"With a smothered exclamation of triumph she draws away a silken belt!"—page 315."With a smothered exclamation of triumph she draws away a silken belt!"—page 315.
Yesterday, it had seemed desirable that Miss Arthur and herfiancéshould be kept out of the house of Oakley. To-day, they agreed that the quicker the pair took up their abode beneath its hospitable roof, the sooner they, Mr. Davlin and his accomplice,would breathe freely. If they could get the two in the same house with themselves, they might yet outwit Mr. Percy—with the aid of their friend and ally, the sham doctor, if in no other way. Meantime, they would not make the robbery known; or rather, they would inform the servants and all others whom it seemed desirable to enlighten, that the girl, Céline, had possessed herself of certain jewels and of Mrs. Arthur's purse, and fled with her spoils.
Accordingly, Hagar was summoned and told of the base ingratitude of the French maid. Whereupon she was much astonished, and ventilated her opinions of French folk in general, and that one in particular. Through Hagar, the other servants, now few in number, were informed of the defalcation, and the extent of damage done by Miss Céline Leroque. Then the kitchen cabinet held a session forthwith, and settled the fate of their departed contemporary, being ably assisted by Hagar.
The Professor was made no wiser than were the rest of the tools who served the plotters. But he was somewhat surprised upon being desired, by Mr. Davlin, to equip himself for a walk, the object of which was to allay the alarm of Miss Arthur and her friend, and invite them to the manor forthwith. Said invitations were to be followed up with the doctor's assurance that, having made a more minute examination, he was fully satisfied that there was no fear of contagion from Mrs. Arthur, and but little from her husband; none, in fact, unless they desired to be much in his room.
The worthy pair set out for the village, and were so fortunate as to meet Mr. Percy on the very threshold of the inn. Having exchanged greetings and cigars, and having discussed the weather and various other interesting topics, the gentlemen sent up their compliments to Miss Arthur.
They were soon admitted into the presence of that lady, where more skirmishing was done, during which Dr. Le Guise unburdened himself, as per programme, and then Mr. Davlin fired his first shot.
"By-the-by, Miss Arthur, you may congratulate yourself that you did not retain that impostor of a French maid longer in your service."
Lucian had purposely placed himself near the spinster, and where he could observe the face of Percy without seeming to do so. But that gentleman was glancing lazily out at the window, and his face was as expressionless as putty. Lucian uttered a mental, "Confound hissang froid," as he continued:
"She has robbed my sister of jewels and money to the tune of a couple of thousand, and has cut and run."
"Goodness gracious, Mr. Davlin!" shrieked the spinster.
But Percy only turned his head lazily, and elevated his eyebrows in mute comment.
"Yes," laughing lightly, "I suppose the hussy fancied that she had made a heavier haul still. My sister had about her person some papers, or ratherduplicates of papers that are deposited in a safer place. The jade took these also, thinking, no doubt, that they were of value or, perhaps, without examining them to see that they were worse than worthless to her."
"Oh, Mr. Davlin, what an artful creature! I was sure she was not quite to be trusted. But who would have supposed that she would dare—" gushed Miss Arthur.
"Oh, she is no doubt a professional; belongs to some city 'swell mob,' begging your pardon. But I shall run up to the city to-night, I think, and try and see if the detectives can't unearth her."
Still no sign from Percy; not so much as the quiver of an eyelid.
So Mr. Davlin came straight to the issue, thinking that surely Mr. Percy would betray something here; perhaps would refuse to come to Oakley. In such case, Lucian felt that he should be tempted to spring upon and throttle him from sheer desperation.
But again he was mistaken, for no sooner was his invitation extended, than Mr. Percy accepted it with evident gratification, saying, in his easy drawl: "Shall be delighted to change my quarters. Anything must be an improvement upon this. And as your—ah, Dr. Le Guise—says there is positively no danger, Miss Arthur will of course be rejoiced to return to her proper place."
And of course Miss Arthur assented.
Before leaving, Mr. Davlin arranged that the carriage should come for Miss Arthur the next day, and that a porter should immediately transfer their luggage to Oakley.
"My faith," mused he, as he strode back to tell Cora of his mission; "but he carries it with a high hand. I didn't think there was so much real devil in him. He is playing a fine game, but I don't think he can dream that we suspect him. If we can deceive him in this, and get him into the house, we will be able to accomplish his downfall, I think."
Meantime, Edward Percy was viewing the matter from his own stand-point.
"Luck is running into my hand," he assured himself. "They are evidently a little bit afraid of me; there's nothing more awe-inspiring than a cool front, and I certainly carry that. Once at Oakley, it will be strange if I don't fathom their little mystery. If they are doing mischief there, I won't be behind in claiming the lion's share of the spoils."
According to arrangement, Miss Arthur and her lover were transferred to Oakley on the following day, and there the game of cross purposes went on.
