper floor, and the siren that presides therein is a long table dressed in green. Her name is Baccarat.

One night last February, Alphabet Jones rattled up to the door in a vagabond hansom. He was thirsty, impecunious, and a trifle tired. He had been to a cotillon, where he had partaken of champagne, and he wanted to get the taste of it out of his throat. He needed five hundred dollars, and in his card-case there were only two hundred and fifty. The bar of the Athenaeum Club he knew at that hour was closed, possible moneylenders were in bed, and it was with the idea of killing the two birds of the legend that he sought the Balmoral.

He encountered there no difficulty in slaking his thirst; and when, in one draught, which brought to his tonsils a suggestion of art, science, and Wagner combined, he swallowed a brandy-and-soda, he felt better, and looked about to see who might be present. The room which he had entered was on what is called the parlor floor. It was long, high-ceiled, comfortably furnished, and somewhat dim. At the furthermost end three men were seated, two of whom he recognized, the one as Sumpter Leigh, the other as Colonel Barker; but the third he did not remember to have seen before. Some Westerner, he thought; for Jones