With rapid steps I crossed to the opposite window, and, taking off my hat, bowed before the surprised and now somewhat haughty-looking blonde.
'Miss Jenrys?' I said interrogatively.
She bowed assent.
'May I speak with you a moment?'
She did not answer promptly, and I put my hand to my pocket and drew out my card—the same that I had proffered to the guard a few days before.
She took it and read the name aloud, and in a tone of polite inquiry:
'Carl Masters?'
I had not meant to do it, but while I stood there with her clear brown eyes, not repellent but fearless and full of dignity, fixed upon my face in polite but guarded inquiry, the determination suddenly seized me to be as frank and truthful in dealing with this frank and truthful woman as I had a right to be.
I had meant to return the bag, ask her pardon for tampering with its contents, and say no more; only keeping as much as possible an eye to her welfare and safety if I saw it menaced. Now I meant something more; and so, while she held my card in daintily gloved fingers and looked at me with level, questioning eyes, I said, with the thought of the approaching brunette underlying my words:
'Miss Jenrys, I am the person who was of some small assistance a few days ago when you came near incurring serious injury at the hands of a pair of Turks and a sedan-chair.' I saw a look of remembrance, if not of recognition, flash into her face, and I hurried on. 'I do not mention this as entitling me to your notice, but I ask you to accept my word as that of one having no personal motive save the desire to serve you, and to listen to me for a few moments.'
She was scanning my face nervously, and now she said:
'I do not recall your face, though I remember the circumstance to which you refer. If you are the gentleman who held back that reckless foreigner with a strong arm, and so saved me from something more serious than a little pain in the shoulder, I am certainly your debtor, and I am glad of this opportunity to thank you.'
A little back of the place where she stood, in a corner, hemmed in on one side by a long glass case of exhibits of various sorts, was an armchair, placed there, doubtless, for the ease of the person in charge of said case and its contents. There was no such person present, however, at that hour, and I pointed toward the chair, and said:
'If you will kindly take that seat, so that I may not feel that I am compelling you to stand, I will not detain you long.'
She turned toward the seat, looked at it, at me, and finally beyond me and across the room, as if debating, and half inclined to pass me and escape; and then I saw a sudden withdrawal of the eyes and a compression of the lips, slight but perceptible. She turned as if in haste, almost, and seated herself in the chair, first turning it toward the windows so that her back would be toward the interior of the room, and then, to my surprise, she beckoned me, with a half-smile, to a place upon the window-seat, which would narrowly serve this purpose.
I had not once looked back or about me, but I did not flatter myself that my words alone had won for me thisgraciousness; she had seen the little brunette, and desired to avoid her.
'Thank you,' I said, when we were both seated. 'I will now come to the point at once. You must know, then, that after you had passed on and out of sight in the crowd I discovered at my very feet—so close that no one had ventured to pick it up, if anyone had seen it in that crowd—a black leather bag—a chatelaine, I think you ladies call it.'
'Oh! you found my bag?' The look of reserve was lost in a quick and charming smile. 'I am very glad!'
'I found it, and I tried to follow you and restore it, but you had disappeared.'
'I had indeed; in at the first gate, which happened to be the Javanese Village.'
'That explains my failure. I had given up my search, and was about to go on my way, when I was approached by a young lady, a small person with dark eyes and wearing a large plumed sailor-hat, who explained that she was a friend to the lady whose bag I had in my hand, that she had seen me pick it up, and would now restore it to her.'
'And you gave it to her?'
'Was it not right?'
'The person was an impostor.'
'Is it possible? And yet two days after, as you were entering the grounds, and I was about to approach you, I saw this same person greet you, seemingly, and walk on in your company. It made a coward of me. I dared not approach in the face of a friend of yours whom I had treated as an impostor.'
'How do you mean?'
'I mean that I doubted the person, and refused to give her the bag.' And I hurriedly made confession, telling her how at last I was forced to read first her friend's letter andthen her own, in order to learn her name, and that then her address was still a mystery. 'I had but one chance of finding you,' I concluded. 'You had informed your friend that your apartments were conveniently near the Fifty-seventh Street entrance.'
'Oh! Indeed!' I had seen the quick colour flash into her face at my mention of the letters, and of having read them, and the restraint was once more evident in face and voice when she said:
'I thank you, sir; but the contents of the bag—it was hardly worth the trouble you have taken to restore it—that is——'
'I have it with me, Miss Jenrys, and when I am sure that we are not under surveillance I will place it in your hands; and now I owe it to myself to make my own conduct in this affair and my present position clearer. At first it was with me a simple matter of returning a lost article to a lady. Failing to overtake you, I might perhaps have turned it over to some guard but for the interference of the brunette, who at once put me on the defensive and aroused my suspicion. It somehow seemed to me that the young person was more than commonly anxious to possess your bag, and then it occurred to me that the bag might contain something or some information that she especially wished to possess. My interest was aroused, and then I took the liberty of examining your bag, and having done so, I determined at least to attempt to return it to you, and to ask you to pardon the liberty I had taken with your correspondence.'
'I suppose anyone would have done the same,' she said, rather coldly. 'What I do not comprehend is why you did not return the bag to me in the presence of this person, of whom you might have warned me.'