Cora received Miss Arthur with much cordiality, averring that she had missed the society of "dear Ellen," more than she could tell, and declaring that now she should begin to get well in earnest.
Messrs. Davlin and Percy affected much friendliness, and watched each other furtively, day and night.
Dr. Le Guise reported an unfavorable change in his insane patient and forbade them, one and all, to enter his room.
Cora and Davlin protested against the doctor's cruel order, but in vain. Mr. Percy made no objections, but kept his eyes open. One evening, the second of his stay at the manor, he saw, while coming up the stairs with slippered feet, the form of Mr. Davlin as it disappeared around the angle leading to the west wing. Then Mr. Percy stole on until he stood at the door of the wing. Satisfying himself that Davlin was actually within the forbidden room, he waited for nothing further, but glided quietly back to his own door, looking as imperturbable as ever and saying to himself:
"There is a mystery; and we,rather I, am not to see Mr. Arthur at present. Well, I don't want to see him; butI hold the clueto your little game, my fair second wife."
Lucian Davlin went to the city, but he did not set a detective on the track of Céline Leroque. He chose his man, one who had served him before, and set him about something quite different. Then he returned, feeling quite satisfied and confident of success.
And what of Céline, or Madeline, as we may call her once more?
She had said, when writing to Olive, that her stay in the city must be very brief. But even her strong will could not keep off the light attack of fever that was the result of fatigue and exposure to night breezes. And the morning following her arrival at the villa, found her unable to rise from her bed.
Dr. Vaughan was summoned in haste, and his verdict anxiously waited for. "It was a slight fever attack," he said, "but the wearied-out body must not be hurried. It must rest."
And he forbade Madeline to leave her room for a week at least, unless she wished to bring upon herself a return of her summer's illness.
Much to his surprise and gratification, Madeline did not rebel, but replied, philosophically: "I can't afford to take any risks now; I will be good. But you must watch my interests."
During the first day of her "imprisonment," as she laughingly called it, Clarence and Olive were put in possession of all the facts that had not already been communicated by letter.
Upon one thing they were all agreed, namely, that it would be wise for Clarence to make another journey to Bellair.
"They won't be able to accomplish much during the week that I must remain inactive," said Madeline. "But it will be safest to know just what they are about. Besides, I have reasonsfor thinking that Henry is growing dissatisfied, and it is to our interest to keep him where he is for the present. Had a suitable opportunity offered, I should have made him aware of my identity. But as it did not present itself, I left it with Hagar to inform him that he was serving me by remaining."
Dr. Vaughan prepared to visit Bellair on the second day after the arrival of Madeline. But almost at the moment of starting there came a summons from one of his patients, who was taken suddenly worse. Thinking to take a later train he hastened to the sick man; but the hour for the last train arrived and passed, and still he stood at the bedside, battling with death. So it transpired that nearly three days had elapsed since the flitting of Céline Leroque, when Dr. Vaughan entered the train that should deposit him at dusk in the village of Bellair.
It had been prearranged by Madeline and Hagar that, in case of any event which should delay the return of the former on the day appointed, the latter was to visit the post-office and look for tidings through that medium. Madeline had been due at Oakley the day before, and so, of course, to-day Hagar would be in attendance at the office.
Dr. Vaughan had written, at the moment of quitting his office to visit his patient, a hasty supplement to Madeline's letter, stating that he was delayed one train, but not to give him up if he did not appear that evening. He would certainly come on the next day's train.
Clarence was somewhat fatigued as he entered the railway carriage, having spent the entire previous night at the bedside of his patient. He went forward to the smoking car, thinking to refresh himself with a weed.
Four men were engrossed in a game of cards not far from him. As they became more deeply interested, and their voicesmore distinct above the roar of the cars, something in the tones of one of the men caught his ear, reminding him of some voice he had sometime heard or known. The speaker sat with his back to the young man, and nothing of his countenance visible save the tips of two huge ears. These, too, had a familiar look.
Clarence arose and sauntered to the end of the car, in order to get a view of the face that, he felt assured, was not unknown to him.
The man was absorbed in his game and never once glanced up. Our hero having taken a good look at the not very prepossessing face, returned to his seat. He had recognized the man. It was Jarvis, the detective who had been recently employed by him to shadow Lucian Davlin.
It was not a remarkable thing that Jarvis should leave the city on the same train with himself, but the circumstance, nevertheless, set Clarence thinking. Could it be possible that the man had found something to arouse his suspicions, and was he following up the clue on his own account?
Clarence felt an unaccountable desire to know where the detective was going. If he were going to Bellair, then he must be bought over. If he were going to Bellair, he, Clarence, must know it before the village was reached. It was hardly probable that the man's destination was identical with his own, but he had now determined to run no risks.
