Half an hour later, having excused himself to Miss Carleton, Mr. Whitney hastened to the grove, where he found the detective sauntering up and down the winding walk, his hands behind him in a reflective mood, absorbed in thought and in the enjoyment of a fine cigar. He nodded pleasantly as the attorney approached.
"Going to be at liberty for some time?" he inquired, at the same time extending his cigar-case.
"Yes, for any length of time you please; it's a relief to get away from those egotists."
"H'm!" said Merrick, as he returned the cigar-case to his pocket after the attorney had helped himself; "I didn't think that you looked particularly anxious to be relieved of your company when I saw you. I really felt considerable delicacy about speaking as I did."
"Oh, to the deuce with your nonsense!" the attorney replied, his cheek flushing as he lighted his cigar. "If you had listened to the twaddle that I have all day, you would be glad to talk to almost any one for a change."
"In that event, perhaps you won't mind talking to me for a while. Well, suppose we go down to the stables, to the coachman's room; he is probably with his best girl by this time, and we will be safe from interruption or eavesdroppers."
"That suits me all right so long as Ralph Mainwaring doesn't think of looking for me there. That man makes me exceedingly weary!"
"Anxious to secure the property according to the terms of that will, I suppose."
"Anxious! He is perfectly insane on the subject; he can't talk of anything else, and he'll move heaven and earth to accomplish it, too, if necessary."
"Don't anticipate any difficulty, do you?"
"None whatever, unless from that woman; there's no knowing to what she may resort. It will only be necessary to prove that the will, if not in existence at the death of the testator, was fraudulently destroyed prior thereto, and I think we have a pretty clear case. By George, Merrick!" suddenly exclaimed the attorney in a different tone, as he paused on the way to the stables. "I hadn't thought of it before, but there's one thing ought to be done; we should have this lake dragged at once."
Merrick raised his eyebrows in mute inquiry.
"To find whatever Brown threw in there, you know; it might furnish us with an almighty important clue."
"H'm! might be a good idea," Merrick remarked, thoughtfully.
"Of course it would! I tell you, Merrick, I was cut out for a detective myself, and I'm pretty good for an amateur, now."
"Haven't a doubt of it," was the quiet response, and the pair resumed their walk. Both were soon comfortably seated in the coachman's room, their chairs tilted at just the right angle before a large double window, facing the sunset. Both smoked in silence for a few moments, each waiting for the other to speak.
"Well, my friend, what do you know?" inquired the detective, while he watched the delicate spirals of blue smoke as they diffused themselves in the golden haze of the sunlight.
"Just what I was about to ask you," said his companion.
"Oh, time enough for that later. You have been looking into this case, and, as you are a born detective, I naturally would like to compare notes with you."
Mr. Whitney glanced sharply at the detective, as though suspicious of some sarcasm lurking in those words, but the serious face of the latter reassured him, and he replied,—
"Well, I've not had much experience in that line, but I've made quite a study of character, and can tell pretty correctly what a person of such and such evident characteristics will do under such and such conditions. As I have already stated to you, I know, both from observation and from hints dropped by Hugh Mainwaring, that if ever a dangerous woman existed,—artful, designing, absolutely devoid of the first principles of truth, honor, or virtue,—that woman is Mrs. LaGrange. I know that Mainwaring stood in fear of her to a certain extent, and that she was constantly seeking, by threats, to compel him to either marry her or secure the property to her and her son and I also know that he was anxious to have the will drawn in favor of his namesake as quickly and as secretly as possible.
"Now, knowing all these circumstances, what is more reasonable than to suppose that she, learning in some way of his intentions, would resort to desperate measures to thwart them? Her first impulse would be to destroy the will; then to make one final effort to bring him, by threats, to her terms, and, failing in that, her fury would know no bounds. Now, what does she do? Sends for Hobson, the one man whom Hugh Mainwaring feared, who knew his secret and stood ready to betray it. Between them the plot was formed. They have another interview in the evening, to which Hobson brings one of his coadjutors, the two coming by different ways like the vile conspirators they were, and in all probability, when Hugh Mainwaring bade his guests good-night, every detail of his death was planned and ready to be carried into execution in the event of his refusing to comply with that woman's demands made by herself, personally, and later, through Hobson. We know, from the darkey's testimony, that Hobson and his companion appeared in the doorway together; that the man suddenly vanished—probably concealing himself in the shrubbery—as Hobson went back into the house; that a few moments later, the latter reappeared with Mrs. LaGrange; and the darkey tells me that he, supposing all was right, slunk away in the bushes and left them standing there. We know that the valet, going up stairs a while after, found Mrs. LaGrange in the private library, and at the same time detected the smell of burning paper. You found the burnt fragments of the will in the grate in the tower-room.
"Now, to my mind, it is perfectly clear that Mrs. LaGrange and Hobson proceeded together to the library and tower-room, where they first destroyed the will, and where she secreted him to await the result of her interview with Mainwaring, at the same time providing him with the private keys by which he could effect his escape, and with Hugh Mainwaring's own revolver with which the terrible deed was done. Later, finding that Mainwaring would not accede to her demands, I believe she left that room knowing to a certainty what his fate would be in case Hobson could not succeed in making terms with him, and I believe her object in coming down the corridor afterwards was simply to ascertain that her plans were being carried into execution. Now there is my theory of this whole affair; what do you think of it?"
"Very ingeniously put together! What about the jewels? Do you think Hobson took them?"
"No. I think Mrs. LaGrange got possession of them in some way. She has no means of her own to hire that scoundrel, yet the darkey heard her promise to pay him liberally, and you see her very first attempt to pay him was by the sale of some of those jewels. I'll acknowledge I'm not prepared to say how or when she secured them."
"Could she open the safe?"
