During the ten days allowed her for preparation Kitty continued charmed with Hayden's idea of a butterfly dinner. It suited her volatile fancy. Her enthusiasm remained at high pitch, and she exerted herself to the utmost in behalf of her favorite cousin. As a consequence, although she made a pretense of consulting Hayden about the various arrangements, the final results were almost as much of a surprise to him as to the rest of the guests, and as he walked through his rooms at the last moment he admitted to himself that Kitty really had surpassed herself.
Yellow and violet orchids fluttered everywhere, carrying out the butterfly effect; and while he stood admiring their airy and unsubstantial grace, Kitty floated in followed by Hampton, thin andkindly, with more of an expression of interest than he usually wore.
"Why, Kitty," cried Hayden, shaking hands with Hampton, "you look exactly like a butterfly, a lovely little blue butterfly attracted here by the flowers."
"But that is what I am," Kitty answered him triumphantly. "A blue butterfly. Don't you see my long wing‑sleeves? And look at the blue butterflies in my hair! Oh," as Mrs. Habersham came in, "here is Bea. Isn't she gorgeous?"
Bea herself was the affirmative answer to that question. She was indeed gorgeous, a splendid brown butterfly with all kinds of iridescent effects gleaming through her gauzes. Dark velvet outlined her skirt and floating sleeves, and dark antennæ stood upright from the coils of her hair.
Marcia, who was with her, to Hayden's infinite relief, was a white butterfly, looking very lovely, but, as he noticed with concern, paler than he had ever seen her, and with something like distress in her eyes, quite perceptible to him if unnoticed bythe rest. He could not keep his solicitude out of his voice and glance, and this, he felt instinctively, annoyed, instead of gratifying her; for almost immediately she assumed a gaiety of manner foreign to her usual gentle and rather cool reserve.
His attention was distracted for the moment by the arrival of Edith Symmes, and the little group paid her the momentary attention of an awed silence, for she had perpetrated what was, perhaps, the greatest atrocity of her life—a vivid scarlet gown which made her face look a livid wedge.
"Don't you like this frock?" she whispered complacently to Bea Habersham.
"No, you know it is a horror, Edith," that lady replied, with the bluntness of intimacy. "I think," turning and surveying her friend calmly from head to foot, "that it is the very worst I have ever seen you wear, and that is saying a great deal. It makes you look like green cheese. For Heaven's sake, put some other color on!"
"Not I." Edith was quite unruffled. "Youknow perfectly well, Bea, that if I wore what you and Kitty and the rest of the world would call decent clothes, that every one would say: 'How plain poor Edith Symmes is! She dresses well, but that can not make up for her lack of beauty,' But when I wear these perfectly dreadful, glaring things that I love, what is said of me? 'What a stylish, even a pretty woman, Edith Symmes might be, if she didn't wear such criminal clothes,' Don't you see, you handsome idiot, that I please myself and score at the same time?"
Not being able to refute these plausible arguments, Bea contented herself with stubbornly maintaining her point. "But red, Edith, why red? It is a nightmare. Who ever heard of a scarlet butterfly?"
Edith laughed lightly. "I invented one just for this occasion. Such a compliment to Mr. Hayden." Her serenity was not to be marred, and fortunately, before the discussion could go further, dinner was announced.
The dining‑room Kitty had transformed into atropical bower. From an irregular lattice of boughs across the ceiling orchids fell as if they had grown and bloomed there. These were interspersed with long trails of Spanish moss in which the lights were cunningly disposed. Orchids swayed, too, from the tops of the tall palms which lined the walls, and above the bright mass of the same flowers on the table floated on invisible wires the most vivid and beautiful tropical butterflies.
Hayden was an admirable host. Possessing the faculty of enjoyment himself, he succeeded in communicating it to his guests; and the dinner, as it progressed, was an undeniable success. Marcia, on his right hand, had apparently thrown off the oppression or worry from which she had suffered earlier in the evening, and, according to Mrs. Habersham all through the afternoon; and her evident enjoyment was immensely reassuring to Hayden, for it seemed to him both natural and spontaneous.
"Bobby," said Kitty, a few moments beforethey left the table, "I'm really afraid after this that the rest of the evening will be a dreadful let‑down. I think if we showed the part of wisdom we'd all fly home as soon as we get up and keep intact a bright memory."
"Ah," said Hayden mysteriously, "you don't know what you would miss. The best of the evening is yet to come. I've got a whole bagful of tricks up my sleeve."
"I'm sure it's going to be a magic‑lantern, or perhaps stereopticon views illustrating his thrilling adventures in darkest Africa, or New York, with himself well toward the center of the picture," laughed Edith Symmes.