Throwing back his overcoat, and setting his hat a trifle on one side, Clarence sauntered up to the group of card players, assuming an appearance of interest in the game. As he paused beside them, Jarvis swept away the last trick of a closely-contested game, and then said, consulting his watch the while:
"There's for you! I've got just three-quarters of an hour to clean you out in, so come on."
"Jarvis swept away the last trick of a closely-contested game."—page 324."Jarvis swept away the last trick of a closely-contested game."—page 324.
Three-quarters of an hour! The exact time it would take to run to Bellair.
Clarence shifted his position so as to put himself behind the two men seated opposite Jarvis. As he did so, the expert glanced up, encountering the eye of Dr. Vaughan.
"How are you?" said that young man, nonchalantly.
Jarvis shot him a keen glance of intelligence, and replied, in the same off-hand tone: "High, you bet!"
Jarvis was attired like a well-to-do farmer; and Clarence guessed, at a glance, that his three companions were strangers, two of them being commercial tourists, without a doubt, and the third, a ruddy-looking old gent, who might have been anything harmless. Taking his cue from the "make up" of the detective, Clarence, after giving him an expressive glance, said, easily, "Sold your stock?"
Jarvis cocked up one eye as he replied, while shuffling the cards: "Every horn!"
"Want to buy?"
Jarvis looked him straight in the eye. "Want to sell?"
"Yes, rather."
Jarvis dealt round with great precision, and then said: "All right, Cap. I'll talk with you when I get through this game."
Clarence nodded, and presently sauntered away. As soon as his back was turned, Jarvis jerked his thumb toward him, saying, confidentially:
"Young fellow; swell farmer; big stock-raiser." And then he plunged into the game with much enthusiasm.
Clarence resumed his seat and, for a few moments, thought very earnestly. The words of the detective had confirmed his suspicion. He now felt assured that Jarvis was bound for Bellair, and if so he was, no doubt, in the employ of LucianDavlin, for some unknown purpose. What that purpose was, he must know at any cost.
By the time his plans were fairly matured, he observed that the group of card-players was breaking up. In another moment, Jarvis lounged lazily along and threw himself down upon the seat beside him.
In little more than half an hour they would be due in Bellair, and what Clarence desired to say must be said quickly. Taking out his cigar-case, he offered the man a weed, which was accepted with alacrity, and while it was being lighted, Clarence said: "Are you especially busy now?"
"N-o; only so-so."
"Learned anything more in regard to my man?"
"Davlin?" interrogatively.
"Yes."
"No," puffing contentedly; "we don't move in a case after it's paid off."
"I see," smiling; and then, making his first real venture: "Could you do some work for me to-morrow?"
Jarvis looked keenly at him, and Clarence hastened to say, with perfect, apparent, candor:
"The fact is I have been put back by a patient, and my own personal affairs have been neglected. So I have been unable to look you up at the office, in order to put a little matter into your hands. To-day I am called away unexpectedly." Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, "How long will you be out of town?"
Jarvis shook his head. "Don't know."
"By Jove, what a pity. I'd rather have you than any other man, and I won't stand about money; but my work won't keep long."
The doctor's flattery and the detective's avarice combined, had the desired effect. Jarvis unbent, and became more communicative. "Fact is," he said, squaring about, "I don't know my lay just yet."
"No?" inquiringly: "Going far out?"
"No."
"Well," as if about to drop the conversation, "I'm sorry you can't do the job. It's big pay and success sure. The truth is," lowering his voice confidentially, "there are two parties beside myself interested, and both have plenty of money. It's a snug sum to the man who does our work."
The detective looked grave, and then became confidential in his turn.
"The fact is,"—he was fond of using "facts" when it was possible to lug one in—"I am sent out to a small town as a sub."
"A sub.?"
"Yes; substitute. You see, one of our men was detailed to do some work for a chap who came to the Agency from this little town. It was a case of record hunting. Well, the man went out last night all O. K.; he was a little on the sport when off duty, but a tip-top chap when at work. Well, he got into a gambling brawl, and this morning they brought him in, done up."
"Done up?"
"Yes; killed, you know."
"Oh!"
"And so, you see, I am ordered down here to take the instructions of my gentleman, in the place of my pard, who won't receive any more orders here below."
"Then you don't yet know precisely what is required of you?"
"No; I was packed off at half an hour's notice, and don't even know the name of my employer. I have my instructions and his address here," tapping his breast pocket. "I believe the party lives out of town, at some manor or other."
Clarence was thinking very fast. There was but one "Manor" in or near Bellair. He looked at his time-card; there was but one town between them and that village. Holding the card in his hand he said:
"Well, I will try and tell you what I want done; that is, if there is time—how soon do you leave the train?"
Jarvis now scented a fat job, and thinking only of getting the particulars of that replied, rather incautiously, as he consulted the time-card in the hand of Clarence.
"By goshen! it's only two stations off—Bellair."