"That I cannot say. Mainwaring told me, some months ego, that he found her one day attempting to open it, and he immediately changed the combination. Whether she had discovered the new combination, I am unable to say; but she is a deep woman, and usually finds some way of accomplishing her designs."
"Brown, the coachman, seems to have no place in this theory of yours."
"Well, of course we none of us thought of him in connection with this affair until since his sudden disappearance yesterday, but I am inclined to think that he is to be regarded in the light of an accessory after the fact. I think it very probable that Mrs. LaGrange has employed him since the murder to assist her in concealing evidences of the crime, and that is why I suggested dragging the lake in search of what may be hidden there; but, according to his own story, he was in the city that night until some time after the murder was committed."
"Yes, according to his own story, but in reality he did not go to the city at all that night. More than that, he was seen in this vicinity about midnight with a couple of suspicious looking characters."
"By George! when did you learn that?"
"I knew it when Brown gave his testimony at the inquest."
"The deuce you did! and then let the rascal give you the slip, after all!"
"Don't give yourself any anxiety on that score; I can produce Brown any hour he's wanted. One of my subordinates has his eye on him day and night. At last reports, he and Brown were occupying the same room in a third-class lodging house; I'll wager they're having a game of cards together this evening."
"Well, well! you have stolen a march on us. But, if I may ask, why don't you bag your game?"
"I am using him as a decoy for larger game. Whatever Brown is mixed up in, he is only a tool in the hands of older and shrewder rascals."
Before the attorney could say anything further, Merrick rose abruptly and stepped to a table near by, returning with a package.
"What do you think of that?" he asked, removing the wrappings and holding up the rusty, metallic box.
"Great heavens!" ejaculated Mr. Whitney, springing forward excitedly. "Why, man alive, you don't mean to say that you have found the jewels!"
"No such good fortune as that yet," the detective answered quietly, "only the empty casket;" and having opened the box, he handed it to the attorney.
"Where did you find this?" the latter inquired.
"Fished it out of the lake."
"Ah-h! I should like to know when."
"While you were snoring this morning."
"Great Scott! They'll catch a weasel asleep when they find you napping! But, by George! this rather confirms my theory about that woman getting possession of the jewels and hiring Brown to help her, doesn't it?"
Without replying, Merrick handed over the revolver which had been brought to light that morning.
"Where did you get this rusty thing? Was it in the lake, also?"
The detective nodded affirmatively, and Mr. Whitney examined the weapon in some perplexity.
"Well, I must say," he remarked at length, "I don't see what connection this has with the case. The shooting was done with Hugh Mainwaring's own revolver; that was settled at the inquest-"
"Pardon me! It was only 'settled' that the revolver found lying beside him was his own."
The attorney stared as Merrick continued, at the same time producing from his pocket the revolver in question, "This, as you are doubtless aware, is a Smith and Wesson, 32 calibre, while that," pointing to the rusty weapon in Mr. Whitney's hands, "is an old Colt's revolver, a 38. On the morning of the murder, after you and the coroner had gone, I found the bullet for which we had searched unsuccessfully, and from that hour to this I have known, what before I had suspected, that this dainty little weapon of Mr. Mainwaring's played no part in the shooting. Here is the bullet, you can see for yourself."
Mr. Whitney gazed in silent astonishment as the detective compared the bullet with the two weapons, showing conclusively that it could never have been discharged from the familiar 32-calibre revolver.
"Well, I'll be blessed if I can see what in the dickens that revolver of Mainwaring's had to do with the affair, anyway!"
"Very easily explained when you once take into consideration the fact that the whole thing was an elaborately arranged plan, on the part of the murderer, to give the affair an appearance of suicide. One glance at the murdered man convinced me that the wound had never been produced by the weapon lying at his side. That clue led to others, and when I left that room with you, to attend the inquest, I knew that Hugh Mainwaring had been shot with a 38-calibre revolver, in his library, near the centre of the room, and that the body had afterwards been so arranged in the tower-room as to give the appearance of his having deliberately shot himself beside his desk and with his own revolver."
"By George! I believe you're right," said the attorney; "and I recall now your statement that day, that the shooting had occurred in the library; I wondered then what reason you had for such an opinion."
"A small stain on the library carpet and the bullet told me that much. Another thing, which at first puzzled me, was the marked absence of blood-stains. There was a small pool of blood underneath the head, a slight stain on the carpet in the adjoining room, but none on the clothing or elsewhere. The solution to this I found on further investigation. The wound had been firmly and skillfully bandaged by an expert hand, the imprint of the bandage being plainly visible in the hair on the temples. Here is the proof that I was correct," and Merrick held up to the attorney's astonished view the stained and knotted handkerchief. "This, with the private keys belonging to Mr. Mainwaring's library, was in that box at the bottom of the lake. Do you consider Mrs. LaGrange or Hobson capable of planning and carrying out an affair so adroitly as that?"
"You've got me floored," the attorney answered, gazing at the proofs before him. "Hobson I know nothing about; but that woman I believe could scheme to beat the very devil himself; and yet, Merrick, when you think of it, it must have taken time—considerable time—to plan a thing like that."
"Or else," Merrick suggested, "it was the performance of an expert criminal; no bungling, no work of a green hand."
Mr. Whitney started slightly, but the detective continued. "Another point: Hobson, as you say, was the one man whom Hugh Mainwaring feared and who evidently had some hold upon him; would he then have dared denounce him as a liar and an impostor? Would not his use of such terms imply that he was addressing one whom he considered a stranger and unacquainted with the facts in the case?"
"I see," the attorney replied quickly; "you have in mind Hobson's accomplice, the tall man with dark glasses."
Merrick smiled. "You are then inclined to the opinion that J. Henry Carruthers, who called in the afternoon, is identical with the so-called Jack Carroll who accompanied Hobson in the evening?"