'It is that which I am about to explain,' I replied gravely. 'And I must, for the sake of others whose interestsI represent, ask you to regard what I am now about to tell you as a confidence made necessary because of the circumstances. Miss Jenrys, the card in your hand bears my real name, but few know me by it, because I so often bear others, as one of the necessities of my profession. I am known here to those who know me at all as one of those secret service men you have no doubt heard or read of. In other words——'
'A detective?' She bent forward and scanned my face narrowly.
'When I saw you in company with the little brunette, as I have since called her for want of a better title, I was at first amazed and inclined to doubt my own sagacity; but when—I am making a clean breast of it, Miss Jenrys—when I followed you, doubtful what course to pursue, I saw you joined by a gentleman, and I saw the brunette slip away from you as she would hardly have done, as you would hardly have allowed her to do, had she been friend or acquaintance. I am enrolled here as a "special," but I came, in company with another, with a definite object in view. Within these grounds are several persons under suspicion, and whom we are hoping to capture and convict, and when I tell you that only yesterday I learned that this same little brunette who claimed your property and friendship was seen in company with two suspected persons, you will hardly wonder that what I had attempted to do from purest courtesy from one stranger to another, and that other a lady, I felt impelled to do from a sense of duty, as well as desire to save one whom I had seen to be alone, and who might, for aught I could tell, be menaced by some unsuspected danger.'
There was no fear on her face, only a slightly troubled look, as she asked:
'What do you mean?'
'Simply that it is my duty to warn you, and to ask you ifyou know of any reason why you should be followed, or watched, or menaced by any manner of danger?'
'No'—she slowly shook her fair head—'no reason whatever.'
'And may I ask you about this person, this brunette? I would not say 'this woman.''
She started slightly, and leaned toward me.
'Is she here still?' she whispered.
I turned my head and cast a deliberate glance around the room.
'I do not see her,' I said; 'but she may be below, with an eye on the staircase.'
'It's more than likely. It's little I can tell you,' she said. 'She ran up to me that morning at the gate, her face beaming and her hand held out, and when she was close to me, and I drew away from her, she began the most profuse apologies: she was very near-sighted, and she had mistaken me for an old acquaintance she had not seen for some time; then she kept on by my side, prattling about her "mamma," who had not been able to leave the hotel since they came; of her dread of being alone, and her eagerness to see the Fair. She had hoped, when she saw me, that she had found someone who would let her "just follow along, so that she would not feel so much alone," etc. I did not like her volubility, yet I could see no way, short of absolute rudeness, of shaking her off. When I met a New York acquaintance, down near the lake shore, she quite surprised me by quietly slipping away. Do you think——' She paused, and arose with a quick, easy grace which seemed inherent. 'Will you come down and be introduced to my aunt?' she asked. 'I have great confidence in her judgment of—gentlemen, and she ought to know this; that is, if you can give me the time.'
'My time is entirely yours,' I declared recklessly, 'and nothing would give me more pleasure than to pay myentirely sincere respects to that lovely woman I saw in your company, and who, I am almost certain, saw me playing the spy upon her niece.'
She smiled as she moved toward the stairway, at the head of which she turned and paused a moment.
'Do you think she will approach us?' she asked.
'I can't imagine what she will do.'
'But she will see you, and——'
I think the smile on my face stopped her.
'You did not recognise me,' I said. 'She may not.'
She looked into my face keenly, and then a quick look of intelligence flashed into her eyes.
'Oh!' It was all she said, but it meant much. She took a step downward, and turned again. 'Of course I must not enlighten my aunt?'
'If you are willing to let it lie between us two—at first?'
'Certainly,' she said gravely, and went on down the stairs.
At the landing, half-way down, where the staircase turned to right and left, I saw, over her shoulder, a little dark figure standing in the west doorway.
'Turn to the right,' I said, over her shoulder. '"The longest way round," you know.'
She nodded, and without a glance in the other direction went down the east side, turned at the foot to wait for me with the air of one quite absorbed in an agreeable companion, and we went out at the door facing the Minnesota Building and the morning sun. As we stepped outside I paused in my turn.
'One word, if you will allow it. I may have to learn more of this person. It may make difficulties for me, and—who knows?—perhaps for you, if she imagines that you know her for—what she is. Or guesses, as she might——'
'What you are?' she interposed. 'You may trust me.'
We turned at the corner, and came once more to thewest side and the little arbour. As we rounded the corner my companion suddenly slipped her little hand beneath my elbow, giving it at the same time a significant little pressure. The brunette, having doubtless watched our progress through the window, was coming down the steps and straight toward us.
For just a passing moment I knew how Miss Jenrys looked to the friends who knew her, and whom she knew best. She was smiling and preoccupied as we stepped within the inclosure.
'See,' she said, hastening her own steps and mine, with a bright look toward the benches, 'there is auntie.'
The little brunette was almost abreast of us, and my companion's smiling gaze was still fixed upon the figure under the vines; then she turned her head, and, just at the place where we could turn from the walk, let her eyes turn toward the figure just opposite us.
It was charmingly done. Just as she made a step in the direction of the arbour her eyes fell quite naturally upon the face of the brunette. 'Good-morning,' she said smilingly, and with a little nod of her head. But there was no slackening of her steps; with the words on her lips we were off the walk, and crossing the grass to the place, not ten paces away, where the sweet-faced Quakeress sat, knitting and looking her surprise.
'Auntie, I have brought you a new acquaintance,' Miss Jenrys said, in a voice slightly raised; and then, looking after the retreating figure of the brunette and seeing that she was quite out of hearing, she added, 'and I have found my bag.'
