CHAPTER XXIVTHE KINGDOM OF THE BLIND
Marjoriesaw them at the same instant and for a second faltered, then stepped quietly forward to meet them.
“Good evening,” she said. “Janet, here are the truants. I think you are to take me out to dinner, Dr. Potter,” and the hand she placed on the physician’s arm was steady.
Duncan, collecting his scattered wits, offered his arm to the pretty girl Janet had assigned to him, and followed the others out to the dining-room. Judging from appearances his father and Janet had accepted Marjorie’s return without audible comment. Janet, confused by the rapid trend of events, had quickly decided to let well enough alone. She feared to precipitate a disastrous scene if she asked Marjorie to withdraw. Her father, a complete man of the world, had quickly made up his mind to accept the situation, and postponed questioning Marjorie as to her disappearance and return until after the dinner was over.
Inwardly cursing his luck that he was not seated next to Marjorie so that he could question her and tell her of his discovery as to how the Lawrencecodicil was lost, Duncan took the chair next his companion with an ill grace. There was some confusion in seating the guests, owing to Janet’s having changed her father’s accustomed seat at the end to one side of the long table. Paul Potter seized the opportunity to draw his host to one side.
“Has Janet had any return of——” he lowered his voice discreetly——“of the old trouble about which you consulted me when she was at boarding-school?”
Fordyce started. “Not to my knowledge,” he whispered. “What do you....” But Potter had slipped into his chair between Janet and Marjorie, and cogitating deeply, Fordyce made his way to his own place.
Leisurely unfolding his napkin, Potter looked with interest about the table.
“Take pity on a stranger, Miss Langdon, and tell me the names of my fellow guests,” he said. “I came into the drawing-room too late to meet them.”
“Captain Nichols is on Janet’s right; next to him is Miss Pauline Calhoun-Cooper; the girl on Mr. Calderon Fordyce’s right is Miss Swann, of Baltimore. Isn’t she pretty?” added Marjorie. “The others are Miss Marsh, Miss Dodge, and my neighbor here, Mr. Calhoun-Cooper,” indicating Joe with a motion of her hand.
“You have skipped the man sitting opposite you,” prompted Potter. The table, a recent purchase of Mr. Fordyce’s who never tired of haunting antique shops, was wide enough to permit two seats being placed side by side at either end, and as Marjorie’s eyestraveled down the long expanse of damask and its load of silver and glass she encountered Barnard’s fixed stare. She acknowledged his low bow with a slight inclination of her head, and turned again to Potter.
“Chichester Barnard,” she said briefly. “Have you met Mr. Calhoun-Cooper, Dr. Potter,” she added as Joe, catching his name, wheeled toward her and through several courses the two men talked with her.
Janet absorbed Tom Nichols’ attention to the exclusion of others, and Pauline Calhoun-Cooper, who also had much to occupy her thoughts, gave up trying to make conversation with Mr. Calderon Fordyce and sat back in her chair and watched Marjorie. She had heard through Janet of Marjorie’s departure that morning, and Madame Yvonett’s statement that her niece had not returned home had convinced Pauline that, as she vulgarly put it, Marjorie had made a “quick get-away.” She was at a loss to understand why the Fordyces championed Marjorie’s cause. That they did so, she never doubted; Marjorie’s very presence indicated that fact. On discovering Marjorie in the drawing-room, Pauline, considering it a personal affront that a girl whom she charged with being an ordinary thief should be an honored guest under the same roof with her, had confided to Joe that she was leaving immediately and he was to accompany her. But Joe, for once obdurate to his sister’s commands and entreaties, roughly refused to budge, and inwardly furious, she had made the best of the awkward situation and remained also. With exemplary patience she bided her time.
Janet’s feverishly gay chatter gave Tom Nichols little opportunity to broach a serious topic. He was deeply puzzled and perturbed over the loss and return of the bracelet to the Calhoun-Coopers, and the theft of Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s pearl necklace had added to his bewilderment. He had spent the past twenty-four hours trying to unravel the mystery. While Janet had not said in so many words, that the bracelet was hers, her manner had clearly indicated that fact. Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper claimed the bracelet as his, and it had been returned to him. Janet’s special delivery note hinted broadly that Marjorie had received the bracelet after he left it at her house. And yet how did Marjorie know Janet was wearing a bracelet which belonged to J. Calhoun-Cooper, and why did she return it anonymously to the Representative without first mentioning her intentions to Janet? Tom shrank from the answer which reason dictated.