"Certainly that is a reasonable supposition. The descriptions of the two men agree remarkably, and the darkey was positive, both in his testimony at the inquest and in conversation with me, that they were one and the same person."
"Their general appearance seems to have been much the same, but their conduct and actions were totally unlike. Carruthers acted fearlessly, with no attempt at concealment; while, if you will stop to think of it, of all the witnesses who tried to give a description of Carroll, not one had seen his face. He always remained in the background, as much concealed as possible."
"I don't deny that you are correct," the attorney said musingly; "and they may have been two distinct individuals, Carroll evidently being the guilty party; but even in that event, in my opinion, he was only carrying out with a skillful hand the plans already arranged by that woman and Hobson."
"Whatever part Carroll took in the affair, he was undoubtedly Hobson's agent; and you will find that Hobson and Mrs. LaGrange have been more intimately associated and for a much longer time than you suspect," and Merrick repeated what he had overheard of the interview in Mrs. LaGrange's parlor, just after the close of the inquest.
Mr. Whitney listened with deep interest. "Well, well! And you heard her accuse him of being an accessory? Of course she referred to the murder. By George! I should have wanted them arrested on the spot!"
After a slight pause, he continued. "There's one thing, Merrick, in the conduct of Carruthers which I don't understand. Why, after telling the secretary that he would remain at the Arlington for the next two or three days, should he return to the city the next morning on the 3.10 train?"
"He seems to have been an impulsive man, who acted on the spur of the moment," Merrick answered; "but the strangest part of that is, that he did not return to the city at all. He bought a ticket for New York, but the conductor informs me there was no such man on board; while the north-bound train, which pulls out about five minutes later, had a passenger answering exactly to his description. The conductor on the latter train also informed me that, just as they were pulling out of the station, a man, tall and dark, rather good-looking, he should judge, though he could not see his face, and wearing a long, light overcoat, sprang aboard, decidedly winded, as though from running, and immediately steered for the darkest corner of the smoking-car, where he sat with his hat well drawn down over his face."
"Carroll again, by George!" exclaimed the attorney.
"Here is a problem for you to solve," Merrick continued, pointing to the revolver and box lying side by side. "You think Brown threw those in the lake. Who was the man that Brown saw standing beside the lake just before three o'clock in the morning, and what was he doing? He was tall and dark, and wore a long coat or ulster. Was that Carroll or Carruthers? Did he throw anything into the lake? And if so, what?"
Mr. Whitney gazed dubiously at the detective for a moment, then began to whistle softly, while he slowly shook his head.
"No, Merrick; you've got me there! I never have had enough experience in this line that I could go into the detail work. I have to be guided by the main points in the case. Then, again, I gave Brown's testimony very little thought, as I considered him unreliable and irresponsible."
"Well, to come back to the 'main points,' then: what reasons have you for connecting Mrs. LaGrange and Hobson with this affair that might not apply equally well in the cases of certain other people?"
"What reason? Why, man alive! there is every reason to consider Mrs. LaGrange the instigator of the whole affair. In the first place, her one object and aim for the past seventeen or eighteen years has been to get hold of Hugh Mainwaring's property, to secure for herself and her son what she calls their 'rights'—"
"That is the point," Merrick interrupted. "You consider her guilty because she would be interested in securing a hold upon the property, although she, personally, has no claim whatever. Has it never occurred to you that there might be others more deeply interested than she, inasmuch as they have valid claims, being the rightful heirs?"
"I never thought of such a possibility," said the astonished attorney; "and I don't know that I understand now to whom you refer."
"I have learned from various reliable sources," the detective replied, "that Ralph Mainwaring has a younger brother, Harold, who is as much of a money-lover as himself, though too indolent to take the same measures for acquiring it. He is a reckless, unprincipled fellow, and having about run through his own property, I understand, he has had great expectations regarding this American estate, depending upon his share of the same to retrieve his wasted fortune. I learned yesterday, by cable, that since the departure of Ralph Mainwaring and his family for this country, his brother has been missing, and it is supposed, among his associates in London, that he took the next steamer for America, intending to assert his own claims."
"And you think—" the attorney interrupted, breathlessly; but Merrick shook his head and continued,—
"I have also, in the course of my investigations, incidentally discovered Hugh Mainwaring's secret, and, consequently, Hobson's secret, only that I know the real facts in the case, which Hobson does not know. You, as Mainwaring's friend, will not care to learn the details, and I shall not speak of them now, but I will say this much: there are probably in existence to-day, and perhaps not very far distant, heirs to this property, having a claim preceding not only that of Ralph Mainwaring or his son, but of Hugh Mainwaring himself."
There was silence for a few moments as the detective paused, Mr. Whitney's surprise rendering him speechless; at last he said,—
"Well, you are a truthful fellow, Merrick, and you never jump at conclusions, so I know your statements can be relied upon; but I'll be blessed if I understand how or when you have gathered all this information together. I suppose it would be useless to ask your deductions from all this, but I wish you would answer one or two questions. Do you think that this Harold Mainwaring, or those possible heirs you mention, would put in an appearance personally, or that they would work through agents and emissaries?"
"Depends altogether upon circumstances. Harold Mainwaring would not be likely to appear on the scene unless he were pretty effectually disguised. As to the others,—if they were to assert their claim,—it would be difficult to say just what course they might take. I have made these statements merely to give you a hint of the possibilities involved in the case. It is now getting rather late, but I will give you one or two pointers to ruminate upon. Don't think that Hobson will run any risks or put himself to any personal inconvenience for Mrs. LaGrange. He is working first and foremost for Richard Hobson, after that for whoever will pay him best. Another thing, don't ever for a moment imagine that Hugh Mainwaring's private secretary is looking for a job. It's my opinion he'll give you fellows one of the hardest jobs you ever tackled; and, unless I'm greatly mistaken, he's got brains enough and backing enough to carry through whatever he undertakes."