I took the bag from my pocket, where it had grown to seem a quite familiar bulk, and laid it in her lap, and she began at once to narrate to the wondering Quakeress the adventures of the little bag. She heard it through, with here and there a soft little exclamation of wonder, and I sawthat she was slightly deaf, and quite given to misunderstanding and miscalling words and phrases.
'Thee has been very lucky, my dear,' the good soul said when Miss Jenrys had done, 'and the young man has been at great pains to restore thy reticule. It was hardly worth so much trouble, do you think?'
'Not in actual value perhaps, auntie, but it contained one or two little keepsakes that I valued'—she breathed a little fluttering sigh—'for the sake of the giver.'
'Is that why thee has mourned the loss of the little bag so much, and said so many unkind things about those poor benighted men of Turkey? Then, indeed, I must add my thanks to thine.' And she turned and extended to me a soft slim hand, ungloved and delicately veined; and then she began to question me about the Fair and the things I had seen, showing in her questions and comments a singular mixture of innocent unworldliness, and native shrewdness, and mother wit.
In the midst of our talk Miss Jenrys broke in with a low, quick exclamation, which caused us to cease and turn toward her.
'Mr. Masters,' she said, in a low tone, 'our friend the brunette is looking over from the gallery windows of the Dakota Building—see! the one next the corner, toward the bridge. She does not make herself needlessly conspicuous, and it was only by the peculiar shade her figure threw, as she stood at one side—the eastern side—that I was drawn to observe her. My eyes are very strong—I am sure I am not mistaken.'
'It is only what I expected,' I replied. 'She will wait, no doubt, until she gets an opportunity to speak with you. Evidently she has some object in view, something to learn from you, or something to tell you. I would give something to know what it is.'
She looked at me a moment with thoughtful eyes. I hadpurposely spoken in a guarded tone, and when she answered it was in the same manner.
'Would it help you to learn her object?'
'It might, and it might give us a hint as to their reasons for following you.'
'Their reasons? Do you think——' She stopped abruptly.
'I don't know what to think, Miss Jenrys. It looked as if this person were following you on the day you lost your bag, and I am convinced that she is in some way connected with two or more men who are more than suspected of being offenders against the law. Miss Jenrys, do you know of any reason why you should be watched—followed? Have you an enemy? Are you in anyone's way?'
Instead of answering, she turned to the elder lady, who had been listening like one who but half comprehends.
'Auntie, you heard me say that Mr. Masters has strong reasons for thinking that the young woman who just passed us, and who has forced herself upon my notice, and tried to claim my bag, is loitering about now for the purpose of speaking to me?'
'I heard thee: yes, June, surely I did, and I cannot understand the thing at all.'
'Nor do we, Aunt Ann.' She turned to me again. 'I am getting the fever for investigation,' she said, slightly smiling. 'I am not alarmed at what you have told me, but I do not doubt it, and if you think it best, if it will help you, I will give that young woman a chance to ease her mind to me. I will leave you here with Aunt Ann, and go, under her eyes, to the building next to this, on to the Washington House, and give her a chance to follow.'
I waited for the elder lady to speak, and my own surprise was great at her brave proposition—for it was brave, braver than she knew; and I was asking myself if I had the right to let her go to meet—an adventuress at theleast, a criminal possibly. But her aunt gave the decisive word.
'My dear June, thee knows I do not like a mystery. If anything is to be learned concerning this person's strange conduct, we should find it out, and end the following and spying, else it will not be safe for thee to come here alone, even by day.'
'Fie! Aunt Ann—with all these guards and half the world looking on? Then I had better go, Mr. Masters.'
'If you will.'
'Have you any advice or instructions to give me?'
'I think you will know how to proceed. Only it might be well to let her talk, if she will.'
'Certainly.'
'And, Miss Jenrys, let me beg of you, do not go away from this immediate vicinity, and do not walk upon the streets with this person if it can be avoided. Above all, do not make a further appointment with her.'
'I will be discreet. Good-bye for a short time, Aunt Ann.' She dropped the newly-returned bag into her aunt's lap and went away, as lithe and careless-seeming as the veriest pleasure-seeker.
She looked up and down at the windows of the South Dakota House and then walked deliberately in.
When we had watched her vanish within the walls of the opposite building, Miss Ross—for 'Aunt Ann' was a spinster—deliberately arose and took the place beside me.
'We can talk better so,' she said placidly, 'and I wantto talk with thee.' And she began to roll up her knitting with care.
As we sat there I was almost hidden from view from the streets, because of the thick vine tendrils that fell like a curtain between me and the passers-by, while it did not prevent my looking through the green drapery at my pleasure. But Aunt Ann had placed herself where she was plainly visible to all who passed.
'Now,' she began, having put away her knitting, 'I ask thee honestly, sir, does thee think my niece in real danger of any sort? I cannot understand this strangeness.'
'Truly, Miss Ross,' I answered, 'I know no more than you have heard; but I could do no less than warn the young lady, knowing what I did.'
She bent toward me and scrutinized my face closely, keenly.
'Thy face is a good face,' she said then, 'and I like thy voice; but, young man, I am only a woman, and I have no right to do rashly. My niece trusts thee, but she is but a girl, with all her self-reliance. Forgive an old woman's caution, and—tell me what is thy reason for the interest thee takes in my niece? Cannot thee give me some credential, some voucher for thy good faith, before I say to thee what I wish to say?'
