The Crimson Gardenia

and Other Tales of Adventure

BY REX BEACH

AUTHOR OF "HEART OF THE SUNSET" "THE SPOILERS" ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON

The Crimson Gardenia and Other Tales of Adventure
Copyright, 1911, 1912, 1913, 1916, by Harper & Brothers
Copyright, 1910, 1913, by Cosmopolitan Magazine
Copyright, 1906, by The Metropolitan Magazine Co.
Printed in the United States of America
Published April, 1916

Her eyes flashed to the white gardenia on his breast, then up to his own.

CONTENTS

THE CRIMSON GARDENIA
I
II
III

ROPE'S END
I
II

INOCENCIO
I
II

THE WAG-LADY

"MAN PROPOSES—"
I
II

TOLD IN THE STORM

THE WEIGHT OF OBLIGATION

THE STAMPEDE

WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN

McGILL

THE BRAND
I
II

Books by REX BEACH

ILLUSTRATIONS

Her Eyes Flashed to the White Gardenia on His Breast, Then Up to His Own

As Floréal Rose from His Father's Body He Heard a Shot and Saw the Soldiers of the Republic Charging Him

"Take Your Hand off That Gun, Barclay"

"Barclay Wasn't More 'n Half Dead, and the Woman Fell to Beggin' for His Life Again"

THE CRIMSON GARDENIA

I

The royal yacht had anchored amid a thunder of cannon, and the king had gone ashore. The city was bright with bunting; a thousand whistles blew. Up through the festooned streets His Majesty was escorted between long rows of blue-coated officers, behind which the eager crowds were massed for mile upon mile. Thin wire cables were stretched along the curbs, to hold the people back, but these threatened to snap before the weight of the multitude.

In the neighborhood of the raised pavilion where the queen and her maids of honor waited, the press was thickest; here rows of stands had been erected that groaned beneath their freight, while roof-tops and windows, trees and telegraph-poles, were black with clustered humanity.

The king was tall and dark; a long beard hid his face. But the queen was young and blushing, and her waiting-women were fairer than springtime flowers. To a crashing martial air, she handed him a sparkling goblet in which he pledged her happiness, while the street rocked to the roar of many voices, and in the open spaces youths, grotesquely costumed, danced with goblin glee.

Mr. Roland Van Dam secretly thought it all quite fine and inspiriting, but he was too highly schooled to allow himself much emotion. He had been hard put to obtain seats, and had succeeded only through the efforts of a friend, the Duke of Cotton; therefore, he felt, the members of his party might have shown at least a perfunctory appreciation. But they were not the appreciative kind, and their attitude was made plain by Eleanor Banniman's languid words:

"How dull! It's nothing like the carnival at Nice, and the people seem very common."

Her father was dozing uncomfortably, with his two lower chins telescoped into his billowing chest; Mrs. Banniman complained of the heat and the glare, and predicted a headache for herself. Near by, the rest of the party were striving to conceal their lack of interest by guying the crowd below. Van Dam had been the one to