"Say! I don't know as I exactly catch your meaning; but that's one thing I wanted to ask you. What do you think of that young man, anyway? I can't make him out."
"I noticed that you had not assigned him any place in that theory of yours."
"No; he's been a mystery to me, a perfect mystery; but this evening a new idea has occurred to me, and I would like your judgment on it. Has he ever reminded you of any one? That is, can you recall any one whom he resembles?"
"Well, I should say there was a marked resemblance. I've often wondered where your eyes were that you had not seen it."
"You have noticed it, then? Well, so have I; but it has puzzled me, for, though the look was familiar, I was unable to recall whose it was until to-night. Now that I have recalled it, that, taken in connection with some other things I have observed, has led me to wonder whether it were possible that he is a son of Hugh Mainwaring's, of whose existence no one in this country has ever known."
"Hugh Mainwaring! I don't understand you."
"Why, you just acknowledged you had noticed the resemblance between them!"
"I beg your pardon; but you must recollect that I have never seen Hugh Mainwaring living, and have little idea how he looked."
"By George! that's a fact. Well, then, who in the dickens do you think he resembles?"
The coachman's step was heard at that instant on the stairs, and Merrick's reply was necessarily brief.
"Laying aside expression, take feature for feature, and you have the face of Mrs. LaGrange."
One of the first duties which the secretary was called upon to perform, during his brief stay at Fair Oaks, was to make a copy of the lost will. He still retained in his possession the stenographic notes of the original document as it had been dictated by Hugh Mainwaring on that last morning of his life, and it was but the work of an hour or two to again transcribe them in his clear chirography.
Engaged in this work, he was seated at the large desk in the tower-room, which had that morning been opened for use for the first time since the death of its owner. He wrote rapidly, and the document was nearly completed when Mr. Whitney and Ralph Mainwaring together entered the adjoining room.
"Egad!" he heard the latter exclaim, angrily, "if that blasted scoundrel thinks he has any hold on me, or that he can keep me on the rack as he did Hugh, he'll find he has made the biggest mistake of his life. It is nothing but a blackmailing scheme, and I've more than half a mind to sift the whole matter to the bottom and land that beggarly impostor where he belongs."
"I hardly know just what to advise under the circumstances," Mr. Whitney answered, quietly, "for I, naturally, have some personal feeling in this matter, and I am forced to believe, Mr. Mainwaring, that there is something back of all this which neither you nor I would care to have given publicity. But, laying aside that consideration, I am of the opinion that it might not be to your interest to push this matter too closely."
"On what grounds, sir, do you base your opinion?" Mr. Mainwaring demanded.
The attorney's reply, however, was lost upon Scott, whose attention had been suddenly arrested by the imprint of a peculiar signature across one corner of the blotter upon which he was drying his work, now completed. Instantly, oblivious to everything else, he carefully examined the blotter. It was a large one, fastened to the top of the desk, and had been in use but a comparatively short time. It bore traces both of Hugh Mainwaring's writing and of his own, but this name, standing out boldly on one corner, was utterly unlike either. Nor did it resemble any of the signatures attached to the will on that memorable day when the desk with its paraphernalia had been last used.
Considerably perplexed, Scott suddenly recalled a small pocket mirror which he had seen in the desk. This he speedily found, and, having placed it at the right angle, leaned over to get a view of the name as it had been originally written. As he did so, he caught sight of some faint lines above the signature which he had not observed, but which were plainly visible in the mirror. It was well for the secretary that he was alone, for, as he read the signature with the words outlined above, he was spellbound. For a moment he seemed almost paralyzed, unable to move. His brain whirled, and, when he at last sank back in his chair, his face was blanched and he felt giddy and faint from the discovery which he had made. Gradually he became conscious of his surroundings. Again he heard, as in a dream, the conversation in the adjoining room. The attorney was speaking.
"I do not at present feel at liberty to give the source of my information, but I can assure you it is perfectly reliable, and my informant would never have made such an assertion unless he had ample authority to back it up."
"I don't care a rap for your information or its source," the other interrupted, impatiently. "The whole thing is simply preposterous. The estate descended regularly to Hugh Mainwaring, and from him to our own family as next of kin. You can see for yourself that to talk of any other claimants having prior rights is an utter absurdity."
"Had not Hugh Mainwaring an elder brother?"
"He had; but you must be aware that he died a great many years ago."
"But had that elder brother no issue?"
"None living," Mr. Mainwaring replied, coldly. Then added, in the same tone, "Even had there been, that fact would have no bearing on this case, Mr. Whitney. The entire estate was transferred to Hugh Mainwaring by legal process before the death of his brother, he and his heirs having been forever disinherited, so that it is the same as though he had never existed."
While he was speaking, the secretary entered the library, his pallor and unusual expression attracting Mr. Whitney's attention. In response to a glance of inquiry from the latter, however, he merely said,—
"The copy is completed. You will find it on the desk," and passed from the library into the hall.
Still wondering at his appearance, Mr. Whitney proceeded to the tower-room, and a moment later both gentlemen were absorbed in the perusal of the duplicate of the lost will; but afterwards the attorney recalled that, on taking the document from the desk, he had noticed that the large blotter covering the top had been removed and replaced by a new one.