Again I found myself forced to a sudden decision. In my experience as a detective I had found myself in many strange situations, but never before had I felt that I must speak the truth, or not at all, in a position like this. I answered, with scarce a moment's hesitation:
'You are right and wise, madam, and I am sure that I can confide to you the truth concerning my business at the Fair—only asking, because others are concerned with myself, that you regard my information as confidential.'
'Surely,' she said quietly. 'Thee may trust a Friend. We are not given to overmuch speaking. Of course thee has my promise.'
'Then I may tell you that my business here is to watch for and guard against just such people as this person, this brunette, seems to be. I am a member of the Secret Service Bureau.'
We were alone in the little arbour, and I showed her first my badge, sewn inside my coat, and then my photographic pass.
'I thank thee; and may I ask now does my niece know this?'
'I should have found extreme difficulty in gaining her ear or her confidence otherwise,' I answered.
'Ah! I felt sure—I know the child so well—that somehow she had found a reason for her faith in you. There is no prouder or more womanly girl living than my niece, June Jenrys; and now tell me frankly, what does thee fear or anticipate for her?'
'If I knew your niece, Miss Ross, her friends, her foes, her history, I might venture an opinion. As it is, cannot you help me?'
She pondered a little, then:
'Tell me again,' she said, 'all about the bag and this woman.'
Now, I wanted to learn one or two things from this interview, and I realized that our time was short, so I rehearsed the story again, and quite fully, but as briefly as possible. When I had finished, the clear-headed Quakeress was thoughtful again, then she said:
'I don't like this, not in the least; and I feel that thee has been right. I fear my girl is, in some way, in danger. Will you advise me?' she asked, with sudden energy.
'To the best of my ability, willingly.' And then I riskeda first repulse. 'If I might ask you to tell me something of your niece—her position—your plans——'
'Of course. My niece there is an orphan and an heiress.'
'Oh!' She gave me a quick glance and went on.
'Her home has been in New York City, with an aunt, formerly her guardian. June is now of age and her own mistress. Of late she has been with me in my little home, less than one hundred miles from this city. She came of her own accord, and was most welcome, and we came here together a little more than a week ago, June declaring that she meant to stay all summer, and I nothing loth.' She stopped and smiled. 'This is all very barren,' she said. 'I think thee will have to question me.'
'Then I think we must be brief. First, are you stopping near the grounds?'
'Very near; on Washington Avenue, little more than two blocks away;' and she mentioned the number.
'Is it a boarding-house, a—pardon me, what I wish to know is if you have made any acquaintances there; if anyone has learned, for instance, that you are ladies of independent fortune, meaning to make a long stay, and consequently likely to have with you more or less money.'
'Ah! I was sure thee could get on. We are in a private house, found for us by the Public Comfort Bureau, and we have taken their only suite; there are no others.'
'And the family?'
Just the two, man and wife, and a servant. It's a cottage, but very cosy.'
'Has your niece an enemy?'
'An enemy? Oh, I trust not! I do trust not! I can't think so. Still, June is a society girl; I know little of that side of her life.'
'Then do you know if she has a friend who is, or may be, a fortune-hunter, one whom you distrust?'
I saw the quick colour flush her sweet face and leave it pale again, and again for a moment she seemed to hesitate.
'I don't quite like to say it,' she began then; 'but since we have been here I have seen a person who, I think, would be a suitor for my niece if she would permit it. I am not versed in the world's ways, but I have seldom found myself deceived in my judgment of man or woman, though I ought not to boast it. But of this man I think three things. He is madly in love with my niece, and his sort of love is not the true sort. It is not lasting, and it is more dangerous than hate. He is a foreigner, with the soft, insincere ways that I cannot like nor trust. He has a strong will and a cruel eye, and—he likes me not at all. Mind thee, I do not accuse him—only he is the one person we have met here and spoken with except thyself; and——' She broke off and shook her head.
'Do you think——' The question did not fall from my lips, but she interpreted it.
'Thee means does she care for him? I do not think it. She is courteous to him, nothing more. Out of his sight I do not think she gives him a thought. But he is here, and she is young. I am poor company for a young girl.'
'I wish all young girls could enjoy such society as yours, Miss Ross. Do you think this business has disturbed Miss Jenrys?'
'Disturbed? June Jenrys has not one drop of coward blood in her veins! I have thought, since she has been with me—I am almost certain, indeed—that something has saddened my girl just a little; she seems quieter than she used, and is almost listless at times, which is not like her. Sometimes she seems quite herself, and that is a very bright self, then at times she is quite preoccupied. I think this affair has aroused her interest, perhaps—ah——'
She was facing the street, and the little quietly-uttered syllable caused me to look through the leaves in the samedirection. Miss Jenrys was approaching, on the opposite side, in the shadow of the Dakota Building, and with her, walking slowly and talking volubly, was the little brunette. I was watching her narrowly, and as the two crossed to the side nearest us I saw her start, stop suddenly, and turn toward her companion; as she thus stood, her back was toward the bridge, and a glance in that direction showed me a tall, well-dressed man, who carried a bunch of long-stemmed La France roses, and whose brisk steps brought him in a moment face to face with Miss Jenrys. There was a brief pantomime of greeting between the newcomer and Miss Jenrys, and then she turned toward the brunette, and there was a short exchange of words. Then the man lifted his hat, the brunette bowed and turned away, going toward the entrance, while Miss Jenrys and her companion, whom I had recognised as Monsieur Voisin, came toward us.