"Oh! Bellair, eh?"
Jarvis nodded ruefully, and then asked: "Where do you land?"
Clarence smiled a little as he replied: "Wait until you hear my business, then you will know where I am going."
"All right; fire away."
And the expert settled himself into a listening attitude. "The truth is, Jarvis, I want you back on the old case."
"What, the gambler's?"
"Yes, Davlin; he is about at the end of his rope, and will, in a short time, be trying to quit the country. Did you ever see the woman who is his partner in iniquity? You heard considerable of her while looking up this business."
"Heard of her? I should think so. Never saw her, though."
"No matter; you may see her soon. You see, they are now at work upon a fine piece of rascality. She has actually married an old man, supposing him to be wealthy, and Davlin isfiguring as her brother. In reality, the old man, their victim, holds only a life interest in the property. So you see, even if they succeed with the thing in hand, they won't make much. And the person who will inherit, after the old gentleman passes away, is aware of their real character and is ready to spring upon them at the proper moment."
Jarvis gave a long, low whistle.
"Now, then, there is another crime—one that occurred some years ago, with which this man and woman are connected, and they are allowed to go free for a little time in order to complete the evidence in this second case."
Jarvis nodded sagely.
"So you see there will be double fees, and large ones. First, from the heir, and next, from the parties interested in the last case. The two are friends, in fact, and work together. Of course, I should expect to act according to the rules of your office, and I know that you are paid by your manager, but—if you can put me in possession of all the movements of Lucian Davlin for the next week, in addition to the salary paid you by your head officials, I will promise you one thousand dollars. If, later, you can supply the missing evidence, it shall be five thousand."
Jarvis looked hastily behind him. "Is he in this train?"
"No."
"Then were the dev—"
"Wait," interrupted Clarence. "I'll tell you where he is. But first you may attend to the business on which you came to Bellair. You may obey the instructions you shall receive to the letter. But I must know what it is you are bidden to do."
Jarvis knitted his brows and finally said, as if giving up a knotty problem, "Make things plainer; I am befogged."
"Plainly, then," said Clarence, "you are going to Bellair; and," drawing out his pocket-book, "you are not retained as yet for this work?"
"No."
"Well," placing a one hundred dollar bill in his hand, "I retain you for my case, here and now, and you may accept the other fee if you like."
"How?"
"Look at the address of your new client."
Jarvis took from his pocket a number of cards, shuffled them off deftly and, selecting the right one at last, read slowly the name of his unseen employer. Then he glanced quickly up at Clarence, re-read his card, and leaning back upon the cushion, shook with silent laughter.
"Well, if you ain't the rummest one yet! And I'm your man! Why, bless my soul, you are a lawyer and detective all in one!"
Clarence smiled, but he knew this was the highest compliment that Jarvis was capable of. "Then I may depend upon you?" he asked.
"You bet!"
They were nearing the village of Bellair now, and Clarence, who did not intend to let Jarvis know too much concerning his movements, gave him some hasty instructions, and ended by asking: "When do you go back to the city to report?"
"By the next train. Davlin is expecting me, and I shall take his orders and then go back."
"Very well; I'll see you in town to-morrow. Now, as it won't do to risk the chance of being seen together, I will go into the other car." And Clarence sauntered away.
Meanwhile, as they steamed into the village, which was the destination of both, Mr. Jarvis soliloquized, as he caressed his wallet pocket:
"I know who will butter my bread. Davlin is as slippery as an eel, and will end in trouble. Dr. Vaughan is a man of his word, and I don't need his bond. I'm sure of one thousand, if not of five. And I never was over fond of this gentleman gambler."
It may be remarked that Davlin was a man pretty well known by the police and detectives. A gambler riding the top wave of success might have found more favor in the eyes of Jarvis. But he knew, because of his previous investigations, that Davlin was not "flush" at that time.
Clarence kept carefully out of sight when the train reached the village. Springing lightly to the ground, on the opposite side from the platform, he walked swiftly away, unnoticed in the darkness. Once more he crossed the field and knocked at the door of Hagar's cottage, and this time it was Hagar who admitted him.
Eagerly he listened, while the old woman told him how very fast Cora was recovering now; how they had got Miss Arthur and Percy back into the house; and how very careful both Cora and Lucian were to treat them politely. Madeline had not confided to Hagar the story of Olive, and the old woman knew no more of Edward Percy than that he was, as she termed it, "a handsome hypocrite."
Clarence questioned Hagar closely. Had they made any attempt to find the one who took the papers?
"No," Hagar replied; "they had said that Céline Leroque had stolen money and jewels, but they had not said one word about any papers."
Last of all, she told him how, fearing that Henry was becoming too restive, and fearing, also, the effect of too much of the Professor's medicine upon the somewhat enfeebled system of the prisoner, she had made known to Henry the fact that he was working in the cause of his young lady. On learning this, and having it proved to his satisfaction, for he was at first inclined to be skeptical, he had been much delighted, and had since carried out the orders of Madeline as transmitted through Hagar.