There was no perceptible change in Scott's appearance during the remainder of the day, except that he seemed more than usually thoughtful, sometimes to the verge of abstraction, but, in reality, his mind was so preoccupied with endless doubts and surmises regarding his recent discovery that he found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate his attention upon the work required of him. That afternoon, however, while engaged in looking through some important documents belonging to Hugh Mainwaring, kept at the city offices, a cablegram was handed him, addressed to himself personally, from Barton & Barton, a well-known legal firm in London. The despatch itself caused him little surprise, as he had been in correspondence with this firm for more than a year; but the contents of the message were altogether unexpected, and left him in a state of bewilderment. It read,—
"Have you met J. Henry Carruthers, of London, supposed to have sailed ten days since, or can you give us his whereabouts?"
Fortunately, Scott was alone, Ralph Mainwaring and the attorney being in the private offices, and he had plenty of opportunity to recover from his surprise. For half an hour he revolved the matter in his thoughts, wondering whether this had any bearing upon the question which for the last few hours he had been trying to solve. A little later he sent the following reply:
"Person mentioned seen on 7th instant. No trace since. You have my letter of 8th instant. Cable instructions."
As the Mainwaring carriage appeared at the offices at four o'clock, to convey the gentlemen to Fair Oaks, Mr. Whitney was surprised to find the secretary still engaged at his desk.
"If you will excuse me," the latter said, pleasantly, "I will not go out to Fair Oaks this evening. I have some unfinished work here, and I will remain in the city to-night."
Upon entering the offices the next day, however, the attorney found the following note addressed to himself:
"Mr. WHITNEY.
"DEAR SIR,—I regret to be compelled to inform you that you will have to look for another assistant, as important business calls me away for an indefinite period. Do not give yourself any trouble concerning the salary which you kindly offered me. I am not in need of it, and have only been too glad to render you the little assistance within my power, knowing, as I do, that you have no easy case on your hands.
"Trusting we shall meet in the future, I am, with great esteem,"Very truly yours,"H. SCOTT.
As Mr. Whitney read and reread this note, the words of the detective regarding the private secretary were recalled to his mind, and he muttered,—
"Yes, Merrick was right. It is very evident the young man is not 'looking for a job;' but I'll be blessed if I know what to think of him!"
Upon Mr. Whitney's return to Fair Oaks, he found the guests assembled on the veranda, overlooking the river, Mr. Merrick, who had just returned from a few days' absence, being also included in the company. There were many exclamations of surprise and considerable comment when Mr. Whitney told of the sudden disappearance of the secretary.
"Now, that is too bad!" cried Edith Thornton. "He was so interesting, and we were all beginning to like him so much."
"I don't know that any of us were so charmed with him as one might be led to suppose from your remark, Edith," said Isabel Mainwaring, with a disdainful glance towards the attorney, who had seated himself beside Miss Carleton; "but here, almost any one will answer for a diversion, and he was really quite entertaining."
"It is not to be expected that you would see or appreciate his good points," said her brother, with half a sneer; "but Scott is a fine fellow and a gentleman, and I shall miss him awfully."
Miss Carleton remained silent; but for some reason, unexplainable to herself, she was conscious of a vague sense of disappointment and injury. She would not admit to herself that she was troubled because Scott had gone, it was the manner of his departure. Surely, after the friendship and confidence she had shown him, he might at least have sent some word of farewell, instead of leaving as he had, apparently without a thought of her. However, she chatted graciously with Mr. Whitney, though, all the while, a proud, dark face with strangely beautiful eyes persistently forced itself before her mental vision, nearly obliterating the smiling face of the attorney.
Meanwhile, Ralph Mainwaring was giving the detective his views on the subject.
"I, for one, am not sorry that he has followed the example of the coachman and taken himself off. It is my opinion," he continued, in impressive tones, "that we will yet find he had reasons for leaving in this manner."
"Undoubtedly!" Merrick replied, with equal emphasis.
"Now, that's just where you're wrong, governor," said young Mainwaring. "Scott is as good as gold. There is no sneak about him, either; and if he had reasons for leaving as he has, they were nothing to his discredit; you can stake your last shilling on that!"
"Oh, I know he has pulled the wool over your eyes," said his father; "but he has never tried his smooth games on me; he knows I can see through him. I detest him. One of your typical American swells! Just what one would expect to find in a country where a common clerk is allowed to associate with gentlemen!"
"But, begging your pardon, Mr. Mainwaring," the detective interposed, quietly, "Mr. Scott is not an American. He has lived less than two years in this country."
A chorus of exclamations followed this statement.
"Not an American! Then he must be an Englishman," cried Miss Carleton, her sparkling eyes unconsciously betraying her pleasure at the discovery.
"Merrick, are you sure of that?" inquired Mr. Whitney, in astonishment.
"Certainly, or I would never have made the assertion I did."
Ralph Mainwaring suddenly turned the conversation. "How about that will business, Mr. Whitney? When will that come off?"
"The petition was filed this afternoon, and will be granted a hearing some time next week; I have not yet learned the day."
"And then will you gentlemen be ready to start for home?" Mrs. Mainwaring inquired, a touch of impatience in her voice.
"Well, by my soul! I should say not," laughed Mr. Thornton, before her husband could reply. "It will probably take a number of months, my dear madam, to settle up this estate, even if there should be no contest; and if the case is contested, it may drag on for years, eh, Mr. Whitney?"
"That will depend upon circumstances. A contest would, of course, delay the case, perhaps for several months; but I am not aware of any contestants with sufficient means for continuing it the length of time you mention."
"Mercy me!" exclaimed Mrs. Mainwaring, addressing her husband; "do you and Hugh intend to remain here all that time?"
"Our stay will probably be somewhat indefinite," he replied, evasively; "but that is no reason why you and the young ladies need remain against your will."
"Indeed! Why could you not have said as much before? Neither Isabel nor I care to remain here a day longer than is necessary; we have simply been awaiting your pleasure. Wilson, bring me the morning papers; I want to see what boats are expected. We will take the first steamer home. Mr. Thornton, will you and the young ladies accompany us, or do you prefer to remain in exile a while longer?"