He was not aware of my presence, I know, until he had passed the point where the arbour opened opposite the west door of the Nebraska House, but he acknowledged Miss Jenrys' introduction with a perfect bow and an amiable speech, intended for my companions as well as for myself.
He had taken the liberty of calling at their cottage, he informed us, to ask if he might not serve them as escort, but had been told that they were already at the grounds. He considered himself very fortunate to have met them at the very gate, as it were; and then he presented the roses to Miss Jenrys.
She received them with a smile, and a word of praise for their beauty, and then, in that charming way a clever woman has when she chooses to employ it, she made him aware that his kindly offer of escort service must be declined, since, with a nod in my direction, they 'were already provided with an escort.'
I took my cue at once, and after a few more words, addressed to each in turn, and a short exchange of courtesiesbetween him and myself, Monsieur Voisin lifted his hat, saying that since he was so much a laggard as to have lost some charming companions he would endeavour to recover his lost time by travelling to the Convent of La Rabidaviâthe Intramural Railway; and so, smiling and bowing, he went back over the bridge to the station above the entrance.
When he had gone Miss Jenrys turned to me.
'I must ask your pardon for that little implied fib, Mr. Masters; and, auntie, don't look too much shocked. I could not allow Mr. Masters to lose his time, which is no doubt of value, or to go away perhaps before he had heard my experience.' And then, before the elder lady could utter her gentle reproof or I could reply to her speech, she began to tell her story.
'I thought,' she began, 'that I would take the shortest way to my object, so I went in, as you saw, to view South Dakota. It was so small that I was soon upstairs, walking around the little gallery under the dome. Of course I came upon our friend the brunette almost at once, and greeted her so amiably that she joined my promenade without hesitation. Of course you don't care to know all that we said. I let her take the initiative, only keeping an amiable and fairly interested countenance and following her lead. She began by telling me how she "happened to meet me again." She had entered early, and had passed the time looking at some of the State buildings, in order to be near the entrance, where her "mamma" had partly promised to meet her in an hour or so. She did not want to miss her "mamma," and so had loitered, after a little time spent in some of the buildings opposite, in these two houses, where she could overlook the entrance and the bridge. It was not "nice" to be alone so much, and her "mamma" did not like her to be alone, but she could not bear to lose the Fair, any of it. Did I like going about alone? They were stopping at a hotel quite near. Did I like a hotel? etc. In short, oneof her objects, I am sure, was to learn how long we mean to stay here in Chicago; and another, who were in the house with us, if it were large, and if there were other rooms to let——'
'One moment,' I broke in. 'Did she ask for your street or number, or both? and how did you reply to her?'
'My answers were politely vague. She did not ask for our address, and I thought it rather strange. She knows that there are "several people at our house, but no room for more," and that our stay depends upon circumstances; but she had one important request to make, and she made it very adroitly. Seeing that I, like herself, was alone, at least sometimes, she had wondered, if it were possible, if I would not like to see the grounds by night. Her "mamma" did not care to come out after six o'clock, she feared the lake breezes; and she did so long to explore the grounds at night. Would it be possible—would I be willing to accompany her, when I had no better companion, of course, for an hour or so, some evening soon, to see the grounds and buildings illuminated? Her "mamma" had told her she might ask, provided of course she was sure, which of course she was, that I was "quite nice and proper." As for herself, she was quite prepared with her cards and references.'
She stopped here, and challenged my opinion with a piquant, questioning look.
'My child!' ejaculated Aunt Ann, 'thee did not accept?'
'Was that all?' I asked.
'It was quite enough,' she replied, quite gravely now. 'She gave me a card with a written address upon it, and I told her I would let her know to-morrow morning by mail.'
'June, thee must not go!'
She turned to me, without replying to her aunt's exclamation.
'What do you think of it?' she asked calmly, but quiteearnestly now, in contrast to her light manner of telling her story.
'I think you have done well, both in going to meet this person and in your manner of meeting her modest requests, but I think it has gone far enough.'
'You think, then, that there is a plot—something serious?'
'I can see no other explanation; and now, Miss Jenrys, before another word is said, will you promise me not to allow this person to approach or address you again?'
She looked at me in some surprise. 'You think her so dangerous?' she questioned.
'Yes; you have used the right word.'
Again she watched my face intently, but she did not give the asked-for promise, and her aunt broke in anxiously.
'Mr. Masters, does thee think we would be safer, and wiser, if we went away quickly and quietly?'
'Auntie!' exclaimed the young lady, 'how can you! I thought you were braver. Don't speak of going away. I will not hear of it. I am willing to be advised, within reason, but I would rather risk something than go away from this beautiful place before I have seen all of its wonders, or as many as I can. I am not afraid, and I will not run away. You do not advise such extreme precautionary measures, Mr. Masters, surely?'
'Not since I have heard your wishes so strongly expressed. No, Miss Ross, I think there is no need of going away, now that you are warned and will use caution; but, Miss Jenrys, you will be cautious about going out alone, and especially at evening—you should have an escort, a protector.'
'One might as well be a prisoner at once as be compelled to remain indoors on these lovely nights,' said the girl rebelliously. 'Auntie, I will carry my little revolver. Oh,' in answer to my glance of too plain inquiry, 'I can shoot very well.'
'I shall feel much safer without it, my child,' said Aunt Ann uneasily. 'Mr. Masters, is there not some way—these guards in uniform, or are there not guides who could be employed—in the evening, that is?'