Their conversation lasted a full hour, and then, having learned all that could be learned from that source, and having delivered all of the messages sent by Madeline, he bade the old woman a kind good-night, and retraced his steps across the field and back to the village.
When the night train halted at Bellair, Jarvis seated himself in the smoking-car, feeling quite self-satisfied. When the train moved on, he lighted a very black cigar, and began to contemplate the situation.
"Well, how do we stand now?"
As the voice of Clarence Vaughan fell upon his ear, Jarvis bounded from his seat like an india rubber ball and stared wildly at the young man who had dropped down into the seat beside him as if from the ceiling.
"Well, you are a rum one," said he, at last. "Might I ask where you came from?"
"From the ladies' carriage."
"Oh!" with the air of having made a discovery. "So you ride out of the city in a smoking-car for the purpose of riding back in the ladies' carriage?"
Clarence laughed again, settled himself comfortably in his seat and took out his cigar case. "Not exactly," proceeding to light a weed. "I am on pretty much the same business that you are, to-night." Then, taking a big puff, "I have been to Bellair, like yourself."
"The deuce you have!"
"Yes; how did your business prosper?"
Jarvis eyed him sharply. "Perhaps you know already."
"Perhaps I do. You have not got to look for stolen diamonds, have you?"
Jarvis laughed derisively.
"Or stolen money?" pursued Clarence.
Jarvis shrugged his shoulders.
"Or stolen—papers?"
Jarvis began to look foxy.
"Or a runaway young woman?"
Jarvis thought furiously for a moment; then turning square upon his interlocutor, said, significantly: "So there are stolen papers?"
Clarence smiled, but said nothing.
"And," pursued Jarvis, "when one loses one's papers, say deeds, or a—marriage certificate, one naturally thinks of hunting the records for proofs that such papers existed."
"And that is your work?"
Jarvis nodded.
"Take you out of the city?"
"Only a few miles."
Clarence reflected for a time, and then said: "You can do your work, but report all discoveriesto me."
Jarvis assented, and they continued to talk of the matter in hand until the city was reached. Then, having made an appointment for the coming day, and agreed to let the work of shadowing the gambler or, rather, his business, remain a "private spec." to Jarvis, they separated.
Thoroughly wearied, Clarence sought his bachelor apartments and the repose he so much needed.
Early the next day he was up, and after paying a visit to his patient, he turned his steps, or the steps of his horse, in the direction of the villa.
He found Madeline sitting up, feeling much better, and looking altogether lovely. Drawing their chairs near together in front of the crackling grate fire, the three discussed the result of the journey to Bellair. Having first related the news imparted by Hagar, Dr. Vaughan turned to Madeline and asked:
"What is your theory, sister mine, in regard to this change at Oakley? Why have they turned about and taken up Miss Arthur and herfiancéwith such sudden affection. Have you guessed?"
The girl smiled up at him as she replied: "Certainly; have not you?"
"You incorrigible little lawyer! Yes, but give us yours first."
"Why," said Madeline with a light laugh, "I suppose they have been suspecting the wrong party. They think that I was an emissary of Mr. Percy's."
"Undoubtedly that is the truth," assented Clarence.
"And," added Madeline, "believing the documents in his possession, it is easy to understand that they prefer having the gentleman under the same roof with themselves."
"True; now, the question that interests us is, how long will it be before they find out their mistake?"
"I think," said the girl, reflectively, "that their game will be covert, not open, attack, from the fact that they have kept the loss of the papers so carefully from the servants. If this is true, they will move cautiously, and aim to convince the man that they do not suspect him."
Clarence nodded.
"You see the necessity for action, do you not?" Madeline said, after a silence. "I must make my next move within a few days."
"I don't fancy that we need fear any new developments that will be dangerous to our cause just yet."
Then he told them of his meeting with the detective, and its results, adding: "You see, Jarvis can withhold his reports to suit our convenience, and you can grow strong, feeling secure."
Meantime, Jarvis set about his task of record hunting. He was energetic and resolute as a sleuth hound on the scent; so he soon made one or two discoveries.
One day, very cleverly gotten upon as a dapper lawyer, he dropped in at the office of Messrs. Lord & Myers, bankers. Mr. Lord was an old man with a shrewd, twinkling eye; and as the sham lawyer had selected his time wisely, he found the old banker alone.
They were closeted in close converse for nearly half an hour, at the end of which time, the dapper lawyer took his departure, looking rather downcast; and Mr. Lord, with his little eyes brighter than ever, sat down and penned a letter to his friend and brother banker, Mr. Allyne, of Baltimore.
The friendship that had sprung up between Claire Keith and Mrs. Ralston, grew and strengthened as the days went by.