"Well," replied that gentleman, smiling genially, "speaking for myself, I would more than half like to stay and see this thing through; but the ladies are in the majority, and I will abide by their decision. How is it, Edith? I suppose, as the novelists say, you will be 'torn by conflicting emotions.'"
"You horrid old papa! Of course, if auntie is going back, I shall go with her. What do you say, Winifred?"
"I have very little choice, one way or the other," Miss Carleton replied, more quietly than was usual for her; "whatever you and Uncle William decide, will suit me."
"Ab, here are the papers!" said Mrs. Mainwaring, adjusting her eye-glasses. "These dreadful American dailies!" she exclaimed, as she scanned the pages; "one never knows where to find anything. Ah, here it is, and just what we want! The 'Campania' sails Thursday, at three o'clock. That will suit us exactly."
"To-morrow! so soon!" exclaimed two or three voices.
"Certainly," she replied, rising. "I shall have the maids begin packing at once; and, Mr. Thornton, I shall instruct Wilson to attend directly to your luggage, for you would never think of it until within an hour of sailing."
Her departure seemed the signal for the breaking up of the little company. Mr. Whitney lingered a few moments at Miss Carleton's side, with a few murmured words of regret that she was to leave so soon, to which she listened courteously, though making little response. After he had gone she remained standing where he had left her, gazing dreamily out on the river and the distant bluffs. Merrick, slowly sauntering up and down the veranda, had observed the whole scene, and now watched the fair young face with a suggestion of a smile in his kindly eyes.
"H'm!" he soliloquized; "Whitney is a bigger fool than I've given him credit for if he thinks he stands any show in that direction. If I'm not mistaken, I know which way the wind blows, and it's dollars to doughnuts she'll lose that far-away expression of hers before she's been aboard the 'Campania' many hours. I'd like to be aboard myself and watch the transformation scene."
The attorney's voice here broke in upon his cogitations.
"I say, Merrick, that was a regular bomb you threw at Mainwaring with regard to young Scott! How did you discover he was an Englishman?"
"I very easily ascertained that he was not an American; that he was of English descent followed as a matter of course. I am not sure whether he is of English birth."
"You seem to be keeping an eye on him."
"It is my business just now to be posted regarding every one associated with this place. I've been keeping an eye on you for the last thirty minutes."
The attorney colored, and hastily reverted to the original topic of conversation. "Have you seen anything of him since he left us?"
"Since his resignation of the salary as well as the position of private 'secretary?" queried the detective, half to himself, with a tone of amusement, which Mr. Whitney failed to comprehend. "Yes; I met him to-day at the Murray Hill."
"At the Murray Hill! Is he stopping there?"
"He evidently was this morning. So was I. Possibly we were both 'stopping' on the same business; I cannot say."
The detective's face was a study, as was also the attorney's.
"I supposed," said the latter, after a short pause, "from the tenor of his note, that he intended to leave the city at once."
"Possibly he does," replied the other, enigmatically, and, having consulted his watch, turned abruptly in another direction.
"Say, what will you do about him? Shall you watch him?" Mr. Whitney called after the vanishing figure.
Merrick looked back over his shoulder with a peculiar smile. "I shall not lose track of him," he said, slowly; "he is too interesting."
The Mainwaring party was among the latest arrivals at the pier on the following day, owing to the dilatoriness of Mr. Thornton, Mrs. Mainwaring's efforts to the contrary notwithstanding. At the last moment he appeared, serenely and smilingly unconscious of that lady's frowns of displeasure, to the infinite amusement of his daughter, who whispered to Miss Carleton,—
"Poor papa! See how auntie glares at him, and he does not even know it."
But even Mrs. Mainwaring's facial muscles relaxed slightly at the sight of the beautiful ocean greyhound lying in the harbor, her flags waving and streamers fluttering in the breeze, awaiting only the captain's orders to start on her homeward course.
The decks were crowded with humanity, for the most part laughing and chatting gayly and singing bits of song, though here and there were sad, tear-stained faces, where long farewells, some of them perhaps the last farewells, were being spoken.
"Thank heaven, there'll be no tears shed on this occasion!" said Isabel Mainwaring; "unless," she added, with a glance of scorn towards Miss Carleton's escort, "Mr. Whitney should contribute a few. I detest such vulgar demonstrations in public!"
The attorney certainly did not look very cheerful, and even Miss Carleton's sunny face was somewhat overcast, though why, it would seem difficult to determine, since she seemed to have no regrets at leaving America.
"Mercy me!" ejaculated Mrs. Mainwaring, "what a dreadful crowd! It is far worse than when we came over. Hugh, I wonder if your father examined the ship's list. I particularly requested him to do so. I wished to ascertain whether there would be any friends of ours on board. One does not care to make acquaintances promiscuously, you know."
"I don't think the governor investigated the subject very thoroughly," young Mainwaring replied, with a laugh. "I noticed when we registered there were three or four pages of names preceding ours, and I don't think he gave the matter much attention. If I had time I would look it up for you, mother, but we must go ashore in a few moments."
"If I am not mistaken, my dear lady," said Mr. Thornton, who had overheard the conversation, "you will have little time or inclination for looking up acquaintances on this trip."
"May I ask why?" Mrs. Mainwaring demanded.
"I think," he replied, maliciously, "that you and Isabel will be too much occupied in cultivating the acquaintance of mal de mer to care for your best friends."
"How's that, Thornton? Think it will be rough?" inquired Ralph Mainwaring.
"The captain tells me the wind is freshening every moment, and we'll have a decidedly choppy sea before night. I'm thinking we'll have a nasty trip."
"In that case, perhaps mamma and I will not be the only victims," said Isabel Mainwaring.