"I wish it were," said Penfield. "By the way, Hayden, you're among friends. We'll all promise to keep your guilty secrets; but do be frank and open if you can, and tell us the romantic story of your discovery in South America, and how you happened to find something a lot of people had been searching for in vain."
Hayden looked at Horace in surprise. Thathe should have ventured on this subject was odd, and Robert was for the moment inclined to resent it. For the fraction of a second he hesitated; and then caught at the suggestion. He had been wondering how he should tell Marcia that he was the discoverer of the lost and traditional mine on the estate, of which, he continued to believe intuitively and unreasonably, without a scintilla of real evidence, she was one of the owners. Yes, he had been wondering how he should tell her and here was the opportunity.
"Very well, I will," he said quickly. "It isn't stereopticon views, or a magic‑lantern, Mrs. Symmes. It's worse. It's photographs, and I'm very well toward the center of the picture. With the best will in the world, now that I've got you all here, I shan't let you escape. You must listen to the story of my life."
He had sent for Tatsu, and, at the appearance of the Japanese servant, Robert whispered a word or two to him and he left the room. Just as he did so Hayden felt a slight pressure on his arm.Turning, he met Marcia's eyes. Her gaze was fastened on him with a frightened, almost imploring expression and he saw that she had again grown very pale.
"What is it?" he said to her in a low voice. "You are not well, or you are unhappy about something. Do not feel it necessary to remain here if you would rather go home."
"Oh, no, no!" she protested vehemently. "I am quite well, and I would rather stay, only, I implore you, I beg of you, not to show any maps or photographs of that mine. I beg it!" Her voice, her eyes besought him.
Tatsu returned at this moment with a package which he handed to Hayden, and the latter, taking it from him, looked carefully over its contents, allowing an expression of disappointment to over‑cloud his face.
"The wrong bundle," he said mendaciously. "Too bad! And I might have to search an hour before laying my hands on the right one. I evidently wasn't intended to bore you with any ofmy ancient mariner tales this evening. This is distinctly an omen." He lifted his brows slightly and significantly to Kitty, and she who was playing hostess, immediately rose.
Hayden carried the package into the drawing‑room with him and laid it on a small table. He felt puzzled and perplexed. What did Marcia know, and what was worse, what did she fear? For there could be no doubt that she was badly frightened. How flat had fallen his happy plan of letting her know that he, by some joyous and romantic chance, was the discoverer of the long‑lost Veiled Mariposa! But the party was far too small for any one member of it to engage in meditation, and Hayden as host found his attention claimed every moment. For a calm review of this odd occurrence and any attempt to arrive at a satisfactory explanation of Marcia's words and actions he saw clearly he would have to wait until the departure of his guests.
It was a real relief, a positive relaxation from strain, therefore, when Tatsu threw open the doorand unctuously announced Mademoiselle Mariposa. There was the slightest rustle of skirts, the faint waft of an enchanting fragrance, and Ydo came forward. As usual, her little mask concealed her face, revealing only her sparkling eyes, and her mantilla of Spanish lace covered her hair! but she had discarded her customary black gown. She, too, was a butterfly, this evening, a glowing yellow one with deep lines of black and touches of orange and scarlet, a gown as vivid and daring as herself. As she advanced with her exquisite and undulating grace of carriage, a little thrill ran through the group, for although they had moved in an atmosphere of color all evening, she seemed in some subtle and individual way to express deeper and more vital tints, and veiled, as she was, to cause even the lights to flicker and grow dim.
Behind her followed her private secretary, more demure and colorless than ever, bearing the various objects Mademoiselle Mariposa would need in the exercise of her profession.
All of the women, in fact the whole party, greeted her with warm expressions of pleasure with the exception of Marcia who, Hayden thought, looked more distressed, even more alarmed than ever.
Ydo returned their pleasant speech with her accustomed ease, and then turning to Hayden, as if consulting him about the arrangements for her fortune‑telling, said in a low tone:
"The man you wish to see has returned and I have arranged a meeting in my library to‑morrow afternoon between you and the owners of the property. You will be there, of course."
"Naturally." He smiled. Ah, the thing was really to be settled at last. He drew a long sigh of relief as the burden of this waiting and suspense fell from his shoulders. Hayden's experience since the discovery of The Veiled Mariposa had convinced him that anything, anything was better than uncertainty.
Meantime, Ydo, her Spanish accent more marked than usual, if anything, had asked:"Which is it first? The palms, or the crystal, or what, señor?" addressing Hayden.