Claire's enthusiasm had overflowed in more than one letter to Olive. The oft-repeated wish that her new friend and her much loved sister might meet, had at last drawn from that somewhat preoccupied sister a very cordial invitation to bring Mrs. Ralston to New York.
When this invitation came, Claire, feeling that it was now time to unfold to her friend the sad pages of Olive's history, sought her for that purpose. But as she deemed that the time had not yet come for telling anyone of the hoped-for lifting of the cloud, especially as to do so she must tell too of Madeline, she refrained from mentioning the names of the actors in that miserable drama.
Mrs. Ralston was deeply interested in the story of Olive's sorrow; and having heard it, she felt a stronger desire than before to see this beautiful, sad-hearted sister, who was so beloved by Claire. Bending down she kissed the fair face, flushed with the excitement Claire always felt when recounting her sister's wrongs, and those of Philip Girard, and said, tenderly:
"Thank your sister in my name, my darling. And tell her that I will certainly avail myself of her kind invitation, at some future time."
Claire's eyes danced eagerly. "Oh, I wish we could go now—at least, soon."
Fate chose to grant Claire's desire in a most unexpected manner, for while they were still sitting, talking, in the semi-twilight, the library door opened and a servant announced Mr. Allyne, to see Mrs. Ralston. At once Mrs. Keith and her daughter arose to leave the room. But Mrs. Ralston said, earnestly:
"Pray, do not go; there can be no need for a private interview."
And as at that moment Mr. Allyne himself appeared on the threshold, the ladies all advanced to welcome him, and, this ceremony being over, resumed their seats.
"I have just received this letter from Mr. Lord," said Mr. Allyne, after some moments of general conversation. "Read it, and then tell me your opinion of its contents."
The lady took the letter, looking the while somewhat anxious. As she read, the look of apprehension deepened. When at last she dropped the letter, her hands were trembling visibly, and her face was pale and agitated. For a moment she sat in silence, her eyes full of fear and her hands working nervously. Then she seemed to recover herself by a powerful effort of will. Taking up the letter, she placed it in the hand of Mrs. Keith, saying: "Read it, dear friend."
Mrs. Keith took the letter and read:
New York, Dec. 7th.
Wm. Allyne, Esq.,Dear Sir:—A man assuming to be a lawyer called on me this afternoon, and requested information regarding our friend, Mrs. Ralston. If I am not much mistaken he is in reality a detective—I think I remember him in the Mallory case—and is, doubtless, looking up evidence in regard to the lady's second and most unfortunate marriage, either at the instigation of her vagabond husband or some of his supposed heirs.If you know the present address of Mrs. R., it would be well to communicate with her, as some of her old servants are now in this city, at service, and this fellow might ferret out something through them.Having no authority to act in the matter, I could do no more thanbaffle this man's inquiries so far as I was concerned, much as I desire to serve the lady when I know the way.One thing: the fellow evidently believes in the story of her death.
Wm. Allyne, Esq.,
Dear Sir:—A man assuming to be a lawyer called on me this afternoon, and requested information regarding our friend, Mrs. Ralston. If I am not much mistaken he is in reality a detective—I think I remember him in the Mallory case—and is, doubtless, looking up evidence in regard to the lady's second and most unfortunate marriage, either at the instigation of her vagabond husband or some of his supposed heirs.
If you know the present address of Mrs. R., it would be well to communicate with her, as some of her old servants are now in this city, at service, and this fellow might ferret out something through them.
Having no authority to act in the matter, I could do no more thanbaffle this man's inquiries so far as I was concerned, much as I desire to serve the lady when I know the way.
One thing: the fellow evidently believes in the story of her death.
Yours, etc.,J. M. Lord.
The three, Mrs. Ralston, Claire and Mr. Allyne, listened in silence while Mrs. Keith read this letter. When at last she raised her eyes, Mrs. Ralston said:
"I must go to New York immediately, Mrs. Keith, and do, pray, allow Claire to accompany me. I must accept of the hospitality of Mrs. Girard, and I can not go alone."
Mrs. Keith looked grave for a moment. Then, she said: "Mr. Allyne, is it necessary that Mrs. Ralston should go at once?"
"I think it advisable," replied Mr. Allyne. "Once in New York, Lord can receive Mrs. Ralston's instructions, and act for her. In cases like these I don't think it is best to trust to correspondence."
"And, oh! don't let us delay a moment! Once there, I can keep my old servants, who are all true friends, from inadvertently betraying me. And I can trust Mr. Lord to find out who is the instigator of this search," said Mrs. Ralston, eagerly. "Mr. Allyne, when can we start; how soon?"
"Not earlier than to-morrow morning."
"Claire, can you be ready on such short notice?" asked the now anxious lady.
"I? Oh, yes, indeed!" laughed the girl. "I could be ready in an hour! I do detest waiting—don't you, Mrs. Ralston?"