"I fear not," responded Mr. Thornton. "Were it not or my inherent chivalry, I should turn back; but I cannot leave you ladies to meet your fate alone."
Amid the general confusion of leave-taking, Mr. Whitney turned towards Miss Carleton, saying in a low tone, as he took her hand,—
"I have received cordial invitations both from yourself and Mr. Thornton to visit your home, and I feel assured of a welcome should I accept your courtesy; but, pardon me, Miss Carleton, if, after so brief an acquaintance as ours, I inquire whether I might ever hope for a welcome from you other than that of a friend?"
The beautiful brown eyes met his own frankly, but all the laughter and sunshine had gone out of them. They were serious and had almost a look of pain.
"I am sorry, Mr. Whitney," she said, simply; "but it would be very unjust if I led you to hope that I could ever regard you other than as an esteemed friend."
"Pardon me for troubling you," he said, gently. "Believe me always your friend, and forget that I ever asked for more than friendship," and, releasing her hand, he passed on to the others.
The final adieus were spoken; Ralph Mainwaring and his son, accompanied by the attorney, went ashore; and Miss Carleton, not caring just then to meet the curious glances of her companions, walked slowly towards the forward part of the deck. She had gone but a few steps, however, when she caught sight of the familiar figure of Mr. Merrick at a little distance, in conversation with a tall, slender man, with dark, piercing eyes. He was speaking rapidly in low tones, but his usually non-committal face wore an expression of unmistakable satisfaction. Suddenly he turned and walked swiftly in Miss Carleton's direction. Their eyes met, and in response to her glance of recognition he quickly crossed to where she was standing.
"I have but a few seconds left, Miss Carleton," he said, a genial smile lighting up his face; "but I am glad of an opportunity to wish you a pleasant trip. Are you a good sailor?"
"I hardly know," she answered. "I have had so little experience on the sea. Why? Shall we have a stormy passage, do you think?"
"Nothing dangerous; a little rough, perhaps; but with congenial company, such as I trust you will find," and his eyes gleamed with kindly merriment, "you will hardly mind that. Good-by, Miss Carleton; bon voyage; and if I can ever in any way serve you as a friend, do not fail to command me," and before she could reply he had vanished in the crowd. She looked in vain for any trace of him; then turning to glance at his companion of a moment before, discovered that he had disappeared also.
A moment later the great ocean liner glided majestically out from the harbor amid prolonged cheers and a final flutter of farewells; but she was well out upon the tossing waves ere Miss Carleton turned from watching the receding shore to join her friends, as yet having found no solution of the problem perplexing her, nor even the meaning which she felt must be concealed in the words of the detective.
They had not been out many hours before it became evident that Mr. Thornton's unfavorable predictions regarding their journey were likely to be fulfilled. The sea was decidedly "choppy" and the motion of the boat anything but exhilarating.
When the hour for dinner arrived, Mr. Thornton, his daughter, and Miss Carleton were the only members of their party to venture forth to the dining-saloon, the others preferring to have a light repast served in their own apartments. The captain, having discovered in Mr. Thornton an old-time friend, had ordered seats for him and his party at his own table, and the young ladies, finding their appetites rather an uncertain quantity, had plenty of opportunity for observing their fellow-passengers, particularly an Anglomaniac of the most pronounced type, in the person of a callow youth seated opposite them, whose monocle, exaggerated collar, and affected drawl afforded them considerable amusement.
"Winifred," said Miss Thornton, as they were leaving the dining-saloon, "do you see that young Englishman at the farther table?"
Her cousin glanced carelessly in the direction indicated, noting the fine, athletic figure seated, back towards them, at some distance, attired in heavy English tweed.
"Yes. What of him?"
"Nothing in particular; only the sight of him is such a relief, you know, after that wretched caricature at our table."
"Poor little harmless dudelet!" mused Winifred, with a smile; "his self-complacency will be short-lived whenever he meets Isabel. She will simply annihilate him with one of those glances of hers!"
At Miss Carleton's suggestion, they went on deck; but Edith grew so rapidly ill that her cousin assisted her below to their own elegant suite of apartments, which adjoined, on one side, those occupied by Mrs. Mainwaring and her daughter, while on the other was comfortable state-room belonging to Mrs. Hogarth.
Finding Mrs. Mainwaring and Isabel already reduced to a state of abject helplessness which required the attendance of both maids as well as of the stewardess, Miss Carleton left Edith in Mrs. Hogarth's care, and, wrapping herself warmly, again went on deck. The wind was increasing and she found the decks nearly deserted, but the solitude and the storm suited her mood just then, and, wrapping her rug closely about her, she seated herself in a comparatively sheltered place, alone with her own thoughts.
As she recalled the parting interview with Mr. Whitney, another face seemed to flash before her vision, and a half-formed query, which had been persistently haunting her for the last few hours, now took definite shape and demanded a reply. What would have been the result if that other, instead of leaving without one word of farewell, had asked for the hope of something better and deeper than friendship? What would her answer have been? Even in the friendly shadow of the deepening twilight she shrank from facing the truth gradually forcing itself upon her.
A solitary figure pacing the deck aroused her from her revery. As he approached she recognized the young Englishman of whom Edith had spoken. Dressed in warm jacket, with cap well pulled down over his eyes and hands clasped behind him, he strode the rolling deck with step as firm and free as though walking the streets of his native city. She watched him with admiration, till something in his carriage reminded her of the young secretary at Fair Oaks, and in the sudden thrill of pleasure produced by that reminder there was revealed to her inner consciousness a confirmation of the truth she sought to evade.
She watched the retreating figure with flashing eyes and burning cheeks. "It is not true!" she exclaimed, to herself, passionately. "I do not care for him! It was only a fancy, a foolish infatuation, of which, thank heaven, neither he nor any one else shall ever know."
