“Boris has a little exaggerated our father’s rank,” Nadeja commented; but Targatt said thoughtfully: “No one can exaggerate the Guggins fortune.” And Nadeja gave a quiet sigh.

            It must not be supposed that this rise in the fortunes of the Kouradjines was of any direct benefit to Targatt. He had never expected that, or even hoped it. No Kouradjine had ever suggested making any return for the sums expended by Targatt in vainly educating and profitably dressing his irresistible in-laws; nor had Targatt’s staggering restaurant bills been reduced by any offer of participation. Only the old Princess (as it was convenient, with so many young ones about, to call her when she was out of hearing) had said tearfully, on her wedding-day: “Believe me, my good James, what you have done for us all will not be forgotten when we return to Daghestan.” And she spoke with such genuine emotion, the tears were so softening to her tired magnificent eyes, that Targatt, at the moment, felt himself repaid.

            Other and more substantial returns he did draw from his alliance with the Kouradjines; and it was the prospect of these which had governed his conduct. From the day when it had occurred to him to send Katinka to intercede with Mr. Bellamy, Targatt had never once swerved from his purpose. And slowly but surely he was beginning to reap his reward.

            Mr. Bellamy, for instance, had not seen his way to providing for the younger Kouradjines; but he was ready enough to let Targatt in on the ground floor of one of those lucrative deals usually reserved for the already wealthy. Mrs. Leeper, in her turn, gave him the chance to buy a big block of Dazzle Tooth-Paste shares on exceptional terms; and as fashion and finance became aware of the younger Kouradjines, and fell under their spell, Targatt’s opportunities for making quick turnovers became almost limitless. And now a pleasant glow stole down his spine at the thought that all previous Kouradjine alliances paled before the staggering wealth of Boris’s bride. “Boris really does owe me a good turn,” he mused; but he had no expectation that it would be done with Boris’s knowledge. The new Princess Boris was indeed induced to hand over her discarded wardrobe to Olga and Mouna, and Boris presented cigarette cases to his brothers and brother-in-law; but here his prodigalities ended. Targatt, however, was not troubled; for years he had longed to meet the great Mr. Guggins, and here he was, actually related to that gentleman’s only child!

            Mr. Guggins, when under the influence of domestic happiness or alcohol, was almost as emotional as the Kouradjines. On his return to New York, after the parting from his only child, he was met on the dock by Targatt and Nadeja, who suggested his coming to dine that night at a jolly new restaurant with all the other Kouradjines; and Mrs. Guggins was so much drawn to the old Princess, to whom she confided how difficult it was to get reliable window-washers at Rapid Rise, that the next day Targatt, as he would have put it, had the old man in his pocket. Mr. Guggins stayed a week in New York, and when he departed Targatt knew enough about the Guggins industries to make some very useful reinvestments; and Mrs. Guggins carried off Olga as her social secretary.

              

 

 VI.
 
 

            Stimulated by these successive achievements Targatt’s tardily developed imagination was growing like an Indian juggler’s tree. He no longer saw any limits to what might be done with the Kouradjines. He had already found a post for the old Prince as New York representative of a leading firm of Paris picture-dealers, Paul and Nick were professional dancers at fashionable night-clubs, and for the moment only Mouna, the lovely but difficult, remained on Targatt’s mind and his pay-roll.

            It was the first time in his life that Targatt had tasted the fruits of ease, and he found them surprisingly palatable. He was no longer young, it took him more time than of old to get around a golf-course, and he occasionally caught himself telling his good stories twice over to the same listener. But life was at once exciting and peaceful, and he had to own that his interests had been immensely enlarged. All that, of course, he owed in the first instance to Nadeja. Poor Nadeja—she was not as young as she had been, either. She was still slender and supple, but there were little lines in the corners of her eyes, and a certain droop of the mouth. Others might not notice these symptoms, Targatt thought; but they had not escaped him. For Targatt, once so unseeing in the presence of beauty, had now become an adept in appraising human flesh-and-blood, and smiled knowingly when his new friends commended Mouna’s young charms, or inclined the balance in favour of the more finished Olga. There was nothing any one could tell him now about the relative “values” of the Kouradjines: he had them tabulated as if they were vintage wines, and it was a comfort to him to reflect that Nadeja was, after all, the one whose market value was least considerable. It was sheer luck—a part of his miraculous Kouradjine luck—that his choice had fallen on the one Kouradjine about whom there was never likely to be the least fuss or scandal; and after an exciting day in Wall Street, or a fatiguing struggle to extricate Paul or Mouna from some fresh scrape, he would sink back with satisfaction into his own unruffled domesticity.

            There came a day, however, when he began to feel that the contrast between his wife and her sisters was too much to Nadeja’s disadvantage. Was it because the others had smarter clothes—or, like Katinka, finer jewels? Poor Nadeja, he reflected, had never had any jewels since her engagement ring; and that was a shabby affair. Was it possible, Targatt conjectured, that as middle age approached she was growing dowdy, and needed the adventitious enhancements of dress-maker and beauty doctor? Half sheepishly he suggested that she oughtn’t to let herself be outdone by Katinka, who was two or three years her senior; and he reinforced the suggestion by a diamond chain from Carder’s and a good-humoured hint that she might try Mrs. Bellamy’s dress-maker.

            Nadeja received the jewel with due raptures, and appeared at their next dinner in a gown which was favourably noticed by every one present. Katinka said: “Well, at last poor Nadeja is really dressed,” and Mouna sulked visibly, and remarked to her brother-in-law: “If you want the right people to ask me about you might let me get a few clothes at Nadeja’s place.”

            All this was as it should be, and Targatt’s satisfaction increased as he watched his wife’s returning bloom. It seemed funny to him that, even on a sensible woman like Nadeja, clothes and jewels should act as a tonic; but then the Kouradjines were funny, and heaven knew Targatt had no reason to begrudge them any of their little fancies—especially now that Olga’s engagement to Mrs. Guggins’ brother (representative of the Guggins interests in London and Paris) had been officially announced.