"Very much, just now," said that lady, making an effort to smile; "forgive me, dear friends, but I am really unstrung. The thought of being hunted by that man is too horrible, after these years of peace."
"Then don't think of it, dear Mrs. Ralston," cooed Claire. "You will be as safe as safe in the seclusion of my sister's villa. And you can set things straight soon, when we have arrived. There can't be much to fear, can there, Mr. Allyne?"
"Nothing very formidable," said the banker, rising to take his leave. "Pray, don't exaggerate the trouble, Mrs. Ralston. Prompt attention, such as Lord will give the matter, will make all safe. Besides, he is not huntingyou; the man thinks you dead."
"True; I had forgotten," said the lady, looking somewhat reassured. "Claire, we will pack to-night, and then try and be content until it is time to go."
"Meantime, I will telegraph to Lord and let him know that you will come, and when," said Mr. Allyne, taking up his hat to depart.
The morning of their departure dawned clear and bright. Claire was in extravagant spirits, while even Mrs. Ralston seemed to catch the infectious cheeriness of the day, and her companion's mood.
When they were about to enter the carriage that was to take them to the depot, a letter was put into the hand of Miss Keith. She flung back her veil and leaning back among the cushions perused it in attentive silence. Having finished, she looked up with a little frown upon her brow, and exclaimed:
"How very provoking!"
Mrs. Ralston looked alarmed. "Is your sister ill?"
"Oh, no; it's Madeline."
"The young girl I have heard you speak of?"
"Yes."
"Issheill?"
"No; she got well, just to avoid me; she is gone."
"Gone?"
"Yes; or will be, when we arrive. Why, how stupid I am not to explain! Madeline Payne has been with Olive nearly a week. She has been sick, but is better, and will leave there to-day."
Claire had said but little concerning Madeline, fearing lest in her enthusiasm she should say too much. But she had revolved many plans for bringing about a meeting between Mrs. Ralston and her "brave girl."
Quite the pleasantest of all the rooms that had been so sumptuously fitted up, when "Mrs. Torrance" came to Oakley, a bride, was the back drawing-room. At least it was pleasantest in Winter. Its large windows faced south and west, and all of the Winter sunshine fell upon them, glowing through crimson curtains, and helping the piled-up anthracite in the grate to bathe the room in a ruddiness of crimson and golden bronze.
On this particular December day, the air was crisp and cold, and full of floating particles of hoar frost, while the winter sun shone bright and clear. Outside, one felt that it was an exceedingly cold sun. But viewed from within, it looked inviting enough, and one felt inspired to dash out into the frosty air and try if they could not walka lahippogriffe, without touching their feet to the ground.
Some such thought was floating through the mind of Mrs. John Arthur, who was progressing in her convalescence veryrapidly now, and who had, on this day, made her second descent to the drawing-rooms.
She had donned, for the first time since her illness, a dinner-dress of rosy silk, its sweeping train and elbow sleeves enriched with flounces of black lace. As there was, at present, no need to play the invalid—herself and Davlin being the sole occupants of the room—she was sweeping up and down its length like a caged lioness.
By and by she swerved from her course, and coming to the grate, put a daintily shod foot upon the bronze fender. Resting one hand on a chair, and looking down upon Davlin, who was lounging before the fire in full dinner costume, she said, abruptly:
"How very interesting all this is!"
Davlin made no sign that he heard.
"Do you know how long we have been playing this little game, sir?"
The man smiled, in that cool way, so exasperating always to her, and lifting one hand, began to tell off the months on his fingers.
"Let me see, ball opened in June, did it not?"
She nodded impatiently.
"June!" He was thinking of his June flirting with Madeline Payne, and involuntarily glanced at the windows from whence could be seen the very trees under which they had wandered, himself and that fair dead girl, in early June. "Yes, the last of June—I remember,"—reflectively.
"And pray, from what event does your memory date?" exclaimed Cora, with strong sarcasm.
He glanced up quickly. "Why,Ma Belle, from your introduction to the hills and vales of Bellair, and the master of Oakley."
"Oh, I thought it was from the time you received your pistol wound."
Davlin smiled. "Yes, that scratchwasgiven in June; but I don't date from trifles, Co."
"Oh! Well, I fancy it was not the fault of the hand that aimed the bullet, or rather of theheart, that you got a 'mere scratch.' I never believed in your card-table explanation of that affair, sir."
"Well, don't callmeto account foryourwant of faith."
"I believe you promised yourself revenge on the fellow who shot at you. Why didn't you take it?"
Lucian stooped down and brushed an imaginary speck from his boot toe, saying, as he did so: "I was forestalled."
"How?"
"The—fellow—is dead."
"Oh, well, I don't care about dead men—what I am anxious about is this—"
"Oh, yes," maliciously. "Return to subject under discussion. You embarked in this enterprise in June—"
"Bother," impatiently.