"Do not leave it to me," he answered. "Ask the ladies."
The Mariposa turned inquiringly to the group of butterflies.
"Oh, the crystal," said Bea Habersham. "I'm sure mademoiselle couldn't find a new line on any of our hands."
"The crystal, Eunice."
Ydo spoke to the secretary over her shoulder, and that young woman silently and very deftly set to work. She cleared a small table, placed it in front of the Mariposa, and deposited upon it the cushion and the crystal, and finally, she threw some powder into a quaint bronze incense‑brazier, and then seated herself at the piano.
"I will ask the rest of you to remain absolutely quiet," said Ydo. "Now, Eunice, begin."
Eunice obediently struck a few strange chords, and then fell into a monotonous melody with a recurring refrain repeated again and again. Theblue smoke from the incense‑brazier curled lazily upward in long spirals and floated through the room, filling it with a pungent and heavy sweetness; the monotonous music went on, the strange rhythm recurring in an ever stronger beat. The Mariposa who had sat motionless gazing at the crystal began to speak.
"Ah, the vision is not clear to‑night. I see nothing but clouds. Your figures appear for a moment and then disappear. Ah, here is Mr. Hayden standing on a mountain top with his hands full of gold."
There was an explosion of laughter at this, and the Mariposa paused as if innocently surprised. "Clouds!" she gazed into the crystal again. "Ah, here is Mrs. Symmes. I see you in an immense studio, painting, painting all the time, canvas after canvas. You will in the future devote your life to art, madame. You will give up the world for it."
She paused and Edith, casting a triumphant glance at Mrs. Habersham, admitted that she hadbeen cherishing just such an ambition, looking only the more pleased at the unrestrained horror and surprise manifested by her friends.
"Miss Oldham, I see Miss Oldham, now," continued Ydo. "She weeps. She is not happy. Idle tears."
Hayden did not hear the rest, he looked about for Marcia, but she had vanished, slipped from the room. Strange, he had not seen her go, but then she had that peculiarly noiseless way of moving. While he pondered over it she slipped in again without sound, the faintest of rustles, nothing to attract the attention of the others. She was still as white as a snowdrop, but he thought her expression far calmer and less agitated.
But before any one else had time to notice her reappearance, attention was concentrated on Wilfred Ames. He had scarcely spoken during dinner, and since they had returned to the drawing‑room, he had kept in the background, giving every one rather plainly to understand that he did not care for conversation. Now, he cameforward, his face, which had been set and grim and moody all evening, was white and his eyes were burning. Never for one moment, did those eyes waver from the Mariposa. He seemed Entirely oblivious to the rest of the group, and it was obvious that for him they simply did not exist.
"What do you see here for me?" he tapped the crystal with his forefinger. His voice was low and yet so vibrating with strong and uncontrolled emotion, that it reached the ears of all.
There was storm in the air, the whole atmosphere of the room seemed suddenly charged as if with electricity, and there was no one present who did not feel through all the color and gaiety, the pulse and stir of potent and irresistible forces.
But the Mariposa, after her first involuntary start of surprise and apprehension, had recovered her poise and now strove to control the situation. "One moment, give me but a second to gaze deeply into the crystal and I will tell you, that is if the pictures will form themselves."
"Oh, I beg you to drop that nonsense," Wilfred's voice rang wearily. "It's only a pose. You believe in it no more than any one else. Aren't you tired of that sort of game? Of playing with us all as if we were so many children? Well, if you're not, I am. I tell you, Ydo, I've had enough of it. You threw me over yesterday, for no reason under the sun. Just caprice, whim—you can't whistle me back and throw me over to‑morrow. This question's going to be decided here and now for ever. Will you marry me or not?"
"Señor!" Ydo's voice was low, surprised, remonstrating, indignant. "You forget yourself. This is no place to make a scene or to spread before the world our private affairs. I must beg you—"
Wilfred waved his hands impatiently, as if brushing away her objections. "My answer, Ydo. Here and now."
Illustration 4
She seemed completely nonplussed, and Hayden divined that this proud and resourceful Ydofelt herself overmatched and outwitted for the first time. She stood perfectly still, but gazing through her mask at Ames. "I—I think that you will get your heart's desire, señor," she murmured at last, her voice broken, inaudible.
Ames stepped forward, still oblivious to the fact that there were other people present. His face had grown still whiter but upon it there was already an irradiation of joy. "Do you mean it?" he said in a low voice vibrating with some strong feeling. "Do you mean it?"