But the monarch who had taken possession of her heart, call him by what name she chose, was not to be so easily dethroned.
Meanwhile, the young English stranger passed and repassed, unconscious of the figure in the shadow, unconscious of the aversion with which one of his countrywomen regarded him because of his resemblance to another. He, too, was vainly seeking the solution of problems which baffled him at every turn, and waging an ineffectual warfare against the invisible but potent sovereign—Love.
All that night the storm raged with increasing fury, and morning found the entire Mainwaring party "on the retired list," as Miss Carleton expressed it. She herself was the last to succumb, but finally forced to an ignominious surrender, she submitted to the inevitable with as good grace as possible, only stipulating that she be left entirely to herself.
Towards night the storm abated slightly, and, weary of her own thoughts, which bad been anything but agreeable, and bored by the society of her companions in misery, she wrapped her rug warmly about her and ventured out on deck. The air, laden with salt spray, seemed invigorating, and without much difficulty she found her way to her sheltered corner of the preceding evening. She had been seated but a few moments, however, when the young Englishman made his appearance, as preoccupied and unconscious of his surroundings and as free from any symptoms of discomfort as when she had last seen him. The sight of him was the signal for the return of the thoughts which had that day kept her company. She cast a wrathful glance upon the unconscious young stranger just then passing, his perfect health and evident good humor under existing circumstances adding to her sense of injury and exasperation. She grew ill, and determined to return at once to her apartments, but found her progress against the gale slower and more difficult than she had anticipated. Dizzy and faint, she had just reached the stairs when a sudden lurch threw her violently to one side; she staggered helplessly and would have fallen, but at that instant a strong arm was thrown about her and she felt herself lifted bodily. With a sigh of relief she turned her head towards her rescuer, supposing him one of the officers of the ship, only to discover, to her horror, that she was in the arms of the young Englishman. His face was in the shadow, but the light falling on her own face revealed her features, and at that instant she heard a smothered exclamation,—
"Great heavens! can it be possible?"
Something in the tone startled her and she listened, hoping he would speak again. He did not; but she noted the tenderness with which she was borne down the stairs and put in care of the stewardess. Again she listened eagerly for his voice, but his words were brief and in an altered tone.
During the succeeding twenty-four hours in which Miss Carleton tossed in misery, one thought was uppermost in her mind,—to discover, if possible, the identity of the stranger who had come to her assistance. The only information obtainable, however, was that he was evidently a gentleman of wealth, travelling alone, and apparently with no acquaintance on board with the exception of a young English officer. She determined, at the earliest possible moment, to meet her mysterious rescuer and thank him for his kindness, but was unable to carry her plan into immediate execution. Meantime, she learned that he had twice inquired for her.
On Sunday afternoon, their fourth day out, the storm had ceased and the weather was gradually clearing, and Miss Carleton, somewhat pale but quite herself again, came out for a promenade. She found quite a number of passengers on deck, but for some time she looked in vain for her unknown friend. At last, after several brisk turns, she saw him standing at a little distance, talking with the tall, dark-eyed man whom she had seen in conversation with Mr. Merrick. The younger man's cap was thrown back, revealing to Miss Carleton the fine profile, almost classical in its beauty, of the secretary at Fair Oaks. For a moment her pulse throbbed wildly. She felt a thrill of pleasure, not unmingled with a twinge of the resentment which she had been nursing for the last few days. Then she walked calmly in his direction, saying to herself,—
"At least, I will thank him for his kindness. I am no love-lorn peasant maid wearing my heart upon my sleeve!"
She had nearly reached his side, though he was unaware of her presence, when the young English officer approached from the other side and, slapping him familiarly upon the shoulder, exclaimed,—
"Well, Mainwaring, my boy, you've kept your sea-legs well on this trip."
The tall, dark-eyed man withdrew, and Miss Carleton, utterly bewildered, turned and slowly retraced her steps. Mainwaring! What did it mean? She heard the name distinctly, and he had taken it as a matter of course, replying pleasantly and quietly, as though he had known no other name. The mystery which she had thought to solve had only deepened tenfold. She was aroused by the cheery voice of the captain.
"Well, well, Miss Carleton, glad to see you out! I congratulate you on your speedy recovery. How are the ladies? and how is my old friend Thornton?"
They took a few turns up and down, chatting pleasantly, till Miss Carleton, looking into the face overflowing with kindliness and good humor, said,—
"Captain, I have a great favor to ask of you."
"Granted, my dear young lady, to the half of my kingdom!"
"May I have your permission to examine the list of cabin passengers?"
The captain elevated his shaggy eyebrows and his eyes twinkled with merriment. "Ah! anxious to learn if some particular friend is on board, I suppose. Some one was inquiring of me the other night regarding your identity."
"Indeed!" said Miss Carleton, a world of inquiry in her eyes.
"Yes; Mr. Mainwaring, the gentleman conversing with Lieutenant Cohen over there. He and I both went to your assistance the other evening, but, much to my regret, he was quicker than I. He remarked to me after he came back on deck that he had supposed you were a stranger, but that your face looked familiar. He asked your name, and whether you were with Mr. Thornton and his daughter, stating that he had met you. Correct, I presume?"
"Quite so," said Miss Carleton, quietly.
"And now about that passenger list, Miss Carleton; you have my permission to examine it, and I will accompany you myself."
She thanked him. "Are you acquainted with Mr. Mainwaring?" she inquired, carelessly.
"Never met him until this trip. On first learning his name, I supposed him to be a member of your party, as he is evidently a gentleman; but I soon learned that he was alone."
A few moments later the register was opened for Miss Carleton's inspection, but she did not have to search long. Half-way down the first page she found, in the familiar writing of the secretary, the name which she sought—"Harold Scott Mainwaring."