"Late in Summer, bagged your game; in early Autumn, fitted up this jolly old rookery—"
Cora gave a sniff of disdain.
"Next—well, you know what next. We haven't been two months at this last job."
"Nevertheless I am tired of it."
"No?"
"I won't stay here a prisoner much longer!"
Davlin came close to her, and letting one hand rest upon her shoulder, placed the other over hers, which still lay upon the chair back.
"Cora, we won't quarrel about this. The situation is as trying to me as to you; more so. But our safety lies in moving with caution, and—I will not permit you to compromise us by any hasty act. You understand!"
His eyes held her as in a spell, and when, after a moment, the hand fell from her shoulder and his eyes withdrew their mesmeric gaze, the woman shrunk from under the one detaining hand and turned sullenly away, looking like a baffled leopardess.
Davlin resumed his seat and his former careless attitude. Cora walked to the window and looked down upon the scene below.
At length the man asked, carelessly: "Where's Percy?"
"Down there," nodding toward the terrace, a portion of which was visible from her point of view. "And, of course, my lady is in her room watching from her window. When he throws away his cigar, and turns toward the house, she will come down; not before."
Davlin laughed at her emphasis, and while the sound still vibrated on the air, the woman turned, and flinging herself upon a divan, said:
"There, she is coming!"
Complain as she might in private, Cora had acted her part to perfection. Between herself and Miss Arthur, there now existed an appearance of great cordiality and friendliness. While she treated Percy with utmost politeness and hospitality, the remembrance of ten years ago acted as an effectual bar to anything like coquetry, where he was concerned.
Scarcely had Cora settled herself comfortably upon her divan, when the door opened noiselessly, and Miss Arthur sailed in, diffusing through the room the odor of Patchouli as she came. She was, as usual, a marvel of beflounced silk, false curls, rouge,and pearl powder. Her face beamed upon Cora in friendliness as she approached her, saying, with much effusion:
"Oh, you poor child, how delightful to see you once more among us, and looking like yourself."
Lucian arose and gallantly wheeled forward a large easy chair, saying: "And how charming you look, Miss Ellen; you make poor Cora appear quite shabby by contrast."
Cora cast a rather ungrateful glance at the gentleman, and the spinster simpered, "Oh, you horrid man! Brothers are so ungrateful!"
At this juncture, as Cora had predicted, Mr. Percy presented himself, and the four fell into attitudes, in front of the grate—Percy leaning on the back of Miss Arthur's chair, and Cora and Davlin in their former places.
"Merci," said Miss Arthur, pretending to stifle a yawn, "why can't we all be out in this keen air and sunshine? If there were but snow on the ground!"
"Snow!" cried Cora, annoyed out of her usual assumption of feebleness; "don't mention it, if you don't want me to die. We won't have snow, if you please, until I can drive in a cutter."
Percy laughed softly; his laugh was always disagreeable to Cora, as having an undercurrent of meaning intended for her alone. And Davlin said:
"Hear and heed, all ye gods of the wind and weather."
"Well, laugh," said Cora, half laughing herself, "but I am beginning to feel ambitious. Do let's try to set something afoot to make us feel as if we were alive, and glad that we were."
"Agreed, Cora," cried Miss Arthur, gushingly, "only tell us what it shall be."
"Suggest, suggest;" this from Davlin.
The spinster glanced up coquettishly, "Edward, you suggest."
Percy caressed his blonde whiskers thoughtfully, and letting his eyes rest carelessly on Cora, said, meaningly: "Let's poison each other!"
"Or commit suicide!" retorted Cora, coolly.
"Let's be more sensible," said Davlin. "Let's organize a matrimonial society, get up a wedding, and go on a journey."
"Anything that will break the monotony," said Cora, while the fair spinster giggled and put her hands before her face.
At that moment the monotonywasbroken.
While the words were still lingering on the lips of the fair convalescent, the door was opened wide by old Hagar, who said, as if she had been all her life announcing the arrival of great ones at the court of St. James:
"Miss Madeline Payne!"
Then she stepped back, and a vision appeared before them which struck them dumb and motionless with surprise.
Across the threshold swept a young lady, richly robed in trailing silk and velvet and fur; with a face fair as a star-flower, haughty as the face of any duchess; with amber eyes that gazed upon them contemptuously, masterfully, fearlessly; with wave upon wave of golden brown hair, clustering about the temples and snowy neck; and with scarlet lips half parted in a scornful smile.
She swept the length of the room with matchless grace and self-possession, and pausing before the astonished group, said, in a voice clear as the chime of silver bells:
"Good-evening, ladies and gentlemen! I believe I have not the honor of knowing—ah, yes, this is Miss Arthur;Aunt Ellen, how do you do?"
There are some scenes that beggar description, and this was such an one.