'Auntie dear, I have a better thought still—the chairs. We can secure two reliable men for them, and do our sight-seeing by night in comfort and safety in that way.' She turned a smiling face toward me. 'Don't you think that a simple and sensible arrangement?'
'I do; that is, if you will permit me to choose the men who are to guide the chairs and see that they understand their duty.'
'Why, to be sure. Mr. Masters, we are very stupid, auntie and I. If you could——'
She hesitated, and glanced from her aunt's face to mine.
'June, child, I think I know what is in thy mind; I know the nature of this young man's business in this place, and you are right. If he can spare the time, it is right that we should know, if possible, what we have to guard against, to fear or avoid. Is it thy pleasure, sir, to undertake this for us?'
I turned silently toward Miss Jenrys.
'Aunt Ann is right,' she said, with decision. 'Can you take this matter in hand?'
'I will take it in hand,' I replied. 'But tell me just what you wish. Do you simply want insured protection against annoyance, or do you want this brunette followed up until we learn why she has singled you out for her peculiar attentions?'
'I have heard it said,' Miss Jenrys replied, 'that the detective fever is contagious, and I feel now as if I must have this little mystery unravelled. I dare say it will end in something stupid and commonplace. Still, let us unravel it if possible. What say you, Aunt Ann?'
'I have already told thee that I detest mysteries. Yes, we must know what it means.'
'And know you shall,' I declared, 'if it rests within my power.'
The sun was fast travelling toward the zenith, and I had promised Dave a rendezvous at noon.
It was not difficult to impress upon these two clever women the need for perfect secrecy, and that no one must guess at the truth concerning myself. I had observed that Monsieur Voisin addressed me as Mr. Masseys, and that Miss Jenrys had spoken my name in performing the introduction very indistinctly, and before I left she spoke of this.
'Perhaps you noticed the mistake of Monsieur Voisin in addressing you,' she said. 'It occurred to me, just as I was about to speak your name, that I might be making a blunder, so I mumbled your name, and was glad to hear him call you by another.'
'Your tact was a kindness. Let me remain Mr. Masseys to him and to anyone I may chance to meet in your company. I may be obliged to call upon you, and should we meet, Monsieur Voisin and I, it will be best that he knows me for a visitor like himself.'
When we parted it was with a very thorough understanding, and I went toward my meeting-place wondering what new thing would turn up in this city of surprises, and what Dave would think of all this. I had determined to put a shadow upon the heels of the brunette when she should appear to get the note from Miss Jenrys, which was to be couched in diplomatic language, and take the form of an indefinite postponement rather than a refusal.
When Dave and I met, I gave him, as usual, ample time to say the things of no moment first, in his usual manner; but I did not mention my own affair of the morning, leaving this to be told later and at a time of more leisure,for Dave and I had no secrets from each other when we were together.
And this was the part of wisdom as well as for friendship's sake. I knew always just how his work stood, and should disaster or delay overtake him, I knew just how to report or to go on with his work, as he with mine.
When he joined me, I saw at once that he was more than usually animated, and, contrary to his usual custom, he came straight to the business upon his mind:
'Old man, I have seen Delbras.'
'You have found Delbras?' I echoed. This was news indeed, and I waited eagerly for further information.
'Yes, sir. I'm sure of it. I don't doubt it; and it was in Midway Plaisance.'
'Go on, Dave.'
'Well, it's a short story. I had been lounging around the big wheel for some time—that monster has a sort of fascination for me; it makes me feel like a small boy, unable to gape enough. I was looking at the people coming and going, and I almost forgot that it was noon, until I heard someone say close beside me, "Almost noon, Jack. Let's get out of this." That startled me. I had not thought it was so late, and I took a look at old Sol and started on. I was walking pretty brisk, and all at once I came up behind a couple that made me start. One of them was Greenback Bob, past doubt, and the other was, or so I first thought, an Arab dressed in American trousers and coat and wearing a fez; but when I came closer and looked him wellover I was sure it was Delbras—there were all the points, everything; and I followed them, feeling as pleased as if I had them already in bracelets; and then, just as I was wondering where they were going, they brought up in a crowd before one of those Turkish theatres. The hustler was hustling in his last crowd before dinner, and when the two pushed their way to the ticket booth I kept close behind them.
'Well, sir, they were close by the place, but they bought no tickets, that I'll swear; nevertheless, before I could take in the situation they were walking past the man at the entrance and into the show, and I made all haste to buy a ticket and follow them.
'Of course I felt sure that I was following, for I had seen them pass through the inner door; but when I got inside, and began to look around me, they were not there, neither of them. I looked through the audience, it was a very thin one; made my way down to the stage to look for the door by which they had escaped me, and I did some mental profanity that'll be forgiven me, I know, and then I gave it up and went outside to reconnoitre the old barrack.
'On one side its windows overlooked a lane open straight from the street, and there was a small door in the rear corner, while in the other a door that must have opened behind the scenes inside gave upon a sort of court-like quarters where a lot of fellows where lounging, and a few cooking, at an open fire. I made this discovery through a crack in the high fence in the rear, and I prowled about until I assured myself that my gentlemen were not there.
'I suppose I had hung about that rear inclosure some twenty minutes, or perhaps more, when I suddenly bethought me of the other Turkish booth and the big bazaar, and I came around to take a final look at the front and then move on. When I reached the front, one of the dancing-girls was posturing before the entrance, and a new voice wascalling the crowd to "come and see and admire the only original," etc; and, sir, there upon the upper step, exhorting the public, was—Delbras himself.'