“Why so solemn?” challenged Janet, not getting an immediate answer to her former question. All through the dinner she had carefully refrained from glancing in Barnard’s direction. Under the stimulus of Tom’s presence, she had cast prudence to the winds.
“Solemn? Far from it; a nonsense rhyme is bothering me to death. I wonder if you can tell me where it came from,” and he quoted hurriedly:
“‘I gave her one, they gave him twoYou gave us three or more.They all returned from him to youThough they were mine before.’”
“‘I gave her one, they gave him twoYou gave us three or more.They all returned from him to youThough they were mine before.’”
“‘I gave her one, they gave him twoYou gave us three or more.They all returned from him to youThough they were mine before.’”
“‘I gave her one, they gave him two
You gave us three or more.
They all returned from him to you
Though they were mine before.’”
“Alice In Wonderland!” Janet clapped her hands and laughed in open amusement. “To think of an artillery officer being ‘up’ in nursery rhymes.”
“So that’s where the lines are from! My niece and nephew are responsible for my knowledge of Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece.”
“Do you remember the next verse?” asked Janet. “It goes:
“‘If I or she should chance to beInvolved in this affair,I trust to you to set me freeExactly as we were.’”
“‘If I or she should chance to beInvolved in this affair,I trust to you to set me freeExactly as we were.’”
“‘If I or she should chance to beInvolved in this affair,I trust to you to set me freeExactly as we were.’”
“‘If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
I trust to you to set me free
Exactly as we were.’”
Tom had a retentive memory. Was Janet intentionally misquoting? Did she mean him to take the nonsense rhyme seriously? He glanced sharply at her, but her head was partly turned as she helped herself to thevol-au-vent. He waited for her full attention before answering.
“It sounds like the unutterable tread of unsearchable circumstances,” he said.
It was Janet’s turn to be mystified. “I don’t at all understand what you mean,” she admitted plaintively, wrinkling her pretty forehead in wonder. “I don’t even know you are really my friend....”
“Janet, don’t for a moment doubt me,” Tom lowered his voice so that it reached her ear alone. “I am yours, heart and soul.”
Her eyes fell before his, unable to bear the worship which kindled his plain features almost into beauty, and the carmine mounted her cheeks.
“You’ll never believe anything people may say against me?” she pleaded.
“Never,” with reassuring vehemence.
“Will you promise to stand by me——?”
“Always; through thick and thin.”
“Then, Tom, save me from myself,” and a little cold hand slipped into his under cover of the table.
Tom was white under his tan. He was in deadly earnest, but was Janet equally so? His clasp tightened on her hand until her ring cut into the tender flesh.
“Tell me, Janet,” and the very repression of his voice showed the tension he was laboring under. “Is there a chance for me?”
“You are very blind, dear,” and the love-light in her eyes was unmistakable.
Paul Potter scanned Janet and Tom quizzically for a second, then turned back to Marjorie.
“It’s no use,” he said. “I’ve tried repeatedly to break into their conversation; but it’s a close corporation. Behold, you still have me on your hands.”
“That is no hardship but good fortune,” Marjorie spoke with truthfulness. Joe was not particularly interesting at any time; and feeling as she did that night, anything which interrupted a tête-à-tête with a member of the Calhoun-Cooper family was in the nature of a relief. She had held a three-cornered conversation with Potter and Joe most of the evening, and Joe, usually unobserving, had not failed to note the physician’s intent gaze and finally turning restive under the ceaseless espionage, wasglad to present his back to his right-hand neighbors and talk to his dinner partner, Miss Dodge.
“Tell me more of your adventures when you accompanied Duncan Fordyce to China, Doctor,” continued Marjorie, after a short pause.
“I’m afraid I’ve already related all the exciting incidents of our trip. If you want thrilling romance ask Mr. Fordyce to tell you the story of the Maharajah’s ruby which he intends giving to his wife on their wedding anniversary tomorrow. Has he already shown it to you?”
“No.”
“That’s so, he only purchased the ruby today. I believe I’m letting out state secrets,” Potter laughed ruefully. “Don’t betray me, even to Janet.”