The little group looked at him in amazement. Was this eager man with the burning, intense eyes, the unruffled and imperturbable Wilfred, to whose placid silence they were so accustomed?
"Why, Wilfred!" exclaimed Edith Symmes. "What on earth has come over you?"
But Ames paid not the least attention to her. It was as if he had not heard her voice. "Is it true?" he said again, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the black mask of the Mariposa.
"Yes, señor," she almost whispered. "Yes,it is true. But in the future, mind you. I see only the future."
"Then tell your maid to throw all this stuff out of the window," Wilfred again rapped the crystal. "You've done with it for ever."
The spell was broken. Hayden and his temporarily stupefied guests roused themselves, and crowded about Ydo and Wilfred in a chorus of questions and congratulations; but every one felt that the moment for departure had come, and in the babble of adieus Hayden made an effort to get a moment's speech with Marcia alone, but in some feminine and elusive way she divined his intention and frustrated it, and in spite of the congratulations of his guests he was left standing upon his lonely hearth with a desolate feeling of failure.
He could hardly say what was the matter. Everything had gone without a hitch; that is, until staid old Ames had so hopelessly forgotten himself. The dinner was perfect, the decorations were beautiful, the small group of congenialpeople had seemed to enjoy themselves immensely, and best of all, Ydo had brought him the wonderful news that his period of suspense and waiting was practically over. By this time to‑morrow night he would know where he stood; and yet, reason about it as he would, the sense of elation and buoyant hope was gone, and in its stead was some dull, unhappy sense of foreboding, a premonition of impending disaster.
For him, at least, there had been some ghastly blight over the whole affair. Why, why had Marcia appeared pale and distressed? And what was far more puzzling, why had she begged him not to show the photographs of the mine upon Penfield's request? Was it that she did not wish one of his guests to know too much about the matter? If so, which one? And how did she know anything about his connection with the mine, anyway?
He tossed and turned for hours trying to arrive at some half‑way plausible or satisfactory solution; but none occurred to him, and he finally fell into troubled sleep.
As was natural after so restless a night, Hayden slept late the next morning, but when he awoke it was with his usual sense of buoyant optimism. The forebodings of the night had vanished, and the good, glad, fat years stretched before him in an unclouded vista. To‑day in all probability marked the conclusion of his comparatively lean years. A half an hour of conversation with those mysterious "owners," the disclosure of his maps, photographs, ore samples, the report of the assayers, etc., and then, the final arrangements. It might result in a trip to the property; but a journey made, his high heart promised, with Marcia.
At the thought of her a slight cloud obscured the shining towers of his Spanish castles. Herecalled with a pang her pallor, her agitation of the night before. Something had evidently lain heavily upon her mind; she had been greatly distressed, even alarmed; but with the confidence of a lover he saw himself a god of the machine, consoling, reassuring, dissipating grief, and causing smiles to take the place of tears.
Upheld by these pleasant reflections, he breakfasted and then strolled through the rooms. They had been put in perfect order. And with the exception of the orchids, now sedately arranged in bowls and vases, instead of fluttering from palm‑trees and lattices, there was no trace of the last night's festivities. Suddenly he bethought himself of getting together his photographs, etc., in readiness for the interview of the afternoon; but they were no longer on the small table between the drawing‑room windows, where he had placed them the night before.
After seeking for them in every likely place for a few moments, Hayden rather impatiently summoned Tatsu and demanded to know whathe had done with them. Tatsu, however, was a picture of the grieved ignorance he professed. He said that after every one had left the apartment, the night before, he had locked up very carefully and gone to bed; that he had arisen early in the morning, shortly after five, and had put the rooms in their present and complete order; and he was positive that there were no photographs upon the table then.
Hayden questioned him closely about the extra servants taken on for the occasion; but he insisted that none of them had penetrated farther than the dining‑room, and that he, himself had seen them all leave before the departure of the guests.
"There is a possibility that I may have tucked them away somewhere and have forgotten about them," said Hayden half‑heartedly. "Come, Tatsu, let us get to work and make a systematic search for them. Don't overlook any possible nook or cranny into which they may inadvertently have been thrown."
The two of them, master and man, made adiligent and careful search, taking perhaps an hour, but not a trace of the lost package could they find; then, dazed, puzzled beyond words, unbelieving still, but with a heavy sinking of the heart, Hayden sat down to face the situation, to make some attempt to review it calmly and to get matters clear in his own mind.
Their recent search eliminated himself from the situation; reluctantly he relinquished the hope that in an absent‑minded moment he had disposed of his precious bundle in some out‑of‑the‑way place. No, he and Tatsu had sought too thoroughly for that to remain a possibility. Eliminating then himself, there remained Tatsu. Although perfectly convinced in his own mind of his valet's innocence, still, for the purposes of inquiry, he would presume him to be the thief. Of course nothing could have been easier than for him to purloin the photographs; but what reason would he have for doing so? The motive, where would be the motive? Would not the reasonable hypothesis be that the Japanese hadbeen approached by some of the owners of the property, who either fearing or suspecting that he, Hayden, held visible proofs of the lost mine, had bribed his servant to gain the desired information? But admitting this to be the case, and Hayden did not believe it for a moment, why had Tatsu remained instead of departing as prudence would seem to dictate?
That of course could be explained by assuming that prudence dictated another line of policy, that he deemed it the best way of averting suspicion. Perhaps! But the conclusion was not particularly satisfactory. Every lead Robert had followed seemed to bring him to a blind wall. He rose restlessly and walked up and down the room, and then sat down again, drumming drearily on the arm of his chair. What now? What new line could he follow? By eliminating the servants, Tatsu, and himself, what remained? His guests. He felt a swift recoil at the bare suggestion, even though a mental and hidden one, of implicating them in this matter, and experienceda succeeding disgust and impulse to abandon his inquiry at once.
Yet, there were the facts, the ugly, inexplicable facts staring him in the face, and he knew that it would be impossible for him to abandon the matter, mentally at least, until he had arrived at some sort of a satisfactory solution. His guests, he ran them over. In every instance, even if they were capable of such an act, the motive was lacking, save in one case. Steadily as the needle veers to the pole, his suspicions pointed to the Mariposa. There at least the motive was not lacking.
Ah, he reflected, falling into deeper gloom, if she had them, then he was indeed lost. Even now, by this time, there would be a set of duplicate photographs made, and careful copies of his charts and maps. In some peculiar way he would probably find the photographs again on his table, and all further communication with him on the subject of The Veiled Mariposa would doubtless be declined by the owners of the property, theirvoice being Mademoiselle Mariposa. Within the shortest possible time, one of their prospectors on the property would discover the hidden trail, and the owners would begin immediate operations, and he as much out of all transactions as if he did not exist.
Suppose he put a detective on the case immediately; it was extremely likely that before the man could take any steps in the matter or decide on the line he meant to follow, the photographs would again be in Hayden's possession.
No, he thought in bitter cynicism, he might as well await their return with what calmness he could muster, for he saw little or no use in taking any definite steps in the matter.
For a time he remained sunk in a listless dejection, sitting among the ashes of his hopes, his dreams of vast wealth gone, his shining Spanish castles in ruins about him. But again his dulled brain began to work. How did Ydo secure the photographs, if indeed it were she who had secured them? She had come late, laid aside herwraps in the dressing‑room, and had entered the drawing‑room followed by her secretary. From the moment of her first appearance he remembered practically every motion she had made. She had not moved about at all during her brief stay and had certainly not been anywhere near the table which had held the photographs, but had seated herself and gone through her tricks on the opposite side of the room.
Now as to the secretary. Well, she on her part had not moved from the piano‑stool. He could see her, too, enter the room and leave it. The whole mental picture of the group was portrayed before him. As he distinctly remembered, the person who stood nearest the table while Mademoiselle Mariposa drew aside the veil of the future, was Edith Symmes, who sat almost directly before it. To the left of her was Marcia, pale and sad, and close beside her Horace Penfield. Heavens! He jumped impatiently to his feet. He was simply getting into a morbid muddle sitting here brooding over this matter. Hemust have action, action of some kind, and obeying a sudden impulse, he decided to see Ydo at once.
Wasting no time in reflection, he telephoned to her apartment, and impressed upon the surprised and reluctant maid that no matter who was there, or what the appointments for the day might be, he must see her mistress within the half‑hour on business of the most imperative nature.
His rapid and excited speech must have impressed the young woman with the urgency of the case, for she presently returned to the telephone with the message that if he would call within the next twenty minutes Mademoiselle Mariposa would see him.
It is needless to say that Hayden lost no time in getting to the Mariposa's apartment‑house, but reached it as fast as a chauffeur could be induced to make the run thither, and was, after a very brief delay, admitted to Ydo's library. She was sitting there alone, looking over a newspaper,and as he came through the door she sprang up smilingly and expectantly to meet him. Then at the sight of his pale and harassed face she recoiled in evident and unsimulated surprise.
"Why, what is the matter?" she cried. "You have aged a thousand years!"
"Matter enough!" he exclaimed. "The photographs and maps of The Veiled Mariposa are all, all gone. They have been taken." He shot the words at her as from a rapid‑fire gun, watching keenly from narrowed and scornful eyes the effect upon her.
Her very lips grew white. "Impossible!" she gasped. "Impossible!" Her surprise was as genuine as the slow, sickly pallor which had over‑spread her face. He could not doubt her. Supremely clever woman as she was, she was incapable of this kind of acting. He gave a quick sob, almost a sob of relief. If not against him she would be for him and her assistance would be invaluable, especially since their interests were pooled.
"Then you," he stammered involuntarily, "you know nothing about it?"
"I!" Her eyes glittered in quick anger. "Of what are you thinking? Oh, I see." She was laughing now. "Oh, no, no, no! Dear me, no! That would not suit my game at all. If you knew the circumstances and, if I may venture to suggest it, myself better you would never have dreamed of such a thing. But," frowning now, "when and how were they taken? Begin at the beginning and tell me all about it."
"There is nothing much to tell," he said. "I sent for the photographs while still at the dinner‑table intending to tell my guests the story of the mine, but—but—" He stammered a little. "I changed my mind. When we left the table I carried them with me, and placed them on the small table between the drawing‑room windows."
"And left them there?" she asked quickly.
"Yes, after laying them on the table I dismissed them from my mind, had no furtherremembrance of them until this morning. Then I went to get them and found them gone. My first idea was that having the appointment with you for this afternoon so on my mind I had probably gotten up in the night and hidden the package somewhere, either when asleep or in a state of half‑wakefulness; but Tatsu and I made a most thorough search of the entire apartment, over‑looking no possible receptacle where I might have hidden them, and there is absolutely no trace of them."
"The servants," she said rapidly.
"I was coming to them. They were all taken on for the dinner, with the exception of Tatsu, who has been with me for years, and whom, I think, I would trust further than I would myself. When I questioned him he was extremely clear and quick in his answers. His story is that the extra servants all departed before my guests did, and that he personally saw them each one leave and locked the door after them. Then, after the guests had gone he lockedup the other rooms very carefully and went to bed. This morning he got up early and put the whole apartment in order; and he is positive, and when Tatsu is positive he is not apt to be mistaken, that neither the photographs nor the maps were on that table, nor indeed anywhere in the rooms at five o'clock in the morning."
The Mariposa listened attentively to what he had to say, and then thought deeply for a few moments.
"There are only two possible explanations of the whole affair, which are in the least plausible," she said at last. "One is that some interested person or persons have heard of your find. It might be some prospector who has been tracking you for weeks, and he, or they may have stolen the papers with a view of communicating with the owners, whom they may know and whom they may fancy that you have not discovered. Your valet may or may not be a tool, that remains to be discovered. Well," resolutely, "in that casethere is nothing to fear, I can assure you of that.
"The other hypothesis is that one of the guests had a motive for removing those especial maps and photographs, thus securing possession of them. But who and why?" As she pondered this question an expression of most startled and amused surprise swept over her face, and then she burst out laughing. "How funny!" she cried. "How awfully funny!" The peals of her silver laughter rang through the room.
"What is so awfully funny?" inquired Hayden politely, but with an irritation he could not conceal. "I assure you, it does not seem funny to me."
Ydo had evidently recovered her spirits; the sparkle had come back to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. "Don't bother any more," she counseled blithely. "It's all going to turn out right now. You see."
"I should prefer to know how." Hayden'sirritation was increasing instead of diminishing, and he spoke more stiffly than before. "As it is a matter which concerns me primarily and which has caused me much worry I think it only fair that you should share with me the knowledge which seems to justify you in drawing such happy conclusions."
Hayden would never again be nearer losing his temper completely than he was at this moment, for Ydo, after gazing at him for a moment with a sort of whimsical, mock seriousness, again broke into laughter. "Who would ever have dreamed of her doing such a thing?" she apostrophized the ceiling.
"Her!" Hayden felt as if his heart had stopped beating for a moment and then begun again with slow and suffocating throbs. Perhaps Ydo saw or guessed something of his emotion, for she again repeated reassuringly: "It will be all right now within a few hours. You Will see."
"It's going to be dropped," he said in a dull,toneless voice. "It's my affair, Mademoiselle Mariposa, and you are not going to make the least move in the matter. Your suspicions—whichever one of my guests they affect, and I can not even surmise which one you are trying to implicate—are quite beside the mark. This is entirely my own affair, and I tell you, we are going to drop it. Do you hear?"
Ydo leaned forward, her chin upon her hand, and surveyed him with a humorous, unabashed and admiring scrutiny. "Brother in kind if not in kin, little brother of the wild, you are great. But do you mean what you say? Are you really willing to run the chance of giving up a fortune to protect—"
"Nonsense!" he broke in roughly. "Don't go any further. There's no use in talking the thing over." He again sank into somber silence.
But Ydo was apparently unmoved. "There is one thing I meant to ask you this afternoon," she said, "but since I shall probably not have an opportunity to do so I want my curiosityappeased. Why is that mine called The Veiled Mariposa? Did you happen to find out?"
"Yes," he answered, still entirely without interest. "Because, as the maps and photographs show, the only way to reach it is by a little hidden trail just back of a waterfall. You would never suspect it. I happened on it by the merest chance, followed it, and discovered that the mine lay behind this mountain cascade."
"Ah, beautiful!" Ydo clapped her hands. "I remember, I am sure, the very cascade. Although perhaps not, there were many."
"You have been on the ground then?" he asked.
"Ah, yes, with prospectors. But," with a shrug of the shoulders, "we were not so lucky as you."
"The interview for the afternoon is of course off," he said, rising heavily and stretching out his hand for his hat.
"I suppose so," conceded Ydo. She smiled and sighed. "The pretty little coup I hadplanned is smashed. I have been arranging it for weeks, ever since I learned that you were interested in—But the gods have decreed it differently and have taken the matter into their own hands. Ah, well! But I shall hear again from you to‑day; and you will hear from me."
Hayden was half ill when he left Ydo's apartment. He felt a curious stifling sensation, a longing for air and motion and so strong was this feeling that he decided to dismiss the motor and walk home; but he had proceeded only a block or so, when he noticed an electric brougham draw up to the sidewalk. His heart gave a quick throb for he saw that Marcia's chauffeur was driving; but a moment later, his hopes were turned to disappointment, for instead of Marcia's dear face, the somewhat worn and worried countenance of her mother gazed out.
The moment she caught a glimpse of him, she brightened perceptibly and with a quick motion summoned him. Almost mechanically he made his way across the crowded sidewalk and took the hand she extended.
"Oh, Mr. Hayden," with a plaintive quaver in her voice, "won't you drive about a little with me? I must talk to some one. I must have advice and—and the sympathy that I know your generous heart will be only too ready to give. It may be unconventional to ask you, and I may be taking up far too much of your valuable time. You will tell me frankly if this is so, will you not?"
Hayden murmured a polite protest, and expressed his appreciation of the privilege in a few words, scarcely conscious of what he was saying, and then sank into the seat beside her, inwardly lamenting his stupidity that he had so impulsively dismissed his waiting taxicab.
"So unconventional!" again murmured the lady as he took his seat, "but then, I am all impulse and intuition. As Mr. Oldham has so often said to me, 'I would rather depend on your intuitions than on the reasoning of the wisest statesmen.' Very, very absurd of him, and yet so dear and in one sense, true."
"True in all senses," said Hayden with the gallantry expected of him. This Venus Victrix was not so critical as to cavil at the manifest effort in his tones. Let it be forced or spontaneous, a compliment was a compliment to her.
"Mr. Hayden, Robert, if I may call you so, I am very, very unhappy this morning, and—and I have no one, no one to console or comfort me."
Hayden felt a quick impulse of pity, for there was that in her speech and appearance which convinced him that she really was fretting over something, and he saw that under her careful powder and rouge her face looked worn and worried.
"Dear Mrs. Oldham," he said with the effect at least of his natural manner, "I am sure you are bothering. Will you not tell me why and let me at least try and be of some service to you? You know that I shall be only too delighted to have you make me useful in any way that you can."
He spoke with sincere earnestness, for the small, frail creature beside him, her Dresden‑china prettiness all faded and eclipsed, her coquetry extinguished, roused in him a sense of pity and protection.
"Ah, Mr. Hayden, Robert,—you gave me permission to call you Robert, did you not?—you are too, too kind," She leaned her head back against the cushions and carefully dabbled her eyes with her handkerchief.
"Now please, do not think of that," he urged; "just consider what a pleasure it is to me to be of service to you."
"Ah," she threw aside all pretense now, and turning to him clutched his arm, "the most terrible things have been happening and I have had to bear them all alone. Marcia," petulantly, "has left me to bear all things alone. She did not come home at all last night, but Kitty Hampton telephoned quite late, after I had gone to bed, that she would spend the night at her, Kitty's, home. Fancy! Rousing me from my sleep likethat! And then, early this morning, Marcia telephoned herself and said that she could not possibly be at home before evening. Imagine! The thoughtlessness, the heartlessness of such a thing!
"But that," resignedly, "that was a mere drop in the bucket. I wish her father were alive! How he would tower in indignation at the thought of my being so neglected and ignored, and by my own daughter, too,—a girl on whose education he lavished a fortune! Why, Mr. Hayden, forgive me, Robert, he would turn in his grave, literally turn in his grave, and"—in a burst of fitful weeping—"he may be quite aware of it, for all we know, and he may be turning in his grave at this very minute."
"Dear Mrs. Oldham," the late and ever lamented Oldham himself, could not have been more sympathetic, "you must have been very lonely indeed, and very much bored, I can quite understand that, but surely, you are not making yourself unhappy over this—this seeming neglect on the part of your daughter. Believe me,you will find that she has some good reason for this action. Surely that is not the only thing that is worrying you."
"Certainly not," The little lady tossed her head and spoke with emphasis. "Marcia's selfishness and thoughtlessness and indifference toward one who should be the dearest thing on earth to her is very hard to bear, very; but I am not made of the stuff that could break under an affliction of that kind. Mr. Oldham used so often to say that he never saw such fortitude and courage, never dreamed that such qualities existed in women until he knew me, and saw the way I met trouble. Oh, no indeed," again dabbling her eyes, "that is not it at all. No, my only feeling about Marcia's conduct is that I have been left to bear intolerable grief and Insult alone."
"Intolerable grief and insult alone!" Hayden really roused himself. "My dear Mrs. Oldham, those are strong words. What can possibly have happened?"
"That is just it. It is a case requiring strong words," she said firmly. "Who do you think paid me a visit this morning? Why, Lydia Ames, who hasn't darkened my doors since Wilfred became interested in Marcia. The idea!" overcome by indignation. "What did she want? A princess of the blood? Apparently not! She wants instead a fortune‑teller, a madcap like Ydo Carrothers. She spent the whole time this morning telling me how charming and fascinating Ydo was and what a fillip she gave to life. I told her frankly that I had been very thoroughly acquainted with Miss Ydo Carrothers from her youth up, and that she would be a handful for any one. I'd as lief undertake to chaperone a cyclone. She only chuckled in that disagreeable way of hers and spoke of Wilfred's admiration for that Gipsy. When, Robert—you see I was able to say it that time—when every one has been talking, for the past year of Wilfred's devotion to Marcia. Such a dear fellow and so rich! I loved him like a son; and now, now they Willsay that he has jilted her, jilted Marcia, and you know, Robert, a girl never recovers from that sort of thing.
"And then, Lydia Ames, horrid thing, said, oh, how can I tell it, that she was anxious to present Ydo, Ydo Carrothers, forsooth, with a set of butterflies as beautiful as Marcia's. Oh, Mr. Hay— Robert, did you, did you ever hear of anything so cruel? Oh, I tried not to think she had any particular reason for saying it, when in walked Edith Symmes, Edith Symmes of all people, and do you know, Robert, she began to get off the same thing."
She paused to let the enormity of this sink into his consciousness. The tears were streaming down her face, a mask of tragedy, and Hayden could only gaze at her in profound perplexity.
"I'm afraid, I don't know quite what you mean," he said slowly.
So absorbed was she with her grief that she did not appear to have heard him. "You know how malicious they both are," she wailed, "andboth of them coming at the same time meant something. 'Talking of butterflies'? Edith Symmes said in that way of hers, 'Well, Mrs. Oldham, you needn't put on such airs because Marcia has the loveliest set in town; nor you, Mrs. Ames, because you're thinking of ordering a set, for I'm going to have a set myself,' Oh, you see, it meant something."
"Mrs. Oldham," said Hayden with the calmness of desperation, "will you not kindly tell me just what you mean? I am utterly and entirely at sea."
"They mustn't know the secret of those detestable butterflies," she answered miserably.
"What secret, Mrs. Oldham?"
"Why, the way Marcia is involved. Oh," weeping afresh, "it's too, too much. Oh, if Mr. Oldham were only here!"
It was impossible to get a coherent explanation from her, and Hayden felt as if he could bear no more. He had only one desire, one longing, to escape, to be alone, to sit down in some quiet spot,and try to pull himself together sufficiently to think things out.
"Dear Mrs. Oldham," he said gently, "I am convinced that you are worrying yourself unnecessarily. Won't you go home now and rest, and let me see you this evening or to‑morrow? I am sure you will then take a calmer view of the matter. I am going to leave you now. I have some business matters which must be attended to at once. Good‑by."