'The clever rascal!' I exclaimed.
'You may well say so. Well, sir, it did not take me long to do my thinking. It was almost noon, a quarter to twelve in fact, and I said to myself, "This fellow is playing Turk, and he has turned showman. He has just relieved the other fellow, and will be likely to be here all the afternoon." I couldn't have stayed there if I would without being spotted, for the moment I got myself a little nearer to him he spied me, and began a pantomime of roping me in hand over fist with an imaginary cable. He would have known my face if I had tried to keep near enough to be safe in case of a sudden move, so I took the chance of keeping my appointment with you, getting up a different mug, and hurrying back.'
'And you expect to find him there?'
'I hope to find him there. It would never have done to have stayed. He would have spotted me at once. The fellow is a long remove from a fool. Carl, what do you think of this deal? What, in your opinion, is their little game?'
'Precisely the same that you and I would play in their places. What could a man ask better if he wants to dodge arrest, or evade surveillance, than such a chance as Midway affords him? All he needs is a "pull" with some of these Orientals, and they are here for the most part for the "backsheesh." Besides, you remember, Delbras is said to have crossed at the time many of these fellows were coming over, and he had plenty of chance to make himself solid on the way, or even before they crossed the water. Who knows how much fine work he has done among these Turks, Syrians, Algerians, Egyptians, Japs, and so on?'
'Jove! you're right enough.'
'And then, Delbras has just the face and figure to disguise well; as a Turk, for instance'—Dave made a wry face—'or as an Arab, and even Bob could manage to transform himself into a passable Algerian. Your discovery of this morning, Dave, simply means that, from this moment, in addition to the task of watching all the European faces in search of our men, we shall have the added perplexity of peering under the hoods, turbans, fezes, etc., of all Midway.'
Dave's face was very grave, and he was silent for some moments.
'The very fact,' he finally resumed, 'of finding Delbras in a Turk's fez and playing the "jay" for one of their theatres shows that you're right, Carl. Well'—getting up suddenly and catching his hat from off the floor—'we didn't exactly come here to play; and as for disguises—why, we've played at that game ourselves.'
We took a hasty and somewhat meagre lunch at the nearest 'stand,' and prepared for an afternoon upon the Plaisance. But I saw clearly that some other way must be devised to entrap our quarry; that, given the open sesame of the temples and pagodas, the booths and pavilions, the villages, with their ins and outs, and our tricky and elusive trio would have an advantage against which it would be difficult to contend.
And in this I was right. We found Delbras, or the man we believed to be Delbras, still occupying the 'lecturer's' place at the entrance to the theatre. He was disguised to the extent of a pair of black whiskers and some slightly smoked gold-rimmed nose-glasses, just as he had been in the morning; and he did not labour continuously. Instead, he exchanged often with a second person, who took up the strain of flowery superlatives at about every other half-hour, during which relief the disguised Delbras gave some portion of his time to the box-office and making of change, and the remainder to puffing innumerable cigarettes. But in spiteof our combined vigilance, before the afternoon was over, and while the crowds were thickest and rapid movement impossible, the man escaped our vigilance. It did not surprise me. Those Midway throngs made veritable sanctuary for a fleeing criminal, but it made me more than ever determined to find some other and quicker way of getting our hands upon this gang.
All that week we haunted Midway to little purpose. Once in the very centre of the big Turkish bazaar—where everything was sold, and which was extended from time to time out of all proportion to its original size—where, too, I had been arrested and ignominiously marched away, to be rescued by Dave Brainerd—I caught a glimpse of Delbras, this time in full Turkish costume, and minus the beard and smoked glasses.
I followed him recklessly, thrusting aside those who obstructed my way with an impatient and ruthless hand, until I came to a spot, almost at the southern exit of the long and narrow L, where a crowd was packed from side to side of the eight-foot aisle, with mouths agape listening to the exhortations of a boyish-looking fellow, wearing a Turkish fez and a sort of smoking-jacket, and looking, in spite of this, far more like a Jew than a follower of Mahomet. He stood at one side, close to the entrance, and a curtain framed and partially concealed him. Behind him, towering above him by a head and shoulders, was a tall Soudanese, his face black, and shining, and round, and his white robe and turban emphasizing the arm, bare, black, and massive, that waved a continuous accompaniment to the words half spoken, half shouted, by the other:
'Buy your tickets! Buy your tickets now, now, now! Come and see how to get married! Come to see how to get divorced! Come to see how the ladies quarrel with their husbands! Come and see how the ladies quarrel with each other! Buy your tickets now, now, now!'
In this singular combination of the modern fakir plying his trade and the huge black steadily and systematically beckoning toward a stairway partially concealed beyond the curtain, and looking like some giant eunuch of ancient romance, there seemed something which caught and held the public eye and the public wonder; and they crowded about the improvised entrance, and formed an impassable wall between me and the man so short a distance ahead, yet so utterly out of reach.
It was vain to struggle. That Turkish fez had been to Delbras an open sesame through the packed mass of humanity, and for a time I saw it nodding above the lesser heads half-way between the door of exit and that half-concealing curtain. Then, presto! it was gone; and though I went wildly around to the farther entrance, pushing and jostling to right and left, and bringing down upon myself anathemas without number; though I reached the south end of the building in a moment, seemingly, and gazed in every direction, Delbras had vanished.