“I promise not to, but....”
“Are you and Marjorie speaking of the ruby?” questioned Janet. Pauline had finally interrupted her conversation with Tom by claiming the latter’s undivided attention, and Janet had overheard Potter’s remarks. “That’s no secret, Doctor; it is in the evening papers. I teased father to show it to me just before you came in”—Marjorie’s heart sank like lead with forebodings of more trouble. “It’s the most beautiful stone I’ve ever seen,” went on Janet enthusiastically. “A real pigeon-blood ruby. I could hardly put it down.”
Marjorie lost Potter’s reply; her attention being centered on Perkins. The butler was bending over and speaking confidentially to Mr. Calderon Fordyce. As the whispered colloquy progressedCalderon Fordyce’s face grew set and stern. With a quiet word of apology to the two girls sitting on either side of him, he pushed back his chair and left the room.
“Do you suppose Mrs. Fordyce is worse, Doctor?” questioned Marjorie.
Potter looked troubled as he beckoned to Perkins. “Does Mr. Fordyce wish me to go to his wife?” he inquired, as the butler stopped behind him.
“No, sir. Mr. Fordyce has gone to answer a telephone message, sir. Champagne, Miss Langdon?” and before she could stop him, he had refilled her glass.
“Have you seen Mrs. Fordyce, Doctor?” asked Marjorie, as Perkins passed on.
“Yes, just before dinner. She seemed immensely improved.”
“Do you think I could see her later?” She tried hard to suppress all anxious longing, but it crept into her voice, and Potter examined her white face with keen intentness.
“I don’t think it would be wise,” and Marjorie’s sensitive nerves quivered under the peculiar intonation of his voice. Were they all in league to keep her from confiding her troubles to Mrs. Fordyce, her one friend?
To Duncan Fordyce the dinner was interminable. Fortunately the very young girls who had fallen to his share were so taken up with talking of their affairs that his part in the conversation sank to monosyllables, to his great relief. He was not in the moodto make small talk. His father had motioned to him to keep his seat when he rose on receiving Perkins’ message, and much against his will he had done so. He did not like his father’s expression; it betokened bad news. His thoughts instantly sped to his mother, but Perkins’ hurried whisper relieved that anxiety, and he was just starting to enjoy his untasted salad when, happening to look down the table, he caught Marjorie’s eyes. Their expression of dumb despair stirred him out of himself.
His impulse was to go to her at once, but cooler counsel prevailed. Such a course would instantly draw attention to Marjorie; he would not mind, but she might seriously resent being made conspicuous. With inward fervor he consigned the cook who invented long menus to a warm climate; the table had to be cleared and the ices served before he would be free to go to Marjorie. He glanced at his neighbors: Miss Marsh was holding an animated three-cornered conversation with Chichester Barnard and Miss Swann, and Miss Dodge, on his left, was deeply engrossed with Joe Calhoun-Cooper. He was the only person at the table not busily talking. Taking up his place card and drawing out a gold pencil, he wrote a few lines under cover of the table, and beckoning to Perkins, slipped the card inside his hand with a whispered direction.
A second later Marjorie’s elbow was gently jogged by Perkins and a card was placed in her lap unseen by her neighbors. Surprised and somewhat alarmed, she waited until Potter and Janet were engaged in awarm argument; then glanced down, and under the shelter of her napkin read the few words written in Duncan’s distinctive writing on the back of his place card:
Marjorie:I love you. Will you marry me? Answer yes, by raising your champagne glass.Duncan.
Marjorie:
I love you. Will you marry me? Answer yes, by raising your champagne glass.
Duncan.
Janet turned back again to Tom, and Potter, left to himself, addressed several remarks to Marjorie. Not getting any reply, he looked at her in surprise and discovered her eye-lashes were wet with tears. Before he could think of anything to say or do, she glanced up, her face transfigured.
“W—what did you say?” she stammered. Her eyes, alight with new-born happiness and hope traveled past Potter to Duncan. A moment’s hesitation; then she raised her champagne glass to him, and Duncan’s blood coursed hotly through his veins as he pledged her in tender silence across the table. “I did not catch what you said, Dr. Potter,” she added softly, her eyes never leaving Duncan’s radiant face.