It was while making this wild rush that I brought upon myself the attention of one of the very guards who had led me ignominiously away from the presence of Smug and the Camps.
He had seen my hasty rush from the building, and, without at first recognising me, had followed me to inquire the cause of my haste.
I knew him at the first moment; and when I had answered his inquiry, he knew me.
'The matter? Oh, I was trying to overtake a—a person whom I particularly wished to see,' I replied; and I saw on his countenance the dawning look of recognition. 'Seems to me you and I have met before. You don't want to arrest me again, do you?' I added testily; and then I pulled myself together and asked more amiably, 'Did you think I was running away with another wallet?'
The young fellow's face brightened. Dave's words had told him and his companions who I was, and he answered, very respectfully:
'No, sir, not this time; though I had not recognised you at first. Can I help you in any way, sir?'
'N—no, I'm afraid there's no help for me this time. By the way, did you happen to see any of those parties again after you marched me off so cruelly?'
He knitted his brows to assist his memory, and finally replied:
'Come to think, sir, I did see one of them; at least one of the persons who had been swindled like yourself.'
'Swindled?'
'Yes, sir. You see, we didn't quite catch on at the time; it was all done so quick, and I got the idea that it was a sort of pocket-game; but it happened that I met the other gentleman, the next day, if I remember, and I spoke to him, for I knew his face at once.'
'Describe him.'
'Why, not very tall, and—well, not very light nor very dark, I should say; not much hair on his face, and dressed in a sort of gray suit.'
'Yes, I see.' I recognised the description as that of Smug, and determined to hear more. 'And what did he say?'
'Why, nothing at first; but when I saw him looking at me sort of sharp, I just stepped up and asked him how the row finished after the other guard and I had hustled you off; and then I told him how we had found out our mistake, and how your friend had let us off easy, although both were on the detective force. And then he explained how, as you and he were trying to keep the old man and his wife from being fleeced, one of the gang had set up the cry of "Pickpocket!" and had pointed at you; and then,you know, when we fished that wallet out of your pocket it looked a——'
'Yes,' I replied gravely; 'it certainly did.'
'He said,' went on the guard, 'that he had tried to make us understand that it was all a mistake about you, you know, but we didn't hear him.'
'So you told him that my friend and I were upon the S.S.?' I said.
'Why, yes; was that——'
'Never mind. What did he say about the others—the tall man with the fez, for instance? He had a notebook and some bills in his hand, you may remember.'
'Yes, sir, I do. Yes, he told me about him. Jumbo! but didn't you all get into a muddle. He had a narrow escape, too—the tall man, you know. Did you know who he was?'
I shook my head.
'Well, sir, he came very near being fleeced too. He wanted to change a bill, it seems, and the old farmer and the other fellow—the one that told me, you know, had both been getting some change from a man that claimed to make a business of changing foreign paper and large bills, to accommodate people.'
'Oh!' I ejaculated.
'Yes, sir; and this gentleman—he was a big man, you know; one of them foreign managers, and couldn't speak very good English—was just going to change with them, a hundred, I think he said, when somebody sets up the cry of pickpocket, you know.'
'Yes, I know; go on.'
'Well, sir, after you was gone, of course in the crowd the real pickpocket got off scot-free. It turned out that the farmer and him that told me had been "done" by some sharper, and that they was just ready to pass off on this foreigner a lot of counterfeit money.'
'Great Cæsar!' I ejaculated, and then checked my hasty speech. After all, why should I expend my breath or wrath upon this guileless guard, who, after all, was doing me a service? and how cleverly Smug had twisted the story, and made it serve his turn! But it must not be repeated—if it had not been already.
'Look here,' I said in a more amiable tone, 'have you told this affair, all or any of it, to anyone?'
'Who—me? No. Haven't had the chance. The fellow that was with me that day was taken off next day, and I've not seen a soul I know since. I did want to tell him.'
'It's well you did not. Look here, if you want to keep out of trouble, you must keep perfectly dark about this matter. It's being sifted on the quiet, and they'd take it very ill at headquarters if one of the guards was to "leak" on them, and maybe spoil their game. And if you should chance to meet this party again, remember, mum's the word.'
'I'll keep mum, sir. I don't want to lose my job, not yet, before I've seen half the Fair.'
'Very good. Now, how long have you been on duty about this place?'
'Two weeks, sir—ever since I was put on the force.'
'And this foreigner—manager as you call him—did you have a good look at him?'
'Oh yes, sir.'
'Ever seen him before?'
'Now that you ask, I'm quite sure I have, but not knowing who he was. Yes, I'm sure I've seen him about the village among the Turks more than once.'
'Describe him.'
'Why, he's good-looking, and tall, and dark; got a sort of proud gait, and square shoulders; always dresses swell.'
'Thank you.' I had squeezed my orange dry, and was anxious to leave him. I had suspected it before, and wasnow convinced that unwittingly, in my attempt to play the guardian angel to Adam Camp and his wife, I had come face to face with Delbras.
When I compared notes with Dave that night he was quite of my opinion.
It had been decided between Miss Jenrys and myself that the little brunette should not be altogether ignored, at least for a time; and I had taken it upon myself to provide the letter which was to put off until a more convenient season the proposed survey of the White City by night.
After some thought I had written the following, and posted it according to directions, in care of a certain café on Fifty-seventh Street: